Happy Miserable Mess (FOB/Patrick Stump FanFic)

Chapter 1

I walked into the house and all eyes found their way over to me. My cheeks burned up and I swallowed hard.

I hated the way everyone looked at me that day. Each look was exactly the same too - pitiful. They were acting like people don't die, and that you won't lose people close to you, ever.

Well, I hate to break the news to you, but it happens. You won't know when it'll happen, where it'll happen, where you'll be when it happens, who will be there to witness it, who won't be there to witness it. You just won't know. I sure didn't.

I made my way further into the house and into the kitchen, where I fetched myself a red solo cup and filled it with some soda.

Again with the looks.

I don't know if you'll agree with me or not, but it can be very unnerving when everyone is looking at you with the same goddamn expression on their faces. It's like you did something wrong. Like me being there was a crime.

I raised my cup a little and gave the people in the room a quick smirk, assuring them everything was okay, before leaving and finding a place to sit down. I sat down on the steps, since it was the least crowded place in the entire house.

I put the red solo cup up to my lips and took a sip of the carbonated beverage. I heaved a sigh and kind of just observed things for the next half hour or so.

It was very entertaining, to say the least. People watching. Have you ever just watched people? It can be pretty fun sometimes.

But it's really fun when you're at a party. When you just sit back and watch what happens, almost as if you're not even there. You hear and see things you wouldn't normally hear or see if you were, for example, involved in a conversation you were having with someone else. You miss so much when you're focused on that one person.

The thing I found most amusing about this crowd was how many people talked about me when I wasn't but fifteen feet away from them. I don't understand why they couldn't just come over and talk to me, rather than talking about me.

But it's not like I really wanted them to come over and talk to me anyways. I'd taken comfort in being alone those past few weeks. But I wasn't really alone, I did have my son, but even with him I'd grown distant.

At least when I was alone, I didn't have to talk about her. Because heaven knows that she was the hottest thing to talk about that day. Everyone at this whole party was talking about her.

"She was such a nice girl."

"It's such a shame she's gone. She had such a life ahead of her."

I guess you could say I was a pretty hot topic of conversation too. People there were talking about me almost as much as they were talking about her. The two of us went hand in hand, I guess you could say.

"He loved her so much, I can't imagine what it must be like for him right now."

"They were so happy together too. I wonder what went wrong."

And then there were times when they wouldn't mention her directly when they were talking about me.

"How do you think he's holding up?"

I wanted to go up to them and say, "How the hell do you think I'm holding up? My wife is gone. How would you hold up if you returned home from a four month long tour to find the one person you couldn't wait to see after being away for so long lying on the bathroom floor, dead? Huh? HUH?"

But I refrained, you know, I didn't want to come off as the total mess I really was. So instead I remained silent and stayed on the steps, merely observing my surroundings.