Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PETE] The Guy Next Door

You're lying in bed when you wake up to hearing sirens outside of your house. And it's not like the normal pass-by where the sound gets louder and then quieter. No, they're right outside. Your eyes pop open and you immediately get out of bed, standing up and walking over to the window and parting the blinds. Parked out front of your house and your neighbor's house are fire engines, police cars, and ambulances.

You take in a sharp breath before turning around and running out of your room, snatching up your black satin robe along the way. You race down the stairs and right through the front door, pulling the robe over your pajamas. Heads turn as you stumble out into your front lawn, tying the two sides together.

"What's going on?" You ask one of the officers who's standing by as the others run around. Next door, paramedics try to get a gurney up the porch steps.

"Did you know him?" The officer replies to you, crossing their arms over their chest.

"Y-Yeah. Pete, he was the guy next door. Of course I knew him. But that doesn't answer my question, what are you all doing here?"

"Two friends of his came over this morning, only for him not to answer the door. Doors were locked, windows were shut. So, they called 911 and...long story short, we found the man dead."

Your heart drops at the officer's words. "D-Dead?"

The police officer nods their head, "Yup. Overdosed on anxiety pills."

"Oh god," You mutter as you put your hand over your mouth, tears starting to blur your vision as realization sinks in for you.

That's when the paramedics roll the gurney out of the house, a body lying on it with a blanket draped over it. You know who the body belongs to and it brings you to your knees, sobbing.

"We found this by the body," Another paramedic remarks as they approach you and the officer. They hand over what seems to be a letter.

"(Y/N), the girl next door," The officer you'd been talking to reads aloud. Your red and puffy eyes grow wide as you slowly rise to your feet, the officer meeting your gaze, "Is that you?"

You nod your head.

"Well I guess this is for you then," The officer retorts, giving you the letter. You take the envelope into your possession and quickly tear it open, discarding the casing and unfolding the letter. You instantly recognize the sloppy handwriting to be Pete's.

Dear (Y/N), (a.k.a. The Girl Next Door),

If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I'm incredibly, unbelievably, terribly sorry.

I know that you know that I've been struggling. A lot. But I just couldn't take it anymore. Things got too hard for me. You know, with my friend killing himself and then my other friends not there to help me go what I was going through. The only person who seemed to be there for me was you. You were there for me when no one else was and I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for me.

Now I don't want you blaming yourself, saying that you didn't do enough, that you could've saved me and you didn't. Because you did save me, (Y/N). You saved me from living a life that would never compare to life I lived with you in it. Sure, it was short, but even I was surprised I made it past 27. But those 30 years I lived, especially the last six that I lived next door to you, they were the best six years of my life. I couldn't have asked for better.

I remember the first time we met each other's gaze. You were bringing in your boxes from college, first time living on your own, and you looked so happy. Like nothing could take the smile off of your face.

I didn't know how much you'd mean to me back then. I thought you were just the cute neighbor I would tell all my friends about to make them jealous. But you turned out to be something more than that. You were the person I wanted to see every day, the person I wanted to hang out with when my friends were pissing me off, the person I had some of my best memories with. And that's what I want you to remember after you read this - all the memories we had. I know you've already done so much for me, but can you do this one last thing? For me? Please?

Love,
Pete (a.k.a The Guy Next Door)

As if on cue, just as you finish reading the letter, a photograph slips out from underneath your hand and falls gracefully to the ground, landing in the grass. You bend down and pick up the picture, seeing it was a picture of him. A picture you took. You scream out of agony.

The paramedic and police officer look down at you pitifully.

"So you did know him," The one officer remarks. You shoot a glare up at him and he puts his hands up in surrender, walking away. The paramedic follows, leaving you alone.

You sit down in the grass, the photograph in one hand and the letter in the other. You stare at the letter, tears wavering in your eyes.

"...the first time we met each other's gaze..."

To be continued...?