Bonded by the Blues | A Sander Sides Book

Chapter 47 - Blue Lines

Let's dive straight back into he story, shall we? 

CW: Attempted Suicide, reference to death. 

---Logan---

I believe it started out with the small things. Through out the whole evening I felt the way in which I unintentionally moulded myself to reach out to Patton's presence. The way I shifted slightly to make room for him to sit next to me. The way I sneaked him the last bite of whatever I ate. The way my eyes flicked to his smile to see if he was smiling. And the more time I spent by his side, the more I noticed how he shifted ever so slightly to welcome me into his orbit. The way his little finger wrapped itself around mine while we were talking. The way he was never afraid to turn his large warm brown eyes to me. The way he tilted his head to listen to me in the middle of one of my rants, his curls swooping and bouncing when he laughed.

I made him laugh. LOL, as he would say.

I never entertained the idea of being of a comedic persuasion. There were deeper stirrings that I could not notice, at least, not with my five senses. The way I felt more than saw him in my vicinity. The way he instantly gauged my discomfort and drew me away from the adverse effects of social mimicry and falseness. The way the nape of my neck itched when I saw him unhappy, felt light behind the ribs when he was unhappy. The way I knew to count his expression of feeling with each twitch of his lips and eyelids.

It was a mental exercise I was unfamiliar with.

He unlocked a rusty ivy covered door for me and led me to a secret garden where emotions grew and flowered and soothed those that walked along its numerous paths. The wall had been of an insurmountable height before for me to scale, or I too scared to attempt to trifle the fear that my garden within would be barren and flowerless and sucked my soul dry. But he found a door hitherto unseen – willingly or unwillingly, I do not know – and his gentle guidance and careless compassion was its key. I was glad I was here. I would never have discovered the wonders caring for a fellow human could bring if not for him.

I would love to take a stroll with him.

But if today had made me attuned to Patton, it too had the not altogether welcome effect of planting concern about the factors that did affect him emotionally. I was obtusely angry at the fish patties for being too salty maybe, and for the speakers for making him wince at the blast of music. I knew this was irrational, and worrying of external factors beyond the purvey of my control was to agonise myself over nothing. I was consumed with an overwhelming desire to coordinate his world to mathematical perfection till he forgets the taste of sadness. That was fool's errand. It was a feeling I warned myself against countless times growing up. caring for others is to set yourself up for disappointment, as the course of a relationship never stayed within the parameters you set for it. That was the way of life.

Brain, tell my heart that. Louder, make it understand.

Tell it to stop beating in rapid bursts when he laid his ear against my chest and swayed with me on the empty dance floor, the party over. Tell the blood in my ears to gush not so loud as the music stilled as silence took over as one by one the guests left into the night. Tell my pulse to not quicken and flutters as he took my hand in his and twirled in the shadows taking over the ruins crowding around us. Tell my eyes not to shut and let the world melt away until only the quivering form of my boyfriend was in my arms. And brain, tell yourself not to worry of the two people you know were in his mind, holding us back from being alone tonight.

"I hope they're alright," he whispers against my lips.

I do not resent Roman and Virgil for intruding upon our thoughts. I knew Patton was a person of the sort that was unable to pause himself from imprinting himself on people. He was sponge for other's feelings, and a barometer for their happiness. It made me curious that I was the one with the magical talisman that channelled emotions, while his was one that manipulated them through words. I would have thought that the gifts would make better sense if swapped, but that was a question for Mura and Muri when we find them again.