Roman exhaled with relief as he unloaded the textbooks he didn't need into his locker at the end of the day. He still was so incredibly glad he only required the one textbook for his science homework due tomorrow. Short answer essay questions, because the teacher was the actual devil. He'd gotten back some of his homework today and it was lots of C's, even though he tried to focus and do his best.
He got back some homework he got help from Patton on with an A, at least, so he could possibly average out to a B instead of being a solid C student as usual. Not that he could ask Patton to help him again. He couldn't bother them. He just had to… do better somehow. He managed a B on his own for one of the packets, so he could in theory.
Roman closed his locker and hefted his bag off the floor, but jumped when he locked eyes with a guy leaning against the locker right in Roman's face. Roman narrowed his eyes and looked the stranger up and down. He didn't recognize him and had genuinely no idea why this guy was staring at him. Did they share a class? Roman had trouble remembering faces.
"Can I… help you?" Roman inquired curiously.
"What's with the new look? Trying to pretend you're interesting or something, now?" The guy sneered at him with a villainous grin.
"That's rich coming from a guy dressed up in a fancy peacoat," Roman slid on his backpack and huffed at him, motioning to his coat. Was this even real life? This was so weird.
"Hiding something?" He said, reaching out and plucking at Roman's gloves. Roman twitched his hand back and scowled at him. He knew he'd regret wearing them at school, eventually. He thought they looked okay, certainly less obvious, with the leather jacket, and he didn't wish to upset Thomas again by forgetting. Thomas reminded him multiple times to put them on that morning, and he couldn't bring himself to take them off while he went to school as usual.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Roman rolled his eyes and threw his head. He spun around to walk off. He wasn't stuck in a class with this asshole and had no reason to continue to tolerate this passive-aggressive bullshit.
"I know," The guy called after him. Roman couldn't stop himself from stiffening his shoulders while he strode off. "I know what you're hiding," He continued. Roman swung to look at him. His expression was completely impassive and his bright hazel eyes felt piercing as they locked gazes.
"Whatever," Roman said dismissively and turned back around to leave. There wasn't anything that this guy could extort from Roman. He didn't have cash, and most of his possessions weren't fancy. If he pretended it didn't matter, then hopefully it wouldn't. It had worked before. This guy clearly had problems to seek out Roman just to fucking bother him, and Roman didn't need to make himself a part of this stranger's issues. Roman waved at him and headed out the building to walk home. The guy didn't follow or call after him again, so hopefully, it worked.
Today was long, PE continued to be a nightmare of glares, and he slept like shit last night because he was so busy feeling guilty about Thomas buying him clothes. He wished to lie down and space out to something on TV. If he got lucky he could pass out to it. His feet freaking hurt and that guy annoyed the shit out of him, so he'd need to relax or his anger would get out of control again. He had that damn appointment soon, and that fucked with his mood enough so he needed to try to keep his cool.
His mood was not as bad as Virgil's, though. Virgil stormed past him on the sidewalk, looking as pissed as a hydra that had one of its heads lopped off. He had some paper crumpled in his fists and was slouched over, his hood hiding his dark hair and doubtlessly a very dour expression. Roman sped his pace to keep up with Virgil but kept a berth of a few feet. He wasn't sure if he should ask or let him deal with it alone. Roman would rather be left alone, personally, so just making sure Virgil didn't punch anything should be helpful enough.
Virgil grimaced as he fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and unlocked the front door. He stomped upstairs and slammed his bedroom door before Roman got halfway up. He ambled into his own bedroom and left the door open, in the event Virgil desired to vent or something, and dropped his backpack at his desk. Roman flopped down on the bed and exhaled tiredly. He kicked off his shoes with his toes and considered if he wanted to watch the TV downstairs or on his phone. It's about all he had the mental capacity to do right now.
Sitting there and thinking about doing things was more effort than he had. He was fucking tired, annoyed at that prick, worried about Virgil, and his feet which were fully healed were being bastards and aching for no good reason. Was it too much to ask to just stop existing for a while? Even twenty minutes? Roman needed a god damn break like he needed oxygen. Too drained for TV wasn't exactly a new low, but still some grade-A bullshit. At least he didn't have to be watching kids right now.
"Hey, do you know what that was about?" Thomas asked, knocking on Roman's open door. Roman leaned up and looked over to him.
"No, no clue," Roman shrugged and sighed.
"He's not answering his texts. Would you mind…?" Thomas trailed off and pointed to Virgil's room from the doorway.
"What?" Roman raised a haircut at him.
"Translating for him?" Thomas finished somewhat awkwardly. "I mean... if he's okay with it. I'm hoping he'll respond in person," He added sheepishly.
"Um, no, I don't mind," Roman sat back up and got up from the bed. Thomas shifted a door over and knocked on it while Roman stared curiously at Thomas.
"Virgil? I'm opening the door," Thomas announced. Roman stepped up behind him while Thomas paused. He pushed it open and Virgil was sitting on the floor against the bed, with his arms wrapped around his bed and his makeup smudged. "I brought Roman to translate if that's okay," Thomas said. Roman finally got a chance to look into Virgil's office. He had a surprising amount of things, but the room had a similar setup in that it had a full-sized bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a desk, other than the fact that he had a big bean bag in the corner. But there were plenty of little decorations, old toys, and other possessions littered about the area. He had posters up, some bands Roman didn't recognize and a Donnie Darko Poster, which is weird, because Roman was certain that movie was rated R. Virgil's sheets were royal purple and he had a black throw and pillowcases on it. Virgil didn't acknowledge Roman or Thomas and stared blankly ahead. "What happened? Are you okay?" Thomas asked, looking concerned and conflicted in the doorway.
"School," Roman said as Virgil signed sluggishly. Virgil sighed and leaning back against the bed, looking more exhausted than pissed now. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes slightly hollow.
"Did something happen at school?" Thomas urged him to open up softly, holding on to the door frame. Virgil took up the crumpled paper and held it up. Thomas stepped in to take it and examined it. It looked to be an essay, but there was a big red zero on the top and a stamp for where the parent had to sign to prove they'd seen the grade. Roman flinched involuntarily seeing that, grimacing. Thomas skimmed the paper swiftly. "It's okay if you got a bad grade, but I have to admit I don't see what's wrong about this essay. Did you go off-topic or something?" Thomas asked with a confused expression, flipping it over to the other side.
"Oral presentation," Roman translated for Virgil. Virgil grimaced, dropping his face into his knees and taking hold of his legs again, flopping his hoodie down.
"What do you mean?" Thomas scratched his eyebrows, appearing to be reading the essay. "This looks fine to me," He commented, flipping the pages back and straightening them out.
"I think he means it was supposed to be an oral presentation, and the teacher failed him because he couldn't present," Roman suggested sourly and Virgil nodded slowly in confirmation. Thomas stiffened and his eyes widened right away.
"What a complete and absolute bitch!" Thomas intoned acridly. "Don't let Patton know I said bitch in presence of you," He added quickly and ran his hand through his mane. "How dare they, honestly? This teacher is likely still at the school, right?" Roman backed up and nodded, not a fan of this angry energy Thomas was putting out. "Alright, come on, both of you. I'm not leaving either of you alone, but I'm not letting them get away with this," Thomas hissed. "Get your shoes back on, Roman," He said, but Roman was a little freaked out and couldn't react. Virgil curled in on himself on the floor. Thomas inhaled and exhaled gently. "I'm sorry, boys. Please, let's go. You don't deserve this grade, Virgil. We need to set this right," Thomas said much more evenly and Virgil and both let out a tense breath.
Roman backed out of the doorway and shuffled into his bedroom to slide on his shoes. He didn't want to walk anymore, but he also didn't have it in him to contest Thomas. He looked intense, and that was extremely unnerving to Roman. It was usually safer and easier just to follow along, even if he didn't understand why he had to go. It wasn't as if he was going to hurt himself or whatever, he only wanted to take a nap and sulk. Though maybe Thomas could see something in Roman that he didn't. He had to admit he was in a trash mood, and that could make Thomas nervous. Roman pulled himself up off the bed with a pained huff. He headed downstairs and waited for Thomas and Virgil. They came downstairs a few moments later and headed out.
His feet hurt, so Roman limped every few steps on the way there. Thomas was a full-grown adult and Virgil had long spider legs, so their natural pace was quick compared to Roman's limping gait and he had to be careful about not falling behind. Thomas was rushing and gripping the essay in his hands. Virgil had his hood up again and was holding himself as he followed behind Thomas. He looked sullen at best, grasping his hoodie with pale knuckles and staring morosely at the concrete below them as they walked.
They reached the school swiftly due to their long legs and frustrated pace. Virgil led them over to the junior hall and to the teacher's classroom silently, Roman tagging behind them nervously. Thomas fell on the open classroom door and entered with his shoulders high. Roman slid in to sit down and put out his feet, but Virgil hid behind Thomas and rubbed his arm restlessly.
"Excuse me? Mr. Brennan. I'm Mr. Sanders, Virgil McNaught's guardian?" Thomas got the teacher's attention, standing firm in face of the desk.
"All you had to do was to sign the paper, Mr. Sanders, you didn't need to come in," The teacher said, sounding very tired as he examined the failed essay in Thomas's hand.
"I'm here because you can't give Virgil a zero for being unable to present vocally," Thomas said coolly, dropping the paper on the teacher's desk.
"You'll find I can. It is not my job to make shy children come out of their shells. He chose not to present," Mr. Brennan responded, tapping the desk with his pen and looking annoyed.
"He is not able to speak, and that is a very important distinction. Virgil still provided the presentation in a way he was capable of doing," Thomas poked the essay on the desk and Virgil shrank back slightly.
"I wasn't made aware of a 504 plan for the student," The teacher replied, sounding frustrated and rubbing his nose under his glasses.
"Virgil shouldn't need that for you to know that he can't talk and thus can't give an oral presentation," Thomas insisted angrily, crossing his arms.
"He does, technically," Mr. Brennan's tone sounded bored. Roman stared at him from across the room.
"I don't care about technicalities. This still violates the spirit of the ADA and we're already actively working on getting a diagnosis," Thomas shot bitterly, standing stiffly and possibly joining Roman in the glare from the slight hunch.
"Listen, he's not the first quiet kid I've ever seen. He's got the look and everything," The teacher motioned to Virgil and arched an eyebrow. Roman gritted his teeth, biting back an insult. "How do you know he's not lying to you, too?" He demanded incredulously and jumped when Roman's fist slammed down on the table. If he had ever given anyone a death glare, he was sure giving it to this asshole. Thomas glanced behind him at Roman. "Please control your entourage, Mr. Sanders, it's after hours," Mr. Brennan said warily and rubbed his head again.
"Roman has every single right to be upset, just like I am! He cannot talk. And as it happens, that's not your place to assume or judge. Boys, come on, we're going to the main's office," Thomas growled slightly as he spoke with firm conviction. Virgil was completely curled into himself and breathing hard. Roman got up and stood between Virgil and Mr. Brennan without hesitating, staring him down.
"Leave him alone," Roman hissed menacingly to the teacher, balling up his fists.
"Roman, that's enough," Thomas stopped Roman, putting his hand on his shoulder. He would have preferred to shrug it off, but it was grounding and Roman was barely containing himself as he bared his teeth at the schoolteacher. "An infringement of the ADA is a fire-able offense. The principal can do much worse than you," Thomas added evenly, though his other hand was clenched tightly.
"It's not an invasion of the ADA without a diagnosis, Mr. Sanders," He sighed with exasperation, flipping his hand out towards Virgil as he rested his head on one arm.
"Once we have a diagnosis, that's something completely trivial for my lawyer to handle," Thomas stared him down, standing resolutely. Roman glanced back at Virgil and he didn't seem to be doing any better. Roman shrugged Thomas off and walked behind him, squatting down to the floor to face Virgil. He fell on the ground with his knuckles and Virgil's eyes shot up.
'Hallway,' Roman signed and Virgil nodded slowly, swallowing hard. His forehead was sweaty, and he looked kind of sick.
"The school doesn't have any money for you to sue for. This is a public school, we're lucky we have running water," The teacher sounded more fatigued than before, leaning heavily on his hand and scowling.
"I don't want money, I want fair treatment for my- for Virgil! I don't need money, I need you not to treat children like liars! This bullshit is why kids are hurting so much and I'm not standing for it!" Thomas shot fiercely, only barely controlling his volume. Roman held his arm out and protected Virgil as he made his way to the hall. Thomas followed after them after he finished his tirade, holding the essay again.
"I'm really sorry, Virgil. I'll make sure this gets solved. Can you breathe?" Thomas asked much more softly, keeping a safe distance from Virgil. Roman stayed within a foot of him, entirely on edge but ready to throw down at any second if anyone even looked at Virgil funny. He'd gotten his ass beat for foster siblings before and he'd do it again in a heartbeat, and he couldn't use but default to that when he was stressed and Virgil was panicking. Virgil nodded weakly and choked a bit, continuing to shake and grip himself too hard.
"Let's all take some deep breaths, okay? I could use it, too. I'm going to count on my hand and you two can follow my lead," Thomas suggested, putting the essay under his arm and holding up four fingers and starting to breathe in, counting on his fingers. Roman followed suit with his fists gripped tightly. It took plenty of cycles, but the time for each slowly increased and Roman eventually calmed down a bit. Virgil had stopped shaking as well, though his bangs were still holding to his forehead and he looked completely drained, the dark circles under his eyes visible under the makeup.
'Fuck that guy,' Roman signed to Virgil with a half-smile on his face, but he couldn't manage to suppress the grimace much. Virgil nodded bitterly and glanced at Thomas.
"Let's go to the administrative office. You two can wait on the court out front, just stay together and keep each other safe, all right?" Thomas requested, motioning with his head down out of the junior hall.
"Way ahead of you," Roman muttered darkly under his breath. Virgil stuck close to Roman in the hall instead of keeping his normal few feet of distance.
Virgil dropped to the bench right outside of the front office with a fatigued exhale. Roman stood, not sure if Virgil needed his space on the bench and helpless against the tension in his body. Thomas marched in the administrative office and advanced directly into the principal's office without waiting for the currently absent secretary to let him in. Roman tapped his fingers on his jacket as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight around on his feet from time to time.
Virgil's arm eventually reached out and yanked at Roman's jacket, forcing him to sit and then scooting over, less than a foot between them. Roman exhaled painfully, his rib acting up. Maybe watching him twitch restlessly wasn't helping Virgil. Roman uncrossed his arms and wrung his hands slowly instead. Virgil leaned forward on his legs and stared at the floor despondently.
That motherfucker in the open peacoat with the brown and gold shirt passed in the hall and regarded Roman curiously. Roman glowered at him, doing his best to communicate not to fuck with him right now with his eyes. Roman barely contained his need to fight as it is. The guy paused and looked Roman up and down before he walked up, which meant this person didn't get the picture. It felt like an invitation that Roman wanted to rip into shreds.
"Acting out again?" He said smoothly, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. Again? This fucker. Roman didn't know what he knew or how he knew, but he clenched his teeth and balled his fists against his thighs. "Oh, you don't enjoy being-" Roman socked him right in the fucking face. He was standing over him and breathing hard before he was even aware of what he was doing. The person in the peacoat stumbled back and hissed in pain, holding his eye.
"Good!" Roman shot loudly, raising his arms. "Get the fuck out of here before I come over there and finish the job," Roman spat, cracking his knuckles stepping forward. The guy scampered off hurriedly and Roman growled and ran both his hands through his mane and scratched aggressively at his scalp. He held himself and started pacing.
Virgil gripped his sleeve while he passed and yanked him down on the desk again, shooting him a furtive glance. Roman sighed and grasped his legs. The combination of jeans and gloves stopped him from feeling his nails pressing through the material and he groaned quietly in frustration, eyeballing the direction that prick head ran off in. He loved to chase that kid and go for round two. He longed to go fight him so much it buzzed in his muscles painfully.
Roman reached up and scratched at his head once more. He was just as awful as his fucking dad. Roman held his head in his palms and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his face roughly in frustration. Virgil yanked at Roman's sleeve and removed Roman's hands from himself. Oh. Right. Roman nodded to Virgil in thanks. His skin felt raw from the leather gloves, but he probably didn't hurt as much as that kid's eye did. Roman squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his jacket, trying to stop attacking himself. What the hell was wrong with him?