Patrick Stump One Shots (Complete)

XO

XO

There she was.

Third row from the stage. She had me forgetting the lyrics for the umpteenth time this month.

I didn't know her name. I didn't know her at all, but she was hot as hell, and she knew it.

I mouthed things to her from the stage, but she didn't look like she understood.

I wanted her, and you would too. Anything like her comes along and you're in deep trouble.

An hour and three beers later I found myself backstage with people I pretended to like. She showed up with a 'V.I.P' pass that hung heavily over her exposed collarbones.

"Patrick, someone's here to see you."

She was small. Shoulder length, dark hair; big eyes. She had a cute gold nose ring in and Xs on her hands.

"Hey. You're Patrick, right?"

"Yeah."

"Killer show."

"Thanks."

"Are you single?" She asked.

"I swear," I said.

Another beer and I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, hands on her thighs and tongue in her mouth.

She told me she was seventeen. I was nineteen.

I knew it was wrong, but who could resist?

She ground her hips on mine and danced a dance only sinners would know.

I found myself in a small club, not knowing how we got there.

Drinksdrinksdrinksdrinksdrinksdrinks

Who am I?

"Whatever it takes,"

There was a smaller bar across the street. She said we should walk there and, of course, I agreed.

Shots and a gin and tonic and we were at her car again. She was fumbling with the keys.

We ended up at a shitty motel off a highway that I had never seen before.

"And you don't have a girlfriend?"

"I swear," I said. "I swear."

There were, like, six flights of stairs in that hotel. I was so wasted, I could barely get up there.

I saw her wrists. Over swollen, purple marks, she had two tattoos. One said love, one said sympathy.

She undressed. Seventeenseventeenseventeenseventeen
Her hips read
'love never wanted me
but I took it anyway'

Nonetheless, we had sex. Meaningless, illegal sex.

I remember leaving her by herself, a kid, at that. She was only seventeen.

I took The Bible from the drawer of that hotel room and I ran down those stairs at 6am and out the emergency exit doors as fast as I could. It never did anything for me.

Of course, the next day I told Pete. Kissandtellkissandtellkissandtell Turns out Pete had actually known her. She was his little sister.

He stopped talking to me for a while. LooseLipsSinkShipsLooseLipsSinkShipsLooseLipsSinkShipsLooseLipsSinkShips

Four years later and I found myself on that same stage. Pete was next to me, as he always had been. He forgave me for fucking his sister the day she turned eighteen.

She's twenty one now. I'm twenty three.

I saw her at the show we played just an hour ago. She came to talk to Pete after the show.

She told me she missed me.
I told her she looked nice.

And there we were again.

We went from hands between legs, to "Whatever it takes" to drinks at the club to the bar to the keys to your car to hotel stairs to the emergency exit door.

Who am I?