Patrick Stump Imagines

imitation

'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.'

"You look like Patrick Stump." The girl in front of you stated, a disgusted look on her face.

Her equally snotty friends laughed as you adjusted your fedora. "I-I like Fall Out Boy." You Said, then blushed. "Patrick's my hero."

They all burst out laughing. "Well, you look like a nerd."

The walked over and took your fedora, tossing it across the hallway. "Stop trying to be someone you're not." She spat.

She turned and walked away with her friends, and you looked down, your eyes filling with tears. You turned around and went over to your fedora, picking it up, and putting it back on your head.

Once you returned home, you ran up to the mailbox and opened it excitedly, only to find that it was empty. You closed it again, before you went up to your house, opening the door and stepping in.

"Mom!" You called. "I'm home."

"Oh hey, honey." She Said.

"Did we get mail?" You Asked.

"Just a couple bills. Why?"

"No reason." You Said, dropping your backpack on the floor.

Honestly, you had sent a letter to Patrick Stump ages ago, but you hadn't gotten a reply. Not that you were expecting to get one or anything, but it would be nice.

You went into your room and shut the door, then went and sat at your desk.

You looked around at your room, which was covered in Fall Out Boy posters.

They were your heroes. You loved them.

Nobody ever understood how much they meant to you. They had saved your life, but they thought it was just a petty obsession. So you kept to yourself, just so you wouldn't get hurt.

You pulled out a piece of paper, and bit your lip. You grabbed a pen and wrote,

Dear Patrick,

You continued on with your letter, and when you finished, you read it over, taking a deep breath.

"Please respond." You whispered to yourself. "Please."

You folded the letter, then slipped it in an envelope, licking it, then stealing it. You wrote your address on it, and then where you were sending it, adding a stamp once you finished.

You got up from your desk and went out to the living room, passing your mom and heading over to the front door.

"Hon, where are you going?" She Asked, looking at you confusedly.

"I need to mail something."

"Okay. Just don't be long."

"Okay."

You stepped outside, picking up your bike and hopping on. The post office was just down the street from your house, so you could just ride over whenever needed. You didn't live in the largest town, but they thankfully, and surprisedly, at least had a post office.

You rode down the road until you approached the building, where you hopped off, and ran up to the blue mail box.

You opened it up and looked inside. You looked back at the letter, taking another deep breath before sliding it into the mail box.

A week later, you still hadn't gotten a response. You guessed that Patrick was probably busy, or maybe didn't get fan letters. It made you a little sad, however, you understood.

He was a celebrity, anyways.

After The weekend came and passed quickly, and it was Monday once again, and of course, you had to go to dreaded school.

Since it was a nice morning, you decided to walk to school, and get a little exercise.

You walked down the sidewalk with your earbuds in, playing FOB, of course. your shuffle play ended up on one of your favorite songs, and you sound yourself singing along by habit.

Getting so lost in the music, you bumped into something, then realized that it was a someone.

And that someone was Patrick Stump.

At first he looked worried for you, like he thought he hurt you or something. Then when he saw the look of shock on your face as you took out your earbuds, he smiled.

"Hi, Y/N."