Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] Two Swans - Part Four

Author's Note: Hey guys! So, because I couldn't find a way to continue this imagine series that satisfied me, I rewrote the ending of the last imagine. Here it is:

. . . "Do you remember what you told me when we first started doing this?" You croak, not even bothering to give him the chance to answer before saying, "You told me we were in this together. And I..." Your voice falters before you finish with, "...I can't do this without you. I need you."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," He apologizes, a genuine look of regret apparent on his face, "I really am, but I just can't do this right now." And with that, Patrick turns and leaves the studio, the door clicking behind him and a blanket of silence falling over the large, cavernous studio you now stand in alone, with tears in your eyes and your heart shattered.

And here's the next part. I hope you enjoy! -Rachael

You're standing on the side of a dark stage, hundreds of people sitting in the large auditorium to your right. Usually you feel a little nervous before every show, even though you know Patrick and you have practiced for weeks and perfect your routine. But this show, you're not dancing with Patrick. And you don't feel anything. You just know you have to dance.

"You're on in two minutes," Someone reminds you as they pass by, the atmosphere behind the curtain more energetic than the one in front of it. The guests are buzzing with excitement as they await the start of the show. Some have come across state lines just to see you, even after it was announced that Patrick wasn't going to be dancing with you. That's not to say they weren't upset, just like you.

"Thanks," You mutter indifferently.

Things haven't been the same since Patrick walked out on you. You haven't heard from him, and he hasn't returned any of your calls or text messages. You filled his voicemail with countless messages, some of them fueled by anger whereas others were muffled by your sobs. Nevertheless, you've heard nothing from him. Not a word.

Your new dance partner hasn't helped either. His name is Brendon, and he's younger than you by a couple of years. He's really nice, and you can't deny the attractive appearance he possesses naturally, but the two of you don't share that chemistry that you and Patrick did. The dances the two of you do hold no emotion. You're simply just going through the motions - flawlessly, of course, but without emotion. The drive you used to have isn't there. The reason you made dancing your life is gone. Patrick is gone.

"What are you still doing back here?" That same person from before asks you, snapping you out of the daze you'd fallen into. You look out onto the stage and see Brendon staring at you from the opposite wing. His eyes are wide, wordlessly asking you what you're doing and why you're not out on stage like you should've been.

"I-I can't do this," You murmur to no one but yourself, the emotions that have been absent these past few months hitting you like a wave and causing you to escape into the darkness. You push past dancers and crew members until you find your way outside into the back alleyway, tears instantly blurring your vision and your chest growing tight as you start to panic. You pace back and forth for a little bit before sitting down on the pavement - completely disregarding the white costume you're adorned with - and putting your head in your hands.

Just before you get up and storm off, you hear the door click open beside you, followed by a "(Y/N)?"

"What?" You snap angrily, lifting your tear-streaked face out of your hands and glancing up to see Brendon standing over you concernedly. He jumps back at your sudden outburst, shocked by your appearance.

"Is....Is everything okay?" He asks cautiously, though he already knows the answer. Of course everything's not okay.

"I just...I can't do this, Brendon," You admit, needing to get the weight off of your chest, "It...It's not the same."

"What's not the same?"

"Dancing." You tilt your head down and sit there in silence for a moment or two before chuckling sadly and mumbling, "You know, I didn't want to do this. A while ago, I didn't see myself being the dancer I am today. In fact, I wanted to quit. I was so done with dancing and everything about it, but just as I was about to throw in the towel, Patrick took me out for drinks one night and told me that I couldn't give up; that if he was in it, I had to be in it too. And so we kept going, and we became these two dancers that every other dancer looks up to, that every dance mom wants their kids to be like. Together, we turned a stupid dream of mine into reality. And then he just walked away, as if it was nothing."

Brendon bites his lip, not knowing what to say.

"He's such an asshole," You whisper, swiping your thumb underneath your eye and taking your mascara with it, "He only thinks about himself. That's all he's ever done. I hate him."

"You don't mean that," Your new dance partner murmurs, turning his head in an attempt to meet your gaze that refuses to move up from the sidewalk underneath your feet.

You whimper and a whole new set of tears are brought to your eyes. "You're right." You bring your hands to your face once more and croak, "I miss him so much, Brendon. He...He's the only person that...that puts up with me and all the shit I put him through. And he...he finally r-r-realized what mistake he was making and..." You never finish your sentence as you burst out crying. Brendon wraps his arm around you and pulls you into his side, trying to comfort you.

Once you've almost fully calmed down, Brendon convinces you to go back inside. Your makeup is quickly redone and your dance partner gives you one more small pep talk the two of you step out on stage, doing the dance like you've done several times before. You end the dance, yours and Brendon's chests pressed together and your labored breaths intertwining as the crowd goes wild. You smile widely at Brendon, and he smiles back.

*****

It's the next day and you go to the studio early in the morning, prepared to work on making a new dance for you and Brendon. After last night's performance, your inspiration for dance was rekindled and you were ready to take the next step in your career, with Brendon. You wrap your hand around the doorknob and push the door in. You don't even get one step into the room before you're stopped dead in your tracks.

That gaze you haven't seen in months meets yours, a smile growing underneath it. "(Y/N)."

"Patrick?"

To be continued...