"I'm not Satan. If I turn off the lights would you open your eyes?" The guy with the nice voice offered. It was strangely charitable for a demon. The beeping rang through Roma's whole jaw and he could hear it in his bones somehow. Roman's whole body hurt and honestly less light would be amazing, just as one less thing to deal with alone. But he didn't understand where this was coming from.
"What?" Roman asked incredulously and the bright glowing light around his arm disappeared. Roman dropped his arm tiredly. That was weirdly nice for hell. Roman slowly opened his eyes. "God damn it, did I survive?" Roman groaned as he looked around the hospital room, a guy in jeans and a floral button-down standing near the door. "That's not fair," He moaned in frustration.
A woman stepped in from the hall, and Roman recoiled from the light. That was basically how his life went. One nice thing chased by two shitty things. Ah, normalcy at least.
"A migraine?" The lady in the white coat asked. "You were dehydrated, so that isn't surprising. How did you end up so dehydrated, Roman?"
"I only just found out I'm not dead, cut me some slack," Roman frowned and turned his head away. She just hummed at him. Roman huffed through his nose with disdain.
"His charts look fine, and he can probably head home soon, once we get a urine sample and get the clean results we're expecting. The nurse said he thought he was two years younger? Would you mind telling me again what happened before you couldn't wake him up?" She asked.
"He had run away at night. The police said they found him at the high school stadium. He had passed out at the station just before we got there to pick him up, according to them," The guy explained. Roman didn't run away. What was he talking about? He must have been running for Jet, right? What did she mean, two years younger?
"Did he say why he ran away?" She asked. Roman watched them in confusion.
"No, he didn't leave a note or take anything but his house key. We argued about his bedtime, but there was no reason I can think of that he would run. He hadn't slept well the night before so I asked him to go to bed 30 minutes early. It was barely an argument. He seemed miffed but didn't argue back much. He asked if he could stay up to read and then dropped it. I don't really know," The guy said.
"Who the fuck are you?" Roman asked, struggling to follow this conversation. His brain felt like a wet marshmallow.
"I'm your ER doctor, Dr. Veronica," She said, looking to Roman.
"No, the dude who is claiming to know me," Roman weakly pointed to the guy in the floral shirt.
"I'm Thomas Sanders, your foster father," He claimed.
"My foster father is James Hall," Roman retorted. "I have no idea who this dude is," Roman motioned again towards him.
"Please calm down and try to rest, Mr. Reinhart," The doctor lady said placatingly.
"Was he stressed about something in particular?" The Veronica one asked.
"Homework, maybe? Lack of sleep? He joked about wanting to kill himself, and that was concerning. We had asked before if he wanted to see a therapist and my spouse said he had an anxiety attack just bringing it up," The Thomas guy shuffled and rubbed his arm awkwardly.
"Would you mind answering a few questions for me, Mr. Sanders? About Roman's moods?" She asked and started tapping around on a tablet in a giant protector.
"I can try," Thomas said, sounding unsure. Does he mean try to guess?
"Does he often have memory problems?" She asked. Why is she asking this freaking stranger when he was sitting right here?
"I don't think so," Thomas replied, still uncertain. Yeah, why would he know?
"How is his self-image?" She asked, not looking up from the tablet now.
"Not great, I think, we haven't had a chance to talk about it yet," Thomas rubbed his arm.
"Does he seem interested in his hobbies?" Dr. Veronica continued on. Maybe she was working off on a list on the tablet? This was getting really annoying.
"He looks just as happy doing homework as he does playing video games. But he still seems to want to play them," Thomas shrugged.
"I don't appreciate you talking about me like I'm not here," Roman interjected bitterly.
"You can chime in if you want, Mr. Reinhart. Just try to stay calm," She said, sounding surprisingly soft despite his outburst. "Does he always act on guard?" Dr. Veronica asked another question.
"Yeah, all the time. He's jumpy about loud noises and people touching him," Thomas said, gesturing slightly.
"Who isn't?" Roman shot angrily.
"So he's also easily frightened, then?" Dr. Veronica added, clicking something else.
"Rude," Roman huffed. He was used to adults ignoring him, but this was kind of ridiculous.
"Yes, I'd say so," Thomas said thoughtfully.
"Any trouble sleeping?" Dr. Veronica continued tapping on the tablet.
"Yes, that one is obvious. He nearly passed out in his breakfast this morning. He's hard to wake up, in general," Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. Roman shifted uncomfortably. He wished they'd close the door to the hall to drop the light in here again.
"I don't know how he knows that," Roman rubbed his forehead and tried to drop the painful tension.
"How about difficulty concentrating?" Dr. Veronica asked.
"I think he probably concentrates too hard, if anything," Thomas shook his head. Roman couldn't concentrate for shit, so he had no idea where that answer came from.
"I disagree," Roman scoffed.
"Any irritability or angry outbursts?" She furrowed her eyebrows.
"My spouse said he's seen some," Thomas said, sounding uncertain.
"Expressed any feelings of guilt or shame?" She asked, continuing down her list. Yeah, but he couldn't say it. Roman looked at them nervously, hoping they didn't notice his weak spot. Thomas continued to look to the doctor, and she kept looking at the tablet and Roman was a little relieved.
"He had a panic attack when we bought him a phone, so I'd say very much. He was really guilty about us spending money on him," Thomas nodded. This was moving from upsetting to kind of creepy. And threatening. This Thomas guy knew too much.
"Does he have any difficulty expressing emotions?" She nodded.
"No, not that I've seen," Thomas shook her head. Maybe sometimes he did.
"Any trouble maintaining close relationships?" Dr. Veronica seemed a little confused.
"We haven't had him that long, I don't think he has any right now, honestly. He'd never mentioned friends or anything," Thomas said. It was probably just Jet, honestly. They didn't need to know any more about him, though.
"How about hopelessness?" Dr. Veronica nodded again. Roman felt like he was running on hope, but that's another thing he couldn't bring himself to say. Roman weakly gripped the light blanket draped over him.
"I told you he joked about wanting to kill himself, right? He was very blase about the whole thing," Thomas sounded frustrated.
"Right, right," She stared at the tablet and clicked around more.
"Life's hard, who wants to live it anyway?" Roman said flippantly and paused. Dr. Veronica asked nothing else, just kept tapping on her tablet. "Are we finally done with talk about Roman like he isn't here time?" Roman asked defensively. He couldn't let himself be confused and vulnerable any longer. "I'm not looking forward to going back to the Halls, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I'm legally supposed to be here without them knowing? Also, please tell me there's financial aid, because I know I can't afford a fucking ER visit," Roman said angrily.
"Did the Halls make you pay for everything, Roman?" Thomas asked, looking concerned.
"Yeah, of course, they do. That's how society works. That's why I have a job," Roman said dismissively.
"What do you do for your job?" Thomas asked curiously.
"Who cares?" Roman huffed, looking at the tube in his arm. "What's in the bag?"
"Just some water, you were dehydrated when Thomas brought you in," Dr. Veronica said. "Does he often deflect questions like that?" She asked.
"Patton said he changes the subject often when they talk," Thomas provided and gestured with his hand.
"Patton's a liar, whoever they are," Roman shot angrily.
"Roman, what do you think you got arrested for?" Thomas asked, sounding annoyed.
"I know my rights," Roman hissed and shot a pissed look at Thomas.
"Try not to upset him, Mr. Sanders," Dr. Veronica scolded him. Finally. "I think he might be having a regressive episode from stress. I'm making up a referral for a psychiatrist for him,"
"I thought it had something to do with this," Thomas said, sounding very concerned and motioning to Roman.
"I would have said nothing in the first place if I had any idea I wasn't dead, I assure you!" Roman glowered at them, but moving his face like that hurt his head and he couldn't hold it for very long. He tried to breathe through the pain like he always did and gave up with emoting completely.
"Roman, how do you feel about the police?" Thomas asked Roman pointedly.
"Police are bad, duh," Roman huffed he would have crossed his arms if he had the energy, so he just rolled his head away from the light.
"So it's fair to say that they stress you out a significant amount?" Dr. Veronica asked, sounding interested.
"I've had a gun to my face, and that was less 'stressful' than being in the police station, why do you think I thought I died? It felt like my heart fuckin' exploded," Roman grumbled, not moving much.
"What in the world-" Thomas shot, but the doctor lady shook her head, and he stopped himself.
"I think it's best to let him calm down to see if he comes back. It would be advisable to avoid any media with imagery of law enforcement in it for now. I'm glad we could find his trigger. But I'm not a mental health specialist. You can pick up the referral for a psychiatrist at the front desk. We don't perform mental health here, we're just trying to make sure he's doesn't need any other urgent care. Do you have to use the restroom, Roman?" The doctor explained. He didn't entirely follow until she mentioned using the restroom.
"Uh, yeah," Roman muttered. He really did, now that he was thinking about it.
"I'll need a urine sample. My nurse will be right back to help you," Dr. Veronica said with a brief nod and turned to leave the room.
"I don't need help to use the restroom," Roman grumbled.
"Is there something you'd like to do after they release you?" Thomas asked, walking closer to the bed.
"You're not my freakin' legal guardian, why would I go with you?" Roman asked. "Are you some kind of pervert or something?" Roman accused blithely. Thomas looked shocked.
"No! The doctors are talking to me because I am currently your legal guardian. You're not at the Halls anymore. And that sounds like that is a good thing," Thomas explained, sounding concerned. The other lady came back in. So she was a nurse and not a she-demon. Roman felt pretty fucking stupid right now. Of course he wasn't dead. That would be too easy. Just some fun new way to embarrass himself.
"Do you need help to use the restroom, Mr. Reinhart? Do you feel safe walking? We've cleaned and bandaged the cuts on your feet, but some were deep it's best to be careful walking on them for now," The nurse lady asked.
"Sorry for calling you a she-demon, ma'am," Roman muttered apologetically.
"It's all right, I thought it was pretty funny, honestly. Let me help you out of bed and you can tell me how safe you feel about walking lightly," She offered. Roman nodded, and the nurse reached over to disconnect the tube from the needle in his arm. She helped Roman reposition himself on the bed and carefully helped him up. He was very shaky on his feet and everything hurt like hell, but he felt okay enough.
"I'll be okay," Roman said. The nurse led him to the bathroom doorway, anyway. She handed him a cup with a lid and his name on a label. Roman's first step into the bathroom without her was wobbly, but he was all right after that. He handed over the filled cup, feeling pretty embarrassed about it, and she took it down the hall after helping him back into the room. Roman sat back down on the bed and eyeballed Thomas.
"What time is it?" Roman asked.
"It's around 10 o'clock," Thomas offered, glancing at his phone. Roman didn't recognize the model, so it must be nice. Maybe the guy was rich. Roman briefly considered pinching his wallet, but still hated the idea. Wait, 10 am?
"Shit, what about school?" Roman asked, starting to panic.
"We've called you out sick already, don't worry about it," Thomas said, motioning with his hands to calm down. "We can't leave until they get all your test results back, anyway," Thomas added, sitting down on some chairs near the bed. "Are you hungry? We could go out for lunch," Roman patted his pants to check the contents, feeling out of it.
"I, uh, don't have my wallet," Roman said sheepishly. He looked down, realizing he wasn't in all black like he would have been if he were running for Jet. Shit, were they not lying to him? Roman grabbed his chest and took a sharp breath, his eyes shooting around the room again.
"Roman, hey, hey, calm down. You don't have to pay for lunch. We don't have to go out to eat at all," Thomas said, getting up and getting closer to him. Roman shifted suddenly back into the bed, hitting the rails on the other side of the hospital bed and hissing slightly in pain. He clenched his fists tightly around the pajama pant material and tried to breathe.
"Am… am I really not with the Hall's anymore?" Roman whispered, looking desperately up at Thomas.
"You're really not at the Hall's anymore," Thomas nodded. "Um, did you want to see a video of our dog trying to attack her own shadow?" Thomas offered, holding up his phone with a video paused of a brown and white dog looking absolutely pissed at the floor. Roman nodded, interested in anything other than trying not to freak out any further. He was in a hospital and if he had a fit right now it would be bad. Thomas handed over the phone and tapped the screen, and the sounds of a dog barking and growling at its shadow on the floor started playing. When the video stopped, Thomas flipped to the next one. The dog was chasing its tail in the grass while Roman's breathing settled down. Roman watched a few more videos of dog antics quietly.
"Are you feeling any better?" Thomas asked after the 5th or so video. Roman nodded slightly and moved to lay back on the hospital bed. He was really, excessively exhausted. He yanked the blanket back up higher and Thomas moved to sit back down on the chairs again. Roman closed his eyes and exhaled. If he was lucky, he could just sleep instead of letting himself focus on any of this awfulness. He started to curl up on his side, but the pressure on his ribs really hurt, so he shifted to ball up some blanket to hold and tried to sleep like that instead.
—
"Hey, Roman, we need to clear out of here," Thomas said, surprisingly close to Roman's face. Roman's breath hitched as he opened his eyes suddenly from the close voice. "It's okay, it's just me, I'll give you your space," Thomas said, backing up slightly. "Your tests came back clear and they need the bed," Roman rubbed his eyes and nodded. Why the fuck was he in the hospital? Ugh, the smell alone was enough for bad memories to come flooding back. Roman noticed the needle in his arm and tried to remember what happened, but his brain felt really fuzzy and he was just so tired. At least he was already getting out of here. He hated hospitals. The less time in them, the better.
"Let me get that out of you," The nurse smiled and took Roman's arm. She undid the tape and carefully slid out the needle. It felt incredibly wrong. She pressed a cotton ball to the puncture and guided Roman's hand to apply pressure to it. She wrapped it up and gave him a small smile. "Remember to keep the feet elevated, clean, and dry while they're healing," She gave a small wave before leaving the room.
He tried to roll over to get off the bed since there were rails in the way on the other side, and he inhaled sharply when he landed on his other side. Everything hurt, but that one really took the cake. What the fuck was up with his ribs? Roman shifted to sit up carefully. He pulled up his shirt to check if he could see anything wrong, and there was a pale greenish mark on his side.
"Jesus, where did this come from?" Roman exclaimed quietly, inspecting the bruise. Thomas turned to look, and then quickly leaned out into the hall.
"Excuse me, Dr. Veronica?" He called, waving into the hall.
"How can I help, Mr. Sanders?" She asked, walking back into the room.
"Roman has a bad large bruise over his ribs he doesn't remember getting, would you mind checking it? It looks really bad." Thomas asked, pointing to Roman who still had his shirt up, trying to figure out what happened.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to touch it," She said, hovering her hand over the spot. Roman nodded, and his breath hitched on contact. It really hurt like a bitch. "Would you take a deep breath for me, Roman?" Roman nodded and started inhaling. "Fill your lungs completely and hold it," She instructed. It hurt too much and Roman flinched, having to stop.
"Sorry," He muttered.
"Would you say it hurts to breathe?" She asked.
"Kinda," Roman said, his face scrunching up when she started touching around it again.
"Nothing feels broken, and 'kinda' hurts means it's likely not badly fractured. I'll send you an ice pack for it, and if it continues to be concerning tomorrow, schedule an appointment for an x-ray. You can grab the ice pack the front desk," She said, heading back out of the room. Roman sighed and dropped his shirt. He's done some dumb shit in his day but he hadn't gotten a bruise like this in a long time. At least not without getting his ass beat, anyway. It was actually pretty familiar looking. Thomas rolled a wheelchair up to the bed and motioned for him to get on.
Roman got up, slightly unsteady, and sat in the wheelchair. He was in a hospital and didn't feel like questioning why he needed a wheelchair. His feet did hurt like shit. Roman looked down at them. The hospital booties were weird. Thomas pushed him out of the hospital room and down the hall. He wasn't completely sure how he got here, but he vaguely remembered small parts of it before he fell asleep. He was still extremely drowsy and struggling to concentrate. He must have done something amazingly dumb. It hurt his head to try to remember, so Roman just gave up. His head was already killing him. They passed a nurse in the hall who handed him an ice pack out of nowhere before exiting to the lobby, and Roman pressed it gently to his bruise. They were efficient here.
Thomas stopped off at the front desk before pushing Roman outside. He stopped the wheelchair and waved before jogging off into the parking lot to go get his car, probably. Roman waited numbly. He didn't know what was going on and wasn't even sure he wanted to. Being in a hospital was awful enough without all the pain. If he wasn't so numb he'd probably be relieved he couldn't think straight or feel much since at least he wasn't freaking out about being here that badly. Just awful flashes of memories to fight off. Thomas's car pulled up, and he got out and jogged around to push Roman up and help him into the car before Roman could pull himself up. He sat in the idling car while Thomas pushed the wheelchair back inside, waiting for Thomas to return. He was so fucking tired. Thomas came back with a little smile and started driving away. They drove in silence for a while. Roman had no idea what to say. Or if he should say anything.
"Are you doing okay, Roman?" Thomas asked after a bit while they waited at a red light.
"I'm sorry," Roman mumbled. "I don't know what happened, but I must have f-messed up really, really bad to end up in a hospital," Roman said, feeling just as empty. He laid motionless against the seat and watched the road.
"I can't say I'm entirely sure what happened, either, but you don't have to be sorry. Do you remember me now?" Thomas asked, sounding concerned.
"Huh?" Roman looked oddly at Thomas.
"Do you remember me and Patton and Virgil?" Thomas asked again.
"… Yeah?" Roman rolled his head to face Thomas. "Should I not?"
"No, no, it's good. Would you rather go out to eat or eat at home?" Thomas asked. Roman was too tired to cook, honestly. He couldn't even imagine standing up for more than 2 minutes right now.
"Which one lets me go back to bed faster?" Roman asked blankly. He was ready to pass out this instant.
"I'll get you some drive-through and you can go back to bed as soon as you get home if you like," Thomas offered.
"Whatever," Roman closed his eyes.
"Is there anything you want?" Thomas asked, not taking his eyes off the road.
"I literally could not care less if I even ate," Roman sighed. He was feeling a little dizzy instead of nothing now. He wanted the nothing back.
"You asked for tacos before, does a burrito or something sound good?" Thomas suggested, sounding hopeful. Roman was too tired to think straight, much less eat.
"Whatever floats your boat," Roman said dismissively. He was getting even dizzier now. Ugh. Make it stop.