Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] P/A/T/R/I/C/K - Part Two

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

"...and then he asked me if he could stay with me and I was all, like, but you're a murderer."

"And you let him stay with you!?!"

It's later that evening and you're in your bedroom, painting your toenails on your bed. You're also on the phone with your best friend, who also likes Fall Out Boy, but she's a Pete girl.

"What was I supposed to tell him?" You reply, "No?"

"Yes! You shouldn't have even let him in! What if he kills you, (Y/N)? You said he strangled one of his best friends, who I can only assume was one of his band mates! He better not have strangled Pete, or I might strangle Patrick myself!"

You roll your eyes, applying the last of the nail polish onto your pinky toe, "He told me it wouldn't happen again, (Y/F/N). He swore it."

"And you believed him?"

Just then, before you can respond, your door opens a crack and Patrick peeks his head in. "Do you think you can help me?" He asks you.

"Yeah, sure," You respond to him before saying to your friend, "Hey, I got to go. I'll call you later." You hang up your phone and set it aside, asking Patrick, "What can I help you with?"

"It's cold downstairs and I was wondering if you could give me an extra blanket or two," He tells you, the corners of his lips curling upward ever so slightly.

"Yeah, of course," You stand up and walk to the foot of your bed, opening your trunk and picking out two folded blankets. You turn around and approach him, placing the blankets in his arms. "Anything else?"

"Well I wanted to watch some TV, but I couldn't figure out how to turn it on..." He admits sheepishly, his cheeks turning red.

You chuckle, "I'll show you. Come on." You make your way downstairs, Patrick following right behind you, and turn the TV on for Patrick. You show him the button and, even though he probably knew how, you show him how to use the remote as well.

"I think I know how to use a remote, thank you very much," He sneers, snatching the remote out of your hand. You grin.

You go to leave the room and he begins flipping through channels. You stop in your tracks, though. when you hear "...he had a hook!" from the TV. You glance over your shoulder and see some surveillance footage from an interrogation room his bandmates Pete Wentz and Andy Hurley were sitting in.

Patrick looks back at you, giving you a reassuring smile, "You can go to bed. I got it."

"I-I know," You stutter, "I just..." You step back into the living room, "Can you turn it up?"

He looks down at the remote and presses the "up" volume button a couple of times.

The interrogator shouted at Pete and Andy and they both looked mortified. After a little more interrogation, the footage switched back to the studio and the news anchor, who told everyone who was watching that if they see Patrick (a picture of him appears on the screen) that they should call 911 and report him immediately. There will be a "handsome reward" to the person who brings him in.

"You're not going to report me, are you?" Patrick inquires innocently, looking over at you as you stare at the TV.

"Report you?" You repeat, sort of in a trance as everything goes through your head. Call 911. Report him immediately. Handsome reward for bringing him in. "No, I won't report you."

"Really?" He asks.

You nod your head and slowly look over at him, "Yeah. They won't find you here. And as long as you don't strangle me like you strangled your friend, you can stay here as long as you need to."

He pulls you into a side tight hug, "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" He exclaims.

"Too tight," You croak.

He retracts his arms and laughs nervously, "Sorry..." He rubs behind his neck, giving you a meek smile.

You pat him on the shoulder, "We'll work on it tomorrow. We'll work on everything tomorrow."

To Be Continued...