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The winter holidays were coming up. Birthdays were coming up. His parents were coming over next week. The house wasn't as clean as he wanted it to be, but he had no energy left to properly take care of himself, let alone, clean. His friends were all busy so he had no plans to go out and recharge his social battery. He just wanted to eat his safe food and talk and get all of his emotions out and then sleep. He wanted his husband to be back with the groceries so he could finally hear his voice; so he could love how it sounded in his brain all over again. Patton looked around and hated the empty sounds of the house whirring and thumping and creaking. He had to focus on them, though. He was going crazy about them, but that was all there was.
Patton felt himself begin to rock back and forth. It was harsh. He couldn't get out of it. Almost painfully, his hands quickly flailed and stretched behind his neck, making a motion that almost resembled holding himself back from hitting his own body.
Suddenly, though, he remembered how everyone looked at him when he'd have these freakouts. No. Patton had learned by now that this was becoming a meltdown. He'd heard of the term when his psychiatrist brought it to his attention. And again when he met Logan. They'd all judge him for doing things that weren't "normal" like hitting the sides of his thighs until a loud noise went away or nervously flapping his hands until a bright light dimmed. It wasn't fair. Everyone else got to deal with things in their own ways while Patton wasn't allowed to cope his way, or he'd be deemed unacceptable.
He became so frustrated with the thought of being trapped, that he started to scratch incessantly at his arms and thighs until they became red; until they burned. He hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down his face. His eyes darted to the stupid alarm clock that beeped every hour. It was always wrong, and he always had to count the four minutes extra that it got behind. He hated that number. It was all wrong. Nothing worked with the number four, it was awful. He wanted to think about odd numbers and how nicely they worked in his mind. It was still beeping. It was 9:04 and the stupid clock was yelling at him. It was yelling at him for wasting his time. He hated that clock. He hated it so much. He grabbed it, and screamed at it, and finally threw it on the ground, praying it would just go away.
He'd never done anything like that before. He was always the happy and collected one. Who would scream at a clock for just doing its job? Oh, God, Patton was a horrible person. He was awful. How could he be mad at something for making mistakes? He soon developed an attachment for the poor clock because he was reminded of how quickly he was scolded for not doing something right after trying his best to do it.
He was so mad at himself that he started pacing aimlessly around the bedroom. He ended up bumping into the old, broken office chair he and Logan shared for whenever they had to work at home. He got so upset at the interruption, he smashed it against the ground until the uncomfortable arm-rests flew off the sides and hit his legs, which made him even more upset.
He couldn't do this anymore. He wanted everything to just leave him. He wanted to be with his loved ones. He wanted to be cold and alone and unhappy.
He slid down against the tall bed frame and just cried. He cried until that alarm clock told him it had been another hour. He wanted to hide, but...
He heard those pretty keys jingle just outside the door, and his eyes welled up again, but this time, it was out of pure joy. His safety, his comfort, his favorite person, his special person was here, and he could not be happier. He couldn't get up. He was too shaky from the excitement. He heard Logan's soft and smooth footsteps come up the stairs and turn the corner.
He wasn't expecting the upset, concerned, sad look on his husband's face when he came to the doorway.
"Patton..."
He looked up, finally noticing the mess he left. He felt embarrassed like never before. He braced himself for Logan to get mad. He was never mad at him, but he was ready for it.
"Oh, Patton, I'm so sorry." Logan hugged and squeezed him tight after falling and sliding on his knees to meet his spot on the floor. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."
Patton held on as close as he could.
"I'll get you cleaned up, okay? After, you can talk as much or as little as you want. I'm here."
Patton didn't hate what was holding him. He loved it more than anyone could imagine. "I think I had a meltdown."
That made Logan laugh slightly. "Yeah? I'll help you learn how to deal with them more. They've been in my life since I can remember. Those bitches."
Logan was just everything to Patton. He wanted to attack him with so much love. He wanted to kiss every inch of him. And he started to in that moment. He hooked his arms around Logan's neck and crawled on his lap, pressing sweet kisses to his lips.
Logan wiped away Patton's tears with one hand and grabbed his thigh with the other, knowing Patton would appreciate the pressure. But then he noticed the bumped-over skin that traced where Patton had hurt himself. "Patton, wait."
Patton's pleading eyes awaited the reprimand Logan was sure to give him, but instead, he got lifted onto the bed and watched as Logan brought in antiseptic spray and bandages from the closet. Every break in his skin was covered by pretty "first-aid stickers" as Patton liked to call them. Logan stood in front of him, tracing his face with his thumbs, quietly murmuring about the admiration he had for his husband. Patton held on to every word, nearly crying for what felt like the tenth time today.
"How could perfection be impossible when I get to kiss it every day?" Logan whispered, glancing at his lips with a longing he should have been used to at this point in their relationship. "You have imperfections, Patton, but they all make you who you are, and you could not be more perfect." He leaned in, tangling his fingers into Patton's hair.
Patton very gratefully accepted the kiss as he scooted back so Logan could climb on top of him and take off their glasses before gently biting at his freckled neck. "I love you so much, Patton. I love everything about you," Logan said under his breath, unbuttoning Patton's shirt so he could kiss his chest.
He ran his hands through Logan's hair. He loved how it looked when it was messy. Then his hands wandered down to Logan's back, crawling his fingers over it lightly, affectionately, trying to get a ticklish laugh out of him.
Logan straddled Patton so he could see him better from a higher altitude. He was just as gorgeous as he was all those years ago when they were first figuring themselves out; when they first met; when they wanted to know everything about each other. He took off his shirt, and Patton did the same. They saw so much beauty in each other, and made sure the other knew it. Patton hastily pulled Logan down so he could finally taste the coffee Logan had that morning. It was bitter and cold and it warmed Patton up. Logan took Patton's hand and placed it on his own chest because they'd both figured out it was one of Patton's favorite physical features. Logan made a noise of joy when Patton touched him just the right way. With gentleness but pressure. Slowly but passionate. He grew tired from holding himself up, so he went back to laying on Patton, kissing his entire face, which made him laugh.
Patton was so happy Logan was here. He was safe, and he was there in the present, and he was okay. They'd get through whatever came their way together.