Bonded by the Blues | A Sander Sides Book

Chapter 48 - A Flash of Red

A personal milestone: I think I can finally say I 'got' Patton? Only took me nearly 50 chapters to get here, but it was well worth the slow burn of getting to know a character I'm afraid I'm not the best at portraying. I hope you enjoy a slightly more introspective chapter! 

I'm really proud of this one, guys, I think it's a return to old form. No bells and whistles, just simple honest story telling. 

Also, I know I've been terrible at replying to comments for the past two months, but please do keep them coming. Don't hesitate to suggest an edit or comment on how I could write Patton better.

---Patton---

A slight tap tap tapping noise skipped into my hangover. I tried to pry my stuck eyelids apart, but that didn't seem like a possibility today. I took a deep breath that shudder through my throat that felt like a desert. At least, I don't know what a desert tastes like, probably the opposite of a dessert, which was a taste I knew very well. My head was buzzing, like a swarm of sleepy bees had woken up along with me too. That would have been funny if I didn't feel like the slightest shake would shift it to a full on headache.

The tap tap tap came again. Was someone at my window? But my windowsill was made of clay, and the taps sounded as of on wood. Wait, the ones at Poppy's were clay, maybe I was back at Mum's place? Those were plastic... in a bright sparkly flash I remembered that I was at neither place, but at Logan's house! The Little Blue House on the Hill! I hardly remember coming in yesterday night – no, today morning, when it was so early I'm sure even the birds were still asleep. I felt as if a dam was holding back a flood of memories from yesterday, but my poor ickle brain was simply too tired to even care.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I'M COMING. Who could that be? Logan sure would not tap on my window, why would he? He'd come through the door, bur he is the kinda guy who would knock before coming in, even though I'm his boy – oh my gods I'm sharing a house with my boyfriend. I did not know whether to laugh like a squeaky toy or never open my eyes again. Maybe I should ask Logan how to be a boyfriend slash housemate without making a complete fool of myself. I don't think he'd know either, but at least he will never make a fool of himself.

TAP.

That was enough to knock me out of my vegetative state. Why was it never a fruity state? I like being fruity. I managed (with a bit of grunting) to lift up a dead arm and rub my eyes. The red of the back of my eyelids parted with a thin line of widening yellow sunlight. Eyes open fully, I raised my head ever so slightly to see whether I was in my new room or the back of a shuttered van or in a dumpster in Disneyland (long stories, both).

Thankfully, I was in my room, though it wasn't often the least crazy option that made me excited. But waking up in my own room was magical enough already. My suitcases were still piled higgledy piggeldy on the floor, the doors of the empty wardrobe hung open hungrily, and the walls were bare with no pictures of the happy past captured. The bed I was on only had a thin sheet over the mattress, and I assumed that was how it was left as... I might have to spend sometime redecorating this place to give it a nice bit of Patton magic. Because ethis was finally my room, wasn't it? Technically Logan owned it, but it was the first place I chose to stay at? Not because I was a kid so I had to stay where ever my parents put me, or a relative's house because I had nowhere else to go. There was thrill I couldn't put my finger on about finally having a room I could call mine completely, one that I paid for with my own money and one that I could turn into whatever I want it to be. It was my room in so many ways I did not realise. Little ways like one I can come in and leave whenever I want to. Big ways like my hidey-hole from the world, or a room I can bring the world into. It was odd to be the master of my residence. What was it like to be the decision maker? Scary. There won't be some one here to pick up my dirty laundry. If I broke a light like the clumsy teddy bear I am, I better fix it. And Logan might be a sweetie, but something told me he would just as sweetly draw up a million lists for me to do. The house...