Why Are We (Best) Friends?

Eggnog

December 25th, 2016.

As much as the fans like to think all the sides in the mind were a tight knit family, it wasn't this way. (Would hardly pass as that now, either.) During childhood, they talked to each other far more, but as most childhood friends do, they drifted apart. Most of the time, the sides all kept to themselves. Every now and then, the others would obligatorily chat with Patton with feigned interest, and shrug him off at their first opportunity. An opportunity they normally made up themselves. Logan and Roman didn't even include him in their little "business meetings" discussing Thomas's life choices (even when he arguably had the most influence over Thomas than anyone else). Thomas had recently come up with this new idea, the Sander Sides series. An idea Patton had, with feeble hope, inspired in Thomas. It wasn't very promising, Patton knew, if it was going to be like his every other attempt. First few episodes done, and yet he still didn't expect to be proven wrong.

Patton tried to keep them together, he really did. This was one of his many failed attempts. A perfect example.

His only company was the dimly glowing christmas tree that was brighter than his future, rather than the two to six sides he'd been expecting. That, and his own thoughts. Foolish of him, frankly. He should be grateful. It was more company than usual.

What if he just popped in to see Thomas? No... he had family over. Bad timing— bad timing for Patton, more like it. For god's sake, he'd expected at least Roman would've been up to some festivities.

That's when he heard "All I want For Christmas Is You" blasting down the hallways. The mind palace vibrated as Thomas started humming the blasted song to himself.

He wanted to bang his head against the table.

Beneath the tree sat a near rainbow of carefully wrapped gifts, matching handmade scarfs, sprinkled with pine needles. Huh, the moping tree didn't want to be there either, apparently.

Deciding on drowning himself with booze wasn't a light decision, but, at the time, seemed the only other alternative. He'd been about to pick up a razor, and the only thing that stopped him was knowing nobody deserved that. He knew no one deserved that, even if he felt like an exception. In comparison, brandy spiked eggnog had seemed rather harmless. So that's what he settled with.

Sitting at the kitchen table Patton's forehead so desperately wanted to become very acquainted with, the six glasses of eggnog he'd prepared for his guests challenged him. Take a sip, come on. No one else will, and you really shouldn't be so wasteful.

No. No— he shouldn't. He really shouldn't—

Hastily, Patton summoned a cookie the size of his palm. He scoffed it down in six bites.

Patton was feeling a little dangerous.

Before the after taste settled in, Patton summoned another generous cookie. He choked forcing the normally comforting treat down his gullet. Dry crumbs scraped him when he swallowed.

Why wasn't it helping? Even cookies didn't want to deal with comforting him anymore.

Light winked tauntingly at Patton off the glasses' rim, flaring in delight from his watering eyes. It could help. If only Patton wasn't so freaking stupid, useless, juvenile—

Ignore how many shades self harm comes in.

He shouldn't, he knew. He felt it in his gut, he shouldn't, but... Just this once, he wouldn't listen to his feelings— himself. Follow everyone else's example.

Life, he had found, was like a game of limbo. How low can you go? How low before your back breaks.

Would the eggnog be his friend?

Time to set the bar a little lower, he supposed.

He took his first gulp of eggnog. Swishing the liquid around his mouth, he made sure each taste bud was coated. All the froth masked the burn of alcohol as it slid down his throat. It soothed his scraped throat.

As far as Patton was concerned, he was winning.

Seemed like Patton's thoughts left the party early. Rooted in its spot, the Christmas tree sagged jealously as it couldn't leave too.

(}ï{)

Six servings of eggnog later, Patton personally delivered each present. He didn't get so much as a "thank you" from anyone, but doing a good deed, appreciated or not, temporarily settled the prickling under his skin. It made him feel good enough for a moment.

So what if they didn't care about Patton? That wasn't going to stop Patton from caring yet (as much as he didn't want to).

(Roman was convinced Santa existed by Boxing Day.)