Patrick studies the wooden door before him, then glances at his phone to make sure that he has the right address. He grips the bottle of tequila in his other hand, his nerves almost getting the best of him. He can feel his hands grow clammy. A part of him wishes for the sweat to seep into the bottle so he has a reason to leave their house and never come back. He starts to second-guess that idea, because he would like to see Nia again. Also, that Ricky guy wasn't half bad.

Patrick blows a long sigh as if his anxiety was swelling smoke in his lungs, and his thoughts were the cigarette. He pockets his phone and manages to rap his knuckle on the closed portal. The sound of shuffling feet on the other end enter, then the door swings open. Nia stands at the door fame, smiling up at Patrick. Patrick returns the smile weakly.

"You're here!" Nia cheers, her smile growing into a grin.
"I brought an extra ingredient," Patrick says as he lifts the full glass bottle. "Just in case you guys didn't have enough."
"Thank you," the violet-eyed woman beams. She takes the item as she leads Patrick inside, guiding him to the kitchen where Ricky sits at the counter with his cup of the cocktail.

"I thought you weren't coming, my man," Ricky chuckles as he stands, ready to welcome Nia's old friend. Patrick gives a sheepish chuckle and places the tequila on the counter.

"Thought so, too," Patrick comments. He shoots a glance over at Nia as she claims her seat next to her husband.
"I couldn't just let you pass this up," Nia playfully scolds. She gathers her supplies to make Patrick a margarita, pouring the right measurements in the tin mixer.

"So, what's new? What's happened while I've been on the other side?" the woman asks as she mixes the combination. Patrick directs his gaze to the hardwood floor, a light blush claiming his face as he tucks his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, uh, nothing much," he stammers humbly. "Still that same kid who has a thing for music and... nerd stuff."
"You are not that same kid, Patrick," Nia laughs as she pours his drink in a glass. "That kid eight years ago didn't have that new hair you have! What's with that?"
"Just wanted to try something new, I guess," Patrick shrugs. "It's stupid and I'm probably going to dye it back—"
"No, keep it," Nia protests. She hands Patrick his drink with a smile, her eyes lingering on his face. The violet irises leave a warm trail along his pale skin. Patrick quickly snaps out of his trance and takes the cocktail, sipping at the beverage.

"It looks great," Nia says. "Tell me everything!"
"I guess since then, I lost a couple pounds. I haven't been keeping track anymore because I'm more focused on work, nowadays," Patrick rambles on. Nia snaps her fingers at the comment, realization claiming her face.

"That's probably why I hardly recognized you at the store today," she states. To that, Patrick chuckles. "You look great, by the way. What's work like?"
"It's, uh, fun," the blonde laughs. "It's music, so of course I'm having fun. I'm helping these kids release their first album and they're doing great. They have a lot of potential."
"Any special someones?" Ricky asks with a playful smirk. "We could probably double date one day."
"No," Patrick states with a weak laugh. His heart buoys in another body of hurt. "I've been more focused on work, anyhow."
"Well, whoever that person may be, they'd be lucky to have you," Ricky says as he claps Patrick's shoulder.
"Yeah," Nia agrees.
"I dunno," Patrick brushes off with a laugh. "Thanks, though."

Small footsteps drag from the hallway. It's enough to pull the married couple out of their social buzz, slight concern coating their faces. Patrick looks towards the footsteps, his eyes fixating on a child. The younger boy walks slowly, his brown wavy locks messy as he rubs his eye with the sleeve of his pajama shirt. In his arm, he carries a Raphael plush. The feeling of knives diving into his chest reoccur again.

"Hey, what're doing up, kiddo?" Nia asks. She sets her glass down and approaches the child.
"I had a bad dream," the boy mumbles. He looks up to Nia, his big blue eyes housing a bit of fear with the overpowering drowsiness.

"I'll tuck him back in," Ricky offers. "You two catch up."
"You sure?" Nia asks.
"Yeah, Starlet," the man smiles as he picks up the boy. "You two do your thing. This shouldn't take long."

With that, Ricky walks away with the child, leaving Patrick and Nia alone. Patrick tries his best to not look at the shattered fragments that was his heart. He just focuses on his drink that has been barely sipped on by him.

"So, uh, how long have you two been married?" he dares himself to ask.
"Eight years, almost," Nia answers. It's another step that crushes the shards of his heart. Patrick nods, pressing a smile for the girl.

"That's nice," he mumbles. "His son?"
"Our son, yeah," she smiles, correcting the minor error. "His name is Costello."
"Like—?"
"Yeah, like Elvis Costello," Nia chuckles. "Ricky is into him. I only agreed because it sounds like—"
"—constellation," Patrick finishes with her. The two glance at each other, then giggle at their small unison. Patrick forces the lump in his throat down with another sip of margarita. It only makes him feel physically worse. He sets the cup down on the counter and tries to continue with the conversation.

"And the Raphael doll?" he smirks weakly. "Donnie is the best. You of all people should know that."
"From what I remember, Raphael was the one who helps out when things get too scary," Nia retorts with a smile. Patrick would have returned it with another playful remark, or even a kiss. But that was behind her. Everything they were and had was nothing to her. Instead, Patrick settles with a light laugh.

It's silent between the two. Patrick decides that maybe feeling physically ill is a better option than being emotionally broken. He takes a few more swigs of his cocktail.

"He's scared of the dark, sometimes," Nia mentions. "Kind of reminds me of when we were kids, y'know?"
"Yeah," the blonde mumbles.
"He even has a nightlight. It looks almost like the one you had. And he has those glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Usually that helps him, but I guess tonight was a little harder for him."
"How old is he?" Patrick dares himself to ask.
"He's eight," she mumbles sheepishly. "Ricky and I kind of rushed into our marriage when we found out I was pregnant with him. His family kind of hates the idea of children out of wedlock."
"Oh," Patrick says. She had moved on right away while he was stuck on her. Patrick was still stuck on her nearly a decade later.

"Hey, guys," Ricky greets quietly as he enters the kitchen again. "What're you two talking about?"
"I was just telling Buster about Costello," Nia says.
"Heard you were a fan of Elvis Costello," Patrick notes. He presses a smile, trying to push his hurt and agony away.
"Casual fan," Ricky shrugs. "Back when I was a kid, however... I had a mission to learn at least one of his songs on the guitar."
"Do you still play guitar, Buster?" the violet-eyed woman asks. "He played when we were kids. He was really good."
"No, I wasn't," Patrick chuckles sheepishly. "I don't play as much as I used to."
"I bet you're more experienced than I am," the dark-haired man chuckles. "Maybe you can show me a thing or two, if you're okay with that."
"That sounds like fun," Nia beams. "I think you boys would hit it off very well."
"It wouldn't hurt to make another friend, I guess," Patrick shrugs. "Sounds like a plan."

As the night went on, Nia drank more while Patrick still slowly sipped at his first serving of his margarita. Ricky had stopped at his second; Nia stopped at her fourth, finally achieving a buzz. Patrick had listened to them talk about memories and funny stories that had happened while she was in California. It only made the blonde's stomach churn and twist. It hurt even more when Patrick has started to see the alcohol glaze Nia's violet eyes.

She looks up at Ricky with a slow smile, giggling.

"She's a happy drunk," Ricky chuckles as he helps the intoxicated woman to her feet.
"I know," Patrick mumbles under his breath as he looks down at his half-empty glass of cocktail drink.

"Hey, handsome," Nia laughs as she cuddles into Ricky's chest. Patrick places his cup down and gives the couple a weak smile, wanting to ignore the crushing feeling inside of his chest.

"I better go," Patrick says. "I've got work tomorrow. Thanks for inviting me."
"So sorry, Buster-- i-is it okay if I call you that?" Ricky asks. Patrick nods as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket.

"Yeah," he says shortly. "It's cool, man. Have a nice night. Take care of that party animal."
"Will do," the man laughs. "See ya around!"

With that, Patrick hurries out of the house and claims the driver's seat in his car. He sits there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel as his knuckles whiten under the moonlight. He felt eighteen again, but the bad side of it all. The side where he was confused and falling. The side where he invited Nia over to cheer her up and came to terms with his feelings.

They never died down. If anything, it grew.

Patrick groans loudly with frustration as he rests his forehead on the leather wheel. He hated himself more than he could ever want to hate Ricky. He wanted to hate Ricky even half as much as he hated himself. But Nia deserved him. They were happy. Who was he to ruin that for them-- for Nia?

Patrick heaves a heavy sigh and awakens the car from its slumber to travel home. He doesn't turn on the radio like he usually does. He doesn't put in a CD of any sort while he drives the suburban streets of Chicago. Patrick just drives in silence, staring ahead at the road before him while Nia and Ricky grow further and further behind him.

After all, it's easier that way.

A/N:
Heyo!! An Upadte!!! This one gave me a few problems tbh, but honestly... you're gonna need more tissues and comfort food through the rest of this book ;)

Comment. Vote. Share.