Roman slowly blinked when he woke up again. It was dim in here and a pleasant temperature. There were soft windy trees and cricket noises playing. Despite the soreness in his everything, it was a pleasant way to wake up. He yawned and blinked the sleep away from his eyes again to try to focus them. He was laying in his own bed at the Sanders' house, which he was extremely thankful for. Somebody must have closed the curtains for him and put on the noisemaker app. Probably Thomas. He didn't remember getting back to the Sanders' house at all, which meant he either blacked out again or fell asleep. It also meant Thomas managed to carry him up the stairs while he was out. Roman knew he didn't weigh too much, but honestly, he was still a little impressed. He used to have to carry little kids up the stairs to bed all the time and it was hard to balance.
A glass of water was also left out on his nightstand, which he drank its entirety as soon as he realized it was there. Everything still hurt and he was still tired, but he was awake enough to feel kind of gross. Kind of very extremely gross. He wanted to go take a hot shower. Hopefully, he was still allowed to. He couldn't be sure since he'd never been punished by them before. Roman couldn't figure out where the line was, but there's no way he wasn't grounded until they kicked him out on Friday. If he was already in trouble, he was already in trouble. He could at least sneak one shower before they had a chance to tell him he couldn't take a hot one or ban him from the shower altogether.
He crept out of bed silently, very practiced at this. His feet hurt like shit when he put weight on them, but he couldn't take being this filthy anymore. He couldn't make the shower be silent, but nobody would know he was in there until he was already safely locked in the bathroom. He only had one house where they had a key to the bathroom door, and that was kind of a whole fucking deal that he had trouble picturing the Sanders doing. He may have fucked up, but they weren't that fucked up even in this scenario. Roman shifted and moved silently across the hall to the restroom, locking himself in and turning on the showerhead to start the hot water.
Roman definitely deserved like seven ass-kickings for ending up at the hospital, though, and he wasn't sure exactly how that was going to play out. Roman sat in the tub when it was hot enough and showered facing the back to try to keep his feet away from the water as much as he could. They were probably the one thing on him that was clean and Roman knew you had to keep bandaged things dry already, even if he was iffy on why they were bandaged at the moment. He was still half asleep and didn't really care much about trying to remember something that involved him getting bandaged. Roman cleaned off slowly, and the hot water was amazing on his back.
What punishments would he get for his stupidity? No food? No showers? Not leaving his room? No electronics? Yard work at 6 AM? A super strict schedule? Tight rules? Yelling? Not leaving their room? Having to go for a run on these bandaged up feet? Nothing fun and he just has to sit there and do nothing? That one's his least favourite. He's really, really bad at sitting still and doing nothing. The punishments always got worse after that. Maybe Roman pushed their limits and they will hit him.
He didn't want to think about that. Roman was the biggest fuck up in the universe if he could break two nice people like that. Maybe that's why Virgil does asshole stuff. He's looking for their limits. It is kind of scary not knowing their boundaries. There's always some arbitrary line somewhere Roman couldn't understand. Roman finished off his shower and got dressed in fresh pajamas. Some bandages on his feet were loosened in the shower, but bending forward hurt so much that he couldn't imagine trying to fix them right now. He cracked open the bathroom door, and nobody was waiting there for him. Maybe Thomas didn't hear the shower. Roman sneaked back across the hall and into his room, closing the door slowly so it wouldn't click.
It was late enough in the afternoon that Roman wasn't tired anymore, so he needed to do find something quiet to do before he wasn't allowed to do it anymore. Roman sat on his bed, getting off his feet and looked around the room. He certainly wasn't doing his homework. If he was going to be banned from doing everything he'd be damned if the last thing he did was homework. Oh, god. He was going to have so much more homework after missing today. How did going for a run escalate so badly? It was just a run! Well, it wasn't completely just a run. If he didn't fall asleep under those bleachers and get- Oh god. Roman's breath hitched with the realization.
Did- the cops caught him. The cops definitely caught him. Oh, he fucked up really, really bad if the cops got involved. Never involve the cops. Never, ever. No cops, he'd always been told 'no cops'. He'd learned the 'no cops' lesson hard and painfully. And Roman go caught by the cops! Oh shit. Roman pulled his hands through his hair and stared at the floor, started rocking slightly, feeling like he couldn't process this. He was so overwhelmed. He was caught. It was all too much. There was too much.
• "Roman?" The bedroom door cracked open as Roman's heart leaped into his throat. He stared blankly forward and held himself, digging his nails into his arms. "Roman, woah, woah," Thomas stepped into the room quickly. Everything- everything was too much. "Roman, look at me. Roman, let go, you're bleeding!" Thomas said, but Roman wasn't able to respond. He only barely heard the words. "Roman stop scratching! Shit, augh, I'm stopping you, okay?" Thomas pulled Roman's arms off himself and held them. "Can you hear me?" Roman swallowed, but he couldn't find it in himself to say anything. He didn't feel like he was there anymore. Everything felt very distant and surreal.
"Roman, look at me," The voice said more firmly. He saw Thomas. "Shit. Okay, hold this," The voice sounded panicked, and there was something red in front of him. Something put his hands on the thing. "No more scratching, hold the blanket. Do you know where you are?" Where was he? The thing was soft. He examined it. "Can you not talk?" The red fuzzy thing was nice. Roman ran it between his fingers.
"Pat, he's not talking, and he's barely responding. I don't know what to do. Are you serious? Yeah, okay, I'll try. Will you please keep your phone with you? Thanks, I'll let you know. Roman, look at me," Roman saw Thomas again. "Pat says you might be disassociating. Do you know what that is?" Roman just stared blankly at him. "Would you sing a song with me? I bet you know Oliver & Company," That tugged at something in him, but he wasn't sure.
"One minute I'm in Central Park. Then I'm down on Delancey Street. Said from the Bow'ry to St. Mark's. There's a syncopated beat," He sang. It did sound kind of familiar. "I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo. I'm streetwise. I can improvise. I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo. I'm street-smart. I've got New York City heart," Thomas kept singing. He remembered this song. He liked this song. "Why should I worry?" Roman joined him and Thomas smiled slightly. "Why should I care? I may not have a dime. But I got street savoir-faire," Roman and Thomas sang together. It almost felt like something clicked in him as they kept singing the song.
"Are you finally back with me?" Thomas asked after finishing the song. He leaned down to look Roman in the face.
"I, uh, think so, I'm sorry," Roman muttered sheepishly.
"Are you able to tell me what happened?" Thomas asked, looking concerned. "Why you… started doing that?"
"Th-the cops," Roman's breath hitched as he tried to explain and his throat threatened to close on him again.
"No, they're not here, you weren't arrested, you're not in trouble. You're perfectly safe," Thomas insisted. He looked like he meant it, but Roman just couldn't believe it.
"The-the bad stuff can still happen after the cops leave," Roman choked out. Like being punished for being caught.
"No 'bad stuff' is happening. You're safe, I promise. They aren't coming back and you aren't being punished," Thomas insisted again. What? No. No, he didn't deserve this. He was supposed to be punished. Why wasn't he being punished? The cops caught him!
"No, no, I fucked up spectacularly! I deserve it, I do! I don't deserve all this niceness, Thomas! The cops were involved! I know I deserve-" Roman started rambling and rocking again.
"Roman, no. Stop. I don't know what happened, but I don't think you intended for any of this. Nobody deserves to be hurt over making a mistake," Thomas said firmly, putting a hand on Roman's shoulder while he shook.
"What if it wasn't a mistake? What if I ran off and committed dangerous crimes intentionally?" Roman said angrily. Why wasn't he being punished? He was supposed to be punished!
"Did you?" Thomas looked at him intensely.
"No! I just ran! Nothing else seemed to make sense at the time!" Roman shot. "You're just so fucking nice and I don't deserve any of this and I've fucked up so many times already and all this nice stuff freaked me out! It felt like the only thing I could do was run! I was scared! What aren't you punishing me?" Roman asked angrily and wrung the blanket in his hands.
"I mean, I'm not happy you went for a barefoot run in the middle of the night, but it sounds like you weren't thinking straight. Why do you think you messed up?" Thomas said, not exactly chidingly, but maybe something adjacent to it. Which was still too nice for Roman.
"I did!" Roman shouted. "33 times! I keep talking back and being rude and upsetting you and Patton and breaking the rules and I made a scene and cost you money and I'm not doing enough around the house and I fought with Virgil and I literally ran away from you yesterday, Thomas! And that's not counting being caught by the cops and the ER!" Roman could feel the hot tears running down his face.
"Roman. You're not in trouble. None of those things are actually problems. Things got out of hand, but it's not your fault. You haven't done anything wrong in my eyes," Thomas said seriously. "Would you have come back when you went for a late-night run?" He asked carefully.
"I-yeah, I was just so tired. I think I sprinted all the way to the school, I don't know, it was kind of a blur. I was just taking a break under the bleachers. I passed out, I guess. It was already past dawn when the cop found me and kept trying to wrongfully arrest me," Roman squeezed the blanket as he tried to explain what happened sheepishly. But Roman barely knew what happened. He just remembered freaking out, running, freaking out, and then everything after that was all fuzzy and garbled and senseless.
"Wrongfully arrest you?" Thomas asked incredulously, sounding concerned.
"He didn't actually catch me breaking any laws and tried to get me to incriminate myself," Roman mumbled. "I mean I did break curfew and trespass but he didn't actually see me do any of it. I was always warned about cops like him. I tried to leave and walk home before you should have been up, but he wouldn't let me go and when he told me to get into his car, I blacked out… I don't remember much after that," Roman explained sheepishly, feeling like a fucking idiot, wringing the blanket in his hands.
"See, you made a bad judgment call, and it spiraled out of hand. I'm here to protect you from things like that. If anything, I'm the one who messed up last night for not making you feel safe enough to come to one of us when you were struggling," Thomas said, critically of himself. What? That's the wrong person! Thomas didn't do anything wrong! Roman fucked up!
"What? No! I freaked out because you're so nice and this place is so nice and I just don't deserve any of it! I'm a bad kid! I'm an awful kid who ran off at one in the morning because I'm so much of a terrible fuck up that I couldn't take it anymore!" Roman shot bitterly, feeling his eyes burn from the tears that kept escaping despite himself.
"Why do you think you're a bad kid? We've never told you that," Thomas asked, looking terribly sad. No!
"You don't have to, I already know I am! I'm shit in school, I'm always in the way, I'm annoying, I do stupid shit without realizing, I'm rude, I can't sleep, I can't keep track of time, I can't do anything I'm supposed to do! You have to see it! You have to see I don't deserve any of this and on Friday send me off to another shit home I actually deserve to be in!" Roman shouted, clenching his fists around the blanket.
"Like the Halls?" Thomas supplied, his eyebrows furrowed. Roman looked down in shame.
"Maybe? I don't know!" Roman choked on a sob. His nails dug in through the blanket, he was grasping it so hard. He felt the tears roll down his face and drop on his blanket and clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop it.
"Did somebody there pull a gun on you?" Thomas asked and Roman's eyes shot up to his face in surprise. Thomas looked intensely at Roman and he froze.
"How-how did…" Roman trailed off. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. "In general, having firearms means you fail the foster care pre-checks," Roman tried to dodge the question nervously and looked away enough that he wasn't looking Thomas in the face but still able to keep an eye Thomas's reactions.
"What job did you have while you were with the Halls so you could support yourself?" Thomas looked very concerned, and Roman recoiled back slightly. He… he didn't know what to do. Did Thomas know? He thought no one would ever find out. Nobody was supposed to find out! It was supposed to be a secret Roman was taking to his grave. Roman took a shuddering breath and tried to focus.
"I… I ran errands for Jet, my older foster brother," Roman offered. That was close enough, right?
"Errands that got a gun pulled on you?" Thomas asked, somewhere between disbelieving and distressed.
"I never meant to hurt anyone. I was just… running errands," Roman looked down at his hands twisting on the blanket instead of seeing that expression anymore. He swallowed and there was a tense moment of silence between them.
"Fine, what did your foster brother do for work?" Thomas tried changing tactics. He didn't look annoyed, but he did look kind of desperate and maybe a little sick. Roman could relate. Though he wouldn't say 'kind of' or 'a little' about how he was feeling. Deeply and inconsolably desperate and close to throwing up was much more accurate.
"He was in sales," Roman said firmly, shaking a little. That was the truth. He told the truth. It had to be enough.
"I'm sure that's what he told you to say. But what did he actually do?" Thomas questioned him again.
"He sold things that make people happy," Roman tried dodging the truth again with something else Jet said.
"Roman, I'm not taking you to the police. You're not in trouble. It was in the past and it's staying there. But I'm very worried about what kind of errands they were and I need to be able to take care of you. I can't do that without knowing what's going on. What did they make you do?" Thomas sounded really firm and clearly wasn't going to drop it. Roman didn't feel like fighting it anymore. He was sick of pretending it never happened or that it was okay.
"Drugs," Roman whispered. "I… delivered drugs and made pickups for Jet. I was fast, and they didn't think to look for kids, so…" Roman trailed off and carefully glanced up for Thomas's reaction. Thomas's eyes went wide, and he leaned back slightly, looking completely blindsided.
"Holy shit, Roman," Thomas whispered back and Roman broke down crying again. Thomas came forward again and Roman took his shoulder this time. Thomas silently held him for a bit while he cried. It was so relieving to finally admit it, but at the same time, it hurt so bad. Now Thomas finally knew how much of a fuck up he was and he'd make the right choice. But he hated knowing that Thomas knew how bad Roman really was. The crying hurt his ribs, and he kept flinching from the pain, but he just didn't know how to stop it.
"Listen, Roman, it wasn't right that they made you work to pay for yourself, and it wasn't right that they forced you to go through any of that. You're not a bad kid for trying to survive in a terrible situation," Thomas said softly, holding on to him gently. What? No!
"I am though, people got hurt because of me. You weren't there, Thomas, you don't know what I had to do!" Roman cried and clenched Thomas's shirt tightly. "And there were all kinds of other stuff I did, too, it wasn't just the drugs! All the talking back and broken rules and-" Roman tried to rattle off the list but Thomas interrupted him.
"Roman, I think you were unfairly punished for that stuff. And while I don't know the whole situation, I don't think it was really your choice if you did what you did to survive. If you really wanted to do it, you wouldn't be so upset right now. You are not a bad kid. I'm so sorry you've had so many voices in your past telling you that you were," Thomas interjected, and Roman couldn't help but cry harder. Thomas reached up and rubbed his back. That couldn't be right and he was so nice and Roman didn't deserve any of this. He knew he was a bad kid. He thought this could finally be over if he just admitted it to Thomas and he could go be bad with other bad people again like he's supposed to.
"I forgive you for anything that happened that you thought hurt our feelings, okay? We were just worried about you. We didn't mean to make you feel like you did something wrong," Thomas apologized and it sounded so sincere and…
"No, no, please," Roman choked. "I don't-" Roman tried to stop him.
"You deserve forgiveness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve food and shelter and clothes being provided for you. You're a kid, Roman. I'm so sorry you had so many bad things happen in your past that hurt you so badly that you don't think you should be allowed to be safe and happy," Roman didn't have any response to that. Just what felt like painful, unending tears.