Something Worth Fighting For (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

Get Get Get Get Get Out Now

You stare at the trays of food sitting in front of you. Pete's taken you to a fast food restaurant and (though you're not sure he actually did) has ordered one of everything on menu.

He smiles at you and motions to the food, "Well, eat up."

"Pete, you got enough food to feed a family of eight!" You exclaim, chuckling in disbelief.

"Well I didn't know what you liked, so I..." His voice trails off and he laughs a little bit, "I just want you to be happy, (Y/N). And I'll do anything it takes to do that."

Blood rushes to your cheeks, tinting them red.

"And if you buying you everything on the menu will do that, or at least help do that, then that's what I'm going to do." He picks up one of the fry containers and takes a fry out, popping it into his mouth.

You bite your lip and tilt your head down, muttering, "Hey, Pete?"

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I know what I said that summer, that I don't love you like you love me, but..." You shift awkwardly in your chair.

"But...?" He repeats, prompting you to continue.

You sit there for a little before murmuring, "I...I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," You cover your face with your hands and heave a shaky sigh, "My emotions are all over the place. I'm upset, I'm tired, I'm miserable, and I...I just want it all to end."

"(Y/N)..." He gives you a sad look.

"Pete, you don't understand," You drop your hands back into your lap and look up into his eyes with your glistening ones, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Hey, don't talk like that," He stands up and moves into the booth you're sitting in, sliding in next to you, "You don't mean that."

"But I do," You confess, "I really do. I've been through too much. I need...I just need an escape from it all. I don't to go get help and I don't need to go to a mental institution. I just need to get away."

Pete sits there for a little before muttering, "Maybe I could be your escape." You slowly meet his gaze. "(Y/N), I know don't realize it and are going to disagree with me, but you've been hurting for a really long time. I see it in your eyes. Sure, it might not seem like it, but..." He tucks a piece of hair that's fallen from your pony tail behind your ear, gazing into your eyes, "Do you remember how happy you used to be back then?"

You remain silent, your heart beating against your chest and your breathing starting to pick up ever so slightly.

"I do," Pete answers his own question, when you don't, "I especially remember the way you used to smile. It was so genuine, so real. I loved it. And now? You barely smile at all."

He's telling you what everyone else has been telling you. However, this time you don't get upset. You don't get up and storm away.

You don't know why this is, why Pete is the only person that hasn't ticked you off in the past few months. He just never ticks you off. It's Patrick who gets annoyed with and by him. But you? You've never had a problem with him. He always knows just what to do to make you smile, he knows you almost as well as Patrick does (maybe even more), but most importantly, he's always there for you. Always.

Pete takes in a deep breath and drops his hand into his lap, "So you really want to get away, huh?"

You try to give him a verbal response, but there's a lump in your throat, preventing you from saying anything. So instead, you just nod your head.

"Can I come with you?" He asks, intertwining his fingers with yours underneath the table.

The corner of your lip curls upward into a smirk and you retort beguilingly, "Maybe."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet," You glance down at yours and Pete's hands, running your thumb across the back of his hand. "I haven't thought that much about it."

"If someone, right here right now, offered you the opportunity to go anywhere, be with anyone, and do anything, what would your answer be?" He proposes.

After you sit there for a little, thinking about how you should answer this, you tell him your favorite place, that he's the person you'd want to be with, and that you and him would do your favorite thing that calms your nerves.

He leans in and smiles, "Well...that's wonderful. But what if I gave you another offer? It might not your dream offer, but it might come close."

"Shoot," You reply, finding yourself smiling back.

"Come back to my place," He bites his lip as his eyes sparkle in the lighting of of the fast food joint, "You know, it's been a while since you've had a sick day."