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Roman’s first mistake was agreeing to do anything with his brother.
He’d been called at fuck o clock in the morning, asked to go see some stupid sounding movie that was both a prequel and sequel to some show he’d never heard of, and hey they should go see it in a normal theater (but also Kendall made Frank wrangle up free tickets) and “you want to write a screenplay right you might as well broaden your horizons beyond fucking… Batman, dude”.
He’d tried to skive off, listing everyone he could think of. Rava and Kendall weren’t talking to each other (“I keep trying but she’s mad at me I don’t know why”), Shiv was boyfriending and drinking in DC (Roman heard rumours that those two were related, that might just be dad spinning though), Stewy thought Ken was insane for wanting to go to see another abused kid and… he’d run out of people after that. Kendall was a loser but he must have other friends.
“Just come okay? I’ll get you some fruit to eat.”
The cinema wasn’t busy, but although Roman didn’t think of himself as a snob or anything, everything just felt like it had a layer of grime. He was carrying a bag of fruit for fuck’s sake. And for all his brother’s “man of the people” bullshit, Rome had to laugh at Kendall’s barely disguised sneer at a hot dog wrapped in tissue paper, and trying to discreetly land it in the bin. “I haven’t exercised enough today,” he’d tried to explain sheepishly.
The second mistake was sitting through the whole film. Roman hadn’t really paid any attention to the first half an hour, and Kendall had been rocking his chair back and forth bored, but as soon as he saw the frumpily dressed blonde chick on the screen hide herself in the toilet and snort whatever they used in films for coke, it was like his stomach had dropped out.
And it got worse, because at least that just made him see his brother on the screen. Then the creepy dad had made his daughter cry, and he could feel Kendall’s fingers digging into his arm, and fuck knows why, but a memory came crashing into his brain.
He’d been six. Kendall had got bored of the game and he’d been left in the cage. Their mother had been out “networking”, Dad may have been fucking his new secretary, so they had a babysitter, a different one to the one they had last month. The guy had let him out, all “aw you poor thing brothers can be so mean”, and Roman didn’t know, didn’t know what to do with any sort of kindness, and time seemed to go black before they were in his bathroom together and… and…
He had told dad eventually, of his new best friend who was kinder to him than his big brother, and dad had called him pathetic before they got a new babysitter. Then he started wetting the bed.
So yeah, cage = went weird.
The film that they should really try and get banned, maybe smear on ATN, eventually ended, and he couldn’t feel Kendall’s hand on his arm anymore. When the lights went up, he could see the dents in his skin.
“I’ve-” Roman could hear Kendall say, his breathy stutter clogging up his ears. “I-I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Roman only followed (like a puppy, his brain told him, he told it to fuck off) because he wanted to tell dad that his eldes- second eldest son was doing coke in shitty bathrooms what do you think of that, and your daughter might be drinking herself to liver damage cos she get hit by her boyfriend once pathetic, I’m the only one worth anything.
He hoped Shiv was alright.
After the usual telltale sign of Kendall keeping the stall door closed with an expensive shoe and flushing the toilet, really thinking that would cover up the snorting and sniffing after, Roman cleared his throat.
“So,” He was trying to be casual. “Did you get off on that or what?”
Kendall was rushing to wash his hands like he was in a cartoon, all twitchy and fast. “What?”
Roman leaned against the one part of the wall that didn’t seem filthy. He was fine, he was just playing annoying little brother, that’s what they did. They played at being normal. “The pretentious trauma porn shit. Does that get you hot or?”
He could tell Kendall was trying to breathe normally. “I- it wasn’t that bad. N-n-nicely filmed and all that shit.”
“Kendall.” He didn’t want to talk, they couldn’t talk, but he said it like he was trying to get through to him, and Kendall bowed his head. Roman hated that shit, just wanted to pull his hair up and make him look at him. He was supposed to be an older brother, protect him from everything and not just dad getting a little angry occasionally. “What mind game are you playing on me?”
Ken rested his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes, sounding so tired. “No mind games, just missed you.”
Roman ran his hand over his face, shame rising when he felt heat in his cheeks. It was a fucking movie, with dumb music, David Bowie for some reason and midgets talking backwards, it shouldn’t make him feel like he either wanted to bash his own head against a wall or Kendall’s. “We could have gone to a club and get shitfaced. Why did you even like it?”
Kendall shrugged, trying to be relaxed but coming off like he had a spasm, or like a puppet whose strings were too tight. “Uh. I guess, I just, I guess I just like Laura. In that bratty teenager way y’know?”
Roman’s memories were like a hall of mirrors, with dad and dog cages and bathrooms always in his side-eye. “Well you have nothing in common,” he said, aiming for snide, coming out defensive. “Aside from being holes for coke. You’re like dad’s business barbie.”
Silence. Aside from breathing. It just let Roman seethe a bit more, how Kendall was always dad’s favorite, how he could always cuddle up with him a few hours after being spanked, how even though he was told he was nothing, he was still allowed to sleep in dad’s bed the next night. Roman and Shiv were always on the outside, desperate for even a crumb like that.
Eventually Kendall stopped gripping the hot water tap, his hand coming away red. “Yeah,” he said, making a move to walk out. Roman would always follow. “At least I have that.”