They hadn't talked in a week. Patrick could still feel Nia's lips pressed against his, the stars stirring and creating solar systems and nebulas. Everything about him still felt like the heavens Nia has studied her whole life. Patrick even imagined what it would be like if the stars had kissed his face. Would it be the same?

Chicago allowed the sun to claim the sky to itself this week. Patrick's mind had been too fuzzy, too blurry from the occurrence that had happened with Nia. His head was a stripped screw and the thoughts of her were the screwdriver.

Patrick heaves a sigh as he tosses on a clean set of clothes from around his room and pockets his essentials (keys, phone, etc.) before going out on a walk, in hopes that it will clear his mind. The late summer heat caresses Patrick's pale skin as he starts his uncharted stroll. It reminds him of the heater in Nia's car on the way back home. His feet ached the day after because of how his shoes reacted to the rain. His mind still replayed the moment she had leaned in and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and plush, even more than he had imagined. They were cold and damp due to the rain, but they also smelled like lemons. Perhaps she uses a citrus perfume. After eleven years of knowing her, Patrick was somewhat disappointed in himself for just now realizing that. He was also disappointed in himself for not kissing her back sooner.

Things would've been different, he thinks to himself. The scenarios played through his head since then. They still do. She wouldn't have felt hurt. She wouldn't have felt ashamed. She would've probably looked at him the way she did before— like he was a dusk sky. Perhaps he was the saturated transition to night. Perhaps he was nothing but a friend and it was all a mistake.

Patrick finds himself at the park. He claims a swing and sways lazily on it as he stares at his phone, debating if he should message Nia. The cursor blinks tauntingly at Patrick, the blank canvas demanding for a message. He was never good with words unless they were the undertone of lyrics. But he couldn't hide behind movie references, no matter how many 80s films the friends had witnessed together. He either had to be honest and blunt, or stay silent and hope for it all to die down.

Patrick forces himself to walk again, knowing exactly where his feet were guiding him to. His stomach churns and twists in knots with each stride along the pavement. He feels his mouth become dry, it feeling like a desert. No amount of water would soothe the feeling. His chest feels tight, but Patrick knows it wasn't asthma. Asthma has a different pressure to it and he would be able to feel himself starting to wheeze. He wasn't wheezing. Patrick was breathing just fine.

He approaches the blue door and stares at it. The realization hits him and his blue eyes widen at the closed portal.

"Patrick, you are so stupid," he mumbles to himself. Patrick's palms start to sweat, his fingers fidgeting at the feeling. He blows a few puffs of air and bounces on the balls of his feet for a moment, trying to shake out his fidgeting actions.

Patrick raps his knuckles against the wooden door, his eyes darting anxiously around his best friend's dwelling. He starts to rock on his feet again to rid of the energy inside of him as he waits impatiently. His head started to buzz with thoughts again, second guessing the entire interaction.

"We haven't talked for a whole week," he reminds himself. "She hates me. She definitely hates me."
"Just a minute!" he hears Nia's voice call from afar, muffled by the door between them.

"She hates me, I don't have to do this. I don't have to do this," he mumbles under his breath as he starts to turn away. Just as his back starts to face the door, the portal opens.

"Patrick?" her voice quizzes. Patrick feels his heart clench at the way his name leaves her lips.
"Nia," he says a little too excitedly, turning quick to face her. His stomach churns even more, twisting into more knots. On top of it all, a riot of butterflies emerge in the organ.

Nia studied him in a foreign way. It's not the way she looks at a dusk sky. This is one Patrick can't read. She chews on her bottom lip and studies the boy.

"Patrick, can we—"
"—can we talk?"

The two stop and stare at each other, color rising to their cheeks.
"Sorry," Patrick mumbles. "You go first. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You came here," Nia says with a weak chuckle. "Must be more important than what I have to say."

Somehow, everything inside of Patrick felt numb to him. But they also intensified. He couldn't identify the feeling. The galaxies that had spread along his lips vanished long ago, but he began to notice it just now.

"You haven't talked to me," he blurts out. It's not what he had planned to say, but it was true. Nia tears her gaze from Patrick and fixates it on the floor.

"I'm not mad," he clarifies. "I'm just... confused, I guess. Is everything okay?"
"Uh, yeah," she sighs.
"Is it about what happened?" Patrick dares himself to ask. Nia looks at him, her eyes wide with an unknown emotion.

"I'm really sorry about that—"
"We haven't talked in a week, Nia," he states. Nia rolls her eyes at the fact but Patrick continues. "This has only happened once and it was because I was at camp, remember? Even then, we wrote letters to each other. I can't help but think that maybe last week I screwed up and you hate me. I don't want that."
"What happened last week was not your fault, Patrick," Nia huffs. "It was stupid. I'm sorry."
"But it's not stupid!" Patrick declares. Nia flinches a little at the sudden burst. It's her turn to be the confused one between the two.

Patrick blows a long sigh as his hand combs through his hair.

"It's not stupid, because..." he pauses, his throat tightening around the lump in it. "... because I've been hung up on it all week, Nia. And you know me. I don't get hung up on stupid shit."

Nia watches her friend as Patrick starts to uncover what plagues his mind.

"We kissed," Patrick continues, finding his friend silent. "We kissed, but I couldn't stop thinking about it! I couldn't get that moment out of my head! And I hated myself so much for it because I'm... I'm me."
"What do you mean?" Nia asks. Patrick already felt his heart cracking. At least he could get this off his chest.

"I'm me," he repeats with a sad chuckle. "The stupid kid who lives on your block and who likes The Ghostbusters. I'm the same kid who's just into no good music."

Nia studies him. Her gaze softens on the boy as his cheeks redden again while he rants. Patrick looks up at her, finding that dusk gaze on him. He feels his face warm up a little more.

"There you go again," he points out with a weak laugh.
"What?" Nia asks, furrowing her brow a little. It doesn't diminish the loving gaze.
"You look at me in this way I've only seen you do once! It's only when you're waiting for the stars to come out, and I'm not that! I'm not the stars! I'm not the Milky Way! I'm none of those things!"
"Patrick, what are you saying?"
"What I'm saying is... you, Nia... you're the Sun! I'm just the stupid planets— like Pluto! I'm a shitty, stupid dwarf planet that's nothing but a friend to you. And I'm just spinning around you, stuck on you."

Silence claims the friends. Patrick runs out of words and it all reels in, in his mind. None of it is making sense. Nothing makes sense.

"Patrick, what are you saying?" Nia asks again. Her voice is gentle, enough to soothe Patrick's anxiety. He takes several breaths, trying to clear his buzzing and crowed mind. Nia rests her hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"I-I..."
"It's okay, Buster," she says. "Just breathe. What are you trying to say, bud?"

Patrick blows a final sigh and screws his eyes shut.

"What I'm trying to say is... I am madly in love with you, Nia." Patrick feels his heartbeat stop. At this point, it's too late and he's dives into another spell of word vomit. "I guess I've always have but never really knew until now. I love how you look at me like I am the stars, even though I'm just a dwarf planet. I love how you laugh and they way your eyes change colors. I love how sensitive you are and how you look at the stars every night. I love the way you sing off key and the way you say my name. Nia, I'm really in love with you."

Patrick takes another breath and manages to open his eyes to see Nia's face. Fear courses through him, creating tears behind his eyes; he fights them back.

"Honestly," he sighs, his voice wavering, "I don't think you feel the same. I don't blame you if you—"
"Shhh," Nia hushes.

She cups Patrick's face in her hands and leans in. Patrick's heart seems to reboot and race faster. Nia leans in, her lips only centimeters away from his. Patrick's chest feels tight again and he can only breathe in small bits of air, entering and exiting his lungs.

The violet-eyed girl smiles and presses her lips against Patrick's. This time, he reciprocates the action, closing the small gap between them. His arms wrap around her waist, bringing her closer as they kiss. The galaxies claim his lips with gentle, plush strokes. He can feel the stars again.

He only wanted to feel the stars again.

A/N:
FINALLY!!! THE MOMENT HAS COME!!!! Who's crying?? :) to lift your spirits momentarily, check out my other story With The Band :) it features all the boys we love so much! :)

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