Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] Two Swans - Part Eight

Patrick's sitting outside of yours and his dance studio on the steps that lead into the building. Beside him is Pete. No words are being exchanged between the two, both dressed in suits and waiting for their friend to pick them up. In Patrick's hands is the envelope found on his vanity that fateful night, the one with his name scribbled across the front in your handwriting.

"You know, I'm sure she didn't write you the letter for you not to open it," Pete mumbles, breaking the silence that was blanketed over the two of them.

He scoffs. "Well she sure didn't write it thinking I was going to read it."

"Why else would she have written it?"

"I don't know!" Patrick snaps, throwing the letter down on the steps and putting his head in his hands, "I don't know..."

Pete heaves a sigh and picks the envelope up for himself, tearing it open and unfolding the piece of paper you shed tears over and wrote several drafts of before getting it just right. He clears his throat and begins to read out loud, "Dear Patrick-"

"Pete, please, don't," He interrupts his friend, not wanting him to continue. His efforts are unsuccessful.

"I'm sorry for a lot things, so many that I don't even know which one to start with. But maybe I shouldn't start with my apologies. Maybe I should start with what I want to thank you for. As much as you deserved better, you stuck with me for so long, and I know I never said it before, but thank you. I wouldn't have made it as far or as big as I did if it weren't for you and you alone. This was never about me - it was about us, and I think that got away from me as our names started to becoming a subject in everyone's conversation; as more and more people started coming to shows just because the two of us were there.

"I don't know why you put up with me as long as you did. I never gave you the time of day except when it came to dancing, I pushed your buttons, and I kept you thinking that there was more you needed to do to prove yourself worthy to me and to our fans. But, Patrick, there wasn't.

"I don't know why I did what I did, or acted the way I acted. Maybe it was because I was scared one day you'd realize how much better you are than me and leave, and that I had to make you feel like you weren't good enough. Or maybe it was because I didn't know how to be with someone like you, because, Patrick, you're perfect, absolutely perfect. I didn't deserve perfect. I was greedy and wanted it, but I sure as hell didn't deserve it. Yet there you were, by my side, every day, and there wasn't a single thing I could do to make you go.

"Brendon, the guy I foolishly tried to replace you with, he told me something. He said that something was wrong with you and me, that something wasn't right. He said the chemistry we had wasn't there, and that we were falling apart. I didn't want to believe him at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right.

"When we first started dancing, we didn't know each other. We were two strangers, ready to show the world what we were made of. Failure made us who we are, Patrick. Had we been accepted into that dance teacher's team, I don't think we'd be in the same place we are today. I don't think we'd be as famous as we are. I don't think you would've gotten sick, and I don't think I would be dead right now."

"No," Patrick murmurs, shaking his head in refusal and covering his ears with his hands, "Stop, Pete. I don't want to hear anymore."

"Oh don't be such a baby. I'm almost done," Pete replies, giving the paper a slight shake before finding where he left off and continuing, "But here we are, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you, and I'm sorry for leaving you like this. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now, probably just a mix of emotions you can't decipher. But I couldn't keep doing this, I couldn't hurt you anymore. I didn't realize until a little while ago how hard I was pushing you, how much pain and suffering you were going through just by being my dance partner-"

"I wasn't suffering," He comments under his breath, tears blurring his vision, "It can't be suffering if it was what I wanted to do."

The black haired man rolls his eyes. "You deserve a break, Patrick, a long one. Take some time for yourself. Sell the studio. Do what you've always really wanted to do, because I already did what I wanted to do. Now it's your turn, go. Be the person you were meant to be. I mean it. (Y/N)." He lifts his head up and glances over at his friend whose hands are clasped together, his elbows resting on his thighs. His bloodshot and puffy eyes are locked forward, avoiding Pete's. The older of the two looks back down at the letter and laughs under his breath. "Damn, Pat. And you didn't want to read this?"

"No! I didn't!" Patrick replies angrily, heaving a sigh and standing up, "I don't care what she had to say, okay? Because she never understood why I stuck by her side, and she still doesn't. She doesn't understand that the two of us...we were meant to be. Sure, I took things a little far, but (Y/N) and I, there was a reason why we were put together that day. It wasn't because of our age, or because we were seemingly the least experienced. It was because, when I saw her, I knew we were destined for greatness, and I was willing to do whatever it took to achieve it."

"But she was killing you, Pat."

He chuckles, putting his hands on his hips and saying, "Well have you ever thought that it wasn't her who was killing me, but me?" Pete's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "(Y/N) didn't do anything, Pete. She didn't ask for me to practice as much as I did, or monitor the calories I was taking in. All she did was want to be perfect, but she wasn't ready to put the work in. So I had to, and for fuck's sake, Pete, I wanted to. That's what I wanted to do. I wanted put in my everything into making her who she became, and had she not killed herself, or have me kill her, I'd still be putting my everything towards her."

"At what expense though?"

"It doesn't matter what expense, Pete!" Patrick cries out of frustration, "I loved her, and you don't always have reasons for why you do what you do for the people you love. So get off my back, would you? You and everyone else...you made (Y/N) think she was a heartless monster, but she wasn't. The only person who killed anyone here was all of you killing (Y/N)."

Just then, a car pulls up to the curb and honks its horn. Patrick shakes his head in disgust and walks down the steps, slipping into the car. Pete sighs and pockets the note, getting up and trudging after him.

On the silent ride to the funeral, Patrick fails to keep himself together. With his head resting on the window, tears that had been building in his eyes start to stream down his face and his throat begins to swell, thinking about everything that's happened.

"I wanted to impress you, (Y/N). I wanted to be your perfect partner, the one who wouldn't miss a step and would never let you fall; the one who would never fail to make you look good. But . . . I just, I can't."