"We're going home." The words alone leave a nasty, metallic taste in Patrick's mouth.

He feels his chest tighten around his heart, making his pulse feel more strained as it grows louder in his ears— almost as if it were amplified.

He tries to hide his hurt, not wanting to withhold Nia from what she wants.

But this isn't what she wants, Patrick argues with himself.

He looks up at Nia, meeting her violet eyes. The orbiting planets in her irises seem to be stuck, frozen in time. Patrick doesn't have to say anything; she already knows what plagues his mind. Nia still tears her gaze from the man, leaving him with the sensation of switchblades sinking into every inch of his body.

"Are you and Daddy not getting a divorce?" Costello asks, snapping Patrick out of his daze. It's his turn to look away from the star girl. His blue eyes drift to the table, fixating on the empty plate before him. Patrick's stomach churns, swirling into a sickening, yet anticlimactic storm. He almost believed for a second that the contents of his lunch would resurface. He's almost disappointed that it didn't.

"C'mon, Stello," Nia coaxes gently as she guides her son to start packing his belongings. The curious boy asks again, repeating his question a few times in hopes that his mother will answer to ease his pondering mind. She doesn't answer. Instead, Nia leaves the boy to pack his things as she escapes to the shared bedroom Patrick sacrificed for her comfort. He pushes his knotting stomach aside and follows her. He has no plan on what to say, exactly, but that doesn't stop him from his fixated, unplanned mission.

"Hey," Patrick blurts out once he opens his mouth. Nia looks over at the blond, confused man as she starts to fold and stack clothes into her suitcase.

"Are you serious?"
"Patrick—"
"No, I'm asking," he clarifies. Nia studies him, then gives a curt nod. Tiny daggers find their way to Patrick's chest. He inhales slowly, ignoring the pain.

"So, what's happening? Are you two working things out? Is this just a show for Costello?" Patrick quizzes. He furrows his brow in confusion, folding his arms over his chest.

"Why does that matter to you?" Nia huffs, irritation and venom drenching her voice.
"What's the point of going back when you don't even know that you love him?!" the man argues. Patrick feels a lump in his throat as his eyes start to lightly sting.
"This is none of your business, Patrick," the violet-eyed woman snarls. Nia starts to carelessly fold her clothes as she tosses them into her luggage.

"If it's none of my business, then why did you call me?" Patrick demands. "Why did you ask to stay at my place? Why did you tell me that Costello is my son?"
"Look, I'm sorry—"
"I don't want an apology, Nia," he declares. His voice starts to give way as the switchblades sink deeper into his chest. "I want answers. I have been wanting answers for eight years. Do you have any idea what that is like?"
"No one told you to wait for me, Patrick! You could have easily moved on and forgotten about me," the woman retorts.
"You don't think I tried doing that?" Patrick scoffs.

Nia heaves a sigh and shakes her head, ignoring the situation as she continues to pack her belongings. Everything hurts for Patrick. His chest tightens even more, his breath becoming shallow as his lip trembles.

"Goddammit, Nia," he mumbles. "This is not fair!"
"Not fair?" Nia quizzes, disbelief lacing with her echo. "Last time I checked, I didn't owe you a damn thing, Patrick!"
"You don't owe me anything, I'm not saying that!"
"Then, what are you saying?! What more could you want from me? I'm here in stupid Chicago, but we're adults! We can't just go out without a care like we did when we were younger, Patrick! I have a child and I have a husband waiting for us to come back!"

"But you don't even love him!" Patrick stresses. The dam breaks, allowing warm tears to stream down his face. He doesn't fight it, though it makes it harder for his voice to stay firm.

"Nia, how are you going to go back to someone you don't love?" Patrick rasps. "That's doesn't make any sense!"

"I have to go," Nia huffs as she zips her bag and hauls it with her. Just as they turn towards the open door, Costello peers from the side of the doorframe, a mixture of fear and sadness swirling in his blue eyes.

"Mommy? Why isn't Daddy coming with us?" Costello asks. His eyes flick over to Patrick. "Why is Daddy crying?"

"Daddy's at home, baby," Nia says as she takes Costello's hand, rushing out of Patrick's room. Costello pulls out of her grip and runs towards Patrick.

"Daddy's right here," Costello whimpers. He collides with Patrick, hugging him tightly. It's enough to shatter the remaining fragments of Patrick's torn heart.

"Costello, let's go!" Nia scolds. "Right now!"
"No!" Costello argues back. He buries his face in Patrick's side, clinging tighter to him— as if his life depended on it.

Patrick feels Costello tremble beside him, his own warm tears seeping into his shirt.

"Stello, buddy, listen to your mother," he whispers as he strokes his wavy locks.
"But I want to stay with you," Costello weeps.

Patrick kneels down and places his hands on Costello's shaking shoulders. The boy continues to weep, his hands failing to rid away the infinite tears.

"Costello, look at me," Patrick says gently. Costello does so, revealing his starry, blue eyes. Patrick can't help but to chuckle weakly at them, always slightly thrown off by the resemblance.

"I know this is tough. It's tough for me, too. But listen to your mother, okay?"
"But I don't wanna go back to him—"
"Shh," Patrick hushes. "I know. But you'll be happy there. Your mom is going to take care of you, she only wants the best for you. So, promise you'll be good?"
"Daddy, I don't want to go," Costello cries. He tackles Patrick with another hug, burying his face into his shoulder. Tears grow stronger in Patrick's eyes, but he fights them. He returns the embrace to Costello with a weak, broken chuckle.

"You're making this a lot harder than it already is, bud," Patrick croaks.

Patrick reluctantly peels himself away from the embrace and coaxes Costello towards Nia before standing up straight.

"Come on, Stello," Nia sighs. She extends her hand down to the boy, allowing him to claim it.

"Nia, I..." Patrick trails off, fighting his tardy words. Nia still stops, watching him as he speaks.

"Look, Patrick, I don't need another lecture from you about how I don't really love him—"
"No, no," Patrick mumbles as he shakes his head. "I just... I love you."

Patrick feels a weight fall from his shoulders, but he still feels sick as the rest of the words spill from him.

"I know it doesn't makes a difference right now, considering you're going back to Ricky. But I love you. I've been in love with you even after you left. I tried shaking it all off within the eight years, but it hasn't done anything for me except cause me a whole lot of pain. But, it's stupid. You're right, I should move on."

Silence blankets the apartment for a moment before Nia shifts a little on her feet, guiding her and Costello outside.

"Goodbye, Patrick."

He doesn't dare himself to watch as they disappear behind the door, their footsteps fading deeper into the hallway. It creates knots in Patrick's stomach, making him feel sick.

Instead, he opts for his usual aloneness. He roams the strangely empty home, trying to find peace in something he had lived with for years— long before Nia came back to Chicago, long before the madness engulfed his life.

Minutes felt like hours; hours felt like days. Patrick found himself tired, drained, and staring blankly at the ceiling above him as he lied on his bed. He glances at the clock, finding it to be 12:45 AM. He sighs and decides that maybe he could rest and fake a smile for work in the daylight.

Just as he turns over to his decision, his phone illuminates and buzzes on the wooden nightstand. He sits up and looks at the caller ID. Nia's name reveals itself with a photo of her beside it. He blinks at the image, then shakes his daze away before answering.

"Hello?" Patrick quizzes groggily.
"Patrick!" Nia answers with panic filling every bit of her voice. "Oh, my god, thank god you answered!"

"What's wrong?" the man asks as he sits up. Knots start to return to his stomach. A bit of twisted hope stirs in his chest. Maybe she realized that going back to Ricky wasn't a good option. Patrick shakes his head at the silly thought, dismissing it with a heavy weight of dejection.

"It's Costello," Nia rasps. Icy fear courses through Patrick's blood upon hearing the news, "he's missing! Ricky and I have looked everywhere for him! One minute, he was in his room, a-and the next... he was gone!"

"I'll help you," Patrick states, withholding his own reactions. He knows it would be best to remain calm for Nia; it would only worsen her anxiety. "I'll call you when I find him."

"Thank you so much," Nia exhales on the other end. Patrick can heat the hint of a break in her voice, tears claiming that space. Patrick decides not to comment on it. The tension between them is too awkward, too unfamiliar now. His focus was more on Costello's safety, anyhow.

Soon after, Nia ended the call. Patrick gathers his keys and a jacket before exiting his apartment to continue his search. Just as he closes the door and locks it, he sees a boy sitting by his door. The child has his face buried in his arms that rest on his knees. He sniffles, fighting a losing war with sobs.

Patrick studies the boy with more caution, some features and aspects becoming familiar. The child had brown, wavy hair. Sat beside him is a Donatello backpack; in his arms rests a limp Raphael plushie.

"Costello?" Patrick quizzes. He furrows his brow at the child as he apprehensively approaches him. The boy looks up at the blond man, his face red and tears streaking his cheeks. Without a second thought, Patrick rushes over to him. He kneels beside Costello, embracing him tightly.

"Stello, what are you doing here?" Patrick asks. "Your parents are worried sick about you!"
"Please don't be mad, I'm sorry," the boy croaks into his father's chest. "Don't tell Mommy, please don't tell Mommy!"
"Buddy, I have to—"
"Please don't," the boy weeps. Patrick is silent for a moment as he feels his son's tiny frame quake in his arms with every sob that ripples through him. Patrick has no other choice but to claim his seat on the floor and hold the young boy. He embraces him, hushing him gently as his hand runs through his hair.

After a moment and his tears start to let up, Patrick dares himself to investigate.

"Stello, what are you doing here?" Patrick mumbles. Concern claims his voice, overruling the disappointed tone he had originally wanted.

"Mommy and Ricky were fighting, so I came back," the boy whimpers. "I remembered the address because I thought we were staying here with you."

"Costello, I wish you could stay here," Patrick sighs. His heart clenches at the reminder. "But you can't. It's really best if you stay with your mother. It's late; she's worried. I gotta take you home, bud."

"But I don't want to," Costello whimpers. He grips onto Patrick's hoodie gathering the little fabric his hands could contain. "I don't want to go back to him! I want to be with my real Daddy!"

Patrick heaves another sigh, still remaining to soothe and comfort the child. He glances at the time on his watch, finding it to be one o'clock. A faint smile twitches at his lips, remembering the days when he and Nia went to the lake shore to stargaze.

"Has your mother ever taken you to the lake?" Patrick asks. Costello shakes his head, limiting his words due to emotional exhaust. Patrick could somehow relate to the eight-year-old.

"When we were kids, we used to go and stargaze. Want me to take you?" the man tries. Costello looks up at Patrick, housing the very same planets Nia owns in the very same eyes Patrick owns.

"Just us for a little while, okay?" Patrick reassures. Costello nods.

"It'll be fun. I promise."

A/N:
Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for this update and postponing it a couple of times. Spring break is next week and this book is really reaching its end. I really have no idea how to feel about that. With that information, I want to let you know I'm keeping this account for original stories. What kind of fictional works do you want to see me post on here? I'm always open to try new things!

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