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He was driving in a car.
She was screaming at him at the top of her lungs, all about how he was a failure, couldn’t do simple things, is only a disappointment to everyone that’s ever known him. The screaming was like a concert speaker right next to his ear; loud, loud, loud.
He couldn’t steer in these conditions. Not with a rocky road that bent in so many directions, a skinny single lane on a cliff with traffic cones instead of a protective railing. His foot was all the way on the brake, yet the car was speeding down the road faster than he’s ever driven before. The tires were screeching. She was still yelling.
It’s so loud.
She jumped on top of him suddenly, grabbing a hold of his neck with her long nails digging into his throat. Everything burned, he couldn’t breathe, and no one was steering the car anymore.
It’s so loud.
High pitched screeching echoed from nowhere. She was still screaming in his ear while his neck fell asleep, desperately trying to pull away her hand in order to breathe.
You’re going to die.
The car fell down the cliff. Completely on its side, such a smooth yet loud fall, the car came crashing into the woods under it, fire consuming his sight and all of his brain, the loud crash coming to a complete, deafening silence after an overwhelming boom .
Roman’s body jerked awake.
He scrunched up his shoulders to immediately cover the tingling part of his neck where he was being strangled in his dream. His mind was foggy while his body felt ready to run a marathon, heart beating fast and every inch of his skin shaking violently. Roman curled into a ball trying to calm down in the pitch black room, to no avail.
Phone. Phone. Phone has light, where’s my phone-
Roman’s Rapunzel figure on his bedside table crashed to the floor from his lack of coordination, pretty stones meant for healing and love moving out of their places and into undusted territory. Roman dropped his phone on his chest once he grabbed it but was only grateful it didn’t hit the floor this time, turning on the bright screen and blinding his eyes.
It was better than the darkness.
5:48 AM, his clock said, the lock screen blurry-looking because of Roman’s unfocused eyes and the tears pricking out certainly not helping. But he could tell there were no notifications over the night.
It’s always weird when he has to delete the Instagram app. His phone doesn’t buzz nearly as much without it.
He unlocked his phone and opened up one of his word puzzle game apps. Although it pained him to admit that Logan was right, lighthearted thinking games helped him on nights like these. Where all he needed was to calm down, but no people were around to help him with that.
As the game loaded and he was wondering what words to make with the letters F, I, G, U, E, and R , Roman clung tightly to his giant stuffed animal Magic Bitch the Queen, a rainbow pegacorn that was perfect for squishing. The name only made it better. Weirdly more calming.
Things were calming down. He definitely won’t be able to go back to sleep tonight, but given the date it was a miracle he felt as calm as he did—
“Virgil, quiet down-”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!”
“Virgil!”
...Nevermind.
Roman curled in on himself at the sound of the yelling. He hated fighting. He hated it with a burning passion, loud noises made him jump out of his skin and it was only worse when it was them yelling. They’re usually a lot more calm when Roman is around, but sometimes things just...got out of hand.
This was one of those times.
“ This bitch thinks he can just walk in here and act like he owns the damn place! Well newsflash fucker, you’re not the only person who cares about Roman! Stop acting like you can fucking control him!”
“I’m not controlling him! Is it a crime for me to want to care about my own brother!? Last time I checked, you’re not family!”
“Remus-“
“Oh cram it, calculator watch!”
“Go fuck yourself, you walking STD!”
“Virgil Foster! If you end up waking Roman, I swear-”
Patton paused mid sentence when he saw the figure standing in the middle of the steps. Everyone looked over at Roman, his hand fiddling with the end of his sleeve and way too tired eyes. His posture a little too straight, smile so dead it was hardly a smile at all. “It’s alright, Pat. I was awake anyway.”
“I assume another nightmare?” Logan asked.
Roman went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Filling it with milk until it was overflowing, Roman smiled. “You know me so well.”
Patton’s face grew concerned while he chugged some of the milk, Remus crossing his arms and glaring at Virgil. “You wouldn’t be having these problems if you’d stayed at my place instead of this dump.”
“This dump is our home , trash panda. Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Ironic.” Remus towered over Virgil with his hands on his hips when he stepped closer, Virgil hissing when he got too close. “All I’m saying is that isn’t it better for Roman to be with family who can help, instead of stuck in the same place that caused all this in the first place? With people who don’t even understand?”
“You know that I’m here, right? That I can hear you talking about me? Cause I can hear you talking about me.”
“Or maybe he needs to be around family that actually cares instead of being around the same deadbeat bastard who only comes visit to be the same pile of dog shit he makes everyone step in!”
Patton sighed. “Virgil, please stop. Can we please just go back to bed? Without all the fighting?”
The looks on Remus’ face was too taunting. Blood boiled in Virgil’s veins from three weeks of dirty glares at each other while he watched his best friend curl around him for comfort instead of anyone else. The cockiness of him trying to take Roman off to Florida for the holiday, like he was the only one who cared. He hated his stupid gross smile and how Roman snickered at his dirty jokes, he hated how he was genuinely helping and how useless their help was.
How threatening this bitch actually made him feel. But Virgil refused to lose.
“I’ll go to bed when this bitch stops acting like he can walk into my fucking house and act like he owns the fucking place! Eat my food, use my water, and steal my fucking friend because apparently this human embodiment of the feeling you get right before you fucking projectile vomit is the reincarnation of Christ!”
“Virgil!”
“And I’ll go to bed when this ‘Roman’s my best friend’ wannabe stops getting in between my family because his self esteem’s so low in the ground that sharks can have sex on it!”
“ Fuck you! ”
“ JUST SHUT UP! ”
Everyone paused when Roman screamed, his hand too weak to hold onto his glass and his hands shaking too hard to fiddle with the end of his sleeve anymore. His eyes were glassy and his chest felt like it was caving in on itself, with evil butterflies chewing apart his ribs and leaving hollow discomfort. Patton’s eyes went soft as he slowly approached Roman, keeping a loose grip on his hand and saying something to him that Roman wasn’t listening to in order to calm him down. But he was just tired. So tired. Tired of the yelling and the fear and the everything that he just wanted to get away.
So he did.
“Roman?” It was all he’d heard from Pat even after all his talking, but Roman still decided to ignore it. He quickly slipped on some shoes and grabbed his coat from the closet, opening the front door without another word.
Patton’s eyes widened when he realized what was happening. “Roman, wait-“
But just like that, the door had slammed behind him and he was making his way down the street.
He could already see his therapist’s “I don’t get paid enough for the shit you put me through” face when he eventually talks about this, but that was future Roman’s problem.
...He still had no clue where he was going.
That was always the worst part about Roman’s “run away from your problems” habit. He never had any plan. He could end up three towns over, he could end up across the street. In one of the first incidents, he ended up at a McDonald’s right on the outskirts of the state and fell asleep in the bathroom stall. When he called Logan and told him where he was, it was an hour drive to come get him since they didn’t trust him to drive back in his state. That’s why they first started looking for a therapist for him.
He wished he had his car this time. Walking around in freezing weather with pajama pants is cold.
Roman made his way down the hill where the house was to head downtown, where a good handful of stores were open at every time of day. He needed the heat.
“Eileen, you will pay for making me lose my beauty sleep.”
“You’ll be okay. It wasn’t working for you anyway.”
“...Hey!”
...And the distraction.
It was at 11:30 when Ellie woke him up. Dragging him out of bed and making him help her “sneak” out—if you could call going through the front door sneaking—, they ended up in a supermarket at around midnight on Christmas Eve.
“I got Remus this giant ass octopus stuffed animal that was literally like ninety dollars, but I need a gag gift for him. Something completely and utterly stupid, and I need you to help me look for it. So I can go home sooner.”
“A giant octopus isn’t a gag gift to you?”
“He’ll love it and you know it.”
“...Touche. Maybe just get him toilet paper?”
“Too enjoyable. Too useful. He’ll set the rolls on fire in the backyard or something.”
“...Nevermind then!”
The first store Roman found with its lights still on was a small convenience store next to a gas station. His legs were starting to get slow from the cold, teeth chattering slightly with his arms tucked close to his body like a penguin.
Roman went inside.
“Oh my God, Roman, it’s perfect.”
“What is it?”
“‘Maybe you touched your balls’ hand sanitizer. I’m getting five.”
Roman tried not to laugh too hard, especially when the store was so quiet at this hour, but he couldn’t help it. With slight sleep deprivation and the look on his sister’s face, Roman burst out a laugh and gave Ellie a lazy push. Ellie took five of the hand sanitizers and piled them in her hands, making their way toward the checkout.
Alone in a store on the night of Christmas Eve.
Roman didn’t want to think about it, but then again, he never did. And every time he focused on one thing, half of his brain was still on his sister.
His throat felt weird.
“I’m dreaming of a white...christmas…”
Ellie was basically skipping on her way to the checkout. She loved old Christmas songs, and not being able to resist the temptation to perform must be another “Sanders Siblings” thing.
Roman was staring at the chip aisle when his chest started to expand, his hands growing weak and absolute fear taking over. Why was breathing so hard? What is it now?
His eyes became glassy again, his vision becoming more distant and distorted until he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. But his ears seemed to focus on something else. Something so distant but close at the same time, ringing in his ears while he felt like he was looking through a TV screen.
“And since we’ve no place to go...let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…”
Fuck. Shit. Roman started fumbling in his pockets for earbuds, but in his haste to leave the house, they were forgotten in his room. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He could hear the silence of the store, but in the back of his brain he could feel the sound of gunshots.
“He’s alive, but he’s been hit around five times. Get him in the ambulance.”
He knew there wasn’t hands on him. He knew there wasn’t any blood, his or otherwise, on the floor. But it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.
“Duck!”
There was no figure that caught Roman’s eye as they made their way to checkout. There was no moment of adrenaline as he tried to cover his sister, ducking for cover while people walking down the street also screamed. There was no glass breaking. There was no shots of pain as he realized the blood on the floor was his. There was no noise. No screaming. No sirens or commands being shouted or deafening silence that made Roman want to scream. It didn’t exist.
But it didn’t feel like it.
He didn’t know how to work his limbs, his body felt fake and his vision was just a TV screen looking at a world that felt anything but real. His ribs felt like they should be in pain for more than just his shaky breaths and his back should be cold from the hard floor instead of being supported by a cooler door.
What was the pattern again? Three things you can hear—wait, no, fuck, what was it? What was it?
There was blood going through his jacket and blood on his fingers. His thumb was cut from a piece of glass and he couldn’t move off the floor. As tight as he could, he kept a grip on his older sister. The hand sanitizers had sprawled out across the floor, the hands that were holding them now lied lifeless in Roman’s grip.
Roman heard something. More than the music, that stupid fucking music, but he could focus. He wanted to cough until he could breathe again, he wanted to be here , without a single doubt that history can't repeat itself. But trauma doesn’t work that way.
Shooting down on Taft Avenue. Four injured, one dead.
“Roman, hey, it’s just me, it’s just Virgil—shit, hey, it’s alright, focus on me. Let me get you out of here, okay? God you’re heavy, okay-”
It’s Virgil. It’s just Virgil. No Ellie, Ellie’s dead, Ellie’s been dead, it’s just Virgil, he’s here.
Thank God.
“Here, just listen to this for a bit. You’re the reason I have a Disney playlist, I hope you know that.”
They were in a car now. Roman could feel the pressure of Virgil’s bulky headphones on his ears, as well as the start up to Tiana’s “Almost There”, even if his hands he was staring at still didn’t feel like his own. The explosion in his chest lessened some, even if his breaths were still short and it was a miracle he wasn’t sobbing yet.
Virgil moved one of the ends of the headphones to the side. “Feeling a little better?”
Talking took so much energy, way too much energy, but he’d worried Virgil enough for one day. “...Yeah…”
“Do you need the volume turned down?”
“...Maybe.”
The music got a little quieter, and Roman felt his body relax a little more. He didn’t even realize it was overwhelming him.
“Alright...now, five things you can see?”
“Virge-“
“Five things you can see, fucker, let me help you.”
Roman let out a huff of a laugh, but looked around anyway. “Uh...you, carseat, wheel...um...the thing…”
“Thing?” Virgil looked around. “...You mean glove compartment?”
“...Yeah, that.”
“Okay, one more.”
“...Coat?”
“Alright, four things you can hear?”
“Music, heater, uh...I don’t know…”
“Can you hear me?”
“...Now I can.”
Virgil laughed. “That’s good enough, I’ll take three. Three things you can touch?”
“...Headphones, coat, seat.”
“Alright, good...two things to smell?”
Blood. “Pat’s air freshener, and the fact that you haven’t showered.”
Virgil lightly punched him in the arm, Roman letting out a small laugh through a shaky smile. “And I bet what you’re tasting is the fact that you haven’t brushed your teeth.”
“...I did not come here to get roasted.”
Virgil shook his head in amused disappointment at him, but started the car and put it in reverse. Roman sighed, looking out the window at the soft snowflakes and lights on houses that made his stomach curl. He hated this holiday. All it did was bring back bad memories, every corner surrounded in his triggers and nightmares increasing tenfold with the stress. He wanted to go home. He didn’t know where home was.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Roman looked over at Virgil, with his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as he tapped nervously. Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to? I heard you and Remus.”
“This isn’t about me, it’s fine.”
“You’re my best friend and he’s my brother. It involves me too.”
Virgil didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the road intently, and Roman wondered if he should just put the headphones back on his ear and let that be that. But he really didn’t want them to keep fighting, so it’s better to at least make an attempt, right?
Roman put the headphones around his neck. “We were buying his gift.”
“What?”
“The night Ellie died. Her and Remus had a little tradition of getting each other a gift and a gag gift. The older we got, the more inappropriate they became, which was very ‘them’, in all honesty. She had forgotten to get it earlier though, so she took me to the store at midnight on Christmas Eve so we could pick something out. And that’s when the shooting happened.
Virgil didn’t react, but Roman gave him a tired smile. “I’m fairly certain that’s why he gets so protective. He feels like he caused it somehow, so he tries to solve all my problems on his own. It’s sweet in its own way.”
Virgil hit the break roughly at a stop sign. “Well now I feel like an asshole.”
“...You were a little bit of a bitch. But I don’t blame you, since so was he.”
“I just wanna help you too, you know? I get it, he’s your brother and all that shit, but he’s not the only person who cares about you, so he can back the fuck off. Especially when he’s spending time in my fucking house.”
“You say that like three other people don’t pay rent.”
“It’s my house when it’s convienent to my argument, fuck off.”
Roman laughed, Virgil taking a turn to a stoplight and waiting. “I just want you two to work things out. We can talk once I go home, take my meds, and at least sleep for two hours.”
“Only two hours? You’re starting to become me, Princey.”
“It’s an anxiety disorder buddies thing.”
“Fuck yeah, anxiety disorder buddies. Who can’t wait for therapy to start up again.”
Roman pumped a fist up lazily. “Next thursday!”
“Next thursday mother fucker!”
They both started to laugh, the soft glow of the read light and the headlights of passing cars being strangely calming. Roman’s eyes felt so heavy, the glassy tears he still had sealing his eyelids together like glue. “Wake me up when we get there.” He mumbled.
“And if you have another nightmare?”
“We get there when we get there.”
Roman heard one last soft laugh before his body went still. He wasn’t completely peaceful, but at least he was sleeping. It would be enough for now.
Virgil didn’t wake him up when they got home. It took both him and Remus to be able to carry him inside, but they managed to do it without waking him up permanently. He moved, but at least he managed to sleep some.
When he wakes up, they’ll fuss at him for running away and Patton will hug him close for Roman’s comfort and his own. He’ll make Remus and Virgil talk peacefully about each other without too much complaining until they can at least stand to be in the same room as each other. Then when things are calm, the brothers will cry when they remember the date, and Patton will give them blankets and hugs while the other two stand around a little awkwardly until it’s lunch time. Neither of them will eat much, but leftovers exist for a reason. They’ll be taken care of.
But for now, Roman will sleep.