Patrick Stump One Shots (Complete)

7 Minutes in Heaven

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<I just want you to know that you are the most important person in my life. I love you so much. I'm so sorry>

The first thought that came to your mind when you received that text from Patrick Stump was, 'oh, Pat,', later followed by a pondering of his well-being.

You dialed his number and it rang once, twice, three times; voicemail.

You hurriedly stepped out to your beater, parked crooked in the driveway.

Before putting the car in reverse, you rang Pete.

"What." He snapped.
"I'm sorry to, um... Bother you, Pete. Have you heard from Patrick?"
"I never want to hear from that fat bastard again."

And with that, the line went dead.

You grunted to yourself ("Asshole,") before speeding down the cul-de-sac to your boyfriend's apartment -- to which you arrived to two police cars and an ambulance.

Slamming the car door shut, you sprinted through the commotion. Pete was standing there with bloodshot, tired eyes.

"I'm so sorry, 'Trick, I'm so sorry," he mumbled to himself, dazed.

One of the older ladies who lived in Patrick's complex recognized you and alerted the cops of your presence.

"Now, Ma'am, I know you're probably-"
"What the fuck is going on here?! Where's my boyfriend?! Patrick!" You tried to push past him.

He was being carried out on a gurney by two medial workers.

"Please, let her in! Baby!" Patrick wearily reached him arms toward you, making 'grabby hands'.

"You heard 'em, boys," one of the girls smiled at you and helped you into the back.

"Can someone please tell what the fuck is going on?" You whispered to her, panicking.

"Mr. Stump attempted suicide. Apparently due to some comments from a friend?" She responded questioningly; quietly.

A small, hushed voice piped up from below you.

"I love you," he choked out, reaching weakly for you hand. You took it, placing another on his forehead.

A tear fell from your eye and landed on his cheek. He smiled when you wiped it away with your thumb.

"You.... You are so... Gorgeous..." He whispered, quietly drifting asleep.

The last thing he saw that day was two tan girls with REMSA vests and green eyes put oxygen on him while you shouted at him, "Baby! Don't go!"

-

He awoke the next morning to a sunlit room with a floral-painted cup of oolong tea and a cinnamon-raisin bagel.

"Good morning, baby." You smiled from the edge of his hospital bed, lightly resting your hand on his forehead.

To which he responded, "Am I in heaven?"

You smiled lightly. "No, sweetheart. You're in a hospital room."

"Oh." He said plainly. "Very nice. I like the yellow paint."

You stayed with him all day, watching Studio Ghibli films in his small, hard hospital bed. You never wanted to leave his side, and you were never going to.

Pete brought in some petunias.

"I'll be right back, okay?" You smiled at Patrick, him removing his arm from across your stomach. You stepped into the hall to meet Pete.

"What the fuck?" You whispered angrily.

"Let me explain," he paused, sighing. "(Pete's/GF/N) broke up with me."

You felt bad for half a second, but remembering what could've happened to Patrick, your anger resurfaced.

"She told Patrick first because she still wanted to be friends and she didn't know how to approach it. I, of course, being the idiot I am, assumed she was leaving me for him. I cussed him out for it. I said some things I shouldn't have, just to, you know, get under his skin. I'm an asshole." He frowned.

"Looks like you got under his skin, alright." You crossed your arms. "I can't believe you! He. Almost. Died!"

Pete sighed and slowly opened Patrick's door.

Patrick, bubbly off anesthetic, waved to Pete.

"Hey, buddy." Pete began, taking a seat next to Patrick.

"Hello, Peter!" Patrick's tone changed, "How did things work out with (Pete's/GF/N)?"

Pete began to cry. You had never seen Pete cry.

"I love you so much, man! I'm so sorry," he sobbed onto Patrick's chest.

"Pete! I almost spilled my Frosted Mini Wheats!" Patrick exclaimed, clearly not recognizing the situation.

Pete laughed and wiped his eyes. "Sorry, buddy."

-

Patrick was admitted from the hospital two days later. You had discovered that he had taken a handful of Pete's Lorazepam, not knowing it would hurt him that bad.

"Can I keep the sockies?" Patrick giggled, wiggling his toes on admission day.

You smiled. "Yes, Pat, you can keep the sockies."

\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//
(A/N: It's called 7 Minutes in Heaven because 1) I've already uses Ativan Halen, 2) in the story, Patrick attempted an overdose on Lorazepam, an anxiety tranquilizer used commonly to treat Insomnia, Anxiety and Tension, 3) Ativan Halen is also named 7 Minutes in Heaven.
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