Chapter Text
Each morning, Paterson wakes around 6:15, checks the time on his watch, and slips it around his wrist. Neither of them ever sets an alarm. Ned stays in bed a bit longer after Paterson kisses him and wishes him a good morning, then gets up to get ready for work.
Ned meets him in the kitchen and makes their coffees while Paterson eats his cheerios. The double breakfast never caught on with him; he’s happy with just the muffin. Ned’s espresso machine has been a huge hit with Paterson, though, who was hooked almost instantly after his first time spending the night at Ned’s.
Before he goes to bed, Paterson makes two sandwiches, and each morning he packs one sandwich into each of their lunchboxes. Then Ned sends him out the door with his lunch, coffee, a kiss, and a “see you soon.”
Ned then packs two muffins into his own lunchbox and gives Millicent a scoop of food. She meows and rubs against his ankles—a rather recent addition to his morning routine.
It had taken weeks before Millicent had even allowed Ned to see her, to the point Ned wasn’t totally convinced Paterson had a cat at all. Then more waiting until she would accept pets. Then months before she sat next to Ned on the couch for the first time, and Paterson was so thrilled he took a picture and added it to his small collection of frames on his dresser. But now that Ned feeds her every morning, she's suddenly become a big fan of his and even sits on his lap.
Paterson's house—their house, they've got a notarized agreement and everything—is almost a mile from the nearest stop on his bus route. There's another route that Ned could take and save some time, or he could just bike to work, of course. But each day he bikes almost a mile to the bus stop on Paterson's route.
Sometimes when the light is right he can see Paterson smiling as he pulls up, if there isn't too much glare on the windshield. Those days are his favorite. If the light is especially good, he can even see Paterson's dimples.
Ned attaches his bike to the bus’s bike rack and walks up the steps, greeted by Paterson's “hi,” since he'd already wished Ned a good morning at home.
They've spent every one of Paterson's morning breaks together ever since that very first day. Except now, Ned pulls two muffins out of his lunchbox.
Then, as always, Ned walks Paterson back to the bus with a “Have a good day,” and Paterson sends him off with a “Thanks, Ned. See you later.”
Every Saturday, between first and second breakfast, Paterson spends time writing. Ned never asks to see it. But sometimes Paterson offers, particularly if it's a love poem. Ned will never forget the first one, titled Glow.
It was another Saturday morning; Ned had spent the night on Friday, which he’d done every week for the past few months since they started dating. He vaguely remembered Paterson getting up much earlier than normal, though; too early for Ned to want to get up too.
When Ned woke up for real, it was almost mid-morning already; bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Still groggy, Ned sat upright and rubbed his eyes before reaching out toward the nightstand, confused when his hand found a piece of paper underneath his phone.
He recognized the folded, ripped-out notebook paper immediately.
The outside read, ‘Couldn’t wait any longer.’
Ned’s heart was pounding as he unfolded it.
Glow
When I wake up earlier than you and you are turned to face me,
face on the pillow and hair spread around,
I take a chance and stare at you, amazed in love
and afraid that you might open your eyes
and have the daylights scared out of you.
But maybe with the daylights gone
you’d see how much my chest and head implode for you,
their voices trapped inside like unborn children
fearing they will never see the light of day.
The opening in the wall now dimly glows its rainy blue and grey.
I tie my shoes and go downstairs to put the coffee on.
[Written by Ron Padgett for the movie Paterson]
Ned’s heart was still pounding when he finished reading, his eyes darting back up and fixating on “amazed in love.” Paterson was sitting in his usual spot when Ned walked out into the kitchen, and he turned around in his chair when Ned walked in.
“How long ago did you write it?” Ned asked, but found he couldn’t stop smiling as he walked right up, rested his arms on Paterson’s shoulders, and practically climbed into his lap.
“A while ago. Just seemed too soon to tell you I love you.” Paterson looked up at Ned with a shy smile, as if waiting for his approval. “But if you don’t—”
Ned cut him off with a smile and a kiss. “I love you.”
Before he met Paterson, Ned always thought “falling into a routine” in a relationship was inherently negative, like you'd given up and become complacent, taking your partner for granted.
But meeting Paterson made him realize that sometimes falling into a routine with someone is a lot like falling in love; letting them see you for who you are, quirks and all. Learning the other’s needs and wants and merging them together with your own. Finding the right person, who “falling into a routine” with is precisely why you love them—seeing the beauty in the mundanity of life because of the people you share it with.
So even if every week for the rest of his life was the exact same, Ned wouldn't change it for the world.