The Bane Of My Existence ~ Analogical

Mornings & Mishaps

Logan's POV:

It was the crack of dawn when I looked at him in the mirror. He was a mess, to put it kindly. His half-unbuttoned blue pyjama top had somehow folded in on itself on one side, the pyjama bottoms being equally uneven. Looking at his hair, I blinked twice and pushed it over to the side in attempt to neaten it up a little. Still, it pointed in a million different directions. I sighed when I saw his attempts to straighten himself up; nothing about him was straight. I sighed again at the realisation that I was beginning to sound like Patton; puns were his thing, not mine.

Heading towards the bathroom, now equipped with my glasses, I sorted out my shirt and brought my day clothes and hairbrush along, too. Just as I reached for the handle on the door, it pushed itself down and said door swung open, soon hitting me square in the face. I groaned in pain and clutched my aching nose, repeatedly cursing under my breath. The door closed and reopened as I stepped back this time. Behind the doorway stood Roman. He looked like almost as much as a mess as I did. Taking one look at me, hunched over, my glaring face in my palms, he spluttered then let out a hearty chuckle. When he didn't stop laughing, even after more dirty looks, I yelled at him.

"Roman!" He repressed more giggles by clamping his mouth shut with his own palm.
"Apologies, ye olde nerd. Did I hurt your face, or did those glasses protect you?" I pushed past him and examined myself in the mirror. I removed the frames from my face and noticed what looked (and felt) like a bruise over the bridge of my nose.
"Congratulations, half-wit. Look what you've done." Roman joined me next to the mirror in the bathroom, still grinning tiredly.

"So the glasses failed to guard your little face?" I slipped said specs back up my nose and decided I'd had enough of Roman's nonsense.
"Get over yourself, man." I said, guiding the man outside of the bathroom with a gentle shove and a slam of the door in his face, hopefully without actually hitting it. With a deep sigh, I turned away from the now locked door and— finally— began to change into my daytime clothing.

Soon enough, the four of us were sat around a dark mahogany table in the hotel dining area.
"Everyone sleep well?" I looked up from slicing my bacon rasher to see Patton in front of an already-empty plate, sitting upright and seemingly wide awake. Virgil shrugged and made a noise of vague agreement, mouth presumably full of food. Roman sent Patton a weak smile, seemingly forced. I nodded along and actually replied.
"Relatively."

Patton sighed and slid his plate onto a tray.
"C'mon, guys! Today's gonna be great- the trip has barely begun! There are endless things to do around here, it's hard to know where to start!" He enthused, which I was thankful for, since without that I believe the atmosphere would be, as they say, rather 'dead'.
"I suggest we begin near by the coa-"
"Nope," the bubbly man cut me off, "I've got it all planned!" Patton stood from the table, pushing up his circular glasses before collecting the collective leftovers onto his tray and heading towards the bin.

Virgil and Roman leaned over the table, the former with his mouth near the other's ear.
"I've got the stash." My eyes widened as the pair leant back and shook their left hands on some sort of unspoken agreement. Virgil started digging through a dark backpack of his and Roman smirked, contributing to my confusion. I sighed in relief as I saw the short man lift a LARGE multipack of Walkers crisps* out of said bag. It was quickly stuffed back to its previous position when Patton returned.

"Alright kiddos, we're going to the beach!" Patton's curls bounced as he hopped from heel to heel excitedly.
"Is this not a democracy, Pat?" Virgil piped up, half-jokingly. He then corrected himself and asked us 'kiddos' who wanted to go, to which we all agreed.

The four of us were soon at the hotel entrance, in shorts and light tops. The beach with these guys should be rather... entertaining. Patton had stacked up lots of supplies for that day, he was surprisingly prepared. However, it seems he had prepared for the wrong day. The automatic doors opened as we neared them, allowing a small puddle to partially flood into the lobby entrance. The four of us turned to each other, looking rather disheartened.
"Don't be discouraged!" Patton piped up, somehow with an optimistic tone. The rumble of thunder crashed from somewhere outside:
"Are you kidding?" Virgil moaned, folding his arms in protest. "This is going amazingly."

Just as he sighed and twisted on his heel to head back to his room, Patton placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"...Virgil-" Much to everyone's surprise, he was quick to shrug the hand off him and to step away.
"Sorry guys," he started hesitantly, "I just- I-" and after a few more stammers, he went swiftly towards the elevator. Roman and I sighed simultaneously.

"Listen." Patton sounded determined. "We will have a good time on this road trip, okay? All of us." Roman looked unsure, as was I. Patton's dad-friend instincts were kicking in as he gestured for us to follow Virgil upstairs. "If it kills me." he muttered.

A/N: Thoughts on the new cover?

*I think Americans call them Lays? Lays chips? If anyone wasn't sure.