Roman nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone chimed. He had buried his nose in a book about a supernatural assassin who works for an agency with a dumbass name since he got back home. He didn't understand what the noise was for until he saw the label on the alert. Damnit, he kept forgetting. It was enough of a pain in the ass to pull off his stupid breathing exercises in class that he should really remember by now. Roman did plenty of sans-music attempts at school, so he wouldn't bother turning off his music this time while he tried.
Breathing deep still hurt his ribs, but he'd nearly gotten the hang of exactly how deep he could breathe with no pain. Doing this made him a little light-headed, though. He'd been breathing shallowly for so long, maybe he wasn't used to this much oxygen. Focusing on making sure he didn't hurt himself doing it probably made it easier to focus on breathing, but Roman continued to get way too meta while trying. He thought about thinking about it and things got out of hand.
At school, he worried he looked peculiar, too. He was pretty certain he went on face journeys while being pissed at himself. After he nearly got in trouble in the first period, he scheduled it to be during transition periods, but he probably seemed weird when he sat down to do his dumb breathing thing while he watched the clock for three torturous minutes.
Bored, bored, bored, don't think about how bored you are, focus on the stupid breathing, be in the moment. The moment was boring. The song was marvelous, at least. He was listening to orchestral renditions of pop songs since he thought it would be nice when it popped up on his recommended feed. He spaced into the book normally, so it didn't matter what he was tuned in to, as long as music drowned out the other sounds in the house. Roman checked his phone. It had barely been a minute. Why is time so lengthy when you're thinking about it? Roman had wasted hours in a daydream on accident before, but three minutes of breathing was awful.
He only wanted to return to his book. Why was he doing this? Why can't he just lie to Dr. Jigglypuff? Well, the Puffman could probably tell. He could possibly clock liars at a thousand paces. Roman was fine at obscuring information and avoiding the truth, but if he was guilty about not doing it, Jigglypuff would notice. And Roman would be guilty because he's supposed to do it. And objectively, it's not that bad. Plus, Picani's a private psychiatrist, and that had to be really expensive. Roman was a big enough burden as it is without being wasteful. Oh, heir of the high-holy bitch, he's back in guilt-ville. Focus on the dumb breathing! Roman fucking sucked at mindfulness.
Finally, three minutes of tortuous breathing exercises were up. Roman slumped in the chair and looked at the ceiling. He wanted a cupcake. Those three minutes were hard, and the cupcakes were not. They happened to be amazing. The extra-long recipe was magnificent. Roman slipped a ribbon bookmark into the book and placed it flat on the shelf. He stretched out slowly and headed downstairs.
Patton was leaning over the sink munching on a cupcake while shimmying, which was certainly a sight to see. It made him feel better after that fucking event. Roman slipped off his gloves and shoved them in his jacket pocket before he opened the cake container and grabbed a cupcake, joining Patton at the sink.
"Oh, kiddo! I didn't see you there." Patton stood straighter when he noticed Roman. "These are so gosh darn good." Patton held up the cupcake with a big smile before taking an even bigger bite. Roman smiled slightly and nodded, turning to munch his cupcake. He tried to focus on the chocolaty goodness instead of feeling embarrassed, but sadly, he was very good at doing two things at once.
"Really, you're both eating cupcakes before dinner?" Thomas asked in a chiding tone, making both of them jump. He pointed to the cupcakes and moved his finger around. "Virgil also grabbed one, if I counted right… Well, if you can't beat 'em." Thomas shrugged and went to grab a cupcake. He stood on the other side of Patton and bumped cupcakes before biting in. It relieved Roman he wasn't in trouble, mostly. He settled back down and returned to cupcake consumption.
"Superb cupcakes, Roman," Thomas declared theatrically when Roman reached in to rinse his hands. Roman still wasn't entirely sure how to handle it, so he shot Thomas a tight smile while he dried his hands on the kitchen towel. They shifted around the sink and Roman moved to leave the kitchen. "Wait, hold up Roman. I wanted to ask you something." Thomas held up his cupcake and covered his mouth with his hand while he chewed.
"Uh, sure." Roman stopped and leaned against the counter while Thomas chewed what must have been a too-large bite of cupcake. Either Patton's eating tendencies rubbed off on Thomas, or he got too excited and bit off a hefty morsel. Patton was still savouring it in smaller bites, so it was an unexpected turn of events.
"They're so rich, Roman. How did you do it? They're not super sweet like most cupcakes." Patton cut off Thomas before he could talk.
"Um, the recipe probably helped. It wasn't very sugary compared to some of the others. I used the dark chocolate chips and my mom's trick for chocolate stuff. She loved chocolate," Roman explained, rubbing his arm nervously.
"I think it was more than the recipe alone. What's your mother's trick? If you're comfortable sharing, that is," Patton asked curiously.
"She used a dash of balsamic vinegar to deepen chocolate in cakes and brownies." Roman's eyes dropped to the floor. "Sorry again for using up all the chocolate chips, I wasn't paying attention," He added sheepishly. Thomas swallowed his cupcake bite and looked at Roman.
"They're there to use, it's good you did." Thomas waved his concerns off. "Any longer and they would have gone stale, probably. Anyway, I picked up some small bacon-wrapped sirloins at the store, and I can make them in the oven and all, but they'd taste better on the grill. Would you be interested in doing that for me? You don't have to," Thomas asked Roman, sounding very upbeat. This was the first time in a while Thomas had requested Roman to do anything, so he jumped at the opportunity.
"Yes, absolutely," Roman nodded and pulled his gloves back out of his pocket after noticing Thomas was looking at his hands. He slid them on with a small, guilty smile. He undeniably would have forgotten them again.
"I'll load it up and start it. Will you be alright managing it after that?" Thomas confirmed, seeming to examine Roman.
"Oh, sure." Roman adjusted the gloves and Thomas beamed at Roman before returning his focus to the cupcake. He took another substantial bite and made a satisfied noise in his throat.
"Thank you for the cupcakes, kiddo. Can I have a hug?" Patton wiped off his hands on the towel after rinsing them off. Roman wasn't sure where the fuck that desire came from, but he shrugged and Patton pulled him in for a hug. Roman hugged him back, feeling vaguely weird. They were being so nice. Did something happen? Was their mood going to switch suddenly? Roman chewed his lip nervously and waited for them to drop the other shoe, but they didn't stop contentedly leaning over the sink. He should just do what Thomas asked him to do. Roman headed upstairs to grab his book to read while the grill got ready. Steak cooked quickly, so it wouldn't take a long time. He might need the fresh air, anyway.
It oddly flattered Roman that Thomas didn't watch Roman while he was messing with the grill. Thomas seemed scared of it last time, and he trusted Roman not to cause another fireball. That was completely wild. Shit, now he dreaded fucking up. He wouldn't mess up. Roman could never ruin food. No, he would. Possibly. He hasn't in a long time. Roman had a thing about it. He was pretty certain about it. That whole fucking mess the other day where he started freaking out about wasting food when no one was even mad at him made it kind of obvious, even if he doesn't remember all of that evening.
"Lita, do you want to go out back?" Roman called down the hall. He heard a commotion from the master bedroom, and the dog came clambering out. She did a loop around Roman's feet before rushing downstairs with her tongue hanging out as Lita bounded down each step. Roman followed Lita, enjoying watching her run around like she was a lost princess of a faraway kingdom and just discovered her true heritage, and now all of her troubles were behind her along with newfound access to magical unicorns.
Thomas was starting the grill already in the back, lifting the giant bag of coals and dumping them into the grill. He jumped back when the fire caught and gave Roman a nervous wave when he retreated into the house as he stood under the awning. Roman stared at Thomas's hasty retreat with concern. Did Thomas think Roman was going to fuck up after all? Roman sighed and dropped the book on the chair before taking a poker and moving the coals into position and making sure the fire was even.
Roman wiped his forehead on his t-shirt and flopped down into the chair. Lita jumped up and hopped back down on the other side, rushing around the yard in a big, gleeful loop. Do dogs exist on a 24/7 coke high, or were they the most easily satisfied beings in the universe? It was incredible either way. Roman grabbed a worn tennis ball on the patio and threw it for her, causing her to bark and jump to catch it midair. Honestly, it was pretty impressive. She ran about with it for three loops before returning it for Roman to throw.
The early evening was a pleasant time to be outside. There were a few mosquitos, but the fresh air was relaxing despite waving off some bugs. Playing with Lita cheered him up, and the book was good. Lita had tired out from running wild and opted to sit on Roman's lap as he sat on the chaise lounge while he read.
He hoped this book would pick up soon, but it helped him not to get too distracted. The stupid words were jumping around too much anyway. He kept skipping paragraphs and having to start over now that he wasn't in the zone. Roman sighed and put down the book, opting to switch to his phone. He just checked the coals, right? He thought he did. Roman didn't want to move Lita. Moving a dog this cozy was a sin.
Roman pulled up a tutorial on three-point perspective and started reading that, instead, while listening to some music. He exhaled contentedly and stroked Lita's back a few times. This tutorial made little sense, though. This sort of assumed that Roman saw things a certain way already, and he didn't. He felt like he was missing something to understand the points. He got the thing about the lines, at least. Roman would try to read another tutorial that hopefully he followed easier.
The alert on his phone chimed and Roman stared at it incredulously for a moment. Wait, what? Breathing exercise? He just did those. Roman looked up and glanced around the yard. It was darker outside and Lita had fallen asleep in his lap. God damn it all straight to hell. Roman tapped Lita's back, and she peeked up in sleepy confusion for a moment.
"Lita, up," Roman requested and Lita lazily got up off of his lap, stretching before hopping off of him down onto the concrete patio. Roman shoved his phone in his pocket and rushed over to the grill.
Fuck. Yeah, these coals weren't hot enough anymore. They passed their peak and were no longer the right temperature for steaks. He needed lighter fluid. He glanced around the yard for the flame sauce and a little something to feed the fire. Under the awning, there was a storage container that Roman rummaged through. Perfect. Everything he needed was under here.
Relighting the fire would be easy enough. Roman peered into the window and it seemed like nobody noticed Roman was not tending the grill by accident. Fuck, he could be so stupid sometimes. He gathered the fluid, a few fresh coals, and a handful of smoking chips for a little extra fodder to restart the flame. He sort of was wasting materials, but no one would have to know. It just… took longer for a reason that Roman had to fabricate.
The freshly lit match sent the flames licking above the grates momentarily as it caught on the lighter fluid, making Roman flinch back reflexively from the flare. He used the poker to re-adjust the coals and moved clear of the heat from the grill so he could breathe in less smoke. Getting the new coals to temperature should be much faster now, at least. He probably shouldn't leave the grill entirely. He was going to die of boredom standing here, though. How was he supposed to remember to monitor the fire if he pulled out his phone?
Roman crossed his arms and grumbled, tapping his foot. Lita sniffed around him curiously as he fumed. Why wasn't there some way to remind himself to stop spacing out? With books, he checked between chapters. He could possibly do it between YouTube videos? No, auto-play would fuck him over if he spaced out. Lengthy YouTube outros did that to him sometimes. Roman's snoozed breathing reminder popped up again. Oh, right. Well, he had three minutes to burn, anyway.
He took a slow, deep breath in and coughed painfully because he accidentally breathed in some ash. Well, that was dumb. Roman turned away to try again after catching his breath. His rib ached painfully, but he learned the hard way that he couldn't take a break from these idiotic exercises or he'd forget until the next alarm, and then he'd have to do six minutes. He sort of lost track of reality the last time he did, and that was the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing. How did Roman suck at being in the moment so bad that if he adhered to mindfulness directions, he stared blankly ahead for a solid twenty minutes?
Roman groaned and just opted to pace in the grass while breathing. Moving around felt nice enough to help him focus. Lita followed him curiously for two laps, sniffing around at his shoes and looping around until she caught the repetition and followed along as stoically as Roman did. Did being confused by a dog count as being in the moment? Probably not. Maybe he needed to ask what the fuck that even means. He got a general idea, but not the specifics. He saw Jigglypuff again on Thursday. Roman could ask at his next appointment. He said Roman could text him with questions, but that seemed like bothering him while he was busy.
Ugh, he got caught up thinking again! How in the burning hellfire do you turn off your brain without dissociating? There had to be a line somewhere he didn't know he was crossing. Roman kept pacing as he focused on breathing. He really wanted to run with Lita again. He had a cracked rib before, though, and he had a while longer until he'd get cleared. Though he might heal faster this time. The vitamins are new and the meals here were big. His mom said something about eating well would help his arm heal faster when he was a kid. Fuck, he missed his mom. Roman paused, causing Lita to stumble and look at him incredulously.
Again? Why the hell was he so shit at this? Thinking about his mom wasn't being in the god damn moment. He needed to sniff the smoke and the evening breeze and that shit. Roman ruffled at his hair angrily, his gloves pulling some out as he threw his arms in frustration. This was dumb! He was stupid! It was just breathing! He should just fucking lie! Roman sighed and squatted down. Lita stepped up nervously and sniffed at him. She sat, looking at him expectantly for a moment before walking over to the door and barking. Oh, great, he annoyed the dog so much she couldn't stand being near him anymore. Roman stood up and let her in, and she rushed inside.
He closed the door bitterly and headed over to the grill, poking around a few times before returning to pacing sourly in the yard. It was better than sitting any longer. He was sick of sitting. If he sat any longer, he would explode. He was feeling painfully wired and his blood burned if he tried to slow down. He stared down at the grass as he grumbled to himself. It was nice out and he was free to do what he liked. He was being trusted by an adult to not be a fuckup. He should be elated. But no, he's failing at breathing and scared he's going to destroy something he could do without even thinking.
He's fine with lying. Lying is great. It gets him out of trouble. Lying saved his ass hundreds of times. He knew it was wrong. His mom would tell him to tell the truth because lying just stops people from helping you when there's a problem. But people don't help you when there are problems. They get mad at you for bothering them. Lying is wrong. He'd heard that so much growing up. It was what villains did in movies and TV. Should he really lie to Jigglypuff just because he can't figure this shit out? And fail at the one thing the Puff told him to do? Was he that much of a piece of shit he was considering lying about whether or not he did all the breathing?
He'd know. The whole point of this was so Roman could calm down when he talked about things he didn't want to talk about. Not that the concept even sounded possible. When Roman couldn't do it, Jigglypuff would know and be disappointed in him. Getting caught in a lie is worse than getting caught not doing something he should have done. That lesson had gotten beaten into him multiple times. Roman could probably take The Puff if he tried, but the last time he fought an adult, it seemed like he got in trouble with the entire planet. Would Jigglypuff start shit? It felt like he might. That was a fucked up thing to assume about someone, probably. Roman wouldn't like it if people assumed he'd hit them, but they actually wouldn't be wrong—
"Roman?" Patton's voice sounded unnervingly close to Roman, which caused him to choke on his heart and stumble into the grass from sheer terrifying shock of Patton's sudden silent proximity.
"When the fuck did you get here?" Roman shot with wide eyes before he could stop himself.
"Language, Roman. Sorry for spookin' ya." Patton hummed, looking at Roman critically. What the hell did Roman do? Patton was the one who scared the shit out of Roman by fucking teleporting. Roman bit back saying any of that and backed up on his hands to stand up and dust himself off. Dry grass bits flew off his jeans while he patted away the debris. "Do you have any idea why Lita wanted me to come to you?" Patton asked kindly, backing up and going to sit down on a patio chair.
Roman paused and thought for a moment, tilting up to look at the sky while he thought. "Uh, no." He shook his head and walked over to go check the coals. He pulled his lips to the side and glowered at them, holding the back of his palm near the grill. Not there yet. The new coals are almost hot enough, at least.
"So what were you pacing in the yard looking upset about?" Patton asked, shifting in the chair to lean on the table in front of him.
"Nothing," Roman huffed, crossing his arms and returning to his frustrated pacing.
"It's probably not nothing if you're this agitated. It's okay to admit you're having a problem, y'know." Patton tilted his head at Roman, with that soft, caring smile Patton got sometimes. Roman paused his pacing, sort of taken for a turn by Patton's unexpectedly genuine expression. It wasn't okay admitting he had an issue. Having problems made him a burden. They're already even paying someone else to handle it. "How about this? A free pass to say what's on your mind with zero reaction." Patton held up a finger. Roman must broadcast more in his face than he'd realized if Patton picked up that he didn't want to answer so easily.
"Seriously?" Roman arched an eyebrow at Patton disbelievingly. "Can you even do that?" He asked, wincing back when he realized how rude that sounded.
"I'm ready to hear it. I can't quite turn it off, but I can be more objective if I'm emotionally prepared," Patton nodded guilelessly. Wow, not even mad at the insult. Roman sighed and dropped his arms.
"That's the stuff I can't do. I'm supposed to practice breathing to be more 'in the moment', or whatever, but every time I try my brain freaking Tokyo drifts into bad thoughts town right into the plaza, maiming ten bystanders and attracting the local media to publicize my shame." Roman flipped his hand in frustration and Patton looked slightly blindsided before chuckling. "Laughing counts as a reaction," Roman scoffed as he reminded him, gripping at his gloved thumb.
"It's a very colourful metaphor. You're chock full of those! I'm not laughing at you, I just like your stories! They're fun and unexpected. I still think about those Skittles bears every time I see a bag." Patton smiled and hid his mouth behind his hand as he let out another little chuckle.
"Skittles bears?" Roman pulled back, totally dumbfounded by that combination of words. Were they made of Skittles, or did they eat the Skittles? Do the bears guard a hoard of candies, towering above you in a forbidden confectionary hell of fur and fangs enforcing their brutal rule—
"You were half-asleep. I'm not surprised you don't remember. I don't fully follow, but It was something like having to fight bears to get Skittles in a scheme to prevent some kind of teenage uprising." Patton tapped his chin, looking up. Roman's face twitched as he tried to process the madness that apparently came from his own mouth. "Though it sounds like you're having trouble with grounding?" Patton asked, holding up a finger.
"He called it mindfulness," Roman grumbled, turning to face Patton more.
"They're similar. The goal of both is to be less emotionally charged about your experiences. I'm guessing Dr. Picani asked you to do it?" Patton looked at Roman with a curious expression.
"Yeah. I don't know how to stay in the moment." Roman rolled his head, dropping his arms and kicking his foot.
"I imagine Dr. Picani knew it would be hard for you," Patton pointed out, confusing Roman further. He just stared at Patton, not sure what he was trying to get at. "Did he say he knew it'd be difficult?" Patton motioned with his hand to Roman.
"Yeah?" Roman continued to look confused at Patton, shifting his weight to one foot and crossing his arms.
"So it follows that he knows you won't be perfect at it right away," Patton smiled at Roman sweetly, drawing a finger from one point to another in the air.
"He said 'no thoughts'," Roman objected, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was objecting to. Roman furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Patton oddly, not understanding what he was getting at.
"That's the goal you're working towards if I had to guess. Did he say how to have no thoughts?" Patton stood up from the table and adjusted his shirt.
"No, just that I had to learn how to." Roman shook his head and gripped at his arm.
"Then you're already doing step one. If there's another step, he hasn't taught it to you yet, which means he can't hold you to it." Patton tapped at Roman's head with a small smile.
"I'm pretty certain he can." Roman rolled his eyes and made a disgruntled noise, then looking back at Patton curiously.
"If he tries, you call me and I'll tell him off on the spot. Sounds like you're doing what he asked, though." Patton had an especially intense expression despite the smile. Roman couldn't decide if it was reassuring or unnerving to see the fight in Patton's eyes.
"It's really only paying attention to my breathing for three minutes?" Roman stared at Patton, trying to see if there was any sign that he wasn't telling the truth.
"If that's all he asked you to do and all he explained, then yes. There's no reason to assume otherwise." Patton winked and backed up.
"Did you…" Roman whispered and trailed off. He couldn't just ask an adult if they were bad at something. Patton might have not had to do it at all. Roman should just avoid accidentally insulting him again. He stepped over to the grill to check on it instead. Roman shoved the coals around and checked the temperature. The heat was finally right after Roman's failure to keep an eye on it earlier. "I need to get a plate for the steaks." He pointed to the door awkwardly. Roman felt weird and was happy to have any excuse to hop out of this conversation before he offended Patton. He probably also needed to wash his hands after stumbling into the lawn.
"Thanks for cooking them, kiddo! You're a great kid and I bet you're doing just fine." Patton patted Roman's shoulder and stepped out of the way for Roman to head indoors. Roman felt weird inside again. How conflicted and strange could one person feel in a day? It seemed like Roman was going for a lifetime record, and he didn't even understand why. What the fuck was even his life anymore.