Thomas ran his hand through his hair and exhaled as he exited the front office. He still looked restless and upset. Roman rubbed his hand through the gloves and Virgil slumped over again. Thomas eyed them, his eyes lingering on Roman's hair. Probably realizing it's completely messed up. Roman felt it sitting oddly on his head. He picked a strand of hair off the gloves and couldn't meet Thomas's eyes.

"… Roman?" Thomas asked quietly. Roman just nodded and stood up. Virgil stood up slowly and started walking out the door. Thomas pressed his lip into a line and hummed disquietly. "Is everything okay?" Thomas followed up, moving to keep up with Virgil. Roman shook his head slightly and walked forward. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" He added, looking pointedly at Roman.

"Not particularly," Roman slid his hands into his pockets and hurried up, trying to catch up to Virgil.

"Did something happen?" Thomas raised an eyebrow. Virgil shook his head and buried himself in his hoodie, pulling up his hood and shoving his hands in his pockets. Roman just shrugged in response. "Did the gloves stay on?" Thomas looked concerned at Roman, shooting his eyes down to Roman's hands before looking back at Roman's face.

"Physically, yes," Roman said with a small nod. "Proverbially, not so much," He added under his breath. He gripped his arms tightly and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Thomas sighed and looked resigned, facing forward to walk home.

"Virgil, you're transferring classes and another teacher will grade your essay. I made it clear to the school we won't tolerate discrimination and for the time being, the teachers are to treat you as if you already had a 504 plan enacted and won't ask you to speak or present things," Thomas explained what happened in the office.

Virgil froze, maybe processing the information. Thomas paused in confusion and Roman did, too. Virgil looked disbelievingly at Thomas for a moment and bit his lip. Virgil stepped over and gave the fastest hug Roman had ever seen and jumped back. He started walking backward and signed at them.

"Don't read into this," Roman translated for Virgil. Virgil swiftly turned around to face forward and kept up his brisk walking pace. Roman and Thomas were stuck into place for a moment, completely blindsided by that sudden and unexpected display of gratitude from Virgil. Thomas seemed pleased, though. They picked up quickly before Virgil got too far off, though, with his damn long spider legs.

"Let's… get delivery tonight," Thomas said awkwardly. "Maybe rent a movie. I think we could all use something low-key. What do you want to eat?" Thomas added hopefully.

"Protein," Roman grunted. Virgil held his hands above his head and signed while he kept facing forward. "Virgil wants salt," Roman translated the hand sign.

"Care to narrow it down any?" Thomas asked, not sounding particularly pleased with that answer.

"You want hot wings?" Roman confirmed with Virgil, and Virgil stuck out his hand and signed yes. "We want hot wings," He informed Thomas firmly.

"That's not really a complete meal," Thomas furrowed his eyebrows and crooked his lip.

"I'll continue to eat whatever you put in front of me," Roman replied bitterly and shrugged. He just wanted to eat something that let him be aggressive, and it was the first thing that came to mind. Thomas's sigh sounded defeated and Roman felt bad.

"Alright, I'll ask Patton to pick up some sides on the way home," Thomas replied, sounding positive despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

"Thanks for helping," Roman muttered and bumped Thomas's arm with his lightly. He'd never seen a foster parent fight for a kid so hard before. "It's really nice of you," He added quietly.

"What was that?" Thomas looked over to Roman, his face now plastered with a pleased expression instead of frustration.

"I… thanks, is all," Roman looked down at the sidewalk, noticing he was limping a bit again trying to keep the weight off the ball of his right foot. Roman exhaled, still ready to punch something but also just longing to lay the fuck down. He was exhausted, drained, tired, and just done. Today should be set on fire.

The rest of the walk back was tense and uncomfortable. Roman wasn't always the best at reading the room, but Virgil's shoulders were stiff and Thomas kept eying both of them carefully or maybe even suspiciously. But Roman wasn't admitting he let his anger get the best of him again. He had been doing really well about not lashing out. And as much as he'd like to out and say it and get punished, he didn't really want to say it out loud.

If anything, he was grateful Virgil dropped it as he did. Though if Virgil told on him, he wouldn't blame him. After he saw Virgil freak out, it was just like he was a little kid again, trying to stand up to his dad to protect Remus. Or Missy and his sister, a few years later. Nate and Chris after that. Roman squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, unable to deal with it. He stumbled and had to open them again to catch himself.

"Roman, you doing alright?" Thomas asked, putting his hand on Roman's shoulder and Roman flinched away violently. Thomas pulled back and frowned. "Keep breathing evenly," He said softly and Roman nodded.

"Sorry," Roman whispered. He didn't mean to pull back like that or worry Thomas so much. His mind just felt even more out of control than usual and couldn't take anything else.

"It's okay, Roman. Are you sure nothing happened?" Thomas asked quietly. Roman shrugged again dismissively. He didn't want to tell the truth or lie directly. The best he had was not addressing it.

"Feet hurt," Roman mumbled in explanation for his near-tumble.

"I think it might be more than that," Thomas suggested, pulling his lip to the side disbelievingly.

"It is," Roman chewed his lip for a moment. "I'll be okay in a bit, I think," Roman tried his hardest to sound contrite and reassuring, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"All right, I'll trust you," Thomas said with a small smile. Thank god he didn't want to push it any further than that. Roman tried his damnedest to keep his anger issues under-wraps and to himself. Now Virgil and that one antagonistic guy knew he was a piece of shit. It's a good thing people were cleared out. Though that kid could tell on Roman. He was fine with detention or in-school suspension, though. He kind of preferred in-school suspension. Fewer lectures and walking around.

Roman was okay with the consequences of his actions. It's how life is supposed to work. He just wasn't okay with… opening his mouth and saying he was no better than his dad. Even if he knew it was true. Roman bit his tongue and chewed on it for a moment. It always came back around to being a terrible human being, didn't it?

Thomas got to the front door first and unlocked it, heading inside. He paused in the living room and Virgil went right upstairs with a brief nod Thomas's way. Virgil at least looked better. Roman slowly made his way up the stairs behind him.

"Roman, are you sure you don't want to stay down here?" Thomas asked carefully. He obviously had a preference for Roman's location and normally Roman would be fine with complying and staying nearby, but he just couldn't take being near people right now.

"I want to lie down. I'll keep the gloves on, I promise," Roman held up his crossed fingers. "Trust me?" He asked after a moment of Thomas looking worried. Thomas just said he did a few minutes ago.

"I trust you," Thomas sighed, nodding lightly. "Text me if you even think you might panic, okay?" Thomas asked pleadingly, his face set in a deep frown.

"Yeah," Roman exhaled harshly and continued his way up the stairs.

Roman closed the room door behind him and kicked off his shoes right away. He leaned against the wall to carefully take off his socks without hurting his rib. Then he took off his jacket and carefully folded it on the back of his desk chair and crawled into bed. It was so wonderful he could barely take it.

He buried himself under every blanket and even his pillow, sprawled out flat to not hurt his ribs and took as deep a breath as he could manage. It couldn't decide if he relished this or hated it. Wasn't that the eternal sunshine of his life, though? He hated that he punched that guy. He hated how good it felt and how satisfying it was. That was his whole damn problem. He was a wreck who had no control over his emotions, and he felt things so strongly it hurt sometimes.

Thomas wouldn't trap him up here, probably. He could just go if he wanted to. He was stressed. He always wanted to run when he was stressed. But his feet hurt and his rib would be worse than sore if he tried again. He'd run on a broken leg before and it probably isn't as painful as that, but he wasn't looking to emulate the experience. He didn't know how to reprogram his head to tell him his room was safe. If he did, he would have done it already. Well, he could go somewhere they couldn't reach him in the room and maybe he could calm down. He was his problem and he couldn't run from himself, so he may as well try to deal.

Roman grabbed his throw and his pillow and slipped off the bed to the floor. There was nothing stored under here and it was spacious enough. As long as he can get out he shouldn't freak out about being locked in. Sliding under on his stomach would be easier, but his rib wouldn't have that on a good day. Instead, Roman gripped the bed frame and pulled himself under, taking his blanket and pillow under there with him. It was not that bad under here. He couldn't sit up or anything, but there was enough room to feel okay. Though it helped that it was open on two sides and easy to get out of. Roman mostly felt claustrophobic when he couldn't escape, and he knew he could leave from under the bed and his room at any time.

He tugged the throw over himself and plucked his phone out of his jeans pocket. He loaded up the streaming service Patton gave him the login for the other day and scrolled the shows. He had his own user icon and he could watch anything that wasn't rated R. The concept of picking his own show to watch was novel enough, but there were plenty of interesting shows. He picked a series that had a chick with a sword and slid his phone into a slat of the bed frame to hold it up to watch. He had seen what felt like every cartoon on the planet while babysitting and watching something he was in the target age for sounded nice.

A text from Thomas interrupted the show with the menu a few minutes later. Roman pressed the alert and checked out the menu Thomas sent. There were plenty of kinds of wing sauces, but he wasn't sure what was an okay amount to order. He picked the smallest amount and a vinegary heat kind of sauce and texted it back to Thomas. Thomas told him to order more right away. He chewed the inside of his cheek and checked out the menu further. Maybe just a larger order of wings? Did he mean an appetizer? Roman requested garlic bread, which seemed to sate Thomas's 'feeding Roman' agenda, though he also said he was ordering Roman more wings. Those kept safely in the fridge, so maybe having leftovers from them wasn't a big deal. He could just eat them after school. Roman slid the phone back up and resumed the show.

He admittedly wouldn't mind something else to do while he watched, but there wasn't much room down here. He fiddled with the blanket and it slipped between his gloves while he watched. He also played with the bed frame slats, pulling himself up with his arms a few times just because it was fun. He tried to tuck his toes in the slats to elevate his feet, but they kept slipping out.

The show was cool though, and even though he was a fidgeting mess, he mostly spaced into it. Maybe he could pick back up crochet or something just have something to do down here. He was into this little private theater. He still wasn't into himself and how awful he was, but that wasn't new or anything. Eventually, his brain would get bored with ragging on him and he could get on with life. Well, hopefully anyway.

"Roman, dinner's here," Thomas knocked on the door a few episodes later, shaking Roman from his TV fugue.

"Thanks," Roman called out. He paused the show, looking at the time. Geez, he's been down here for two hours. He didn't feel like running anymore, so maybe it worked? He was still in a shit mood and feeling down on himself, but that's just life. He deserved it, after all. All that guy did was talk to him. Roman was really- Roman scratched at his scalp ineffectively and groaned in frustration. He gripped his arms and squeezed his eyes shut to cut himself off and exhaled painfully. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and used the bed slats to pull himself out from under the bed, gripping the blanket and pillow between his knees to take them with him. Roman put his pillow back and folded up the throw before heading downstairs.

"Hey, kiddo! You've been holed up in your room all evening, you doin' alright?" Patton asked when Roman entered the kitchen.

"Yeah. I'm good. Thanks for getting hot wings for us, Thomas," Roman nodded to him and went to the cupboard to help set the table. He noticed the cups of water that were normally out when he came down weren't there yet. He pulled down glasses one by one and put them on the counter, but the last one slipped and he fumbled trying to catch it. He stopped it from hitting the counter but froze in place, holding it wide-eyed and breathing hard.

"Good catch, Roman! Very nice reflexes!" Patton congratulated him and then stopped and got a good look at his face. "How about I take over this for you, champ, and you can get started on dinner," Roman nodded and slowly lowered the cup to the counter and went to go sit down, catching his breath.

Thomas pulled out the wings from the bag and placed them in the center, taking off the lids and the small plastic containers of roast vegetables, coleslaw, and what looked like street corn. The coleslaw was one of those textures he really, really hated. Today was just a cluster. Roman half considered just going back upstairs and laying under the bed again, but the hot wings smelled awesome. He just had to convince his stomach to unclench after nearly breaking a glass. Patton smiled and pushed a cup of water in front of Roman.

"You can start eating, Roman. Thomas is already at it, see?" Patton motioned to Thomas with an amused expression.

"Huh?" Thomas looked up at them and he already had sauce around his mouth from his food.

"Uh, Virgil isn't here," Roman made up an excuse on the spot. He wasn't ready to eat yet.

"That's okay, kiddo, he said he wanted to finish the chapter he was reading, he'll be down in a skip and a hop. He reads devilishly fast," Patton said. Roman shuttered at the adverb. It's just one of those days, huh, where everything sets him off. Maybe he should have stayed hiding under the bed. He grumbled quietly to himself and leaned on his arm.

Roman leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath, serving himself up a little of everything like he was supposed to. He wanted to get the crap out of the way and started on the half serving of coleslaw. He shivered when it hit his palate and just swallowed. Chewing it was an event he wished he was not taking part in.

"Roman, that's not very much food. Won't you take some more?" Patton said, looking down at Roman's plate.

"… Do I have to?" Roman said carefully. If he had to eat more than a half serving of coleslaw wasn't sure he'd be able to even stomach hot wings. Stomaching anything right now was another event he would very much like to skip out on as it is.

"I would like it if you did," Patton said nicely and Roman sighed heavily and reached out to grab some more food.

"Hold up. Are you protesting because you don't want to eat or because there's something here you don't like you're forcing yourself to eat?" Thomas asked, looking too serious for a guy with sauce on a face. Roman looked down at the plate.

"The latter. I'm sorry, I'll-" Roman started and Thomas cut him off right away.

"You don't have to eat anything that you don't want to, Roman. If you don't like something you don't have to serve it to yourself. Why would you?" Thomas asked. Roman paused and when he realized why he did, he felt like an absolute idiot. Roman sighed and leaned back, rubbing his face with the leather pulling at his skin.

"Because I'm stupid," Roman muttered.

"You're not stupid, Roman. Why do you think you're stupid?" Patton asked nicely.

"Because you guys wouldn't… It's just a habit, I guess, then, that I was too-" Patton's sudden expression change stopped Roman from rambling. Patton pouted at Roman and raised his eyebrow. "Well, that it should have occurred to me isn't a 'thing' people do," Roman raised his hand and motioned to the food.

"I'm pretty lost, there, kiddo," Patton said, looking confused. Thomas nodded in agreement.

"Um, fair," Roman shrugged. "If you didn't eat everything in front of you, you were ungrateful and didn't get to eat the next meal. You guys are always trying to feed me, that doesn't really make sense when I actually stop to think about it…" Roman trailed off slightly and slumped in his seat. "Two different foster families had that rule and then after that food was so hard to come by… I just never stopped to think if I don't like something I don't have to serve it to myself. I could have saved myself so many stomach aches," Roman chuckled weakly.

"What do you not like?" Thomas asked, glancing around the table.

"The coleslaw," Roman sighed despondently. "I can finish it, it's okay," He reassured them, reaching with his fork towards it again.

"Nope! You don't have to finish it, period. It's barely any to throw out," Patton smiled and pointed to the food and Roman froze in his spot.

"That's… that's food," Roman replied incredulously. Thomas and Patton shared a look of confusion.

"Very observant, but I'm afraid we don't see what you're getting at," Thomas replied after a pause of loud silence.

"You can't just throw out good food, that's a waste," Roman pointed out, motioning with both hands to the food.

"Roman, it's a spoonful. It's fine," Thomas said, sounding equally confused. It was the least fine thing Roman could think of the moment.

"No, no, it's not," Roman gripped his fork hard and dropped it and moved to rub his arms instead, concerned about holding a fork at this point. "I don't-" Roman grunted and rubbed his arms harder. "I can just finish it, okay? Please?" Roman begged quietly.

"Are you… okay, champ?" Patton asked quietly, putting down his fork and reaching over and putting his hand near Roman. He couldn't take them looking at him anymore and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please, I'll be good," Roman muttered, and he wasn't sure where it came from. He looked around the room automatically.

"Compromise. I finish the coleslaw so it doesn't get wasted and you don't have to eat it," Thomas said resolutely, reaching over to pick up Roman's plate and scraping off the coleslaw onto his plate.

"Wha- germs?" Roman asked, still feeling like he was reeling. He looked at Thomas with eyes wide.

"You're probably fine," Thomas shrugged and ate the big bite of coleslaw. Roman just stared at him for a moment, completely unable to process anything.

"That's- you're- I," Roman stumbled over his words hastily, unable to form a single coherent thought.

"Roman, breathe please," Patton said softly, putting his hand on the table next to Roman.

"That was an option?" Roman breathed, slumping in his chair and holding his head.

"You holding up alright? Do you want some help or do you just want to breathe it out?" Patton asked, leaden with concern and face furrowed with worry.

"I- help?" Roman didn't really know what he meant.

"Where's your head right now?" Patton followed up and Thomas gripped the table, looking sure of what to do.

"I, um, you, uh, don't…" Roman muttered. Patton didn't want to know. Roman didn't know how to say Patton didn't want to know. All those times… All of those god damn times… "Couch," Roman said after a pause and got up slowly.

He limped over to the couch and flopped face down on it and covered his ears. He needed a minute to just… not exist. He was so incredibly and painfully done with today that his whole body hurt and his brain was on fire. They'd probably get him in a bit. He was too done to think about anything but the next few minutes. In his opinion, face down on the couch was the only option.

"Lita, up," He heard Patton say, though it was muffled through his hands. Lita hopped up on the couch and walked right up to Roman's back, laying down. Okay, he could accept a dog, but everything else in the world he was done with. The dog was good. It was hard to be as mad with a dog right there. The world doesn't deserve dogs. He still wanted to punch and kick and scream and fight. But he was too done to do anything about it. His body was done with his bullshit and that was so damn valid of it.

Lita was warm. Almost hot. That was okay. Roman let his hands slip from his ears and just did his best limp body impression on the couch, turning his head so it was easier to breathe. The couch was soft, but the pressure on his rib was still unpleasant, but he didn't care. He'd probably regret that later. But right now he was going to become one with the couch and could not be stopped. His nerves were on fire and he couldn't take being present anymore.