When It All Goes To Hell (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

Warped Tour - His Side Of The Story

Six Years Ago...

You and Patrick are sitting on the couch together, watching TV. He has the remote in his hand and he's flipping through the channels, asking if what is on is something you want to watch.

It's a Sunday. Nothing good is on, so all of your answers are no, and he goes onto the next channel, asking the same question he just asked you no more than seconds before. But just as he flips to channel 54 and is about to ask you if you're want to watch what's on, the phone in the kitchen rings.

"I'll get it," He offers, "Try to find something good," He hands you the remote and walking into the kitchen, where he picks the phone up off of the receiver and puts it up to his ear, "Hello?"

"Patrick?" Pete's voice sounds on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Pete! What's up?" Patrick leans against the counter.

"Good news, man, Fall Out Boy's been invited to play this year at Warped Tour."

"Warped Tour?" He repeats. The name is familiar but he isn't familiar with the event.

"Yeah, you know, the Vans' Warped Tour? The largest travelling music festival in the United States?"

Patrick doesn't respond for a quick second before asking Pete, "Did you really know that?"

"No," He admits with a laugh, "I looked it up on Google. But the director emailed me, you and the guys too, and asked us if we would be interested in performing..." There's a pause as Pete pulls up the email and reads, "...August 10th to August 19th." Patrick looks over at the calendar hanging up on the wall.

"August 10th to August 19th?" Patrick walks over to the calendar, stretching the cord across the kitchen, and sighs, "That's nine days."

"Yeah? So? It'd be great exposure for the band, Patrick, I say we do it."

Patrick leans back and looks into the front room where you now lying down on the couch as your hand is extended outward in front of you, remote in hand as your press the channel-up button repeatedly. He leans forward and says in a whisper, "I don't know, Pete."

You're eighteen years old and he's twenty. He knows you're mature enough to be on your own. You were mature enough to move out of your mom's house and in with him. And you've been here on your own before, but it had only been for a couple of days, not nine.

He in't entirely sold on the deal.

"Give me a few days to think about it, okay?" The singer asks the bassist.

"Whatever, Pat, but you better make your mind up soon. The director said in the email if we don't reply in the next few days, we  can forget about it - he has another gig already lined up." And with that, Pete hangs up. Patrick heaves a sigh and puts the phone back on the receiver.

"Who was it?" You call from the living room.

"Just Pete," He calls back.

"What'd he want?"

He has to make the quick decision whether or not to tell you about the gig. If he tells you - there are two outcomes. One being that you'll be supportive of him or two you won't be. If he doesn't tell you, there's only one real option and that's to deal with you when you find out he lied to you. He makes the rash decision of replying, "He just wanted to tell me about a concert gig he got for us." That wasn't totally lying, right?

You swing your legs over the side of the couch and stand up, walking into the kitchen where he was. "Concert gig?" You lean against the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.