Patrick Stump One Shots (Complete)

TRIGGER WARNING: (anorexia)

XX- so anyways I found this in my notes from my old iPod in 7th grade (0.0) I edited it and thought it would be a cool idea to post it ^_^ Enjoy~)
Themes- anorexia nervosa, pregnancy, lonliness(??),
Rating: PG - themes (dealing with very grown-up and adulty situations ^_^)
Characters: Y/N, Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz(Y/N's brother), Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman,

I proudly stood next to him at the airport. He had his bags in his hands and I was wrapped up with him inside his coat.
"I'll miss you." I mumbled into his chest.
"I know, darling." He buried his face into my hair. He mumbled sweet nothings into my neck and placed kisses behind my ears.
"It's only five months, sweetheart. I'll write you everyday. I promise." He wrapped an arm around me and held my hand with his free one.
The rest of the boys came and stood next to Patrick, admiring our public display of affection.
I just wanted to hold him. I wanted to stay securely in his arms forever. But I knew it would only be a while before he was gone and I was alone.
"American Airlines flight to Los Angeles now boarding." A sickly fake-happy female voice buzzed through the intercom.
"99 days, baby. 99 days." Patrick kissed my forehead and held me in his arm for what seemed like forever, but ended all too soon.
Pete shot me a sympathetic half-smile and lifted a hand to bid me farewell.
Even after he left, I sat in the airport. It was the last place he was.
It killed me when he was in tour. 100+ days without his comforting touch or lulling voice was too much to handle.
He's like a poison or drug; once you get him, you'll always want him.
I drove home as slow as possible, earning myself quite a few glares and shouts from angry drivers and moms in a hurry.
I sighed and pushed the key into the lock on Patrick and I's house, slouched my shoulders and dragged myself upstairs.
I didn't feel like eating anything for supper.
Or breakfast.
Or lunch.
Or supper again.
I had lost my appetite. It was habit to see him across the dining table, smiling back at me or telling stories.
Having him not there was just too hard.
I received a letter from him in about a week's time.
Y/N,
I hope you're doing well, sweetheart!
I love and miss you more than anything!
Only 91 days left until I can hold you in my arms again!
Pete says he misses you and to 'stay rad'.
Joe says hi and Andy said to send you some hugs!
See you soon, love!
-Patrick
I sighed and sat down with a small bag of chips.
I unlocked my phone and texted Patrick.
Hey! I got your letter in the mail- I love you so much and I hope the tour is going well!
I over-enthused. I wouldn't dare to let him know I practically couldn't live without him.
Hello, sweetheart!
The tour is going wonderful
I hope you're okay- I miss you :(
Can you Skype?
I pressed the call button on my phone and waited for Patrick to answer.
He waved from the computer screen with a child-like grin plastered into his face.
I smiled, "Hi!" I waved back.
Pete walked over behind Patrick.
"Ayye, Shorty!" Pete smiled.
"Pete, I'm not too short, am I?" I joked.
Patrick looked concerned, "No, of course not!"
"Patrick, I was only joking." I smiled.
"Okay, we have a show in about an hour, so I will have to bid you farewell." He bowed.
"Oh, aren't you a little prince?" I smiled back, causing him to blush.
The call ended and a frown creeped upon my face.
I threw away the chips and went to bed.
The next day, all I had to eat was brown rice. I knew I was eating less, but I was content. Or at least I felt content.
The next day, I woke up sick. I vomited in the bathroom and felt altogether run down. I had watery oatmeal (that tasted like someone puked in a bowl and stuck a spoon and some raisins in it) for breakfast and toast for supper.
Later on, throughout the week, I didn't seem to get any better. (Nor worsen, however.) I decided I'd take myself to the doctor.
"Hello, Y/N. So, what seems to be the matter?"
"I'm not really sure.... I've just been.... Sick lately. Like vomiting in the morning and general body aches- not much of an appetite since he left." My voice trailed off.
"Ah, is he a special thing?"
"Oh, most definitely." I smiled to myself.
The doctor soon left, only to return minutes later.
"Well, all the tests show that your symptoms aren't anything major- you don't have any bodily infections or viruses. If you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you engaged in sexual activity?"
I was quiet for a moment before answering.
"About two and a half weeks ago...."
The doctor smiled down at his clipboard, resting his hand on his wrist and leaning back on his heels.
"Well, Madison, it seems as if you should see another type of doctor."
My eyes fell to the floor.
"Listen, Y/N, I know Patrick. He's cool with just about anything. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear the news, if that is the case."
I nodded and thanked him for his service.
I booked an appointment, and sure enough-
"Let's look at the pictures, shall we?" My hands shook as he handed me the ultrasound.
He took the back of his pen and hovered over a certain area of the photograph.
"That, Ms. Y/L/N, is a baby."
Silence fell over the room.
I wanted to be happy, I wanted to be so excited like I had pictured this moment so many times, but I was terrified.
What if Patrick's not ready to have a child?
What if something goes wrong?
What if he reacts negatively and leaves?
My mind raced through every possible negative outcome, however my heart sang and basked in the fact that we would be happy, and I knew it.
I managed a smile and a small "Thank you," before exiting the building and driving towards home.
I made myself some hot chocolate and rested on the couch.
I just felt altogether nauseous and sick.
Patrick is going to be a great dad!
I'm going to puke
He's going to be so excited!
Week 4:
I still felt sick and run down and tired and gross. The more sick I feel, the less of an appetite I have.
Week 7:
My stomach is getting somewhat larger. My thighs are somewhat slim though.
Week 9:
My arms and legs are slimming down quite a bit and it's beginning to worry me. I throw-up just about everything I swallow. Is this supposed to happen?
Week 13:
My collar bone is looking sunk-in. I'm beginning to disgust myself.
I think I'm going to go the doctors sometime soon.
Week 19:
I look extremely skeletal. I can't keep anything down and I'm never hungry. I'm making an appointment today.
Patrick comes home next week.
I feel terrible.
I waited in the airport for Patrick. He's finally coming home. I'll finally get to see him.
They all excited the plane.
Pete-
Andy-
Joe-
And there he was- looking beautiful as ever.
He made his way to the luggage cart and got his bags.
He didn't know I was here.
I walked up behind him and stood about four feet from where he was.
He turned around and stopped in his tracks.
He smiled and ran over to me, picking me up and holding me tight.
He hesitantly set me down and gave me a petrified, yet concerned or worried look.
"Y/N...." He said, his voice just over a whisper.
He covered his mouth with his hand.
I looked to the floor as my eyes started to well up.
"Patrick, I-"
"No. No, no, no, your beautiful body, you just-" he began choking up.
"Can we talk outside?" He squeaked.
I nodded guiltily and took his hand in mine, walking outside.
He paced back and forth and clenched his fists.
"Agh, how could I be so stupid?!" He shouted at himself.
"Wha-.... What?" I quietly asked. "I don't-"
"Y/N, I know how you get when I'm away," he began crying again. "I should've stayed, or at least came and visited. I just-" he rubbed his face with his palms.
"I'm sorry.... I know some people just can't help it.... We'll get you better, okay? I'll give my everything."
He wrapped his arms around my small figure and kissed my temple.
"Baby, it's not your fault. I truly didn't think anything of it. I just.... Wasn't hungry...." I nuzzled myself into the crook of his neck and he carried me back into the airport to say goodbye to the boys.
Pete gave Patrick and I a worried look, but I have a reassuring smile.
Pete came over and hugged me, "Hey, Shorty."
He felt how bony and small I was and he awkwardly stepped back.
He gave me a disappointed and concerned look.
"C'mon, Shorty. I know you can do it." He playfully hit my arm.
I smiled. Pete was my older brother. I had struggled with anorexia mainly caused by anxiety since I was in middle school.
"You smell like cigarette smoke." Joe said plainly, not meaning anything.
Patrick rubbed his temples, covering his eyes.
Pete smirked and shook his head.
"Shorty." Pete winked at me and flashed those shiny eyes at my one and only.
They all said goodbye and Patrick put on his way-too-optimistic-for-the-situation voice and sprung around all the way home.
He had me up against the wall and he was kissing me. It was soft and sweet, but hot, nonetheless.
"Sexy," he smiled against my lips and I felt his teeth clink with mine.
"I missed you, baby girl," he wrapped his arms around me.
"Patrick, we need to talk."
He looked concerned again, but agreed and placed himself on the sofa. I sat on the opposite side, and he shook his head and pulled me into his lap.
"What's on your mind, Sugar?" He nuzzled his head into my neck and smiled.
I was overcome with welcome. This is what I missed.
"Remember when we first started dating, Patrick? In the year 2003. From Under the Cork Tree had just come out and I was tagging along with you and the band on the Black Clouds and Underdogs tour?" I began.
He smiled, "Yes,"
"Do you remember what you had said to me? You wrote it down on a bar napkin in Vegas."
He smiled again, "Yes, I said I would always support us as a couple no matter what."
"Do you think you can follow through on that?"
There was a long silence. "Did you sleep with someone else?" He looked embarrassed and insecure. "I wasn't enough, was I?" He looked frustrated.
I was taken aback. "No! I- No! Absolutely not, Patrick, you have been more than perfect!" I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my hand in his hair while running his back with the other one.
He sniffled, "Really?"
"Honey, of course." I smiled.
He pushed himself off my chest, "So, what do you need me to support you on? I'll do whatever, I promise."
"It's not just me.... It's us...."
He looked at me comfortingly.
"I need to show you something." I said. He waited for me to explain. I couldn't, so I pulled up my huge sweater to reveal a too-big-for-an-eating-disorder sized tummy.
His face flushed to a pale white. He looked like he was going to be sick.
"Patrick, I can-" my eyes started to well up and my lungs began to burn.
And then, something beautiful happened. The largest grin I had ever seen spread across his babyface. His cheeks shimmered a rosy color and he covered his face with his hands. And he began to cry. His being glittered with happiness and it was truly overwhelming.
He had no words. He laughed and pulled me into his chest, moving as slowly and carefully as he possibly could.
"I am going to make sure you are the healthiest and happiest person in the whole universe so you can support this life growing inside of you." He held me tightly and beamed.
"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!" He squeezed me and his love leaked out from his pores and sunk into my belly.
Pete was over the moon, Andy was "super-duper-proud!" and Joe was stoked. Patrick, though, Patrick was changed. He was 200x sweeter (if that was even possible) and more helpful and cute and loving and concerned and happy- oh so happy!
3 months later - month 8/9
4:00am
"Babe?" Patrick poked at my arm.
"Babe, I'm terrified, please wake up, Baby, please."
I turned over and flicked on the lamp.
"What's the matter, Patrick?"
He looked shy and embarrassed. He nodded his head toward the bed.
I looked down towards my feet. The bed was soaked. I quickly pulled my legs up to my chest and screeched.
"Oh my god!" I cried.
"What?! What does this mean? Are you dying?!" Patrick was urgent (and petrified).
"PATRICK," I tried to steady myself and get out of bed but my legs were too weak.
"My water just broke..." I whispered.
His face flushed to a transparent tan shade and I could see his gray under-eye 'I'm-gonna-be-a-dad' bags and his purple and green 'I'm-a-singer-in-a-punk-band' veins.
He stuttered and made annoying humming noises as he steadily blinked and tripped his way towards me.
"Um, okay, what are we- do you have every- this way, are you-?" He began but couldn't focus on anything except getting me from this place in our room, downstairs, across the living room, through the door, down the steps, out into the driveway, into the car, on the highway, to the hospital and back home safe and sound.
"I think everything's in the car." I breathed.
Someone. Cut. Open. My. Insides. And. Tied. Them. Together. With. Razor. Wire.
Or at least it felt that way.
But eventually it stopped and I popped out a gross-but-somehow-cute baby-thing.
Pete was over the moon. Andy was "super-duper-proud!". Joe was stoked.
And Patrick, though, Patrick was changed. He was 200x sweeter (if that was even possible) and more helpful and cute and loving and concerned and happy- oh so happy!
And a dad.
The best dad ever. Guaranteed.