Happy Miserable Mess (FOB/Patrick Stump FanFic)

Chapter 7

I was in Parker's bedroom, getting him dressed for the day. Usually my wife dressed him, because apparently I had "no sense of fashion" and dressed him in "the worst outfits [she's] ever seen". I still don't know if when she said that she was serious or not, because she always giggled after saying it.

No sense of fashion. Pfft. I had a great sense of fashion. For example, my many hats. Do you think they're just something to make my bad hair days not so bad?

I pulled Parker's shirt down and he walked over to the mirror hanging up on the wall. He looked at himself for a second or two before turning around and shaking his head no.

I groaned, "Park, this is the fifth shirt I've put you in. I'm going to run out of shirts to put you in, sooner or later."

"I don't want it," He ripped the shirt off and threw it on top of his other four. "I want Mommy to pick my shirt out." He crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, "I like the shirts Mommy picks out for me."

I smacked my forehead.

Parker was almost as bad as everyone else...always talking about her...

I mean, I guess I don't blame him, the two of them were inseparable when she was still around. He was the most precious thing to her. She was the most precious thing to him. And the two of them were the most precious things to me. The three of us meant the world to each other.

So how could I tell him that his mom was never going to pick his shirts out again? Never going to tell him a bedtime story again? Never going to see his first day of school or see him walk across the graduation stage or even get married to someone someday?

Parker sat down on the ground and pouted, telling me, "I'm not getting dressed until Mommy picks out my shirt."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, "Fine, Parker. Looks like you're not getting dressed today, then." I walked out of his room and down the hallway.

Just as I made my way downstairs, the doorbell rang.

I rolled my eyes, assuming it was just another goddamn reporter trying to get more information out of me, asking me how I've been handling it all, what my thoughts were on losing her. Did they not realize I didn't want to talk to them?

Nevertheless, I went to the door and saw who it was through the peephole. In the fish-eye view, I saw my three friends and band mates standing outside on my porch. I heaved a sigh and unlocked the locks, pulling the door open.

"Patrick!" Pete exclaimed, pulling me in for a hug I really didn't want, but I hugged him back anyways. "How have you been?" He stepped out of the embrace and walked past me and into my house.

"I've been good," I lied.

"That's good to hear," Joe retorted - although I think he, as well as Pete and Andy, all knew I wasn't telling the truth - before taking his turn to hug me and following Pete into the living room where he had plopped down on my couch and turned on the TV. Joe sat down beside him.

Andy gave me the last hug before I closed the door and joined the three of them.

"Did Pete tell you what we were doing today?" Joe asked me. I shook my head no. "Oh, well we were thinking about going to an amusement park or something! Like Disneyland, you know, since your son is coming with us. We just want to make up for kind of ignoring you at the party yesterday... Or if you're not up for that, we can go to the movies. There's that new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie out. You like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, right?"

"I don't care how much he likes Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, we're going to Disneyland," Pete replied before I could, crossing his arms, "Besides, I heard that movie is complete garbage."