Work Text:
The house is cold, and the streets are colder but, somehow, they feel more welcoming and comfortable than those walls ever did.
Still, Roman holds onto his jacket as a lifeline as long as he can feel his heart pounding hard against his chest, eager to live, yet ready to stop at a second notice. The fabric of the jacket is thinner than everything after all; thinner than the cold, thinner than his skin, thinner than the pain, thinner than the world.
But he holds on.
He has to.
Finally reaching the building, he's able to let go a little of the grip and tell himself he'll warm up soon as he fumbles through the things in his bag. Some clothes, some money, a laptop, and his phone charger. No books in sight even though he's at school
It doesn't matter. School hasn't given him anything aside from a brief scape, but the sight of his phone screen finally lighting up gives him everything before sending the message.
Now he just must wait for a little.
A little wait, a little hope to be closer to the light.
He waits as the first class goes on, not paying too much attention at Mr. Sanders' lecture on whatever subject it is today, choosing instead to repeat the plan on his mind over and over again ―get the message, answer quickly, follow the instructions, go away―, shifting as he keeps throwing furtive glances to the place his phone is plugged in.
Until he catches the unmistakable light of an answer, The Answer, with capital letters.
He forgets about the place he's at and reaches for the device, hope rising in his chest as he scrolls through the information but disappearing as he's brought back to reality by the sound of the teacher clearing his throat behind him.
"It appears that you have forgotten my no-phone policy, Miss Valentine." Just with that, Roman hides the phone under the table while trying not to wince at the misgendering ". Hand it over, please" Mr. Sanders says, extending a hand.
"You don't understand, sir!"
"What do I not understand besides the fact that you insist on sending text messages during my class? What is the emergency, Miss Valentine?"
Silence.
He can't tell.
But he can't not tell, either.
"My… My group chat" he manages to let out, getting a quiet chorus of laughter from the class.
Stupid.
Mr. Sanders silences them with the wave of a hand.
"I assure you, your group chat and its content will remain where it is after class. Hand over the phone."
As an answer, he slips his phone between his breasts and says "Make me."
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Next thing he knows, his mother is picking him up at the principal's office at the exact second he chooses to unplug from reality.
From all the ways to fuck up, he had to do the one that would push him further under his mother's watch.
It all happens in a haze and he feels like crying when every item from his bag is taken away and locked with key, and, despite not even batting an eye while his mother is yelling a number of obscenities he doesn't want to think about, he also feels like crying when he tries to dig as deep as possible in the grounds of the park, not knowing what else to do but try to summon a miracle with the blood that is already dripping from his fingers.
Not too bad for an hour digging barehanded. At least he has not found any needles in his way down, he prefers to die without catching any infection.
Finally, the hole is deep enough for him to fit in and, hopefully, sleep a little.
Truth is, he doesn't really want to die.
Not yet, and not enough to risk getting back his bag from his mother's house.
His mother's house.
It never felt his.
At least not since his father died.
And is not like he spends a lot of time there either; the minute his mother gets mad is the minute she decides he must sleep outside no matter how low the temperature is.
Every time he wonders if it's the last time.
Every time he makes it out alive.
Every time he wonders if it was worth it.
Sometimes he tells himself it is.
As he drifts to sleep, he tells himself that he just needs to breathe and hold on tight until his prince, miracle or whatever appears.
He doesn't even notice he's asleep until he wakes up; there is just a black curtain in front of him before someone is shaking him awake.
Just the day for cops to do their work, he thinks, just great, sarcasm and loathe flooding his veins. Except that the voice is addressing him by name. His deadname, but still.
Next thing he knows, Mr. Sanders is asking him to gather his stuff and offering his jacket before telling him to follow.
And he does.
He doubts the image will get more bizarre.
Turns out his teacher lives close and that Roman is welcome to make himself at home while the adult goes upstairs for a second. And that the house is actually nice and comfy, really far from the boring bland cube he pictured him to live in. The only thing that kind of matches his vision is a cup with a lot of the digits of pi written on it for some reason.
The thing that clashes among everything, however, is the little mess of crystals and pillows near the kitchen.
He's either sleep deprived or into some weird kinky shit that he doesn't have time to try and figure out before Mr. Sanders is back, quickly cleaning the mess before sitting in front of Roman in the living room and asking if he's warmer.
He guesses he is but doesn't answer.
"Listen," Mr. Sanders says with a sigh "I want to be of assistance if you allow me to do so, but for that to happen I need you to speak to me."
Silence.
"Does your family know you were spending the night there?"
Still nothing.
The teacher seems frustrated and Roman is bracing himself for the yelling.
The man checks the hour instead.
"It is almost one in the morning, but you may sleep as long as you feel necessary. I promise I won't register your absence at school, and that you are welcome to stay here all the time you need, understood?" Just a slight nod, still not making eye contact ". If you need or want anything, my room is the first you’ll see going upstairs."
And so, he leaves after fixing the couch for Roman, who remains awake another two hours, mind still not catching up while he listens to the muffled voices upstairs that don't last long.
Then he half sleeps, half remains awake, his mind not allowing him to get too comfortable; this could be a trick. A trick for what is yet to be determined.
At some point in the fourth time he wakes up, he thinks about taking whatever money he can find and leaving, but what for? His plans were doomed the instant he chose to use his phone during class and act like a child about it.
Funny how his savior is the one who condemned him in the first place.
Although that is not exactly true, it's easier to place the blame outside, or at least it used to be easier. Now, he just feels guilty. Like he's his own worst enemy.
Maybe he is.
Stealing from the teacher would only make him feel worse, so he decides against it and allows himself to fully sleep.
Just one night and maybe everything will be fine.
He wakes up to the sound of typing and the weight of blankets over his shoulders. It takes him a moment to recognize the place he's at, it doesn't help that the room looks wildly different during the day, nor that the person typing away is not his teacher, but a lanky pale man that desperately needs to re-dye the fading purple of his hair.
Roman doesn't know if he should do or expect something from this person and frets in his place on the couch until whoever-this-is notices him.
"Logan's still at school." Roman sits trying to figure out what is that supposed to mean, and his confusion must be showing because the man is speaking again ". He asked me to babysit you, so go eat something before he accuses me of starving you."
But Roman's still confused.
Who the fuck is Logan?
The typing stops.
"You don't know the name of your own teacher?" Apparently, he was thinking that one out loud.
He shrugs.
"I space out when I'm not interested."
The man looks at him for a second before saying "Mood" and shoving a spoonful of jelly into his mouth before going back to his writing ". If you don't feel like being healthy, you can help me finish all his Crofter's."
And he does, after all, the only thing that tastes better than raspberry jelly is mischief with a side of embarrassing stories about his teacher, provided from who he knows now is named Virgil, who is still wearing pajamas at two p.m., and would have never pegged as Mr. Sanders' type, yet is still wearing a wedding band and talking about the first time the later wrote a rap about his favorite constellation.
Virgil doesn't press for an explanation, he doesn't even ask, and Roman's relief is so big he allows himself to forget about everything for a while; he lets himself forget while he listens to endless stories, he lets himself forget while he defends Disney's honor, he lets himself forget while Virgil puts all the empty jelly jars back into the fridge as he claims revenge on his husband, he lets himself forget when Mr. Sanders is back to see this.
And he's not sure about why, but the fact that his teacher is gay ―or at least likes men― doesn't completely dawn on him; not when he meets his husband, not when they greet each other with a kiss, not with the hand holding, and not with the fond look in their eyes while talking about nothing.
It only dawns on him when the man is reading a book and Virgil silently joins him in the couch, resting his head on his shoulder and cradling his knees against his chest, staying like that through the flip of the pages, both unaware of Roman watching from the stairs.
"I'm dizzy" mumbles Virgil, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to the teacher, face hiding on the crook of his neck.
"I did tell you to rest this morning."
"Didn't want to." And that's met with the kind of eye-roll that reads here we go again and a soft kiss on the head.
It's just then that it hits him.
It's just then when he feels lonely once again.
A part of him knows is not true, but he can't help but feel like that's a kind of love he's not allowed to possess, unconditional and familiar, the kind of love you never doubt of, the kind of love that is palpable in the air, the kind of love he doesn't have and doesn't deserve, not after everything he's done.
And there's a pang of guilt for interfering in their little world of love and understanding, for tainting everything with his presence and trying to doom them too.
Fighting to do so.
Because he feels a pinch of hope falling over him; maybe he won't be loved, but maybe he will be held for a minute and there will be no tragedy.
Maybe.
So, he keeps watching the scene in front of him. Virgil struggling not to fall asleep while his husband strokes his hair, inviting him to do so. He tries to hold on to that hope as Mr. Sanders' notices him and asks to speak with him while looking for a way out of his husband's grip, softly placing Virgil in the couch, not wanting to wake him up.
"He needs it." Mr. Sanders murmurs, placing a blanket over his spouse, then motioning to follow him upstairs and to the balcony.
"He doesn't sleep well?" Roman asks as the glass door closes behind them, delaying what he's sure will be bad news.
"Only when his health is weakening, the rest of the time the challenge is to get him to wake up." He leans against the rail and looks up at the night sky "Did he tell you he attended law school?"
"He doesn't look like a lawyer" he lets out, hands immediately going to try and shut his own mouth, trying to stop the incoming anger from happening. Instead, he hears a low chuckle.
"He does not want to look like one, but, even if he doesn't like it, he was extraordinary at it while he still took cases." Mr. Sanders smiles faintly and then looks at Roman ". He even managed to get my parents to pay for my college expenses when he was still a student, and just requested a date in return… Of course, he started to spiral about how unethical that must have seemed, retired his offer but insisted that there was no need to pay him."
"You wanted to go out with him?"
The man snorts.
"I never wanted something more."
There's another space of silence tucked after it, lingering in the air as Roman thinks ways to make his teacher forget that he was the one asking to speak before he has to face the fact that he's about to tell him to go back to his mother's house, that he's just a burden and that she’s the only one who's able to put up with him. And he would be right to not want him there.
"I do not intend to force you to share any information you do not wish to disclose," Deadname ", but Virgil has informed me about the legal implications of allowing you to stay without proper parental consent. I took into consideration calling your mother." Even having expected it, his heart sinks ". In the end, I refrained from doing so."
Mr. Sanders' is silently looking at him with a serious face and Roman wishes for an escape, being aware of what he's being asked about, but not wanting to discover yet another way in which his faith can be broken. Not yet.
"I will need a reason to justify your stay. Perhaps the reason you were sleeping at the park will suffice”
And he tries to soldier through the tears attempting to gather in his eyes as he hugs himself, remembering that this is not the first time he allows himself to believe in happy endings just to have to pick up the shards of his own heart afterward, swearing to himself he'll never let his guard down again only to get stuck in the same endless loop of stupidity.
He puts on his best mask; it should be easy just to breathe in and out before lying and going back to sleep in the park or perhaps to beg his mother for forgiveness, but his will falters as the image of the thing he so desperately wants pops up in his head once more.
Because it should be easy to lie and resign himself to his destiny, but his fantasy-filled head wins the battle, imploring him to allow the fall.
"My name is Roman" he finally says, voice breaking, and mind going once again numb.
It doesn't matter.
Logan seems to understand.
Roman goes back to school out of the sheer need of a distraction; just yesterday, he went back to his mother’s house and quickly gathered his stuff with the help of Logan while, back in the living room, Virgil managed to get his mother to sign the guardianship forms.
Virgil tried to explain them to him but quitted when he realized Roman had stopped paying attention after hearing that he wouldn’t have to go back unless a judge said it was for the better. He’s sure there’s a lot of stuff about it but he only cares about having an out and, right now, about a way to stop people from whispering about him arriving in his teacher’s car. Logan tells him to ignore them but is easier said than done.
It doesn’t help that his mind keeps going back to his mother, is so tiresome that he doesn’t even have the energy to reject Logan’s offer of an extension for the work he missed last week, so he works on it until the teacher’s office hours are over and they are able to go back to the house they have been sharing, maybe this time to collapse in an actual bed, that’s it, if the place the Sanders bought it at is as quick as they claim it is.
He wonders if he’s allowed to have stress naps. After all, he cannot expect to sleep all the time when he’s technically not a guest anymore, even less after discovering that the only reason for Logan to be out near one a.m. was Virgil needing a lot of sugared treats after having a seizure.
Maybe he should be thinking about cleaning the house for them instead, but he doesn’t have the chance to shift his mind to that subject because, even though he has not memorized the way to his teacher’s house, he knows the car is heading in the opposite direction and Roman doesn’t like the idea a bit.
“Where are we going?” he asks, voice lower and more uncertain than he would have liked.
“A transgender friendly shop, figured you would like to have garments that match your identity”
A transgender friendly shop. Of fucking course, just what was left.
“Stop doing that” Roman snaps, looking at the street with arms crossed, barely missing the quick concerned glance his teacher directs at him “. I don’t want your pity, let’s just go to your house”
“Why do you believe this is pity?” Roman snorts, wasn’t he supposed to be the one who knows stuff? Even more when it’s about what he’s doing?
“What else would it be? You saw how my mother decided I’m not worth keeping and then started to give me stuff. Last time I checked, that was pity”
“Roman, I assure you this is not-”
“It is! I know it is, I don’t want it and I don’t want you to pretend is not, because it is!” he yells and his voice trembles as he takes a sharp breath and leans against the window to mumble “. I don’t even get it”
He assumes they’ve arrived when the teacher pulls in a parking lot before turning off the engine. Roman listens to the shifting in the pilot’s seat and the air suddenly feels colder than before.
“Roman?”
He doesn’t respond nor even turns to face him.
There are tears in his eyes, but he can barely see them in his fog-covered reflection.
“When she went through my conversations, she told me that she wouldn’t let me abandon her unless I was dead, then she kicked me out, so I could die soon” He closes his eyes as they start to burn, even though he knows there is no going back; once he opens the door, everything comes tumbling down “. I hate her, but I love her, and it sucks because I’m relieved to get out so easily but… but I’m mad because she doesn’t care at all”
Silence.
Roman is half expecting a lecture about his mother caring in some level, but it doesn’t come and he’s ready to point out that the lack of arguments proves him right, but as he opens his eyes he finds Logan looking at a distant point while slightly touching his wedding band. A few seconds go by before Roman works up enough courage to speak up.
“Are you tearing up?”
Logan’s answer is to smile faintly and wipe them out while he sees to be thinking about a way to craft his words.
“I also used to think that sleeping in a hole in the ground was the equivalent to sleeping covered in snow during a snowstorm. Is not, I once almost died by doing that” he says and is nowhere near to what Roman was expecting, but it still is the first time they make eye contact in days “. When it came to choosing between being adequate parents versus keeping their money, my parents always chose to keep their money” A breath, a pause “. The only money they ever invested in me was for college, and I already told you Virgil had to intervene for that to happen… When we started to live together, he had to force me to not pay any rent until I graduated, he said he was trying to make my recovery easier and that’s the same thing I intend to do for you, it’s not pity by any means”
Roman slides down into his seat and looks through the window once more, identifying for the first time the sign of the place he guesses they are going to. Not that is so hard, the name is Trans-cendental and there’s a very much visible trans flag in the window. He doubts Logan could have known about the place beforehand, he must have made a lot of research and invested far more effort than Roman deserves.
“I can’t believe you care about me”
“Well, I do”
Just with that, Roman opens the door and walks through the parking lot.