dam…….. that website “you feel like shit” (it’s like a questionnaire / troubleshooting guide for when you feel like shit) really works………………….. im not even all the way thru it and i even half-assed a lot of the suggestions and i already feel loads better
Taika Waititi doesn’t even need to advertise his tv shows, gays just won’t shut up about it online and recommend it for free like a game of LGBTelephone
Patton stared at the polished blue cup, heart sinking, where it sat next to the sink.
That was not where it was supposed to be.
Everyday for the past two years, when the cup was finished doing its morning duty, it would be washed, dried, and put away before Patton even got up for the day.
He hesitated briefly before reaching for the thing and beginning to care for it like he would his own mug.
The next day… despite his hope… there it was… next to the sink, waiting to be washed.
Still, that wasn’t the worst of it, merely the beginning.
The next phase started that afternoon, as Patton sat staring at the still full plate across from him, his own already empty before him.
If he had been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t worry. He’d assume that it wasn’t a big deal. Dishes could be forgotten, work could be overwhelming. These were all small things to a normal person.
Though… Logan had never been ‘normal’.
Still, even with the signs, Patton knew it wasn’t time yet. Not quite.
Two days later, the mug stopped appearing.
It wasn’t that it had been used, washed, and put away as was the routine. It was that it hadn’t been used at all.
That… was bad.
He glanced at the door into the other man’s bedroom, taking in the small sliver of light that peaked out beneath it and sighed.
This could be it.
He moved to knock lightly on the wood, chest constricting almost painfully.
“Lo?” He called softly, the faint scratching of a pen pausing its administrations before the door was pulled open just a crack.
Patton’s breath caught in his lungs at what little he could see of the man.
Logan’s normally well kept hair was exactly as it should be, his glasses perfectly perched on his nose, polo and tie in pristine condition… but no tie clip…
He was further than Patton had expected.
“Hey… Um… You want to talk?” Patton asked softly.
It seemed to take a moment for Logan’s gaze to really focus on him, but he didn’t reply. Nothing changed for quite some time, but Patton knew the man too well. Patton wasn’t a ‘normal’ person either, he cared far too much. He knew what to look for, knew what to do.
Finally, Logan stepped aside allowing the other man access to step into his room.
“Thank you,” Patton mumbled as he took in the small space.
Everything was just as it should be. Logan’s desk piled high with work, books lined neatly on their shelves, models hanging from the ceiling… Only the stack of papers were all completed, the small pile of books next to Logan’s bed held no bookmarks, and the entire place smelt of cleaning chemicals… not a speck of dust in sight.
He had been hyperfixating.
Patton moved to Logan’s bed and sank down onto the edge, the smell of laundry detergent wafting up to him from the newly pressed comforters. He patted the space beside him and though Logan still didn’t speak, he obliged and sat next to the smaller man.
Patton didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Not with Logan.
He simply waited…
Waited and watched…
Logan was having a bit of trouble sitting still, not that anyone other than Patton would have noticed.
First, it was the smoothing of his tie, then a straightening, then the small slow tap of a finger on his knees, then another smoothing of his tie.
They were always subtle tells, but tells none-the-less.
Still, Patton waited.
Logan was special in that aspect. He never felt the need to fill the silence, and Patton was always happy to just sit with him.
Patton had learned early on in their friendship that it was best for Logan to take the lead in these moments. The moments he needed the most, the ones that would offer a strange sense of comfort, of companionship.
He wondered briefly what Logan would choose. That was something that Patton still wasn’t ever sure of. At times, Logan had such an adversity to touch that it almost seemed to pain him, and yet at others it was like he needed it to breathe.
Eventually, Logan shifted slightly, giving a shaky breath before leaning over, his forehead pressing against Patton’s shoulder.
The smaller man relaxed a bit, a soft smile playing on his lips.
It seemed they would be in one of Logan’s odd in-betweens, in which Logan simply wanted to be close enough to be reminded of Patton’s presence while not being expected of anything, including a simple embrace.
Patton felt the cool dampness of tears soaking into his sleeve as they sat there in silence for a moment.
He had been right. He knew Logan far too well.
“Would you like to hear about my week?” Patton asked, his hushed tone the only indication that anything was amiss. That was how Logan preferred it after all.
The lanky man nodded slightly, his forehead rubbing against Patton’s shoulder. There would be no words from him, no responses. They would both sit together amiably as Patton recounted his week and slowly Logan would return to his old self.
When it was over he’d straighten, mumble a soft thank you to the smaller man, and offer to assist with the household chores since he had been so ‘absent-minded’ of late. Patton would agree and they’d spend the rest of the day doing minor tasks together.
It was the ‘aimable’ day like these that Patton both dreaded and adored…
But, as long as he was there, with Logan, it didn’t matter.
He reached over, pressing the large rectangular button atop the device, causing the blinking number to remain solid and the beeping to fall silent.
It wasn’t unusual for Logan to wake before his scheduled time, it happened on occasion, but not like this… Not today.
He stood, bed creaking slightly as he did so. He ran a hand over his pristine tie - already tied neatly around his neck - pausing only briefly at the silver engraved pin that embellished it. The pin he gave Logan last year as a thank you gift.
He took a moment to breathe, calming himself, before stepping out into the hall.
It wouldn’t be so bad.
Change was natural after all.
Nothing stayed the same forever.
He strode down the hall and into the small kitchenette of his tiny apartment.
Frogs laid eggs. Which turned into tadpoles. Tadpoles turned into froglets, and froglets into frogs and thus the cycle continued.
He poured himself a cup of coffee.
Though in a way, the cycle itself never changed. He supposed that was comforting, in and of itself.
Change was constant. ‘Normal’.
He moved to his small balcony, sliding the door open and stepping out into the crisp cool air, just as the sun began to rise, painting the sky with splashes of purple and orange.
He watched as it inched higher, checking his watch to make sure he had plenty of time before he left for the day.
He’d collect his keys… Normal.
Drive to work… Normal.
Have his ‘normal’ lunch, in his ‘normal’ spot.
Everything about his day would be ‘normal’.
Except for when it wasn’t.
Except when he pulled out the very expensive ring from his very inexpensive pocket and asked his very extraordinary boyfriend to marry him.
He took another steadying breath as he checked his watch once more.
He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get to work a bit earlier than usual.
He moved back into his apartment, set his mug in the sink and collected his keys.
Yes… Today would be quite normal… until it wasn’t.
Logan was in the worst condition an eight year old boy could possibly be in: bored.
His legs swung above the ground with more vigor than even a child as short as he should be able to muster when seated. If the extra force of movement hadn’t tipped off his older brother to his boredom, the scrunched up face Logan wore as he flipped through the pages of his book was a dead giveaway.
“You done with your book already?” Virgil asked, impressed even if mildly annoyed.
Logan nodded in response, though he didn’t miss a beat in his activity, stopping only briefly when landing upon an illustration.
“Why don’t you go find the next one?” Virgil whispered, turning a page over in his copy of The Official SAT Study Guide.
Logan’s legs stopped and his face lit up, “Come help me!”
The child’s exclamation wouldn’t have been loud if they were literally anywhere else.
But they were in the Orlando Public Library, and a harsh hiss of a silencing shush sliced through the air.
