Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] You Tell Him You're Pregnant - Part Two

(Y/F/N) = Your Full Name

You're curled up on the couch, a throw pillow in your lap with your arms wrapped around it. Your cheeks are sticky and your eyes sting as you stare at the television across from you, not really paying attention to the show that's on. You're more or so just staring at the moving images, not taking any of  it in.

It's been hours since Patrick walked out on you, the guys having left shortly after. It took you at least twenty minutes to pick yourself up off of the bedroom floor, and when you did, you just plopped yourself down on the couch and that's where you've been since.

You've given up hope that he's going to return, but just as you're about to doze off, exhausted, the door to your apartment clicks open and in walks Patrick. He closes the door behind him and glances over at you.

"Patrick!" You exclaim, jumping to your feet, "You came back!"

"Of course I came back," He mumbles, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head down.

The two of you stand there in silence for a little before you take a cautious step towards him and say, "So I've given some thought about it, Patrick, and-"

"I don't want to keep it," He interrupts you, before you can tell him that you want the opposite.

"Oh," You murmur, rubbing your arm nervously.

"Look, I-I don't want you to think that...having a kid is something I don't want, because I do, I just...I don't want one right now," He explains, approaching you and extending his hand out, caressing your cheek, "You're nineteen,  (Y/N), and I'm twenty. You work at the McDonalds down the street and I'm in a band. That's just no environment for a baby to grow up in, you  know?"

"I-I guess," You stammer, hanging your head to avoid his gaze.

He senses your discontent, "Really?"

"Mhmm," You nod your head, biting your quivering lip as tears begin to blur your vision.

He stays in his place for a little before leaning and kissing you on the forehead. "I'm sorry for walking out on you like that," He apologizes, "You must've been so scared."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Patrick," You mutter, still not looking at him, "Let's just go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah," He swallows hard, knowing something wasn't right, "Sure."

The next day...

You're sitting at the clinic, the only one in the waiting room. You don't even know what  you're waiting for. You feel like the receptionist keeps looking at you, judging you, but she's busy on the computer. Doing what? You have no  idea.

"(Y/F/N)?"

You look up and see a woman dressed in scrubs standing in the doorway, ushering you into the back. You stand up and walk past her, going down the hallway to the room she directs you to.

You sit down on the uncomfortable examination table and kick your feet back and forth, the woman walking in after you and closing the door.

"So what are you here for today?" She asks right off the bat.

"I-I want some information on..." You pause, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, the thought about what you want information on sickening you,  "...abortions."

"Abortions?" She repeats, pulling out a chair and placing it in front of you, sitting down.

You nod your head, wrapping your arms around your torso and leaning over, tears streaming from your eyes.

"What do you want to know?" She reaches over and grabs a box of tissues, handing it to you.  You sniffle and take one, dabbing underneath your eyes.

"I just want to know that it's not the only option," You croak.

The woman looks up at you, "Do you mind telling me your situation? So I can help answer your questions better?"

It takes you a little, but you finally relay to her your problem. How you want to keep the child but your boyfriend doesn't. How you're afraid that if you keep it, he'll leave you, and you don't want to do this alone.

"You won't be alone, (Y/N)," She assures you, giving you a kind smile, "If he's not there for  you, your family and friends will be. And if not them, we will. Okay? You can always come here for help. Always."

You shake your head in understanding, "Thanks. But I don't know if I'm ready for this. Like, sometimes I think that I can do it, that I'll be okay. But other  times...I'm afraid I won't."

"(Y/N), all I can say right now is that this decision is up to you," She tells you directly as she stands up, turning around and picking out a few brochures from the hanger on the wall, "Here are some options you can take home and look through. Educate yourself." She spins back around and hands them to you. "Because this decision is not your boyfriend's and it's not mine. It's yours, and yours only."

To Be Continued...