Switchblades and Infidelity [DISCONTINUED]

five

The lunch was an awkward interaction. After their slight argument, their table fell silent. Patrick had lost whatever appetite he had, despite ordering anyway. Nia had asked if he was okay, if his mind was still on their exchange. Of course, Patrick lied to her. Only partially.

"No," he had answered with a weak smile that wouldn't even fool the stupidest human on earth. "I'm just not that hungry."

After a few moments, Patrick let another lie pass his lips, claiming he didn't feel well and needed to go home to catch up on work he couldn't do at the studio.

It had been hours since that encounter. Patrick sits at his dinner table, picking at the leftovers of lunch. He heaves a sigh at the food, regretting taking it in a to-go box. He knew he wasn't going to eat it. Nia even knew that.

"I'll just take it home," Patrick stated, wanting to be away from Nia for once in his life. He wanted her around, but couldn't stand to be around her. It was a conflicting situation that easily drove him mad.

"Buster, we both know that you're not going to finish that," Nia chuckled. "You hate leftovers."
"Some things change over a matter of eight years," he had somewhat joked. He still hated leftovers. He was still going to give it a shot. The only constant was his feelings for Nia. He hated that it was a constant.

Now, Patrick regrets taking the food home. He regretted going out to lunch with Nia. In some horrible, heartbreaking way, he almost regretted loving Nia. Almost.

Patrick's phone buzzes again, creating the drilling noise that rattles his table. He looks at the lit screen, finding it to be Nia. He had been ignoring her calls ever since he left their lunch meeting. He couldn't stomach the fact that he would have to hear her voice, the words leaving her lips not being "I love you." In fact, the very three words were always sent to someone else-- someone better, someone with the same name as him. Someone not him.

Patrick keeps his gaze at his cold food, having no desire for it now. It's enough to keep his eyes away from his phone and not see the violet-eyed woman's name. The three letters hurt just as much as not hearing the three words from her. His phone finally stops buzzing, but then chimes. Two notifications appear on his lock screen, accompanying the icon that displays his several missed calls from Nia (four of them, to be exact). Patrick dares himself to look at his screen, finding two voicemails and a text message from the very woman. Before he can swipe to see her text, her name pops up. Another call.

Patrick heaves a sigh and picks up the phone.

"H-Hello?" he stammers, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. He winces at how pitiful he sounds.
"Hey," Nia answers, sounding astonished. "Wow, you answered."

Patrick stays silent, using his fork to pick at his food again. He had nothing to say. Everything he kept locked in his chest had spilled at their lunch table. Perhaps that's why he had lost his appetite.

"Are you mad at me?" Nia asks.
"No," the blonde man mumbles.
"What's wrong, then?"
"Nothing," he lies.
"Considering what happened at lunch and how you sound, that doesn't seem pretty true," she states. Patrick heaves another sigh. "C'mon. We've known each other since we were kids. You can tell me anything. That's how we've always been."
"Not anymore," Patrick mumbles. It's Nia's turn to become silent. Patrick hears her blow a short sigh.

"You're right," Nia confesses. A part of Patrick is shocked at the fact that Nia had even confessed to that truth. "Things aren't the same anymore. And you're right, I should have told you those things instead of expecting you to be able to take it all at once."

Patrick is silent. He knew he was right, but he couldn't bring himself to pester Nia about it and rub it in her face. It would make him feel worse.

"From now on, I'll tell you everything," Nia says. She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "It'll take awhile, though. Because there's a lot to be said. Even I'm not fully ready to tell it."
"That's okay," Patrick reassures. "Sorry for being a dick earlier today."
"Already forgiven, Ghost Boy."

Patrick smiles weakly at the nickname.

"Let's redo this one day," Nia suggests. "On weekends, the boys and I go out for brunch. Wanna join us?"
"I don't want to intrude on your family plans," Patrick mumbles sheepishly. He wanted to join Nia and finally get to talk to her like normal friends would. But there was always Ricky and the fact that Costello was their child— a reminder of their love.

"Patrick, you are family," Nia argues with a laugh. "I don't sneak into any kid's bedroom window for movie nights. Please? You can get to know all of us and I want Costello to get to know you too!"
"I don't know--"
"What, you have other plans? Maybe afterwards?"
"I-I, uh," Patrick stammers. He screws his eyes shut and lets his mind go on auto-pilot for only a second. The minor action forces a new, worse situation.

"I have a date."

Patrick cringes at the lie that had passed his teeth. Both ends are silent for a few seconds before Nia chuckles.

"We can still double date, if you want," Nia reminds the blonde man. "Ricky and I would be stoked!"
"O-Okay," he stammers, trying to brew up a lie to back up his accidental story. "It's our first date. I'm just... nervous, I guess."
"It'll be fine, Buster. Can't wait to meet her."

The two exchanged farewells before ending their call. As Patrick presses the red button to disconnect the call, he blows a heavy sigh as he watches Nia's name vanish from his screen. His thumb locates his text messages and contacts Daisy with shaky hands. Within the exchanged gray and green bubbles, there are either notes of cancellations and her address from that one time Daisy needed a ride to the studio.

Hey Daisy, I think I'm going to give it a shot. Mind sending me your mother's number?

A/N:
Oof, sorry this chapter took so long. I was really trapped with school and work. I'm on spring break for a week so I'll try my best to update this a little more. :) Let me know what you think.

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