Patrick Stump/Fall Out Boy Imagines

[PATRICK] After You Put Him To Bed - Part Two

You barrel up the stairs after Declan, the child relentless in his endeavor to get his parents' approval of the picture he drew of you. Unfortunately, he's too quick for you and you don't beat him to the second floor. You stop at the top of the stairs and watch with wide eyes as the small boy walks up to his dad who's standing out in the hallway, his hand balled into a fist as he pounds on the closed bedroom door.

"Come on, Elisa," Patrick says, his voice slightly raised, "Open up."

"Daddy, look at what I drawed!" His son exclaims, tugging on his pant leg to grab his attention.

The singer looks over at you - not once down at the boy - and pleads, "Can you get him ready for bed, (Y/N)? Please?" It's evident in his tone that he's frustrated and irritated, and that he doesn't need his son bugging him right now.

"No, Daddy, look!" The three year old insists, waving the piece of paper in the air as you quickly start to approach him, "It's a picture of-" You swoop the boy up in your arms, cutting his sentence short as you take him down the opposite end of the hallway. "(Y/N)! Put me down!" He whines as you escape into the boy's bedroom. You set him down on the floor and he pouts at you, crossing his little arms over his chest. "I wanna show Daddy my drawing."

"Declan, now's not a good time to do that," You try to tell him.

"Why?" He asks his favorite question of all time, one that's starting to get on your nerves.

"Because," You simply answer.

"Because why?"

"Because Mommy and Daddy are very busy and you need to get ready for bed," You explain sternly, walking over to the dresser and pulling out a set of his pajamas.

"Why are Mommy and Daddy busy?"

"Because, Declan!" You finally snap, silencing the singer's child as the guilt you've been suppressing for months makes its reappearance. The small boy frowns and looks down at the piece of paper in his hands.

"All I wanted to do was show Daddy my picture..." He mumbles, causing you to roll your eyes.

You get Declan changed into his pajamas and tuck him in, the drawing leaned up against the lamp on his dresser. You try to read him his story, but with the screaming coming from down the hall, you have to scream the words just for Declan to hear you. You eventually give up and tell him just to listen to some music, grabbing for the pair of headphones and old CD player when the young boy stops you.

"When are they going to stop yelling, (Y/N)?" His big eyes glisten with tears.

"Soon, Dec," You tell him, leaning down and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead like you used to do every night. You adjust the headphones over his ears and start the CD player, standing up and carefully leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind you.

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and escape downstairs, hoping to evade the couple as you hastily gather your things. While you're slipping into your jacket, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You slowly glance back over your shoulder to see Patrick leaning against the threshold separating the kitchen and the foyer.

"Are you headed out?" He asks you, his voice soft and timid.

"Yeah," You respond, adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder, "Declan should be asleep soon, but-"

"He really likes you, (Y/N)," The singer cuts you off, maintaining the distance between you and him as he slips his hands into his pants' pockets, "And when you're not here, he always asks where you are and why you're gone."

You smile, an embarrassed blush making it's way to your cheeks. 

"I just don't know what's going to happen when he realizes you're not coming back," He tacks on, keeping his eyes locked on his feet in avoidance of seeing the smile being wiped from your face and replaced with a frown.

"What?" You whisper, your eyebrows furrowing together in a mixture of confusion and hurt.

"Look, (Y/N). I want to keep you around, I really do, but with the way things are going-"

"What do you mean 'with the way things are going'?" You repeat angrily, all while managing to keep your voice down low.

He scoffs. "You know..."

"No, I don't know, Patrick," You reply bluntly, taking a few strides forward and eliminating the safe space between the two of you, "Because I followed all of your wife's rules. I kept my distance from you, I didn't give one glance in your direction, and I never overstayed my welcome. I pushed my feelings aside because I care about Declan and seeing his smiling face every day makes my day. But so fucking help me, Patrick, if you couldn't do the same and you're the reason I'm losing-"

"Elisa and I are getting a divorce," He informs you, keeping a straight face as he finally brings his eyes up to yours.

Your lips seal shut and you swallow the lump in your throat, spitting out a mumbled, "Oh," before you rub the back of your head.

He nods his head. "And yes, I'm the reason you're losing your job, but that's because I'm headed out too...and I was hoping you'd come with me."

Your eyes double in size as his words hit your ears.

Patrick smirks and goes on to say, "I have this little apartment back in Chicago. It has two bedrooms, but one of them is filled with all my old instruments, so I hope you don't mind sleeping in the same room as me." His cheeks grow a deep shade of red before he continues, "I mean, it's not like we haven't slept together before, so I don't think it should be a problem, but..."

You shake your head in disbelief. "Patrick, this...this is insane. I-I can't go with you."

"What?"

"I didn't take this job because I'd be watching a famous rockstar's kid and have the chance to meet them," You reply honestly, your voice almost inaudible as you sadly look into his eyes, "I took it because I needed the money and babysitting was the only job I couldn't fuck up. But I guess I was wrong." He opens his mouth to say something, but you aren't done. "I appreciate your offer, Patrick, but...I can't accept it," You finish, "It wouldn't be fair."

"But-"

"But nothing, Patrick," You murmur, sincerity laced within your tone, "Your son doesn't deserve to go through this. And because of that, I'm going to leave, and you're going to go back upstairs and get Elisa to change her mind because you and her aren't getting a divorce. Okay?"

The singer stares at you blankly.

"Declan loves the both of you, but he hates all this fighting. You say he really likes me, but when finds out that I'm the reason his parents are fighting, he's going to hate me. So I'm just going to leave and..." Your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. You shake your head and continue, "...and never come back here. I won't call you, I won't say hi if I see you on the street, and you're not going call me or say hi to me on the street if you see me either. You're going to stop fighting with Elisa and focus more on your family, because they need you. Understood?"

"But I thought you wanted us to be together, (Y/N)," He mutters, the disappointment evident in his voice.

You heave an exasperated sigh before confessing, "Of course I do, Patrick, but not if it means robbing Declan of his parents. I know what it's like to grow up in a household that's been torn apart by infidelity, and it's no place I'd want anyone to grow up in, especially Declan. He's such a sweet kid and losing you would be devastating to him. So I'm sorry, Patrick, but I've got to go."

And with that, not allowing any more of the conversation to take place, you push past the singer and abandon the house, unintentionally slamming the door behind you. You run down the steps and slip into the driver's side of your car parked in their driveway, throwing your bag to the passenger's side and covering your face with your hands, tears immediately flooding your eyes and your chest growing tight as you break down, sobbing.

To be continued...?