Sanders Sides One-shots

Broken Promises (BROT4/OT4 - Poly) [4/4]

Ship: BROT4/OT4 Poly

TW: References to self harm and blood

Word count: 1181

In this fourth part of the series, Patton is the focus character.

Note is at the bottom!

He remembers the blankness. He's the first.

He appears in a space that seems to stretch on infinitely; as far as the light dares to reach. He finds himself unable to describe it as a room; there are no walls nor corners nor windows nor anything. It were as if he were simply placed in an atmosphere. An atmosphere that is purely white, like the untouched snow on winter's first day.

Time does not exist. Not in this space. He doesn't know how long he stands there, blinking and squinting as if every surface reflected light at him. He feels as if he's going blind; as if he's going mad.

He's lonely.

There's no temperature, but he still feels chills run down his spines. He swears the chills run into his blood; he feels himself freeze.

He's cold. He's lonely.

That's all he knows now. He doesn't know who or where he is. He doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know why he's here. He doesn't know how he came to be.

He's lost. He's cold. He's lonely.

Until he isn't. There appears someone else. Squinting, just like him. Confused, just like him. Fearful, just like him. Shivering, just like him. Observing, just like him.

Staring back at him, wide-eyed and afraid.

Of what? Of him.

Something sparks.

"Hey, no, no. It's okay. I'm scared too."

All he gets is a blank gaze, guarded and cautious. Eventually, he gets a stiff nod.

"Who are you?" The boy asks interrogatively.

I don't know, he wants to respond.

But he doesn't, because he knows now.

"I'm Patton! I'm Thomas' Morality!"

The spark, warm with paternal love and a passion for protection, catches. Embers burn quietly within him.

The embers catch light when two more figures appear. They remind him of himself, in that they peer around with muddled minds and trembling hands.

He wants to share the warmth. He wants to help them shake off the unexplainable cold. He'll make sure they never feel it again.

Age 15:

He feels the tension, radiating off them in waves. Crashing and clashing violently against each other, conflicting and likely to capsize the very notion of civility.

Their eyes are storms; dark and angry with the thunder, but wet and astringent with the tears that pour down like the midnight rain. Their voices crackle and strike like the lightning in sharp lines and white flashes of impatience.

He wonders when the storm will end; when the clouds will part and reveal the sunshine. Has the darkness not been greedy enough?

He knows the weather will only ever be as predictable as the people on the planet, and he knows that smooth sailing is a tale that exists only in words, and never in reality.

But he doesn't enjoy having to grasp desperately at the wooden walls of the ship as it tosses and turns by the waves' dictation, nor does he enjoy having to cover his ears in a childish attempt at blocking out the loud crackle of thunder.