"I'm so glad Mr. Hartley could find your brother and put us on the approved visitor list. It sounds like he had to pull a lot of strings to do it," Patton flashed a smile quickly to Roman before looking back at the road. Roman fidgeted lightly with his hands and watched the road for a moment. He was still worried and was tired as shit for having to wake up early to drive out there for the visiting hours. Well, it was only a little early for the Sanders house but Roman still was the worst at sleeping. Especially when he knew he was going to finally see his brother the next day.
"Thanks again for being willing to drive me out," Roman mumbled and curled into his jacket a bit. "You really don't think he'll be mad at me for not calling and stuff?" Roman asked nervously, glancing at Patton. Patton kept his eyes on the road.
"I think if you explain what happened he'll probably understand," Patton said plainly. That didn't particularly inspire confidence in Roman. He side-eyed Patton for a moment, but Patton added nothing else.
"Hm, I'm hearing a maybe," Roman said seriously, tugging at his seat belt to shift it away from his cracked rib again.
"Well, I can't see everything, kiddo," Patton smiled knowingly for someone saying he didn't know. "But he's your brother, and that didn't go away with distance," Roman hummed, not really agreeing or disagreeing. He wanted to believe Remus wouldn't hate him. He just also had a 'wildly mis-calibrated' sense of whether or not people hate him, according to Thomas. But even if his sense is off, it was a loud one and he didn't know how to ignore it. Roman yawned and leaned back the seat a little, watching the road again.
"I know this is early for you, kiddo. I can put the radio on classical or something and you can take a nap. The weekend visiting hours are offensively short and early," Patton muttered bitterly. "You should be able to visit your kids and siblings all day on the weekend, not between 8 and 10 am. Who do they think they are? The state prison has better visiting hours!" Patton started ranting in frustration.
"I'm a 15-year-old felon, I can't answer these questions," Roman rubbed his head. It kind of hurt from Pat's rambling. Or the lack of sleep. Or the knowledge there will be guards there. Or the roiling fear in him that Remus hated him now, and that he had every right to as someone in juvie while Roman had such a nice place to stay. Maybe there were lots of reasons his head could hurt.
"You're not a felon, kiddo," Patton furrowed his eyebrows, looking miffed. Roman just crossed his arms lightly and raised his eyebrow. "Well, not a convicted felon, anyway," Patton trailed off slightly. "Let's not bring up the whole drug trafficking thing at the JDC," Patton chuckled nervously, shooting a look at Roman.
"Yeah, I definitely tell everybody about my crimes," Roman's tone was dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. "Thomas says I thought I was dead. That's basically the only circumstance I ever planned to tell anyone," Roman huffed angrily, though it was entirely at himself for letting it slip. He really didn't like anybody knowing about it. Though Virgil was chill about it. At least that was something. Patton and Thomas, on the other hand? Roman wasn't sure they had chill anymore.
"I suppose we should avoid panic attacks, then," Patton said, sounding concerned and tapping his steering wheel with his fingers as he steered.
"Sure, I'll turn off the panic switch," Roman flipped his hand and mimed toggling a switch sarcastically. He looked out the passenger window, gripping his seatbelt in his hands both as something grounding but to keep it off his ribs again.
"Young man, I understand you're scared and tired, but maybe turn down the sarcasm a notch," Patton said seriously. Roman huffed indignantly, but sighed and dropped his arms after a moment.
"Sorry," Roman mumbled and fiddled with his jeans.
"I don't think marijuana charges should be a thing in the first place, by the way. I don't think that in a just world you'd be a felon," Patton said, consolingly. Roman winced and looked to Patton for a moment, deciding if he should correct him or not.
"You like honesty, right?" Roman sighed, looking over to Patton nervously. He may as well get this over with.
"Yes, I do! But I don't like the sound of that question. Not in the context of this conversation, anyway," Patton said nervously and gripped the steering wheel as if to brace himself.
"I guess because it's hard to picture a teenager dealing anything harder than weed, or something? But there's a reason I said drugs. It was just weed… at first. It… didn't stay that way. Expenses went up. And it went from some very nice engineers who grew it outside of town to real mafia-type drug suppliers. That's how the whole having guns pointed at me thing happened. We were kind of in over our heads, honestly. I was just making deliveries to white guys in flip-flops who'd tip well if I did magic tricks for them, other than visiting the engineers. It wasn't that bad," Roman swallowed. "Then it got worse, and I had to carry a gun just to protect myself and… it just wasn't good. I'd still be a felon in a more just world," Roman confessed quietly.
"You didn't have to use the gun, did you, kiddo?" Patton asked, sounding deeply troubled and gripping the steering wheel enough to make his knuckles pale.
Roman held himself and swallowed heavily. "Can we not talk about this?" Roman mumbled, hating to have to remember this part. Hating himself for ever having to do it. Roman gripped his seatbelt again, unable to deal and trying to focus on literally anything else. Like the texture of the seat-belt strap and how it was weirdly sharp feeling or the signs through the window.
"I think we might need to," Patton said carefully, but he was clearly holding back something by the expression on his face.
"First shot's a warning shot. Second shot was to the legs," Roman muttered. "That's… that's all I'm willing to say about it," Roman said weakly, trying his damnedest not to remember.
"I suppose it's a good thing you're seeing a psychiatrist," Patton swallowed. "I'm impressed at how strong you are to carry this guilt for so long, champ. At least you never intended to hurt anybody, right?" Patton said as evenly as Roman assumed as he could manage. He didn't sound so sure that Roman never wanted to, though, and Roman felt like a dirtbag for it.
"No, I didn't wake up thinking 'I'm going to shoot some guy today'," Roman said sarcastically. "I already know I'm not a good person. You don't have to try to make excuses for me," He added weakly and stared at his feet as the seatbelt cut into his hands from twisting it so tightly.
"Good and bad are a lot more complex than that. I know this stuff makes me uncomfortable, but your choices now are what matter. Not your choices when you had nothing but ultimatums in your life. It doesn't sound like you wanted to make those choices, either," Patton said thoughtfully, sounding resolute despite the shakiness in his voice.
"Learning to shoot a gun was cool," Roman supplied weakly. There were things he liked that he knew he shouldn't have. He enjoyed learning new stuff. He liked people cheering when he did sleight-of-hand tricks. He liked having enough money to buy his own clothes and pick what he ate and buy his own things. He liked some of the stoners. They were funny. He even liked Jet. "Jet's a d-bag in high-pressure situations, but he was pretty chill most of the time. We hung out often, even though he's years older than me. I didn't hate all of it," Roman admitted, loosening up on the seatbelt a bit.
Jet was the only person who knew, other than repeat customer stoners. But even they didn't know it was Roman. There was one who invited him in to play Assassin's Creed and Mortal Kombat, who saw him without the mask. Not that Roman would admit to playing those to Patton. Roman was certain that guy was just lonely and enjoyed talking to someone and probably thought Roman was older than he was. He was nice either way. He even let Roman stay with him one night to avoid a bad situation at home. There were plenty of things Roman liked about it that he knew he shouldn't have.
"Finding joy when you're in a terrible situation is okay and also doesn't make you a bad person. It still just means you were trying to survive," Patton reminded him. "You could have turned out much worse if you didn't find ways to be happy with access to a gun and drugs. Well, you could have turned out much worse with any of those factors," Patton said, sounding kind of strangely impressed.
"Yeah, I hope Jet's okay," Roman admitted quietly and looked back out the passenger window again.
"I hope he found a home that helped him out, too. But I am still proud of you for turning out so… okay, despite everything," Patton offered, sounding genuinely pleased. Was that supposed to make sense?
"You and Thomas have done nothing but say I'm not okay since I got here," Roman scoffed as he objected and rolled his eyes.
"Well, we had to re-evaluate where the bar was with new information. You're okay, in a sense, for somebody in the situations you've been in… seeing as you don't have a drug habit and are, well, you're here. You still have to see the psychiatrist, though. You're not okay in another sense," Patton said resolutely.
"That's so confusing," Roman groaned and gestured in frustration. "Mr. Hartley said there's no way to stop the state from having access to my medical records," Roman pouted angrily. "You know I don't want that."
"We're going to figure out the problems as they come. But Thomas and I aren't equipped to help you. We will continue to be there for you and happy to assist, but you have lots of things that you need professional help to break down and rebuild into something healthier and more sustainable. For one, Thomas is really freaked out about you scratching at yourself when you panic. We don't know how to stop that, and you can't keep living life like that. It's not safe or healthy," Patton said firmly with a glance towards Roman.
"I can just wear gloves all the time like a movie villain," Roman rolled his eyes. Patton was letting him leave them off for now, but they were in Roman's pocket in case Patton changed his mind.
"Roman, it's a temporary solution that you clearly don't enjoy," Patton said, shaking his head.
"I don't like the reminder," Roman sighed. "And I'm not wearing them at school. I'd get harassed non-stop," Roman grumbled. "What if I pull a Virgil and refuse to see the psychiatrist?" Roman said hopefully, but it came out more aggressively than intended.
"We're signing up Virgil for to talk to a psychiatrist online. We realize now that it's dangerous to keep waiting for you two to want it for yourselves. Just because Virgil hasn't had non-car related panic attacks we've seen doesn't mean he's not quietly at-risk while he sits alone in his room. He has trouble connecting to people, and we realize that it's more dangerous to let go unchecked than we thought. We thought it just meant he couldn't be around cars. We didn't know there was a whole slew of other things that might be making his life harder," Patton explained and used that serious parent tone.
"Thomas said that he had nine out of the fifteen things the ER doctor mentioned, and that's without him talking to us. It will take some time to get him to talk to somebody, so setting up appointments now, even if doesn't respond in earnest right away, is better than putting it off and it takes even longer. You boys might even need to be on some medications," Patton said, sounding sympathetic despite the fact they were forcing this on him.
"I don't want to go on meds," Roman said angrily, refusing to meet his eyes and watching the rearview mirror.
"I'm on anti-depressants and Thomas is on anti-anxiety medications. There's no shame in it. They seem scary at first, and they can be when you're adjusting to them, but they're there to improve your life and make it easier. It's just like I have to take an allergy pill every day to treat cats. I could just suffer through the stuffy nose and watery eyes, but I don't have to," Patton admitted.
"Why in the world did you become a vet if you're allergic to cats?" Roman asked incredulously.
"They're just so fluffy! It's not a severe allergy," Patton cooed. "But seriously kiddo, kinda hoping to die quietly isn't healthy. It might mean you have a chemical imbalance and need medical intervention so you don't take risks since you don't care if you live or die," Patton said more seriously, looking sad.
"I care if I live," Roman drawled defensively. "I wouldn't have done anything I did to protect myself in the past if I didn't care if I lived or not," Roman spat bitterly, not able to even look at Patton.
"But you think things would be easier if you didn't have to live anymore, right? That it would be nice if you just didn't wake up one day? Maybe a coma sounds nice? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you died in a freak accident?" Patton insinuated and Roman bit his tongue with a frustrated exhale through his nose. "I told you kiddo, I'm on anti-depressants. I'm not in your exact same boat, but I do know a little about what you're going through. You're very high energy for somebody with depression, but I'm not a people doctor and there's probably more going on than we see. Which is another excellent reason to get you properly diagnosed. So we can get you the right tools to cope and recovery for everything we know and don't know you have," Roman hated that this all started to make sense. He still didn't want to do any of it. The thought terrified him. But he wished it didn't make sense, still.
"You kinda get it, right? Is it… is it normal to still believe I'm okay and don't need help?" Roman asked quietly.
"I think anybody who gets shut down when they ask for help long enough will eventually convince themselves they're okay and fine on their own just to cope. But I also think both you and I know you're not okay on some level and your brain's just trying to play catch up with that fact since you've had to be 'okay' for so long," Patton suggested kindly, but it still kind of hurt to hear. Roman curled in on himself slightly. Another thing he wished didn't make sense.
"Try to sit up straight, Roman, your rib needs room to heal. I know it feels counter-intuitive when you feel vulnerable," Roman wanted to object to being vulnerable, but he tried to straighten out, anyway. Maybe he was feeling vulnerable and not bitter. It sort of seemed like he'd have to re-learn some feelings from the ground up because he was doing them wrong.
"So, we're almost there. Do you want to discuss what you will say to him to explain what happened?" Patton suggested genially. Roman considered it before shaking his head slowly.
"No, I'm not the best at following plans or even saying the things I mean to say. There's not much of a point to that," Roman sighed. "I'm just going to… try," Roman said, kind of wishing he had something better to say. Or some way to convince Remus to forgive him. Or something better to give him. Just… he wished for lots of things.
"That's all we can do sometimes," Patton said brightly. It was weird how he could flip his moods like that. Roman still felt kind of off from their conversation. Maybe Patton was just good at hiding things. "Sorry that I accidentally kept you up instead of letting you nap on the way over," Patton apologized.
"I'm probably too nervous about seeing Remus again to have taken a nap either way. I keep thinking I'm not going to recognize him for some reason. Or he won't recognize me. But that doesn't make any sense. And it's not the only completely unreasonable thing going through my head," Roman admitted sheepishly.
"It's not unreasonable that he'd look different, kiddo, it's been 4 years," Patton said softly.
"What are you talking about?" Roman asked incredulously, looking to Patton and furrowing his eyebrows.
"Four years is a long time! You've both done lots of growing, I'm sure," Patton possibly attempted to explain. What the hell was he talking about? Holy shit, did Patton not know? Oh, he had to see Patton's face when he found out. Roman wasn't saying a damn thing.
"Still. I just don't think I would have rested well," Roman said dismissively. He at least had something to look forward to. Remus used to love this kind of thing, too, so maybe Remus would laugh, and that would be worth it.
"All right, we need to leave our personal effects in the car according to the website. Put your phone, keys, and wallet in the glove box if you have any of them," Patton said. Roman shifted slightly to extract his stuff while Patton pulled into the parking lot. Roman closed his things into the glove box and looked around the lot. God, this place was… depressing. It's a giant concrete box, and it feels… wrong. Haunted, maybe. Just bad. Patton slipped his phone in the glove box and locked it before they both got out of the car.
Patton had to show his ID, and it took a bit of arguing, but they managed to find him and Roman on the approved visitor list after about 10 minutes. It was ridiculous that Roman wasn't allowed to see his own brother under normal circumstances. Patton was right about that. They don't have parents for Roman to come in with. Getting Patton and Roman on the approved list was probably the social worker equivalent of an act of god. Roman would have to thank him properly when he saw him next month. Maybe Patton would let him bake him cookies or something. Roman waited on one of the few chairs in the lobby until they were finally able to go through x-ray and security. They weren't allowed to bring much to him, but Patton brought a bag of chocolates for Remus, which was nice.
The security guard brought them to a weird steel and concrete cafeteria-looking room, where they picked a table and were told to wait while they fetched Remus. Roman's foot started tapping, and that hurt like a mother fuck, so he managed to move his nervous energy to drum on the table with his fingers. Patton tolerated the noise and offered him a soft smile every time he looked nervously to Patton as they waited. This part made Roman so restless it physically hurt. The guards made him nervous enough, but seeing his brother for the first time in 4 years was a whole new level. He fought to keep himself as level as he could with the sheer joy from the knowledge that at least, after all this time, he'd finally get to see Remus again.