Something Worth Fighting For (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

Sick Little Game

You and Pete both stand up, your hearts pounding against your chests as the room begins to grow warmer. Realization sinks in. You've been caught.

"What's he doing here?" He whispers in your ear, his hands on your upper arms, "Did you tell him?"

You scoff and glance back at him over your shoulder, "Of course I didn't tell him. Why would I?"

"I'M SERIOUS!" Patrick's voice interrupts yours and Pete's hushed conversation. "ONE OF YOU BETTER OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR BEFORE I KICK IT DOWN!"

Pete laughs, muttering under his breath, "I'd like to see him try." You give him a disapproving look before abandoning his side to go answer the door. "(Y/N), wait!" He exclaims as quietly as he can manage, grabbing you by the arm and preventing you from leaving the room. "Let me answer it. I...I don't want him doing anything to you."

"GUYS, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! LET ME IN!" There's a pause before your husband tacks on weakly, "Please?"

You rip your arm out of Pete's hold and say, "Patrick won't do anything to me. Trust me."

"But what if he does? He's angry, (Y/N), you don't think when you're upset."

Your eyes grow wide and you slowly glance up at him, "Oh my god, Pete. You're right."

"About what?"

"You don't think when you're upset," You take his hands in yours and give them a little shake, "This is my problem, Pete. I made some choices that weren't the right ones and I need to fix them. On my own. Alone."

He bites his lip, "Are you sure?" You nod your head. He hangs his and heaves a sigh, "Okay. But I'll be right here if you need me. Alright? If he lays one hand on you, just shout for me and I'll come."

"Thank you," You lean in and plant a gentle, innocent kiss on his cheek, slowly pulling away and meeting his worried gaze before walking out of the dark room and into the bright hallway. Your eyes narrow as you approach the door, adjusting to the new intake of light. You wrap your hand around the doorknob and take in a deep breath, twisting the knob and pulling the door in.

"(Y/N)," Patrick croaks, his eyes glistening with tears. The anger he had boiling inside of him dissolves the second he sees you, almost instantaneously being replaced with anguish. "Why didn't you text or call me back?"

A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, the guilt you've been trying to ignore resurfacing, ten times more intense than the last.

The words you want to say get caught in your throat, and you find yourself staring into his bluish green eyes filled with pain. Years and years of pain.

You aren't the only one who this relationship's taken a toll on.

He steps into the house and pulls you into a tight hug, "You had me worried sick."

"I'm fine, Patrick," You reply softly, gently pushing your way out of the embrace, "Really."

Patrick looks at you for a little before his gaze trails over your shoulder, where he spots Pete, standing in the threshold between the living room and foyer, half of his body hidden behind the wall. Pete's eyes grow wide and he quickly disappears into the dark room. It doesn't take him long to put the pieces together and he swallows hard, the anger he lost making its return.

"Are we really going through this again?" He asks you, meeting your gaze.

"Through what again?" You murmur, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You know what, (Y/N)," He snaps, "Don't play dumb."

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Patrick," You mumble, tilting your head down to avoid his gaze and disguise the blush crawling up in your cheeks.

Patrick scoffs and shakes his head, "You really like to play this game, don't you?" You glance up. "Oh, don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about this time. Because you do. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

"No I don't!"

He sighs, "This game of pretending, (Y/N). This game of faking it, making yourself and everyone else believe everything's okay when it's not. And you know what, (Y/N)? You're very good at a game that I don't want to play. So I'm done here. But if you want to give up, if you want to be with him, just do it already. Because I'm sick and tired of this, I really am."

His words strike you silent, cast a blanket of silence over the entire house.

You didn't expect this encounter to go down the way it has, and quite frankly, you don't know what to do. How to handle it. What to even think of it.

Patrick chuckles sadly - breaking that silence - and runs a hand through his hair, "You know, I went to see (Y/F/N) today, to talk to her, to see if she knew anything I didn't. And she did. She gave me an idea to why you'd been acting so different, so strange. A possible solution. So I came home to tell you, only to find you weren't there. Instead, you were here, with him." He throws his hand outward, motioning behind you to where Pete was hiding, listening to it all. "And you know what I realized? Coming here and talking to you?" Patrick takes a step closer to you and continues quietly, "The solution isn't worth it. Because it's obvious..." He swallows the lump in his throat, his lip quivering and tears wavering in his eyes, "...it's obvious that we're not going to work out."

Your heart drops.

"As much as I want us to, (Y/N), we're not. We never were. It took me twenty years to realize it, but it's true. You and I...we were never going to work out. We tried and tried and tried, but it just didn't happen. And it won't."

By now you've matched Patrick's expression, your eyes glistening and your lip starting to tremble.

"I just wanted to help you, (Y/N)," He mumbles, bringing his hand up and tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, "That's all I ever wanted to do. When I married you, I vowed to be there for you through thick and thin - and yes, we've had more than our fair share ups and downs - and I intend to keep my word. I didn't give up the first time, I didn't give up the second time, and I'm certainly not giving up this time. I'm just...I'm letting you figure out what you want, what you need. And I'll be there for you when you finally make that decision."

You tilt your head down and close your eyes, tears spilling from your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Patrick drops his hands to his side and takes a step back, looking down at the watch on his wrist, "Well...I better be getting home. I left Ethan to watch Gabby and Zach and he's probably wondering what's taking me so long." He slips his hands into his pockets and sighs, "Tell Pete I said to take good care of you and to treat you right, okay?"

Your eyebrows furrow together and you slowly look up at him.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Okay?" You reiterate, "Okay? You're just going to leave me here?"

He smirks, "Well, yeah. I told you, (Y/N), I'm done playing your game. I don't want to pretend, I don't want to fake it anymore. Because it's time we face the truth. I took my turn, my last one. Now it's your turn. Will it be your last?" And with that, he turns around and leaves, slamming the door behind him.