"Nia?" Patrick asks. A part of him wants it to be true; another part of him wants it to be a hallucination. He wasn't ready to run into her again.

"Oh, my god!" the violet-eyed woman squeals. A tsunami of realization tumbles over Patrick. It really was her. Nia crashes into Patrick, taking him into a warm embrace. He immediately returns it, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. Her aroma wafts to Patrick's nose, filling him the the familiar citrus scent he always knew. A lump forms in Patrick's throat, tears prickling the back of his eyes.

"Nia," he whispers into her shoulder, a smile replacing what would have easily become a sob. He peels himself from their embrace and he looks down at the woman. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be...?"
"I missed my home planet a little too much," she chuckles with a shrug. Nia's grin widens as a laugh pours from her. She reaches up and tousles the bleached blonde tuff of hair on Patrick's head.

"What the hell is this, man?" she laughs. "I hardly recognized you, you look so different!"
"I didn't even recognize you," Patrick stresses. "How long are you staying?"
"As long as fate lets me, I suppose," Nia chuckles with a shrug. "If I can help it, I'm staying!"
"That's great!" Patrick exclaims. "How was California?"
"It was—"
"Hey, Nia, you alright?" a man asks as he enters the aisle. He stands beside Nia, resting his hand on her waist. Patrick's grin falters slightly, but he manages to hide the winter abyss his body has created in his chest. Patrick couldn't help but to study the stranger's pressed, button-up shirt that was neatly tucked into a pair of black slacks. His dark brown hair was combed neatly. He was gold compared to Patrick's black coal form: a Marvel t-shirt of some sort and blue jeans with disheveled blonde hair.

"Yeah," she chirps, smiling up at the man. "Remember that guy, Buster, I used to tell you about?"
"Your friend, right?"
"Yeah," Nia grins as she looks over at Patrick. "Well, this is him!"

Friend?, Patrick thinks to himself. The old term creates a pang in his chest; a tornado of emotions and thoughts twirl inside of Patrick, a horrible mixture of warm and cold. The stranger thrusts his hand in front of him, an award-winning smile on his horrendously perfect face. Patrick couldn't hate him, though he wanted to.

"I've heard so much about you," the man says. "I'm Ricky!"
"Oh, uh, nice to meet you," Patrick stammers as he shakes Ricky's hand. "Is Ricky short for something? Richard? Ricardo?"
"Yeah. It's short for Patrick, actually," he clarifies with a smile. The new found information nearly stabs Patrick. He still continues to smile, masking his emotions.

"No way! That's my name," Patrick laughs weakly. "Nia calls me Buster because of—"
"The Ghostbusters," Ricky smiles. "I've heard all about it!"
"Right," Patrick mumbles, diverting from the man. It was strange that he knew so much about him vicariously through the woman he knew his whole life. "So, uh, Nia. We should catch up! What are you doing tonight?"
"It's margarita night for me and Ricky," Nia smiles.

She glances up at the man, her face a picture of something Patrick used to see directed towards the sky— directed towards him, once upon a time. Patrick tries to ignore the crushing feeling inside the confines of his chest. His eyes travel to Nia's hand, finding a diamond ring on it. The blonde man's heart plummets to the tiled floor beneath him at the sight. He couldn't be mad at her, though. It had been eight years. That fact didn't make it hurt any less.

"Oh," is all Patrick can muster to say. He smiles weakly at Nia, then at Ricky. "I don't want to interrupt your plans."
"I'm sure we have room for another," Ricky insists. "The more the merrier!"
"Thank you, but I have work tomorrow," Patrick chuckles. "I can't be hungover with the job I have."
"What do you do?" Ricky asks, curiosity spiking in his voice and face.
"I'm a music producer," Patrick states. "It's, uh... a lot of noise and I'd hate to have a migraine."
"I totally understand, man," Ricky huffs. "Building shuttles with a headache is the worst. I can barely function."
"Engineer for NASA, I'm guessing?" Patrick tries.
"Yeah, used to be," the man says with a smile. "I guess tech geeks gravitate towards this Starlet, huh?"

Starlet. Why didn't I think of that?, Patrick ponders to himself. His smile weakens a little more at the nickname Ricky had given the stardust woman.

"Guess so," the blonde chuckles. Patrick diverts his attention to the stack of paper towels on the shelves. It's enough to hide the fact that he's blinking back tears from this new life he has to be okay with. Ricky glances at his phone, then grimaces with a slight hiss at a sudden realization.

"Shoot! I gotta pick up Stello," the dark-haired man informs Nia. "I'm gonna take him to work and show him around. I'll see you tonight, Starlet."

Before Ricky rushes off, he plants a kiss on Nia's temple. Once he leaves, it is just an empty aisle with Nia and Patrick. Somehow, Patrick feels emptier than the disposable party supplies section.

"I'm, uh... I'm glad you're back," Patrick stammers, forcing himself to look at Nia once again. Glad was both an understatement and an overstatement. He would have been happy that the woman his heart once belonged to returned if it weren't for the unfortunate turn of event named Ricky.
"I'm glad to be back, too," Nia smiles. "I feel like we're total strangers! We really need to catch up."
"Yeah," the blond mumbles. "If you don't mind me asking, who's that Ricky fellow?"
"Husband," Nia grins. She raises her hand, showing off the already spotted wedding band. Bile threatens to rise in Patrick's throat. Nonetheless, he still presses a smile for her.

Why didn't she tell me?, Patrick asks himself. Why didn't anyone tell me?

"O-Oh," he stutters. "He's pretty cool."
"You think so?" Nia blushes. A humble smile claims her lips. It was a smile Patrick often dreamed of in his sleep— one that would linger with him throughout the day until it was time for him to reunite with slumber again. In real life, it only hurt more than it benefited.

"Yeah," Patrick answers, ignoring the stabbing sensation occurring in his chest. "He's a really lucky guy."
"Please reconsider joining us tonight," Nia begs. "We haven't seen each other in so long! It would mean the world if you two got to know each other."
"I don't know, Nia—"
"Pleeaaaase? Is it the alcohol? Do you not drink? We can make virgin margaritas, too!"
"It's not the alcohol—"
"Please, Buster? For me?" Nia pleas. How could Patrick say no to that? After everything he had gone through in as little as fifteen minutes, he could never say no to Nia.

"Okay," he huffs, accepting his defeat. Nia cheers and embraces Patrick again. A wave of lemon scent embraces him again. It only grinds the dust his heart has already become.

"It'll be fun! I promise!" Nia assures. By then, Patrick had decided to go on autopilot for the remainder of the day. The two exchange numbers before parting ways, Patrick's soul parting in a more painful way.

The blonde man sets his empty basket down and travels back to his car, his demeanor as heavy as his broken heart. With each step, his feet feel more and more like lead. His body relapses on the feeling of the day Nia left.

But it was all for her.

A/N:
Oof, I had a struggle with this chapter. But so did Buster >:)

Let me know what you think of this Ricky fellow! :)
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