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

Being Away From Her - His Side Of The Story

Patrick didn't like being with you anymore. All you guys would do was fight and argue, and he wanted none of that, so he took the opportunity your mom gave the two of you and left. But he didn't like being away from you either, as weird as that sounds.

The weeks proceding the break up for him were lonely and depressing. He had no motivation to do anything - he lied in bed most of the day, the only times he got up were to go to the bathroon and to get something to eat, and even then it wasn't because he was hungry, but simply because he needed to eat.

Writing for him was fruitless. The only things he wrote about is you and how much he misses you. And all those songs ended up just like all the other songs - in the trash.

Sometimes he thought about calling you, just to hear your voice again. Sometimes he thought about going back to the house and saying he thinks he left something behind, just to see you again. But he always decided against it. His reasoning being that he was the one to leave you, and it would be embarrassing for him to come back to beg for a second chance. Plus, you were the one to suggest that you two needed some time apart, so it was most likely that you would say no (or at least, that's what he believed).

He didn't know who to turn to, Pete was busy with his band The Black Cards and Joe and Andy were busy with The Damned Things. So in the meantime, he'd been staying with his mom.

He's sitting at the table, dressed in his pajamas, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose instead of the contacts he recently started wearing, and he looks miserable. His mom rubs him on the back comfortingly.

"It's going to be okay, Patrick," She tells him in a calming way.

"No it's not, mom!" He snaps at her, "I ruined everything!" He drops his head to the table.

"No you didn't. People break up all the ti-"

"People who have been together for eight years don't break up all the time," Patrick mumbles, interrupting her, "This is all my fault."

"Don't blame this on yourself, honey."

"Why? Who else is there to blame but me?" He asks, sitting up, "I'm the reason we grew apart. Ever since the band b-"

He stops himself short, remembering what you said about him always blaming the band for his problems.

He shakes his head and continues in a much softer tone, "I just haven't been myself lately and it's because I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm good for nothing other than writing songs - I mean, I don't even know how to do a fucking load of laundry, okay? - and I can't even write songs anymore. I'm nothing without her. I might as well just die!" He drops his head to the table again, but this time his back shaking as he tries to keep himself from crying.

"Oh, Patrick...don't say that..." His mom pulls him close to her and tries to calm him down, but he breaks down in her arms in a crying mess.

"I-I miss h-her so goddamn much!" He cries into his mom's shirt.

"And I'm sure she misses you just as much," His mother tries to convince him, but he's too busy crying to hear her.

"Maybe you should go talk to her, honey. Tell her what you told me," She suggests after he's calmed down a bit.

"She's not going to listen to me, mom," He mumbles cynically.

"How do you know?"

"Because last time I tried to explain things to her, she snapped at me," He twiddles his thumbs on the table, "She didn't let me get one fucking word in."

"Please stop with the swearing, Patrick. I get you're upset, but I am your mother and I don't appreciate hearing those words coming out of your mouth."

"Sorry," He apologizes, his cheeks blushing a faint shade of pink.

"It's okay. But what you need to do, and I know it's weird getting advice from your mom, but bear with me," He laughs, and so does she, "What you need to do is go to her. Tell her exactly what you told me. And if she doesn't listen, then she's not worth it." She pushes a piece of his hair out of his face and smiles. "But I doubt that'll happen, because I know how much she means to you, Patrick, and how much you mean to her, and giving up like this...it's easy but it's not the right thing to do."

"But it's just going to lead into another argument..."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do!"

"Go," She demands sternly, yet keeping her voice calm, "Go clean yourself up and then go and talk to her. You hear me?"

He rolls his eyes and stands up, "Yes, mother."

"That's my boy," His mom smiles.

Patrick shakes his head and turns around, taking off his glasses and cleaning them off on his shirt as he makes his way upstairs.