Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] Two Swans - Part Seven

You swipe your thumb underneath your eye after signing your name on the piece of paper underneath your hands. You set the pen down and fold the piece of paper up, slipping it into the envelope you had not too far away and licking the flap to seal it. You flip the envelope over and scribble someone's name on the front of it, smiling through the tears streaming down your face as your hold on the letter grows tight.

Just then, there's a knock on your dressing room door. You panic and toss the envelope into your dance bag on the floor, getting up from your vanity chair and opening the door, seeing Patrick standing out in the hallway. His face is caked with makeup that makes him appear dead, along with his disheveled hair and circles around his eyes. He's adorned in black - tights, a fitted, short-sleeve t-shirt, and a long coat draped over his shoulders. The clothes underneath the jacket are ripped, torn, and cut. The holes reveal Patrick's fake wounds, painted on by a special makeup artist.

"Are you ready?" He questions, the corner of his artificially chapped lips perking upward into a smirk.

You'd created this "last dance" the night Patrick agreed to do it with you, and you know exactly how you want it to go - how the dance is going to play out, how the two of you look, even how the audience will react. You have it all planned out, and it has to go right.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," You reply, feigning a grin, "I'll meet you in the wings."

"Okay," Patrick responds, leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. You tilt your head down as he pulls back, slowly glancing down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something else, but the words get caught in his throat. So he just steps back and disappears down the hallway, leaving you alone.

You retreat back into your dressing room and snatch the letter out of your bag, as well as a knife you've brought as a prop. You've practiced and used props like this before, but never in the way you intend to tonight.

You bite your lip and walk out of the room, heading in the opposite direction of the stage toward Patrick's dressing room. You enter the room that's almost identical to yours and place the envelope you prepared on his vanity, leaning the thin rectangle against the mirror. You glance up and see your reflection looking back at you.

Your reflection has the opposite appearance of your dance partner. Your skin is flawless, and your hair and makeup are done to perfection. The simple white dress you have on compliments you in every way possible, the top strapless and the bottom long and flowy so that your turns will be extravagant. Everything is symbolic, the way you're dressed, the way Patrick's dressed, even the knife is symbolic. You just hope no one realizes it.

"What are you still doing back here?" You hear someone ask from behind you. You look back over your shoulder and see one of the crew members standing out in the hallway. "Get out there!"

"I was just on my way, calm down," You tell them, brushing past them and down the hallway to the stage, where you meet Patrick in the shadows. He looks down at you and smiles.

"What took you so long?" He whispers, the crowd growing silent as the lights in the theater changes.

"Don't worry about it. It's time to dance," You mutter in response before the music begins to play and you step out on stage, applause and cheer immediately filling the hall. It takes you everything in your power to keep yourself from breaking down into tears as you make your way toward the center of the stage.

Moments later, Patrick joins you, and - just like you did the first time you two danced together, and every time after that - you capture everyone's attention, the music guiding your dance along but your passion keeping you moving.

The dance comes to an end and the tables have turned, and now you're the one in pain. Not physical, but emotional. With inches between you and Patrick, the tears you've been holding back the entire dance begin to stream down your cheeks. You bite your quivering lip and rest your head on his chest, the screams from the fans and the deafening sound of their claps becoming muffled as you look down at the knife in Patrick's hand. The shining lights warming the stage produce an almost mesmerizing glint on the blade.

You lick your lips before glancing up at Patrick, seeing his head turned to the side, facing the crowd that's still cheering for you and him. You smile, loving the genuine happiness expressed on his face. You haven't seen that look in a while.

You tilt your head back down, catching a glimpse of the knife again. You inhale deeply and let the breath out slowly, tugging on Patrick's shirt and grabbing his attention. Your dance partner breaks his gaze away from your audience and shifts it down to you. He notices the mess you've become and his eyebrows instantly furrow together. "Hey, are you okay?" He asks you worriedly.

"I want you to know you did really well tonight, okay?" You say, avoiding his question as your grip on him grows stronger, "You were perfect. You always were; you always have been."

"What?" He nearly screams, not understanding what you've said.

"I said...YOU WERE PERFECT!" You shout before yanking him towards you, your lips crashing together and the knife he still held in his hands tearing through the dress you have on and puncturing your skin, lodging itself inside of you.

The kiss doesn't last long, however, with you gasping in shock from the immense pain you weren't prepared for and Patrick instinctively jumping back. He glances down and sees the growing red circle around the handle of the knife protruding from the white garment.

"Oh my god, what did you do?" He mutters, fear slowly paralyzing him as his eyes travel back up to yours, "WHAT DID YOU DO!?!" He yells.

Everyone's applause and cheer come to an abrupt end as they realize what's happened. Gasps and sputters pass over the theater, everyone watching as you gradually break into a weary grin, blood smeared across your teeth and building up in your throat as you meet Patrick's wide-eyes gaze. Crew members and other dance members, even some people from the audience like Pete and Brendon, rush onto the stage, the curtain falling the same time you do.

The only difference between the two is that the curtain will rise again, and you won't.

To be continued...