Hell's Reign (Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Fanfiction)

Chapter 24 - Grow Up

A/N: Just a quick update, I am still recovering a bit, and now I just started Graduate school this week. I have an ungodly amount of work that I need to get done, so I will need you guys to bear with me. I'm going to change the update schedule for this book to better accommodate my school, and soon-to-be work schedule. I will update this book every FRIDAY from now on, and my other book, Clandestine, I am going to update every MONDAY. If I miss a day here and there, please forgive me and I will update as soon as I can. Thank you guys so much for you patience, and although this is kind of a boring chapter in my opinion, I hope you enjoy this update!

Patrick laid in bed with his arm up in the air in front of him, turning the glittering hook back and forth in the light that poured through the window. He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over the point, noting how sharp it was, and wondered if Pete and Joe had taken the time to find a way to sharpen it while they were cleaning it up for him. He frowned up at the curved metal, still unsure about its usefulness. It was gruesome thing; An oddly large, curving fishhook that happened to be fastened to his arm where his hand should be.

From the bathroom next door, the sounds of clattering and rummaging reached Patrick's ears. He had complained again about his hair getting so long, and Tori had taken it upon herself and vowed to find a pair of scissors. She had been searching the bathroom for ten minutes now, leaving Patrick alone to ponder his new appendage, and he found himself wondering exactly what she thought of the hook. She had agreed that it might be useful, but there had been something in her eyes when she said it that left Patrick to wonder if she had something else to say.

Finally, just as Patrick was growing restless, Tori emerged triumphantly in the doorway, holding a pair of paper-cutting scissors in one hand, and a men's razor in the other. Patrick raised an eyebrow at the razor, sitting up on the edge of the bed as Tori came closer. She reached for his arm, grasping just behind the leather of the hook, and tugged. "Come on," she stated, "To the kitchen. It'll be easier to clean up." Patrick followed obediently, staring curiously at the back of Tori's head as she led him through the apartment. In the entire walk up here, and for the few minutes they had laid in bed before he complained about his hair, she hadn't said another word about the hook. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to ignore, and Patrick wondered again what was going through her head about it.

She pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, situated it in the middle of the linoleum floor, and gently sat Patrick down in it. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "I don't want to get hair stuck in your clothes. It'll be itchy. Take this off for now," she instructed, taking a step back for a moment. Patrick again followed directions, carefully pulling the shirt up with his hand and the hook, trying his best not to accidentally puncture a hole in the fabric. This, he decided, would prove difficult every time he had to change. However, he managed to get the shirt off in one piece and tossed it onto the table, a safe distance from where his hair would end up.

Then, Tori gathered his hair in her hands, her fingers gently massaging his scalp as she pulled it all back. It was long enough to fit into a ponytail now, and Patrick was a little surprised to see that she had tied it back with a rubber band. He furrowed his brow and was about to voice his confusion, when Tori suddenly ran her fingers over his side burns, then went to retrieve the razor from the table. In a panic, he looked up at her, craning his neck around with the intent to stop her from whatever she was about to do. "Patrick," Tori giggled, "It's like, a thousand degrees outside. It's hot as hell, you can't honestly tell me these are comfortable?" Patrick thought for a short moment, and shook his head. He couldn't exactly lie; he was sweating as she asked the question. "Exactly. They should go, as much as I'll miss them."