seven
In all ways possible after the failed (and fake) double date, Patrick made sure to avoid Nia. He busied himself with work as much as he could, ignoring her phone calls and dodging her text messages. It was all he could really do to keep himself sane. Patrick still loved her. She wasn't his to take anymore, thanks to the wedding band embracing her finger on her left hand. He really did try to hate Ricky, but it was futile.
"So, my mom said that it didn't work out," Daisy says, drawing Patrick out of his thoughts. He blinks at the girl, his brow furrowing with slight confusion. The nasty wave of the failed date hits him. Patrick frowns, shrugging his shoulders quickly before shaking his head to confirm the fact.
"Sorry, kid," he sighs.
"She said you're into someone else," the girl states. Her voice possesses a form of anger— distaste towards the blonde producer. Patrick looks up at the girl again, even more confusion crossing his features. Daisy glares at him. "Are you one of those scum bags that date more than one woman at a time?"
"What? No, Daisy! I don't do that—"
"Are you into someone else? Are you dating someone and didn't bother telling my mom before taking her out?"
Patrick struggles to thread words together for an explanation. He stammers on only a few, inaudible sounds that could form words, but fail to. To some extent, Rose was right. Patrick was still wishing to be beside Nia. It should have been him taking her to brunch every weekend. It should be him taking their small family to the park. It should be him tucking Costello into bed every night. Rose deserved better. So did Daisy.
"Answer me," Daisy snarls, snapping Patrick out of his dazed state. He snaps his attention to the girl, finding her glaring face red and damp with tears. One of her band mates whispers something to her as he grabs her hand, his face a picture of concern.
"Daisy, I-I..." Patrick stammers, unsure how to react to the teenager full of rage.
"Answer me," she repeats. "Because I am sick of seeing her hurt by scum bags who can't choose what to do because they think with the wrong head!"
"Daisy, sweetheart, I would never do that to your mother," Patrick finally says. "I wouldn't do that to anyone."
Daisy swipes at the tears with the heels of her palms, her guitar hanging on her frame by a strap.
"Sorry, Mr. S," Alex says sheepishly. He places his hands on his band mate's shoulders, massaging them comfortingly.
"Yeah, sorry," Daisy mumbles before sniffling to regain composure. "Let's just... start over. From the first track."
"You sure, D?" Alex asks.
"Yeah," Patrick joins in. "We can continue this another time. You seem like something is bothering you. It's hard to create anything when you're in a bad headspace."
The bit of advice leaves a strange texture in Patrick's mouth as he says it to the crying girl.
"I just... sorry," she mumbles. "I found out my father was cheating on my mom. That's why they divorced. And she's had a rough time with scum bags like him."
Though Patrick never got to kindle a spark between him and Rose, he felt his heart plummet for the woman. He didn't have to be in love with her to know that she didn't deserve such maltreatment.
"I'm sorry, Daisy," Patrick says, his voice genuine with sympathy. "I promise you that I would have never done that to your mother. What happened between us was nothing bad. We're just not meant for each other. She's a wonderful person, but we agreed to just try to be friends."
Daisy nods, understanding what he was explaining. She smiles weakly as she rids away the last of her tears. Patrick studies the girl for a moment before continuing to play through the band's tracks for any needed editing.
"No more crying in my studio, alright?" Patrick jokes halfheartedly. The blonde man feigns a stern scowl at the young band. It's enough to make the atmosphere lighter in the small room; Daisy chuckles weakly through sniffles, but it's enough to reassure Patrick.
"If it's any help, I'm sure karma will do its job," he adds. Daisy nods, then sighs.
"That's what Mom said," she rasps.
"Yeah," Patrick eggs on. "It'll do you two justice. I promise."
* * *
Just like every night, Patrick retreated to his empty home, only leaving the things he needed for one. Not many friends came over to his place as he preferred being alone. He found it tiring to be around many people at a time. Even one person could leave him exhausted. Patrick just preferred his own company rather than another's.
It hadn't always been that way. Eight years ago, he longed to always be beside the violet-eyed girl's side. Of course, fate changed that— then repeated itself in a scarier, more foreign light. It was as if life had pitched an old, appealing idea, but made it worse and terrifying.
Patrick sits on his couch, his thumb hovering over Nia's contact information. Seeing her name made his guts churn sluggishly, his insides developing into knots. He knew he couldn't be with her. It was best to just forget she was ever a part of his life, Patrick had thought. A simple delete of her contact, breaking their mutual connection, would make life easier. He wouldn't have to run from her or conceal anything. Patrick could already imagine himself telling Nia why he made the decision if they ever crossed paths afterwards— or if she had called or texted him after he responds with a clueless "who's this?"
Patrick can do it. But something in him prevented it. His thumb just floated above the trigger, shaking a little with the unusual strain it had to obtain to stay in one place. It was much use to gliding across instruments, or even the very cell phone screen to shoot a text message or make a call. It was more than his thumb, however.
Don't, a voice faintly declares in the back of his head. Patrick grimaces, trying to shake it off.
It's just doubt, he thinks to himself. It's just a second thought. You're better off without her.
Don't.
Patrick's phone starts to buzz in his hand, Nia's contact information disappearing and revealing a new sight.
Incoming Call: Nia
Patrick glances at the time on his phone, finding it to be 10:35pm. He furrows his brow, but still manages to press the green button before bringing his phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he answer warily.
"Hey, Buster," Nia huffs on the other end. There's a bit of a rustle as she struggles with something. "I'm so glad you answered! Are you home?"
"Um," the blonde hesitates, "yeah. Why?"
"Something came up, and Costello and I need a place to stay," the woman says. "I don't really have anyone else around here anymore; you're really my only hope. Is it okay if we come over?"
Patrick stays silent, mulling the idea of Nia in his head again. He picks at a loose stitch on the hem of his shirt, making note that he may have to replace the article soon. His mind is everywhere but in the call. It's still stuck on the idea of not having Nia on the other line, or around him.
"Patrick?" Nia questions.
"Oh, uh, yeah," the blonde man stammers. "Yeah, you can come over."
"Thank you so much," Nia sighs with relief. Patrick silently damns himself for the rash decision. But he knew he couldn't bear the weight on his conscience if they were at a motel and he could have helped easily.
"Yeah, no problem," Patrick mumbles. "I'll send you my address so you can just... use the GPS or something."
"I knew I could count on you," the woman claims. "We won't stay a while. I promise. It's just for a couple of nights."
With that, Nia ends the call, leaving Patrick to frown at his decision. He certainly couldn't erase Nia now. Not during whatever miniature crisis her and Costello were involved with now.
Within a few moments, a knock raps on the other side of Patrick's closed door. He stands and opens the barrier, being greeted with the sight of Nia standing before him. Her eyes look irritated, her brown locks thrown in a careless, loose bun. She holds a Donatello backpack and a black duffle bag in one hand, her other arm carrying Costello who sleeps on her shoulder.
Patrick instantly softens at the troubled woman, stepping aside to let her in. But he doesn't let her see that.
After this, I'm done, he notes himself.
"I'm so sorry to call you so late and last minute," Nia whispers. Patrick closes the door quietly and shakes his head.
"It's fine," he whispers back. "I don't really have much here. I was about to head to bed, actually. I can take the couch—"
Before Patrick can finish his statement, he finds Nia lying Costello on the couch, carefully taking out a pillow, blanket, and the Raphael plush from his Ninja Turtle backpack, making her son more comfortable.
"It's okay," Nia says. "It's your room. I'm probably going to be up for a while anyway. Go ahead, Buster. Don't let me hold you up."
Patrick hesitates, then nods as he watches Nia claim a seat beside the sleeping child.
"If you need anything, just let me know," Patrick says before trudging to his room. He climbs into his bed, letting the covers drape around him. The blonde closes his eyes, hoping sleep would come easy, but his stomach wouldn't allow it.
A familiar feeling stirs in the pit of his gut. It was similar to the feeling he felt when the very woman inside his home had called him when she was heartbroken at their usual lake. As of on cue, Nia quietly enters the doorframe, giving it a quiet tap.
Patrick sits up, squinting at her silhouette, not wanting to be bothered to hurt his eyes with the lamp's light.
"Mind if I sleep in here?" Nia rasps, her voice barely below whisper. He wanted to say no, but it was Nia. No matter what, he could never say no to her. Patrick could hear a familiar pain in her voice, but he just couldn't bring himself to dive into the cause. He knew it would only be a headfirst slide into emotional turmoil on his end.
"Sure," Patrick says after a moment. Nia enters the room and takes the empty space beside Patrick. He can feel is heart ramming against the confines of his chest. They lie in silence, their backs pressed into the mattress.
"Thank you," Nia sighs. "You really were my only hope, Trick. After I moved to California, everything went to hell."
"Well, I know for a fact your mother doesn't hate you or something," Patrick jokes lightly, somewhat hinting at an alternative Nia could have chosen. Nia is silent. Patrick hears the hush shift of the pillowcases under her as Nia looks over at him. He doesn't meet her gaze.
"No, she wouldn't have," Nia chuckles weakly. "Besides, she passed away about three years ago."
Patrick's heart plummets at the belated news. Why hadn't anyone told him? If anything, his mother (who was very much alive) would have said something. Patrick looks over at Nia, the moonlight hitting her bright eyes through his window blinds. The pale glow still highlighted her swelling tears. As much as Patrick thought he wanted Nia out of his head for good, he knew it wouldn't be possible.
"I'm so sorry, Nia," he whispers.
"It's fine," she mumbles, sniffling a little. "It's whatever. Shit happens, y'know?"
"Yeah," Patrick mumbles. "Just... sleep this off. I can take off work and we can talk in the morning."
"Thanks again, Trick," Nia huffs.
"Goodnight, Nia," Patrick says before turning on his side, his back facing the woman. Nia sighs, shifting to a comfortable position.
"Goodnight, Patrick," she returns. Patrick lies awake, waiting for Nia to fall asleep. Once he hears gentle snores escape from her, Patrick quietly escapes from the bed. He sees Costello sleeping soundly on the couch, the Raphael plush clutched close to his chest.
Patrick cradles the boy in his arms, making sure not to wake him as he carries Costello to his room, lying him beside his mother. Patrick smiles weakly at the two before claiming his slumber on the sofa.
He needed to be away from Nia. It was for the sake of himself and the family he knew she had.
After this, Patrick reminds himself as he uses a cushion of the couch as a makeshift pillow, I'm done with her.
He closes his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.
It's for the best.
A/N:
Oof sorry this took so long! Thanks for getting this to over 300 reads!!! School had a huge toll... and tbh at one point I just wasn't mentally/emotionally well. But I'm better now :) and hope to continue updating this fic and return to With The Band soon! :)
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