Patrick Stump Imagines/One Shots

11 ~ When Something Feels Wrong

Patrick

There's a feeling you get when you know something is very wrong. The spark fans into a flame in your gut and it makes you feel sick. The feeling had teared at me all day and I hadn't noticed it until it was too late.

My father had always told me to speak up, tell someone when I was in this sort of funk. He would tell me not to worry, always justifying it with the saying "Worrying never solved anything." I'd always felt silly for being worried because, almost always, the feeling was small and insignificant and all for nothing.

I hugged my knees into my chest on the old couch in the living room. Josh had found a way to turn the television screen on, but there wasn't much of a signal. I sat and watched the cracked, snowy screen and listened to the static white noise. Meanwhile, Mikey was sleeping on the couch next to mine, Pete and Joe were out hunting for food, and Tyler and Josh were chatting at the front door.

Andy came around from the kitchen and sat next to me on the couch. He offered a smile, but I couldn't bring myself to give him one back. I kept my eyes fixed on the screen.

"Remember that project in Earth History class where the two of us had to do a presentation on United States Presidents?" he asked and chuckled. "We were the two quietest people in the class." He paused for me to respond or at least react, but I sat still.

"Patrick," he put his hand on my back, "are you okay?"

I felt tears in my eyes.

He asked again, "Are you okay?"

I closed my eyes and felt a tear slide down my cheek. I felt a lot of things. I felt worried, ashamed, hungry, tired, homesick, alone, and depressed. It all bottled up inside me for so long that I just felt...

"Worthless," I had accidentally said out loud. When I finally looked over at Andy, he looked confused. I figured I'd already broke the awkward barrier and poured out like a faucet, "I feel like crap. I'm so little and scared and this world is huge and is filled with the unknown. I'm no help to anyone. I'm not good enough or smart enough. I feel all these-these things inside me but yet I feel so... empty. I'm afraid, terrified, and I do not belong here."

He frowns, "Patrick, none of us belong here. The Legacy sent a bunch of prisoners to a planet thinking we were all going to die, but we're alive and we are lost and clueless. We're all afraid. Anyone who tells you they're not is just afraid of admitting it."

I nod and shrink back into the couch.

Andy sat for a while and then got up quickly, "Do you think there's anything fun to do in here? Cards? Cool knick knacks?"

Bless his heart for trying to distract me. I wiped my face and replied, "I mean, I couldn't find anything in the bedrooms or the bathroom."

"Dude," he laughed, "You're not looking in the right places."

Andy nodded his head for me to follow him up the stairs. The couch creaked as I stood up. I met him up at the top of the steps, where a copper colored string was hanging on the ceiling. Andy pulled it down and another set of steps on a ladder came with it. He smiled and rubbed his hands together eagerly. I had a bad feeling about this, but I managed to pull myself together and follow him.

We could only see with the moonlight coming through a circular window. The attic was coated with layers of dust. I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face. Once the dust in the air cleared, we found a bunch of chests and shelves along the walls. There were yellow paged books and old-fashioned clothes and toys galore.

Andy picked a book up from the ground and delicately peeled the pages as he skimmed through the words on the page. I watched him light up with excitement and wondered what an innocent guy like him did to end up here.