Roman numbly leaned against Thomas on the couch, buried under the throw from his bed as they watched Oliver & Company. He had cried himself out and he felt like he had nothing left in him. The bandages Thomas put on his arms to cover the cuts he gave himself were kind of itchy, and that was frustrating. But Thomas got a panicked look if he tried to scratch, and he just couldn't do anything else to hurt Thomas any further. How could anybody fuck up as much as Roman and still get offered forgiveness? He was always taught some things couldn't be forgiven. This really felt like this should be one of them. Roman caused so much trouble. But they were all quietly watching a movie. They should lock Roman in his closet or something, not leaning against Thomas and watching Virgil sometimes sign insults at the movie. If Patton weren't still at work, he'd probably be on the other side of Roman with his arm around him. They were just so freaking nice.
Roman realized his eyes had drifted off the screen again, and he was staring at the floor. He brought his eyes back up and tried again. He really wanted to watch it and have a pleasant time with them, even if he thought he deserved to sleep on the patio or whatever. He liked this movie. He wanted to want to watch it. He wanted to pay attention to the movie. But he just felt off and wrong and exhausted and he couldn't focus on the screen. He loved this movie. He thought it was brilliant at tugging your emotions. The intro always made him cry when he was younger, but not today. Roman cried enough for like 2 years or something. That was another thing he knew he wasn't supposed to do that Thomas didn't care about. Roman just couldn't wrap his head around it. But his brain was also just so tired, so he shouldn't expect much.
There was a part of him that just longed to go back to bed, even though he knew he couldn't sleep. A movie was a good enough compromise. It was the same amount of activity as laying in bed with none of the sleep. At least the music was pleasant and there were pretty colours. Roman glanced over to Virgil sitting on the couch arm. Roman was surprised that Virgil was interested in joining. He reads books about institutionalized murder but wants to watch a movie about an orphaned cat who finds a family and a home? Virgil really didn't seem like the Disney type. For one, he seemed to have dark humor. For two he dressed like he was hiding something with the all-black ensemble with the big black hoodie. It made little sense. Roman probably was just dumb. There were lots of things he just didn't get, here.
The stupid bandages felt like they were crawling and they distracted Roman from the movie again. He looked up to Thomas, who seemed to be watching the movie. But Thomas would feel the couch move if he scratched, even if Roman sat up. The crawling sensation was nothing compared to upsetting Thomas again. Roman exhaled through his nose and tried to ignore it. He turned his eyes back to the screen and attempted to focus on that prissy poodle that Roman would never admit to anybody that he loved. Virgil knocked on the side table and Roman looked back over to him.
'That's you,' Virgil signed. Roman rolled his eyes and looked back to the screen. He wished he had that kind of confidence and pizazz. And whatever eye cream she had. Roman always looked so tired. He wanted to look good and smile brightly and be impressive and make people happy and win contests. He wanted that so badly it killed him sometimes. Roman wasn't good enough in real life to be anything like that, though. It was dumb to be jealous of a cartoon, though. Things didn't work like that in real life. Not that he wouldn't mind being a cartoon, either.
He could have a bird accompaniment like a Disney princess and fight foes that couldn't really hurt him and win every time. He could sing dramatic songs as he defeated his foes. And live somewhere impressive where bills and expensive things don't seem to matter, just like in cartoons. It would be nice. He wanted a katana and to fire energy blasts from his hands and use them to save the world, making smart quips and clever jokes the whole time. But he was just plain, shitty Roman, at the end of the day, who couldn't save anybody, not even himself.
Roman sighed and worked on focusing his eyes back on the screen again. He had spaced out and missed part of the movie, but it's not like he hadn't seen it before. He'd seen the entire Disney anthology at least 3 times while babysitting. Jeffery's parents had the complete collection and sometimes let him borrow the ones the Finley's didn't have for Jessica, Amber, and John. He wondered how they were doing. Mr. & Mrs. Finley didn't have much time to pay any attention to them. Roman thought that's why they kept him around. They wouldn't get fed or take baths or pick up the floors if Roman wasn't there to do it for them. He couldn't keep his focus on the TV to save his life, huh? Roman blinked a few times and looked back to the screen.
"Is there anything you want for dinner, Roman?" Thomas asked. Roman blinked and shook his head to take himself out of it. Woah, he was really out of it that time. He wasn't sure he was even thinking anymore. "Are you sure?"
"Uh, I'm not hungry," Roman muttered. Roman shifted and laid down on the couch. Clearly some time had passed since the credits were nearly done rolling. He was too tired to care and didn't feel like he deserved to eat and was too empty to even feel hungry.
"You're not getting away with that Roman, you're eating dinner. You didn't eat breakfast and only finished an empanada for lunch. You barely weigh as much as a sack of potatoes," Thomas said, getting up from the couch. Roman didn't even remember that. He was glad he finally got that empanada for a moment until he realized he got something he wanted even though he didn't earn one-if anything the opposite- and curled in on himself. Roman must have curled too tight and hissed when he hit his bruise.
"I'll get you a fresh ice pack for that," Thomas said compassionately and walked into the kitchen. Roman loosened up slightly and stared ahead. Virgil squatted in front of him and made a perplexed expression, like he was considering Roman for a moment.
'What happened?' Virgil signed, still looking confused.
'Life,' Roman signed back.
'I mean last night, fuckhead,' Virgil rolled his eyes.
'Too nice. Freaked out. Ran,' Roman signed. 'How did you know?'
'Damn dog woke up the entire house barking,' Virgil replied, looking annoyed.
'Foiled by a dog,' Roman fingerspelled and snapped his fingers jokingly and made a face. His attempt to cheer himself up failed and he sighed. 'Still hard to hate her,' He added after a moment.
'She's impossibly cute,' Virgil shrugged. 'Try shooting her some time,'
'What?' Roman signed, confused. Was Virgil joking about hurting the dog? That didn't seem right.
'It's a trick. Finger guns. Try it,' Virgil explained and sat down on the floor. Roman was immediately relieved that it wasn't some wildly grim joke. 'What happened to your arms?'
'Thomas said it was me,' Roman signed back.
"Here you go, Roman," Thomas said, passing the ice pack down over the couch to Roman. "Virgil, do you want anything specific for dinner?" Thomas asked. Roman carefully placed the ice pack on his bruise and sighed, watching for Virgil's response.
"Tater tots," Roman said for Virgil.
"Thanks, I just caught lots of T's, I think. Is chicken and roasted vegetables acceptable with the tater tots?" Thomas asked. Virgil nodded. "Do you have any preference yet, Roman?" Roman just shook his head. "Patton's almost home. I'm sorry in advance. I've asked him to give you your space, just tell him to back off if he gets too intense," Thomas said, sounding wary.
'Good luck with that,' Virgil smirked. Roman huffed, he was right about that.
'Do you want the TV?' Roman asked Virgil hopefully.
'Why?' Virgil raised his eyebrows.
'I'd rather watch you do something than stare at the wall,' Roman signed back. His feet hurt too much to go upstairs and Thomas didn't want him to be alone right now. Roman would just stare blankly at his phone upstairs anyway, he may as well stare blankly at the TV some more.
Virgil shrugged and got up, heading over to the TV and loading up some game with pretty music where a guy in a cloak jumps around collecting sigil things. The graphics were simple but somehow lovely. It was really soothing to watch. Roman was happy to space into it. The running in the desert was a little repetitive, but Roman didn't mind that as much as he normally would. He had actually managed to watch it for a little while since it was so easy to follow and there was no dialogue.
"Roman! I'm so happy you're safe!" Patton cooed loudly and Roman jumped and flinched back, accidentally curling into himself and pushing the ice pack into his bruise. He did his best to breathe through it and not cuss, but god damn holy fucking shit that hurt. "What's wrong?" Patton asked, looking at Roman's strained face.
"He got a giant bruise somehow. He doesn't remember it," Thomas called from the kitchen.
"It must have happened when I was in custody," Roman grunted, carefully shifting back into place.
"What?!" Patton shot and Roman flinched again, more careful about the bruise this time. Virgil also flinched from the sudden sound and eyed Patton warily. "I'm sorry, boys. That just boils my beans," Patton frowned, looking extremely upset. He crossed his arms and looked to the floor, grumbling quietly.
"Why do you say that, Roman?" Thomas asked, coming into the living room, possibly to try to cool Patton down, since he took his hand and lead him to sit down on the couch. Lita bounded in and sat on Patton's lap as soon as he hit the couch. Patton pet Lita absentmindedly and Thomas scratched behind her ears.
"I went for a run, not a street fight. I blacked out and woke up with a bruise in the hospital after he asked me to come with him. When else was it supposed to happen? The dude was itching to arrest me, he probably got pissed when I passed out on him," Roman explained. "Can't further incriminate an unconscious teenager," Roman said flippantly and tapped his temple. Virgil smirked slightly, still looking very unsettled.
"Roman, you're suggesting something really serious," Patton said, looking firmly at him.
"What, I had a seizure with absolutely no history of them and got a bruise the size of a steel-toed boot somewhere that was unlikely to have gotten enough impact to bruise? And there's none anywhere else, despite the bruising force? Come on, I know what a bruise from a work boot looks like," Roman rolled his eyes. "You'll probably see the imprint line from the rubber sole tomorrow," Roman flipped his hand like he was smacking the suggestion away.
"If that's the case, we're making a doctor's appointment tomorrow. We need this documented to file a complaint," Patton said quietly and nodded. Roman's eyes widened in terror and he looked to Thomas desperately.
"No, no, Roman, you don't have to see him again. We'll get the doctor to take pictures and file like that. If you can really see the line from his boot, it should be a cut-and-dry complaint. Maybe we can get him off the street," Thomas held up his hands. "Let me get you some cold water and just breathe for me, okay?" Roman nodded meekly and stared back at the paused game. Virgil looked nervous and swallowed heavily.
"I'm sorry, Virgil," Roman whispered. Virgil shook his head and pressed his nails into his palms lightly.
'Police bad memories,' Virgil signed disjointedly.
'Me too,' Roman sighed. 'Still here?'
'Yes. Game,' Virgil signed and picked back up the controller.
"Let's go to the cat cafe!" Patton suddenly said after staring at them for a moment, looking sad. Thomas came back in with the glass of cold water. Roman slowly sat up and took the water tentatively.
"I really don't think I could walk there if I tried," Roman said quietly, tapping the glass nervously.
"Well, everybody wanted to do it the other day, I just wanted to cheer you two up," Patton frowned, looking contemplative again.
"What about s'mores? We don't have to walk anywhere for that and still get chocolate," Thomas suggested instead. He eyed Virgil for a moment and turned around to the kitchen again.
"That sounds cool," Roman muttered. He liked the sound of it but struggled to feel excited about it at the moment.
"I like the sound of that, how do you feel about s'mores, Virgil?" Patton asked. Thomas came back in with some cold water for Virgil as well. Virgil was a little shell-shocked when he took it but sipped it slightly as well. Roman watched Thomas head back into the kitchen and felt the cool glass in his hands and tried to focus on that feeling.
"Is there something you're hesitant about?" Patton asked after Patton didn't answer.
'Fire,' Virgil signed.
"The fire part," Roman provided.
"Oh, well, we don't have to use that, kiddo! We can make the s'mores indoors," Patton put heavy emphasis on the rhyme. "We could eat them after dinner with a bit of vanilla ice cream!" Patton smiled brightly, though there was still a deep concern in his eyes. Virgil nodded slightly and went back to playing.
Patton looked like he was considering something and nodded resolutely… to himself, maybe. Roman felt the wet glass and sipped the cool water as he watched Virgil go through this giant pillar room he was slowly filling with a magic sea. Roman noticed that sometimes Virgil would run his nails under his other nails while the cut scenes played. Maybe it was relaxing to him. Roman tried it and it felt really weird. Maybe it was different with longer nails. Virgil had more length on him. Roman sometimes chewed his nails when he was studying and they never got very long. Virgil painted his nails. Maybe that would help him stop. He'd have to buy some nail polish or something. But he had roughly five dollars and change to his name. He sort of needed to resolve that.
"Hey, um, Patton," Roman stuttered, not taking his eyes off the screen to look to Patton.
"What's up, kiddo?" Patton asked, still with those concerned eyes. Ugh. They seriously had to be the nicest people on the planet. Roman couldn't understand it and it was starting to make him angry. He took a deep breath and tried to focus up again.
"Am I allowed to get a job? You know, go babysit or mow lawns?" Roman asked meekly.
"Well-" Patton started.
"No, Roman. You don't have to work for money," Thomas called and insisted firmly from the kitchen.
"I don't-" Patton started, looking like he was confused and disagreed.
"Trust me, Pat. It's a hard no," Thomas called back with an edge to his voice.
"Well, I guess not," Patton shrugged. "We give Virgil $30 a month, and you'll get the same. But if you want books or art supplies or something for a hobby, we'll get them for you, anyway if it isn't too outlandish. I think Virgil mostly uses his allowance on digital media," Patton explained. Virgil shrugged.
"That's… giving me money for doing nothing," Roman said incredulously.
"You're not doing nothing, kiddo! You're working hard in school, keeping up your parts of the house, and figuring out who you are and what you want to do! None of that stuff is nothing," Patton objected and explained calmly. "If you've got other expenses you want to talk about, we're happy to work out a deal," But what about what he owed them for staying here? If they gave him money for everything he did around the house, it sort of made it harder to pay them back.
"As long as you're not working a job," Thomas provided, sounding very resolute, from the kitchen.
"Come on, Thomas, it's not like I will go out and work for Jet again," Roman groaned, not appreciating the distrust.
"It's not about that, it's about that fact that you shouldn't have to and I think it's sick you were forced to," Thomas reiterated, coming back out into the living room and standing behind Roman's spot on the couch. "I don't think you have a healthy relationship with money, period," Thomas gripped the back of the couch.
"I don't like not doing anything," Roman rubbed the glass and stared into it. "Plus, I could make more by myself and you guys wouldn't have to waste any money on me,"
"See, Roman, we don't think it's wasting money. We do think it's wasting your childhood if you're working," Thomas insisted, sounding very intense. Roman huffed sourly.
"Didn't you do fun stuff at the Finley's, champ? You couldn't have been babysitting every night. We want you to have more time for school and fun," Patton said. The cheer in his voice was tainted with sadness, though. Roman froze and swallowed.
"Oh, god, Roman, please don't tell me…" Thomas moaned and rubbed his face.
"Okay, I won't," Roman said sourly, dragging his nail along the cup.
"What?" Patton said, looking between the two.
"He was babysitting every night. And probably all weekend. And when you weren't watching the Finley's kids you were watching somebody else's. Am I right?" Thomas asked. Roman nodded slowly.
"I don't mind babysitting. I got to watch movies with them and stuff, too. We played games together, and I got to do stuff after I put them to bed," Roman muttered in defense of himself, not able to meet Thomas's eyes.
"Did your caseworker know this?" Thomas asked seriously.
"Maybe? I've been taking care of the younger kids for a while, it's not that weird," Roman offered weakly.
"I think that's somehow worse," Thomas rubbed his head, looking frustrated.
"I'm sorry," Roman whispered and dropped his head on to the glass.
"Roman, no, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at the situations I don't think you even realized you were in," Thomas said softly.
"I wasn't in any situations. I'm still here," Roman objected quietly.
"Roman, you can't tell me that being forced to traffic drugs because your foster family wouldn't feed you wasn't a situation," Thomas said firmly, sounding frustrated and gripping the couch even harder.
"What!?" Patton shot up and looked scandalized, and Virgil bolted. Roman wished he could have, too, but he was so tired and his feet hurt badly and a loud part of him just wanted to get punished already so he could finally feel right in the world.
"I'll go make sure Virgil's okay. Pat, please settle down. I think we might need a no loud sudden noises rule," Thomas said, walking up the stairs. Roman hoped Virgil was okay and tried to breathe. The air from the cool water kind of helped, but he struggled with keeping a grip on himself.
"I'm sorry, Roman," Patton said sheepishly. "Did you really…" Patton trailed off. Roman nodded weakly. "I'll… have to work on not shouting. I'm really sorry, kiddo," Patton said sheepishly. Roman shook his head. "I have things to be filled in on," Patton added after a minute. "Is it okay… I mean, do you mind if Thomas puts me in the loop so I can hopefully not do that again?" Patton asked, sounding upset. The whole drug dealer crony thing was out of the bag. He may as well know the rest. It's not like it was the whole story or even the worst thing he'd done. It would be easier if Patton knew. And then Patton could talk some sense into Thomas and they'd send him away and he could be a piece of shit somewhere less nice. Roman swallowed and signed yes, not willing to raise his head from the cup and afraid of crying again if he opened his mouth to speak.