Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[ANDY] Not The Life It Seems - Part Two

You and Andy arrive at the home the two of you live in not too shortly after leaving the bar. You can tell he's fuming. He was silent the whole car ride and he drove at least fifteen miles over the speed limit the entire time. You were surprised he didn't get pulled over.

The drummer turns off the car and goes to get out of the vehicle when you reach over the center console and grab his arm. "Andy, wait, let me explain," You plead, his head shooting back over his shoulder to look at you.

"Get your hand off of me," He growls, yanking his arm out of your grip, "And don't you dare touch me again." He kicks out the car door and slams it shut behind him, making his way around the vehicle before ripping the passenger side car door open and violently extracting you out of the car by your hair. You bite your lip to keep yourself from screaming and attracting the attention of your neighbors as he drags you inside of the house, tossing you into the small table you have sitting by the door and closing the front door behind the two of you. You fall to the ground, a piercing pain growing in your side. He spins around and faces you, a frown plastered on his face.

You whimper and glance back over your shoulder at him, croaking, "Andy, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to. It just...He dragged me out there and...and I promise it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't happen again, because you're mine, (Y/N)," He explains to you angrily, approaching you and bending down. He grabs the back of your dress and lifts you up off of the ground with almost no effort, bringing you closer to him. "Not Pete's or anyone else's. Are we clear?"

"Yes. But, Andy, we-we were just dancing. It meant nothing."

"Just dancing?" He repeats furiously, standing you up and slamming you against the wall, your head bashing into the small mirror hanging on the wall, the reflective glass cracking and cutting your scalp. "Is that what you call 'just dancing'?"

Tears well in your eyes and blur your vision, your lip quivering and your body shaking out of fear. "Andy, I-I'm so sorry."

"Your apologies mean nothing to me, (Y/N)," He snarls, pushing you harder into the wall and causing more blood to drip down your neck and stain the top of your dress, "All the 'I'm sorry's in the world can't make what you did tonight right."

Unbeknownst to both you and Andy, Pete had followed you guys home. His car was parked out in the street and, after the two of you escaped inside, he hid himself outside your house in the bushes and was listening to everything that was happening.

He peeks his head up at one point as sees Andy throw you into the opposite wall he originally had you pushed up against and then point upstairs. The bassist's eyes grow wide as he watches you nod your head in compliance before dragging yourself up the stairs, Andy trailing closely behind you and yelling at you the entire way up.

Pete is struck speechless. He's never seen his friend act like this before - no one has - and it's absolutely mortifying.

Trying to pull himself out from the shocked daze he's fallen into, he shakily slips his hand into his coat pocket and fishes around for his phone. Once he finds it, he wraps his fingers around it and breaks his gaze with the wall that has your blood smeared on it, shifting his attention down to the device and dialing the well-known three-digit number. He hastily brings the phone to his ear, only one ring sounding before an operator answers.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Hi," He whispers into the speaker, feeling the need to keep his voice quiet even though he knows you and Andy can't hear him, "I think my next door neighbor and his girlfriend are having a fight, and if you don't send help immediately, I...I think he's going to kill her. You need to come now, please."

*****

Lying on the cold, hard floor that's streaked and splattered with your blood, your breathing is labored. The world around you is blurry and your body's gone numb from the pain that's spread all over. You've been stripped of your clothes, your abusive boyfriend explaining to you that he wants the belt lashes to hurt more, to teach you your lesson and make sure you never do it again. There are no more tears falling from your eyes, instead, there's only a stinging sensation. Andy circles around you menacingly, the belt he used to leave marks on your skin gripped tightly in his hands.

"Are you going to dance with Pete again?" He ask you, an aggressiveness to his voice that only you know about.

With barely any energy left, you manage to shake your head no, answering the last question of his interrogation.

"Good," He replies, setting the whip down on the dresser and picking you up off of the ground. "Let's go get you cleaned up. You look horrible."You fall limp in his arms, unable to hold yourself up. He heaves a sigh and slings you over his shoulder.

The drummer walks over to the door and wraps his free hand around the doorknob, pulling it open the same instant his front door is opened, only, with force. He turns his head and sees police flooding into his house. His eyes widened in fear as a few members of the team spot him and alert the others. He gasps and runs down the hallway, you draped on him like a scarf. As he escapes into the back stairwell, your head gets hit on the threshold and you finally fade into the darkness that's slowly been consuming you.

*****

Your eyes flutter open and you groan in pain, the black world around you dissolving and being replaced with that of a hospital room. You look down and notice that you're dressed in a baby blue gown that is the least bit form fitting, your arms by your sides on the hospital bed with IVs attached to them, monitoring your vitals and giving you a constant supply of saline. You turn your head to find Pete curled up in the chair next to you, his head tilted to the side and his lips slightly parted, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.

"Pete?" You say, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

He stirs awake and lights up the instant he sees that you're awake. "Oh my god, (Y/N), you're okay!" He exclaims, jumping out of the chair and over to you, pulling you into an unexpected hug. 

You grunt in pain before achingly hugging him back inquiring, "What happened?"

The bassist pulls himself out of the embrace and looks down at you, a mix of concern and remorse written all over his face. "Why didn't you tell anyone that Andy was doing that to you?"

Your eyebrows knit together in fear. "W-What are you talking about?" You stammer, though you know exactly what he's talking about. However, you promised Andy to never talk about it with anyone. God only knows what he would do to you if he finds out you broke your promise.

"Andy almost killed you, (Y/N)," He murmurs worriedly, intertwining his warm fingers with your cold ones. You glance down at his hand and swallow the lump in your throat, slowly retracting your hand out of his and holding it close to your chest.

"Don't do that," You mutter sullenly, "Andy wouldn't like that."

"(Y/N), Andy's in jail," He informs you. Your eyes double in size, the heart rate the monitor was making audible picking up. "Yeah, the police caught him and charged him for domestic abuse. You don't have to worry about him anymore. You're safe." He smiles reassuringly and pushes a piece of your unwashed hair behind your ear. "I promise."