Patrick couldn't tell who was more distraught from the news: himself or his mother. Ever since he had told her, she had been babying him all over again, asking if he needed anything. If anything, Patrick wanted to forget how it all felt. He didn't want to feel anything.

He had distracted himself from any memory through practicing more music and even doing research in the producing business. If he couldn't create the songs, at least he would be an influence and a hand in helping someone create theirs. He worked more hours at the record shop he was committed to.

Every now and then, Nia would cross his path. She crossed his mind more times than she had crossed his paths. There was no anger between the former couple as she went around town, making amends, ending connections, and putting Chicago on hold. They only exchanged friendly smiles much like strangers do in their suburban town. Once in a while, they would trade a wave. But they always went for a subtle nod and a smile.

Patrick still longed for the stars to trace shapes into his pale skin. He tried to replace it with injecting music through his callousing fingertips. He did everything he could to keep his mind busy. He would even force himself to speak to a stranger just for conversation. Nia's voice was an earwig. Her laugh rang through his head, the way she says certain words that make her already-subtle Chicagoan accent more prominent. He just wanted a minor distraction.

"Patrick?" his mother proposes, peering into the boy's room as he fumbles with chords on his acoustic guitar. Patrick looks up from his notebook, meeting his mother's attention.

"Are you going to be there when Nia boards?" she asks, her voice hesitant and gentle. His insides stir uncomfortably at the tone. He doesn't want to be treated like he is made of glass anymore. The first week after the breakup was fine, but the second week made it even more real than it was before.

"Yeah," Patrick answers, his voice voided of any hurt or sadness. His mother knits her brows worriedly.
"Are you going to be okay? The both of you?" she asks.
"Yeah," he repeats, the tone duplicating itself. "We're on good terms, Mom. We made sure of that."
"Do you at least miss her?" she questions. They both knew the answer; she just wanted him to admit it. Patrick had already admitted it to himself several times. He just didn't want to dwell on it anymore. It would only hurt like it did in the beginning.

"I'll be there, Mom," he huffs before returning to his guitar. He sees his mother disappear from his doorway, her footsteps fading as he picks a random tune with the strings at his fingers. He sets the instrument down, sufficing with getting ready to leave the house to bid Nia farewell for good.

Patrick hated airports. There were too many people in one cramped space, all of them possessing different emotions towards being in the air for transportation. It ranged from pure anxiety to some level of joy and excitement. Plus, each section of the building always made him feel cold. Patrick had developed the habit of wearing a hoodie or a denim jacket whenever visiting the O'Hare Airport. Out of instinct, he went to his closet and searched for his Ghostbusters hoodie.

While fishing through all of his jackets, Patrick finds it to be missing. Then, he recalls the night of the breakup. Nia wore it and he never got it back. Instead, he let her keep it. Patrick shakes his head, wanting to escape anymore memories of Nia. Too many hits off one or more memory would only make him spiral. No one wanted that.

The blonde grabs the first sweater that his hand grasps around and he slips it on. He gathers his essentials, stuffing them in his pockets. He locates a faux velvet box on his nightstand and stashes it safely in his jacket pocket before making his way out of his bedroom. As he travels to his car, he stops in his tracks and turns towards the garage. Patrick studies the space, then walks towards it.

He opens the storage space, being welcomed by cardboard boxes stacked along the walls with his and his mother's handwritings scrawled on them. All of his boxes were on one side while the other side belonged to his mother and some of his older siblings. Patrick comes across a box with yellow duct tape securing its contents— something divergent of the others with clear packing tape. The boy uses his key to tear the tape, rediscovering what's inside.

Patrick opens the box, finding his childhood in the brown, disposable container. A smile twitches at his lips as he fishes through all the action figures he collected when he was younger. His eyes hitch on the four plush turtles he loved more than anything. Two of the stuffed characters sit up, as if they had their own will and desire to do so. Raphael and Donatello sit next to each other, resting on one another.

Patrick picks up the Raphael plush, the toy turtle's limbs hanging as it droops with its own weight. He chuckles at the soft item, a tinge of nostalgia spreading through him. He remembers the night Nia came over before her father left for good. Patrick had given her Raphael to comfort her through her sleep. Even after that traumatic event, Nia always found comfort with the specific character whenever she had nightmares when she slept over at Patrick's house. Luckily, the nightmares weren't frequent. Just the occasional paranoia of a monster being under her bed (or Patrick's bed). Whenever Nia came over, Patrick would check the bed and closet for monsters. He always wanted to see Nia smile. Nothing had changed that.

He claims the Raphael plush and folds the box close before exiting the garage, locking away what was left of their childhood.

* * *

Even with his jacket on, the airport sent more chills to Patrick's skin. He hadn't prepared for two layers as it was already absurd of him to wear a hoodie towards the end of the summer. He watches families and businessmen scatter the vast building, his leg bouncing nervously as he sits in one of the chairs.

His eyes land on a couple. His heart feels weighted at the sight, but he can't seem to pull himself away from watching them, wishing to be them. The man pecks his lover, wiping away tears from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

God, I'm pathetic, Patrick thinks to himself. He sighs and forces his eyes to tear away from the bittersweet scene. Upon his escape, his eyes land on Nia as she finishes her goodbyes with her mother. Patrick notices the tears swelling in Nia's eyes, her fighting the feeling of regret. Going to California is good thing for her. Painful, yes, but it'll be good.

Patrick looks down at the Raphael plush, fumbling with the stuffed creature. A hand rests on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Patrick looks up at the owner of the hand, finding it to be Nia's mother. She gives a weak smile, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"You're up, Tricky," she says, sniffling back tears. Patrick is almost certain that he would share the same fate as Nia's mom and his own mother. He nods and stands, grasping the Ninja Turtle toy in his hand rather tightly.

"Hey, stranger," Nia greets, a ghost of a smile twitching at her lips. Patrick gives a weak smile in return.

"Hey," he huffs. He glances down at the toy in his possession, then raises it to hand it to the girl. Nia looks at the item, confusion crossing her face.

"In case, uh, things get too scary," Patrick stammers as he nervously runs his hand through his hair. Nia chuckles weakly, then takes Raphael. She lets the plush rest limply in her arm.

"I don't know about the monsters on the West Coast," Patrick continues, "but at least you have someone."
"God, you're such a geek," Nia laughs. He can see a glint of nostalgia in her violet eyes. Patrick chuckles with the girl, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"You have my Ghostbusters jacket, by the way," he mentions. Nia furrows her brow at him, trying to imitate confusion.

"No, I don't," she claims, her voice wavering.
"Yeah, you do," Patrick corrects with a chortle. "You were wearing it last week. When we..."

Patrick stops himself from continuing the sentence, feeling reality stab his heart and twist the dagger it used. His smile falters, but he still presses to keep it for Nia.

"The black one," Nia points out. "With the... the sign on it, right?"
"Yeah," Patrick mumbles. He gives the violet-eyed girl a weak smile. "Keep that, too. You need it more than I do, anyway."

Silence falls between them. Nia fixates her gaze on Raphael, smoothing the fabric on the plush's face.

"Hey," Patrick says gently. Nia returns her state to him; Patrick gives her a weak, but reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay. You want this, remember? This is your dream."
"Yeah," Nia sighs. "I'm just... already homesick. I haven't even left yet."
"We're all gonna be here when you come and visit," the blonde states. "You have to at least visit for holidays."
"But even then, I don't think California is going to feel like home," Nia explains. She presses her lips into a fine line, fighting tears again.

Patrick takes the small box out of his jacket and opens it, revealing a necklace with a charm in the shape of a corked bottle.

"It was really hard finding a time to buy this from the observatory," Patrick chuckles weakly. Nia gapes at the piece of jewelry. "You're always there."
"Buster, what...?"
"It has some type of space debris from the recent falling star around here," the boy explains. Nia takes the item, examining the bits of star in the bottle before putting it on. Her tears grow larger as she manages to clasp the charm around her neck.

"Just in case you miss your home planet," Patrick finished. Nia collides into Patrick with an embrace, dissolving into tears as her face buries into his chest.

"I'll miss you," she weeps into his hoodie. Her hands grip onto the fabric, the black holes wanting to remember the feel of the blonde boy once more. Patrick wraps his arms around the girl's frame. He buries his nose into her hair, taking in the last of her citric scent.

"I'll miss you, too," he mumbles. Tears well in Patrick's eyes, urging him to hold her closer and never let go. But he had to. He knew he had to. Patrick plants a kiss on the top of her head and forces himself to peel away from the embrace.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Buster," Nia chuckles through tears as she examines the boy fight his war. Patrick feigns a smile, shrugging nonchalantly.

"I'll be okay," he rasps. He uses the heel of his palm to rid of his tears. "Your flight should be boarding soon. Get outta here, Witch."

Nia laughs weakly at the banter, then nods. She goes to walk towards her flight, but then stops and turns to Buster one last time.

"I love you," she says.
"You're making this harder than it already is," Patrick chuckles. Nia smiles weakly. Patrick feels himself melt for the last time. It hurts more because it feels like the first time all over again.

"But, I love you, too," he responds. They exchange a small wave and Nia walks away.

The End