Dark Light Blue

Feeling a Bit Disconnected

Let's take a deep breath.

'Maybe tonight... I hope...'

Patton works in the kitchen silently, no noises but the hum of air conditioning in the late spring Florida air and soft clinking of plates. He doesn't need to be quiet, really. He's just in his own head.

He finishes before he notices, absent-mindedly adding a little too much pepper to his own plate.

White-sauce pasta today. A prideful smile tries to show through his cheery mask of a grin. It turned out better than he thought it would.

The table's set. Let's get everyone we can while the food's still hot.

Roman first, he's the easiest.

Patton conjures up the feeling of a warrior, fighting for love and equality. With his eyes squinted shut and the weight of a sword in his hand nearly tangible, he feels himself sink into Roman's Room.

It's cloudy in here. Kind of overcast. He must be in one of his artist block thingys. Patton never really understands how that works.

'I hope he's not too out of it to eat with us...' Patton thinks, worried.

He comes to his room after softly climbing the stairs. Knock knock.

"Roman?" He says.

It's silent. Especially for Roman's room.

'Maybe with someone else?' Patton asks himself, sinking back to the main Mindscape.

A quick glance at the plates to make sure they haven't gotten cold.

Now for Virgil. His might be easier than Roman's...

'Don't think like that," Patton scolds himself.

He's sinking before he has to try.

The chilly air of Virgil's Room leaves a train of goosebumps along his arm. This place is overcast too, drizzling calmly. Kind of unusual for his room.

The second before his knuckles hit the door, he hears crying.

It's not Virgil's crying, Patton knows Virgil's crying. It's hardly even audible. This is disgraced, sobbing, dramatic—

'Oh jeez it's Roman.'

Knocknocknock.

"Hey, kiddo-oo..." Patton decides not to acknowledge that he knows Roman is there, "Dinner's ready if you t- uh. If you wanna come up?"

The sobbing stopped abruptly. A second or two of silence. Or more. Patton's not the best with time.

"It's fine Pat..." Virgil's voice spoke. The last word wasn't very clear, so it could've been heard as 'Dad,' which is what Patton would have liked, but knew that probably isn't accurate.

"Just leave it out. I'm not hungry now, I'll eat it later. Thanks."

Patton could've predicted the end of that sentence. That's always Virgil's excuse.

"Alrighty, Virge! And... Um..." He didn't know how to ask about Roman without making it clear he did indeed hear him crying.

"And for Roman, too." Virgil decided it for him.

"Ah." He stepped away from the door awkwardly. "Got it."

It takes him longer than it should to pop back in.

Inhale. Exhale. Shake out the hands. Logan's turn.

Alrighty, clear out the mind. No thoughts.

None.

Nothing... At all.

Nnnnnnope...

...

Patton stands for a second awkwardly. Logan's room is always the hardest for him. He can never get into the right mindset and the closest he can get is just a cleared head.

'It'll be worth it... just one person, please...'

'Schedules, schedules... calenders... numbers... birthdays... age? Chores...'

Finally, after thinking of the most number-y things he can, Patton sinks into Logan's Room.

Now, his is less of a 'room' and more of an 'area.' As Logan would put it, "Knowledge is everywhere, you cannot just zip into a room for it. Being in 'my room' is just existing. But, yes, I do have a place I go that is away from the mindscape and from the others."

There Patton was, In Logan's Area. Specifically the 'memories' part of Thomas's mind. Others can come here to access what they want, but it's mutually understood between all sides that this is Logan's private place.

Rows of books with blank pages line invisible bookshelves for hallways on end, little nooks for dream-books, places to read, and computer gadgets that Logan's put in. It's just a library for Thomas's memories. His Membrary.

Patton takes a few steps forward, then understands quickly that there's no way he could find him in all of this.

"Logan?" He calls out. It's meant to be quiet, but in such oppressive silence, it echoes to the far corners of the Membary.

A pace ahead of him, two shelves separate like opening doors. Logan steps out, holding a thick book on mutations and birth defects.

"Yes, Patton?" He pushes up his glasses.

Patton fidgeted with the jacket around his neck as he explained awkwardly, "Dinner's ready! I made some pasta that looks really good. Do you wanna come up to eat with me?"

"Ah." Logan pauses to think, more caught-off-guard than usual, which is a strange look for him.

"No thank you, Patton. I ate a bit ago. I'll have some before I sleep. Would you put it in the fridge for me, please?"

Patton stands still for a second, heart dropping to the floor.

He smiles.

"Okay! Have fun reading!" He waves and turns around.

The shutting of the invisible bookshelf doors behind him tells him he should go.

Before he's able to clear his mind, a few tears fall out.

It's so quiet. So calm. So empty. Patton feels the same. There's a faint pitter Patton recognizes as the sound of his tears hitting the floor, echoing to be heard, as silent as they try to fall.

He tries to swallow back more tears, telling himself, 'It's okay... They'll come around eventually... right?'

This has been the same for weeks. Either Roman's busy, upset, or with Virgil. Virgil hardly ever ate with all of them before, but when Roman's in his room, they can't be separated. Logan used to eat with Patton every night, but started making more and more excuses to be left alone.

Every night, four plates are set. Every morning, there are four plates to clean.

Eating with everyone was often the highlight of Patton's day. Now it's become such a rut knowing he'll just be alone another day.

He grits his teeth and forces himself to rise back into the Mainspace.

Putting away the plates of food, he wipes the last of his tears. Fridge for Logan. Microwave for Roman. On the counter for Virgil.

Patton sits at the table, alone. His food isn't cold, but at a good temperature. Everything about the meal is just right. Except, of course, that it's being eaten alone.

The food is delicious, he should be proud of himself.

Another bite. He lets his eyes relax until closed. Another bite alone. Another meal alone. Another day alone.

And suddenly, he's falling.