Part 9: The Cardigan

(For future reference, orange italicized text (because yellow text doesn’t exist) is Deceit speaking. Sorry this part is shorter and late, I have a ton going on right now. Still, hope you enjoy!)

Tw: Mentions of death, black/red roses, homelessness

Patton woke up the next day cold and miserable again. It had rained during the night, so he had to sleep against the side of a building where he got minimal protection from the rain. But despite that, he woke up, got on his bike, and started riding to the flower shop. The streets were damp and the morning air smelled like wet earth. Patton didn’t see how today would be so bad. After all, it was just another day—

Hey author, wouldn’t it be fun if you made Patton’s day misssserable? More miserable than it already issss? And you just tucked away that character development of him watching a movie with Emille away so he didn’t grow into the Patton everyone lovessss?

“I’m not taking requests, Deceit.” The wind seemed to howl around Patton, causing him to look around cautiously.

“Who’s there?” Patton asked, looking around him. But no one was there. He shivered as the sky seemed to darken overhead briefly.

Jusssst you wait author. You may control the sssstory, but you don’t control me.

The sky brightened again and Patton was on his way. He walked into It’s My Year Flowers and waved briefly at Logan behind the counter.

“Salutations, V—Patton.” Logan nodded. “How was your night?”

“Cold. Wet.” Patton scowled.

Logan frowned. “Did you go camping?”

Patton sighed, not wanting to explain. He didn’t need other people’s help. He hadn’t before and he didn’t now—

“Would you like some breakfast?” Logan asked. “Roman made me eggs but I didn’t eat them all.”

Ok, he would concede to get help just this once. “Yes please.” He said, quickly eating the rest of the eggs. He was starving, he’d barely eaten anything yesterday. They weren’t half bad either. A little like what his mother used to… Patton shook his head quickly.

“Is something wrong? Are they not satisfactory?” Logan frowned.

“No, they’re fine!” Patton said, trying to smile a bit. “It’s just an off day so far.”

“Not too off you would mind delivering some flowers, would you?” Logan asked.

“Oh not at all.” Patton said, already preparing to go ride again.

Logan gave him a bouquet of orange and red roses. “Deliver these to someone by the name of Joan who lives on 1276 Sugarplum Way.”

You’re really bad at sssstreet namessss.

“Will do.” Patton nodded, grabbing the flowers and turning towards the door.

“Oh, um, Patton?” Logan said, causing Patton to stop, turn around, and get hit in the face with a flying jacket. A gray cardigan, to be exact. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to hit—“ Logan cleared his throat. “I mean… It’s cold. You should wear that. You could get hypothermia.”

Patton looked at the garment in absolute bewilderment before smiling, genuinely smiling, at Logan. “Thank you.”

Logan looked anywhere but Patton’s face and nodded. “It’s no problem. Go along now.”

Patton put on the cardigan and started to bike down the street. But he soon found that although the jacket provided warmth, the sleeves made it hard to grip the handlebars. So he pulled over to the side of the road and took it off, tying it around his shoulders. It still kept them warm, and flowed like a cape behind him as he rode on his bike. He remembered tying cloth to his shoulders and pretending to be a superhero when he was little. It felt like that. For a minute, Patton was happy. Patton was invincible. Patton was a little more... Patton.

How naïve.

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