Something Worth Fighting For (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

New Perspective

(Y/F/N) = Your Friend's Name

"What? No! Take them with you!" Ethan snaps back at Patrick, continuing to draw the picture he's been working on for the past few days. Your husband had asked your son to watch his brother and sister while he goes out to meet up with someone.

Patrick leans against the threshold and crosses his arms, "Come on, Ethan. I don't ask you to do a lot. I'm just asking you to make sure your brother and sister don't get hurt while I'm gone."

"They won't get hurt if you take them with you..." He grumbles in response, keeping his back to him.

Your husband sighs and pulls out his wallet, "Would you change your mind for twenty-five bucks?"

"Make it fifty and you've got a deal," Your son turns around, looking at his dad.

"Fifty?"

"Sixty."

"Sixty!"

"Seventy-five."

Patrick groans and pulls out the designated amount. Ethan rises to his feet and snatches the seventy-five dollars out of his dad's hands.

"You're unbelievable," He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowed together as he pockets his wallet.

"And you're desperate," The teenager retorts, dashing away before his father can hurt him. Patrick rolls his eyes and goes downstairs to leave, getting in his car and going to the one place he know he can get answers.

*****

"(Y/F/N)?" He asks, knocking on your friend's front door. He's been standing out there for a good five minutes and still hasn't gotten an answer. He knows your friend is home because her car is in the driveway, and he remembers that you told him once that she never leaves the house without her car. You don't know why, that's just the way it is, the way it's always been.

He heaves a sigh and tries the doorknob for the first time, realizing that it's been unlocked the entire time. He shakes his head, annoyed with himself for not trying that sooner, and enters the house.

"(Y/F/N)?" He calls, "It's Patrick! Where are you?"

Much like at the door, he doesn't receive an answer. He begins to wander through the house, looking in every room for your friend. It isn't until he reaches the second floor that he finds her. Out of courtesy, he knocks on the closed door that he knows belongs to her bedroom (he once had to help you bring her up there after she got wasted at a party she went to, a party she went to without her the. husband because he was out of town, and with him out of town, she liked to do things she wouldn't normally do when he was around).

Once again, he receives no answer.

"(Y/F/N), I know you're-" He begins to say as he turns the doorknob and pushes the door in. He gasps and quickly closes the door shut, his eyes wide and his chest rising up and down as he backs up into the wall across from the bedroom doorway.

Seconds later, your friend reopens the door and steps out into the hallway, buttoning up one of her husband's shirts - though it wasn't her husband that was in bed with her. "What the hell, Patrick? What are you doing here?"

"I-I just wanted t-t-to talk to you about...about (Y/N)," He stammers, his heart pounding against his chest and sweat beading on his forehead. He swallows hard, "I-I-I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

Just then, the bedroom door flies open and Patrick catches a glimpse of Andy as he slips out, rushing down the hallway and downstairs, not even bothering to say goodbye to your friend in his hasty escape.

"It's okay," Your friend forgives him, her cheeks growing a deep shade of red as she leans against the wall, "No one knows."

Patrick returns his attention to her, not knowing what to say.

"You said you wanted to talk about (Y/N)?" She inquires, crossing her arms.

"Y-Yeah, um...can we maybe go downstairs or something?" He suggests, slipping his hands in his pockets and tilting his head down, a feeling very uncomfortable.

"Yeah, that would good."

*****

Patrick's sitting at the dining table when your friend comes back downstairs, fully clothed now. She sits down perpendicular to him, at the head, and exhales softly. "I'm so sorry you had to walk in on that," She apologizes.

"No, I'm the one who should be saying sorry," He retorts, rubbing the top of his thighs nervously.

"Let's just try to forget about that, shall we?" She asks. Patrick shakes his head in agreement. "Good. Alright, so, (Y/N). What about her?"

"You went out to the mall with her recently...right? Did she seem...oh, I don't know...different to you?" He questions.

She sits back in the chair, "Different to me?" Patrick gives a slight nod. "I don't really think so. She seemed fine to me. If anyone was different, it would've been me. It was the day after my husband and I settled on our divorce."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," He remarks sympathetically.

Your friend shrugs her shoulders, "It's whatever. It was bound to happen anyways. But, um...(Y/N)," She changes the subject, "You asked if she seemed different to me. Why? Has she seemed different to you?"

"She just...she hasn't been herself since Zach was born," He confides in her, "She snaps at everyone for the slightest of things. She feels like she can't do anything, and that no one's giving her a chance. She thinks everything's her fault-"

"Maybe she has postpartum depression."

"Postpartum depression?" Patrick repeats, as if the words were foreign to him.

"Yeah. I had it after Janie was born. I had the shortest temper every day and the simplest of tasks were unbelievably difficult for me," She chuckles, reminiscing about those days, "God, it was so bad. I would never want to relive it."

Your husband's eye light up, things coming into perspective for him. He meets your friend's gaze, "Is there any way to cure it?"

"I had to take medication, but there are other ways like-" Before your friend can finish what she was saying, Patrick gets up and darts out of the house. "Wait! Patrick! You..." She sighs and sinks back in her chair, continuing to herself, "You've got to be careful how you come about it. She'll probably take it the wrong way."