Patrick pushed through the migraine developing behind his eyes. It wasn't a hangover, though he wishes it were. He manages to adjust dials as Pushing Daisies finishes the last of their recording. This process was more painful on Patrick's end since it was their drummer's session. The rhythmic banging Patrick would usually find comfort and enjoyment in was just another hammer to his head.

He had warned the young band about his headache and insisted on helping them finish their recording despite them allowing him to go home and rest. Patrick knew that he wouldn't rest if he did abide to their suggestions. So the day was heavily relied on occasional Motrins and many cups of coffee.

Alex, the drummer, finishes his last beat on the instruments. Patrick presses a smile for the teen and gives him a thumbs up.

"Killer, as always," Patrick comments. He can almost see Alex release a breath of anticipation, a smile claiming his face.
"Thanks, Mr. S," the boy says. The drummer only takes his drumsticks and exits the booth. "How's you're headache?"
"Horrible," Patrick says earnestly with a chuckle, "but I didn't want to let you guys down."
"You wouldn't have let us down if you called in sick for a day, sir," Daisy chuckles. "I'm sure one of us is procrastinating on a paper that's due soon."
"You guys really shouldn't procrastinate on homework," Patrick chuckles. It was hypocritical of him to say such a thing. When he was their age, he would procrastinate and waste time on his guitar. Sometimes, his time was wasted with a violet-eyed girl who liked to watch the stars.

A wave of flashbacks and nostalgia washes over Patrick, relaying to him all the nights him and Nia would laugh about their pending assignments while they drank sodas under constellations and planets. The memories had engulfed him so deeply that he could almost hear Nia rambling about the articles she read before leaving the house. He could almost hear himself laughing at how some stars formed into the shape of a certain teacher or student.

"Did you party too hard, Mr. Stump?" a voice teases. Patrick shakes himself away from the trance, registering Daisy's voice.
"Oh, no," Patrick chuckles weakly. "I-I, uh... I don't really do parties."
"Aside from music, what else do you like?" the girl asks with a smile.
"Uh, movies are pretty cool," Patrick stammers. Confusion slowly flows to his head, but he brushes it aside. "I like watching all sorts of movies."
"Like a buff or something?"
"Uh, sure," he chuckles. "Most people call it that."
"Do you ice skate?" Daisy asks.
"No, I'm horrible at that," Patrick laughs. "What's up with all these questions, Daisy?"
"I'm just trying to help you, Mr. Stump," the girl states with a friendly smile. "You look so lonely and I just thought maybe I could help you find someone. My mom's divorced and I was hoping you two would give each other a chance. I think she'd be interested."
"Your mother, Daisy?" Patrick nearly gawks. It wasn't that he was disgusted by the thought of being with Daisy's mother. He's only met the woman a couple of times and she was a nice person. She was pretty, too. But she didn't pull Patrick in to consider dating her. She wasn't that special thing he had been in search of for over eight years.

She wasn't Nia.

"Daisy, kiddo, I appreciate what you're doing," Patrick huffs. "It's very sweet of you, but I just can't see myself with your mother. She's a very attractive lady and she is very nice, but—"
"Then give it a shot, Mr. Stump!" she eggs on.
"... but," he continues with a sigh. "I'm just not interested."
"Is there someone else, Mr. S?" Alex asks with a suggestive smile.
"That's really none of your business," Patrick chuckles warily. "I'd like to keep my work and personal life separate."

Patrick's phone screen glows as it starts to ring. Nia shows up as the caller ID, no photo where Patrick would usually see one. It felt weird to him, not seeing a photo on the woman smiling or making some sort of silly face at the camera. A pang spreads through his stomach and chest as he studied the phone.

"Hey, kids, I gotta take this," Patrick says as he steps out of the studio with his phone. He is left alone in the hallway, taking the phone call. A part of him hopes it was a pocket dial or Costello messing with the wrong app.

"Hello?" Patrick answers.
"Hey, Ghost Boy," Nia beams on the other line. A smile twitches at Patrick's lips upon hearing the old nickname.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"Are you at work still?" she asks.
"About to clock out soon," Patrick states. "Why?"
"Let's catch up some more," Nia suggests. "We hardly did any of that last night. I just kinda talked about myself and you were awfully quiet. I wanna get to know this new Patrick."
"Oh, okay," is all he manages to say. Patrick winces as his own words, but forces himself to continue. "What do you suggest?"
"Lunch? One of those diners we used to go to back when we were kids?" Nia proposes.
"Yeah, sounds cool," the blonde huffs, his chest growing tight with some form of anxiety. "I'll meet you there."

With that, they hang up. Patrick leans against the wall, taking a deep breath as he processes what he had gotten himself into. It wasn't a date. He wishes it were with every fiber of his being, but it wasn't. Because Nia was happily married to Ricky. He couldn't tear them apart even if he wanted to.

The blonde man pockets his phone and enters the studio to gather his items.

"Alright guys," he sighs wearily, "I have a meeting to go to. I can't let you guys stay in here."
"See you later, Mr. Stump," Daisy chirps as she leads her band mates out. "I hope you find that person you're looking for soon."

Patrick gives a small smile of gratitude, though the person in mind made his heart twist painfully.

"And we better get wedding invitations!" Alex jokes.
"See you kids later," Patrick chuckles as the last of them trickle out of the work space. Patrick claims the room, sitting at his office chair with an exhausted huff as his frame collapses in the seat. He pulls out his phone, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the darkened glass of the touch screen. He fixes his hair, adjusting a few strands, then pockets the item again.

It's not a date, he reminds himself. The reminder makes reality hurt a little more.

* * *

Nia waves from their reserved booth as Patrick enters the restaurant, examining the space. He spots the woman instantly and takes his seat across from her.

"Hey," she chirps, an enthusiastic grin on her face. Patrick wishes he could reciprocate the energy. His head is too busy with buzzing thoughts and questions about what had happened eight years ago.

"Hey," Patrick responds with a weak smile, his mind fixated on the many questions. He notices the glass of water sat next to his menu. He takes the beverage and tries to focus on drinking the cool liquid.

"How was work? How was your day?" Nia asks. Patrick gives a short shrug.
"Work was work. Today was just like any other day," Patrick brushes off. Today was not just like any other day. Any other day was without Nia. Yes, he did wonder about her and caught himself dreaming about what they once were and what they could have been. But today-- right now, Nia was here in Chicago. They weren't kids anymore. His dreams were crushed and forced to sit on a shelf.

"How about you?" Patrick reciprocates as he picks up his menu and starts looking through the options. He already knew he was going to order his usual, despite his stomach feeling ill at the thought of food while being around the girl he once loved.

"It was good," she says. "There was a tour today and a few field trips. But enough about me--"
"You never told me where you worked," Patrick interjects. "There aren't any NASA  facilities in Chi-town, right?"
"No," Nia chuckles sheepishly. "I work at the observatory, now. I guess you joking about me working there came true, huh?"
"Guess so," the blonde says. There's a silence between the two. Patrick feels the twisting dagger of reality in his chest again.

"Where do you work, Buster?" Nia manages to ask, breaking the awkward stillness.
"At a studio," he says. Nia frowns at the vague answer, but nods.
"Where is this studio? I'd like to see it one day," she tries.
"It's, uh, somewhere around this town," Patrick states.
"Is it... far?"
"Not really. Maybe about thirty minutes from here," he says. He keeps his eyes fixated on the menu, ignoring the furrowing brow of a frustrated Nia.

"Hey," Nia huffs. She grabs the menu in Patrick's hand, tilting down and away from Patrick's face. He catches a glimpse of the silver and diamond ring on her finger; a chill runs down his spine and he feels sicker than before.

"What's your deal?" Nia asks. "You're kinda being a..."
"Being a what?" Patrick asks. He finally looks up at Nia, his once warm blue eyes now matching the icy void in his chest. Nia freezes in that winter of a gaze, her purple eyes showing slight shock and deja vu.

"Go on. Say it," Patrick eggs on. He presses his lips into a fine line as he waits for Nia to finish her statement. 
"You're kinda being a dick right now," Nia states. "If you didn't want to hang, you could've just told me."
"Kind of like when you told me you were getting married, right?" Patrick quizzes, quirking a brow. Nia furrows her at the man.
"What?" she whispers.
"Like when you told me you were getting married," Patrick repeats. A bitter scoff escapes him. "Oh, that's right. I never got word of it. Got that notification pretty late, if you ask me."
"Patrick--"
"Or like that time you responded to all of my calls or texts while you were in California. Oh, wait! You never did."
"If you have something to say--"
"I've had quite a lot to say, Nia," Patrick snarls. "For eight years-- but who's counting, anyway?"
"What is your problem?" Nia asks, anger and frustration rising in her.

Patrick leans back into his chair and folds his arms at the woman. Every feeling he had tried his best to bottle up, to store away, was bubbling and resurfacing. It physically burned Patrick from the inside out.

"If this is about what we had before I left," Nia snarls, "I want you to know and deal with the fact that it is in the past."
"I would have been able to cope if you hadn't hopped on Ricky just as fast as you hopped off the plane that landed in California," the man retorts.
"Honestly, you just need to let go of--"
"Let go of what we had?" Patrick scoffs. "Just pretend that we never loved each other? That we were never lovers or more than friends? Jesus Christ, Nia, even friends would shoot a text letting the other know they were getting married or having a child! Are we even friends? Were we ever friends?"

Nia is silent, her eyes narrowing at the man.

"Don't look at me like that, Nia," Patrick protests. "I'm not going to pretend that what we had was just a fling. You and I both know that it was more than a fling. I loved you, Nia."
"So, what do you want me to do?" the woman huffs as she tosses her hands up in exasperation. "Love you back?"

It is Patrick's turn to be silent. His face softens as his heart cracks again. He had lost count a long time ago when it came to Nia. She could take the physical organ straight from his chest and he would still find a way to give her the galaxies that matched her eyes.

"Yes," he replies, despite it being a rhetorical question. His answer is barely a whisper. Nia goes to add onto her hurt, but Patrick finally realizes he can't take any more of the damage. "But I don't want it if you don't mean it. Then, it's just bullshit. I don't want bullshit."

Nia's demeanor softens. She looks away from the blonde man and picks at her fingers.

"I'm being ridiculous," Patrick mumbles. "You have a husband, now. He's a great guy. You deserve him. And you two have a kid. You're right, Nia. I am being a dick. Just... forget everything I said."
"Buster," Nia sighs.
"Just forget about it," Patrick smiles weakly. "It's in the past. I'm out of my mind."

Nia fails to say anything back. She watches the man shrink back from his aggressive state as he claims the menu again. She frowns at his demeanor, but tries to busy herself with the menu as well. Patrick ignores the shards of glass that is his heart. It had always been that way. He was crazy to think that anything would change.

A/N:
Wow this one is a little longer... I actually was in pain for Patrick in this one... how about you guys?

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