take me to church

“I wouldn’t have assumed that it was,” Ren said, pressing a kiss to the other’s jaw. “Stealing generally isn’t supposed to be fun and great, it’s sort of a last resort kind of thing.” He nodded, stroking the other’s hair. “And I imagine you can’t have gone during the day because of school…”

Ren’s soft smile slipped off of his face as Roman explained what had happened, a hand reaching up to gently lace their fingers together. “Baby…” He rubbed Roman’s palm with his thumb, peppering the other with little pecks. “I’m so sorry…I’m sorry, that’s– that’s so horrible. How did you…why did you decided to come to college? After all of that? Did you know Jamie was there?”

Roman appreciated the kisses he’d gotten he wondered what little good deeds he’d done in his life had resulted in him getting Ren as a boyfriend. Roman shook his head and remembered the look of horror that had been on his face when he’d seen Jamie for the first time in nearly four years.  “Sweetie made me go actually, in an attempt to you know get me clean and we all know how fucking well that went.” Roman laughed dryly. He’d given up on his work week of classes and took coke the first weekend he was there. 

“Jamie never left me a note to tell me where he was so it was kinda just a whole big coincidence that he winded up being there.” Roman was still just a touch mad at Jamie for leaving him like that but he never brought it up any more. That detail always led to a fight. “I didn’t know if I wanted to beat him up or kiss him. Probably a bit of both to be honest.”

“I see.” Ren kissed Roman’s cheek softly, adding, “Roman, I’m sorry. I never-- I’m so sorry I never asked, or never-- I’m sorry that all this happened to you, sweetheart.”

“That– that doesn’t sound all that fun.” Ren said plainly, trying to imagine three little boys snatching food off of shelves in a Walmart or being given a crate of dry pasta and fruit from the food bank– boxes he had packed before, ever since his eighth grade community service hours requirement, and even now in college– and his heart ached with pity for the boys that Roman and Jamie had once been.

“Did you go to soup kitchens and stuff too?” Ren asked, wrapping an arm around Roman’s slim waist. “I mean– I understand why you couldn’t have gone to a homeless shelter, they probably would’ve tossed you right back in with your parents, but a soup kitchen– they could’ve fed you as well. Or any churches in the neighborhood, I assume.”

“Four years? What made you leave?” Ren asked, a frown creasing his brow as he leaned up to kiss Roman’s cheek.

“They’re so drugged up Ren they probably don’t even know what year it is.” Roman knew from experience that time flowed differently when you were higher than a kite. “Kelly was maybe three years younger than us. Maybe two. I can’t really remember its a bit fuzzy on the specifics. He was younger than us. You know think like how you are around Jacob that’s how we were around Kelly.”  Roman said doing his best to explain. Though he thought he was doing an awful job. 

“Trust me it wasn’t fun. You know stealing and all that. We never felt good about it but we had to eat you know?” Roman said softly. Listening to Ren talk about soup kitchen and churches. “Well I guess we just never thought about the church thing but that’s probably in one of the nicer neighbourhoods. The nearest soup kitchen was pretty far from us. We didn’t want to walk too far it gets pretty nasty out here when it gets dark.” Roman looked out the window to make sure it wasn’t getting dark. 

“I wouldn’t have assumed that it was,” Ren said, pressing a kiss to the other’s jaw. “Stealing generally isn’t supposed to be fun and great, it’s sort of a last resort kind of thing.” He nodded, stroking the other’s hair. “And I imagine you can’t have gone during the day because of school...” 

He frowned a little as Roman detailed his childhood for him, leaning up and pressing a little kiss to his jawline as the other ran his fingers through his hair. “Was that free school lunch the only thing you ate all day?” Ren asked. “Why don’t they come in here?”

Ruben wasn’t exactly the type of person who spent all his free time thinking about what the inside of a drug den looked like. Actually, before this trip, he hadn’t been entirely sure what the outside of a drug den looked like. But he had thought even less about how three young boys would live inside of a drug den for years. “How long did you live here?” he asked, nestling into Roman’s side and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Well– tell your home ec teacher thank you for me, because I’m so glad you know how to do that.”

“They don’t come in here because Jamie and I would scream bloody murder at them and throw shit if they did. I mean we didn’t want anything to happen to kelly, he was only a kid you know. Kids shouldn’t have the kind of trauma we had.” Roman said softly enjoying the little kisses to his jaw. He promise himself that when they got back to his apartment they were going to cuddle in his room and watch netflix or just lay there. That’d be nice. 

Roman gave Ren a nod to his next question. “Some days that’s all we ate, sometimes we’d go to Walmart and steal some food, we went down to the food bank too if we had enough energy to get there.” Roman said trying his best to explain the ins and outs of being homeless to Ren. He knew it sounded awful and in some ways it was but Roman didn’t mind giving up showers for his freedom. 

“I mean fuck i was pretty used to not getting fed at home so it didn’t really effect me much. We made sure Kelly at least got a decent meal though. If you think Jamie and I are skinny now you should have seen us back then. ” No doubt living with Sweetie and having a baby made Roman put some weight on. Roman licked his lips and counted the years on his fingers. 

“That-- that doesn’t sound all that fun.” Ren said plainly, trying to imagine three little boys snatching food off of shelves in a Walmart or being given a crate of dry pasta and fruit from the food bank-- boxes he had packed before, ever since his eighth grade community service hours requirement, and even now in college-- and his heart ached with pity for the boys that Roman and Jamie had once been.

“Did you go to soup kitchens and stuff too?” Ren asked, wrapping an arm around Roman’s slim waist. “I mean-- I understand why you couldn’t have gone to a homeless shelter, they probably would’ve tossed you right back in with your parents, but a soup kitchen-- they could’ve fed you as well. Or any churches in the neighborhood, I assume.”

“It’s nice,” he said plainly. Not as outwardly neat as Roman’s parent’s home, but it was so obviously a place where he felt more comfortable. Despite the dingy mattress and creaking floorboards, Roman moved around the space as though the years he had spent there didn’t crush his spirit the way his parents’ home did.

“That’s.. a very rough and tumble kind of life,” Ren offered, a little puzzled, as he sat down next to Roman on the old mattress. To be honest, he couldn’t really imagine it, but at least here he had been happy, and that was truly what mattered.

Roman looked towards the door  and went in to alert mode when he heard some movement down the hall. He relaxed when the house became still and quite. He hadn’t been here in a good four years so it was possible that the people in their drug filled haze had forgotten who he was.  “By the way this totally doesn’t count as breaking and entering if no one legally owns it.” Roman glanced out the open window making sure there wasn’t anyone hanging around outside his bike. Not that they could steal it but he didn’t want it to get trashed by some local kids. 

He frowned a little as Roman detailed his childhood for him, leaning up and pressing a little kiss to his jawline as the other ran his fingers through his hair. “Was that free school lunch the only thing you ate all day?” Ren asked. “Why don’t they come in here?”

He pursed his lips and crinkled up his nose as his boyfriend slowed the motorcycle to point out a dumpster tucked into an alleyway behind an Italian restaurant, rolling his eyes as Roman reprimanded him. “It’s probably the most romantic dumpster I’ve ever seen,” Ren said with a little laugh as Roman revved the engine again and they sped off. As they weaved their way through the streets, Ruben took in the sights– dingy and graffitied, probably a place that would be swallowed up in a metter of years by gentrification– boarded up windows with messy, spray-paint tags covering the window shutters. This neighborhood was a far cry from the gorgeous, neat, almost-suburban home that Roman’s parents lived in.

Roman’s bike pulled to a stop in front of a home rather similar to the rest, though the windows were not in shattered shards on the sidewalk, which was probably a good thing. “We can go in,” he said with a little laugh, pulling off his helmet and pressing a quick kiss to the side of Roman’s mouth. “Just super fast, don’t want to get bruised up unnecessarily, you know me.”

“Oh you’re adorable, don’y worry if they come in and start throwing things at us I’ll let you use me as a shield.” Roman chuckled and began to hunt around the yard for something to open the window with after about five minutes of searching Roman began to jiggle the window open with a nail. This was something he’d done countless times, he had it down to a fine art. He carefully pushed the window up with a creek and climbed in. He motioned for Ren to follow him in side.  “You need some help in?” Roman asked poking his head out the window. “It’s a bit of a squeeze.”

Roman smiled softly looking around the old room he used to share with Kelly and Jamie. There wasn’t anything in here but a mattress. When Roman had finally gotten enough money together to rent an actual apartment he’d taken all his stuff with him, including a blanket that Ren knew all too well that Roman couldn’t sleep without. The walls were covered from top t bottom in Roman’s drawings from when he didn’t have any paper. Roman pointed to a drawing of a boy. “That’s what Kelly looked like the last time I saw him.” Roman hadn’t asked Jamie if he had any more recent photos of Kelly before he died so in Roman’s head Kelly was still that innocent and sweet kid. 

The room was far from the lap of luxury. It was dirty, damp, cold during the winter and too hot during the summer. The plaster was flaking off some of the walls and it was no wonder that Roman had respiratory problems. This along with the coke probably wasn’t the best thing for his lungs. 

“It’s nice,” he said plainly. Not as outwardly neat as Roman’s parent’s home, but it was so obviously a place where he felt more comfortable. Despite the dingy mattress and creaking floorboards, Roman moved around the space as though the years he had spent there didn’t crush his spirit the way his parents’ home did.

Ruben crinkled up his nose as Roman mentioned his first time and the dumpster that had been involved, a little shudder going down his spine. “Well– let’s go see these zombie crack addicts, then,” he said with a little smile.

Roman helped Ren on to the back of his bike and began to drive off again. He again weaved in and out through the traffic. Roman thought back to the night he walked this entire distance to Brightmoor after getting a harsh beating and climbing out of his bedroom window with a broken rib and a swollen eye. He ran at first but then slowed down to a gentle walk when the pain of his rib became too much. 

Roman began to slowdown just before they got in to Brightmoor Roman slowed down and pointed at a dumpster behind an Italian restaurant. “It was that one right there. Don’t give me that look, we used protection.” Roman laughed.shaking his head as he revved the engine to set off again. It only took them a matter of minutes to arrive on Roman’s old street, but for Rome, it felt like a lifetime looking around the familiar streets getting pangs of melancholy as he thought of Kelly as they passed certain areas. The streets were filthy, Roman hadn’t lied it did look like some kind of post apocalyptic waste land. Most houses were boarded up the ones that weren’t had broken windows. Even the pavements were in bad shape, cracked and broken. It looked as if this place was left to decy. 

He pursed his lips and crinkled up his nose as his boyfriend slowed the motorcycle to point out a dumpster tucked into an alleyway behind an Italian restaurant, rolling his eyes as Roman reprimanded him. “It’s probably the most romantic dumpster I’ve ever seen,” Ren said with a little laugh as Roman revved the engine again and they sped off. As they weaved their way through the streets, Ruben took in the sights-- dingy and graffitied, probably a place that would be swallowed up in a metter of years by gentrification-- boarded up windows with messy, spray-paint tags covering the window shutters. This neighborhood was a far cry from the gorgeous, neat, almost-suburban home that Roman’s parents lived in. 

He squeezed the others hand softly as he peered into Roman’s parents’ neatly upkept room, with its clean hardwood floors and the nightstands piled with books and loose change, pursing his lips as he was once again hit with the surprising normality of the bedroom. “I–” he began, turning to look at him. “I don’t want to stay here,” Ruben said, frowning. “Let’s go.”

Roman gave Ren a quick nod. He was about to make a joke asking if Ren wanted to leave by the window or by the door but Roman decided that now was hardly the place or the time to make those kind of jokes. Roman slipped his hand through Rens and did a once over of all the rooms of the house making sure everything looked untouched and just as hoe Mr and Mrs Kroskoslov had left it in the early hours of Sunday morning. Roman quickly closed the front door and locked it carefully putting the key back to where he’d found it. 

He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand comfortingly and followed him up the stairs, the wood creaking slightly, and Ren’s heart pounded harder, as though someone was going to catch the two of them. The pictures of Roman and his parents as though they were a happy family brought bile to his throat– he couldn’t help but look at them and remember all of the horrifying memories that Roman shared with him, the pain– and so he simply clutched Roman’s hand tighter and nodded as Roman wordlessly pointed at the rooms, pushing open some doors to show the insides. Ren pulled shut the doors after Roman opened them, wiping their fingerprints off of the handles with the fabric of his t-shirt just in case, and when he turned after cleaning the handle of one of the spare bedrooms, he saw that Roman was no longer beside him in the main hallway, instead the door to what he had thought was maybe a laundry room or closet was open, and Roman was standing inside.

Ren hurried over, standing behind him and drinking in the room– not neatly maintained like the rest of the house, instead, covered in dust and smelling vaguely musty– like nobody had bothered opening the door in nine years. He saw the handcuffs attached to the radiator and he felt his mind surge with white-hot anger– how dare they? Hooking up a child to a heater in metal handcuffs, when metal would conduct that heat and burn his wrists, and being locked up there for hours at a time– Ren could feel his hands starting to shake at the same moment Roman pulled him in for a hug, and Ren buried his face in the crook of the other’s neck, gripping him tightly, one hand running through the other’s hair soothingly. He felt the other’s tears wetting his shirt, and he didn’t say a word, just pressed a soft kiss to the side of Roman’s head, closing his eyes tightly to force away his angry tears, the back of his throat tight with the effort of not crying. “I’m so sorry,”he murmured to the other, repeating it softly and clutching him to his body as though their world would end if they let go. “I love you.”

Roman began to calm down when Ren hugged him back. “I love you too.” Roman mumbled softly. His knuckles went white from where he was gripping Ren’s shirt. Roman swallowed and finally let go of Ren. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and did his best to recompose himself. Roman bit his lip. He needed to be fit to drive them to their next location but Roman wasn’t sure if he could be that way while he was in this room. So may terrible things had happened in this room. Things Roman hadn’t even told Ren, things that Roman didn’t want to admit happened. He walked over to the window and noticed that the latch that he had broken to escape out of his room had been fixed. No doubt repaired in case he was returned to them by the police. Roman swallowed again a large lump forming in his throat. No he wasn’t going to cry again. “Can we…can we change rooms?” Roman asked no longer wanting to be in his childhood bedroom any more. Roman walked towards the door but his gaze lingered at the plush dalmatian and he quickly lifted him tucking him under his arm before they finally left the room for good. 

He followed Roman into the kitchen when the song was done, shaking his head with a fond little smile as Roman drank some orange juice straight from the bottle, not enough energy to reprimand him. “What are you getting?” he asked curiously, peering over the other’s shoulder as he unearthed some papers from the bottom of the kitchen’s junk drawer.

“We don’t have to go up there if you don’t want, babe,” Ruben said softly, noticing his boyfriend reluctance. “But– I dunno, if you think maybe they kept some of your stuff that you need, like–” he motioned to the other’s pockets, “it couldn’t hurt to poke around.” Secretly, Ren kind of wanted to poke around and see if there was anything at all he could find in Roman’s parents’ room to possibly prove their guilt of the horrible abuse Roman had gone through as a child. Maybe he could snap some pictures and bring them to the police.

“Visa and Birth cert.” Roman explained to Ren. “I’ve been meaning to sneak in here and grab them for a while but…you know  every time I came here I just kind of took one look at the house and just bolted back home.” He admitted not proud that this was the first time he’d come back in to the house after he’d left a good nine years ago. Roman fixed the drawer back the way it was before he closed it just in case they got suspicious when they opened it next. 

“Nah come on I have to face it sometime.” Roman swallowed taking a tight grip to Ren’s hand as the they ascended the stairs. Some more photos of Roman at various ages were hung up in wooden frames was they walked up to the upper floor of the house. Up here was still the same too. It matched the downstairs hall, ugly blue carpet with floral wallpaper. Roman pointed to the door on the right. That’s the bathroom. Roman opened the first too rooms on the left first. They were barren and bare. Spare rooms but he looked very relieved as if he’d been expecting them to be occupied. 

He stopped out side his own room door for just a second contemplating weather or not he should go in his hands shook as he opened the door. He looked around his bedroom. The smallest of the rooms so far. This was the only unkept room. There was a think layer of dust over everything. It hadn’t been touched since he left nine years ago in the dead of night. Roman could feel a well of emotion as he sat down on the bed. As if every unpleasant memory of the things that happened here came back to him. Roman looked at the posters on his wall, the nine years late homework still only half done at his desk, the books printed in Russian that he’d read over and over again when he’d been locked in here and then finally to the handcuffs on the radiator that he’d managed to get out of the night he left still attached to the radiator. Roman lifted the stuffed dog that was sitting on his bed. His childhood friend even still smelled the same comforting smell. The same kind of comfort he felt when he slept next to Ren,

He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand comfortingly and followed him up the stairs, the wood creaking slightly, and Ren’s heart pounded harder, as though someone was going to catch the two of them. The pictures of Roman and his parents as though they were a happy family brought bile to his throat-- he couldn't help but look at them and remember all of the horrifying memories that Roman shared with him, the pain-- and so he simply clutched Roman’s hand tighter and nodded as Roman wordlessly pointed at the rooms, pushing open some doors to show the insides. Ren pulled shut the doors after Roman opened them, wiping their fingerprints off of the handles with the fabric of his t-shirt just in case, and when he turned after cleaning the handle of one of the spare bedrooms, he saw that Roman was no longer beside him in the main hallway, instead the door to what he had thought was maybe a laundry room or closet was open, and Roman was standing inside.

He looked around the incredibly normal foyer, with it’s upkept wallpaper and tidily vacuumed blue carpet, keys in the dish by the door, a coat tree with a couple of hats dangling from it, a few frames with photographs lining the walls, and felt his stomach drop out. This was where Roman had spent his life as a kid getting hurt, and yelled at, and abused, in this incredibly normal home with incredibly normal looking parents in a safe, suburban neighborhood. He looked at his boyfriend’s baby pictures, still sitting on the mantle in dusted wooden frames, just like any family with a little boy would have, and smiled a little bitterly, stepping closer for a moment to look at his boyfriend’s precious little face, with round little cheeks and a set of blocks, and, yes, maybe this baby had an adorably grumpy face, with angry little eyebrows, but there was no way anybody could look at Roman’s little face in that photo and not coo. “You were a cute baby,” he offered, leaning slightly against Roman’s arm.

In the photograph that Roman pointed towards, he saw a happy young couple in a tux and a wedding dress, beaming at the camera. It was hard to reconcile the idea of a a couple like that and what Roman had told him about his parents, the horrible, cruel things that they had done. Roman looked so much like his father– all of a sudden, Ren realized why his boyfriend hated looking in mirrors. Ruben tore his eyes away from the picture, biting his bottom lip as he reached up to run a gentle hand over the square set of the other’s jaw, unsure of what to say, how to offer comfort in a house that must hold such horrible memories for him.

Roman gave Ren a quick hug, holding him tightly as if any minute he’d be unfairly snatched away. “Jems cuter though. Thank god she doesn’t have my grumpy eyebrows.” He chuckled softly remembering how she’d demanded to show Ren her bear the first day they’d arrived in Detroit and took a glance over to the piano that stood by the window. Roman played something playful on the keys hoping that it would break this hideous tension even for just a few minutes. Noticing that the piano was still regularly tuned Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d been the only one who had really played it. Unless his mother had taken it up again.  “I know,” Roman grinned looking back at Ren and then back down to the keys. “I’m a man of many talents, enjoy this while it lasts. I don’t play often.  Prokofiev, Romeo and Juliet if your curious. I’m quite fond of that ballet.”

Roman finished playing letting the song gradually die off. He stood up again and took Ren in to the kitchen. It was mostly the same too, nothing really changing apart from the fridge, they’d gotten a new one, but Romans things were still stuck to the doors with magnets, old drawings he’d done, his last report card with mostly Fs apart from the A in art and the C minus in gym.  “I’d offer you something to drink but you know we can’t leave dirty dishes they’ll probably notice two more used cups in the sink.” Roman how ever did open the fridge and take a swig from the bottle of orange juice.  “That will start a fight later.” he said a little bit of mischief in his eyes. His eyes trailed around and landed on the utility drawer and he yanked it open flipping through some pages until he found what he wanted. His visa information. He’d gone so long without and the government was slow enough processing it he quickly folded it and slipped it in his back pocket. He came across his birth cert to and slipped that in to his pocket as well. 

He followed Roman into the kitchen when the song was done, shaking his head with a fond little smile as Roman drank some orange juice straight from the bottle, not enough energy to reprimand him. “What are you getting?” he asked curiously, peering over the other’s shoulder as he unearthed some papers from the bottom of the kitchen’s junk drawer.

Ruben frowned a little bit as he saw his boyfriend’s childhood home. It looked so surprisingly– normal. He hadn’t known what exactly he had expected, but a neat, green front yard and crisply painted white window frames wasn’t it at all. He let his (ever chivalrous) boyfriend help him get off the helmet and get off the back of the motorcycle, and ran a hand down the other’s arm gently, lacing their fingers together.

“Do your parents still live here?” he asked softly.

Roman nodded and began to walk up to the house feeling like he was about to throw up dragging Ren with him.  “Yeah they still live here. They’re out most of Sunday, Church, then church meetings, then they go out to dinner after.” Roman swallowed. “Sorry you had to miss church babe but it was the only time I could think of where they’d be out of the house pretty much all day.” He stopped in the porch and reached in to a flower pot. He twisted off the cap of an old pill bottle and pulled out the spare key. He unlocked the door he looked at Ren’s frown. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have the front key. It’s just entering.” Roman ushered Ren in before the neighbours got nosey. The last thing Rome needed was his parents knowing that he was alive. 

He looked around the incredibly normal foyer, with it’s upkept wallpaper and tidily vacuumed blue carpet, keys in the dish by the door, a coat tree with a couple of hats dangling from it, a few frames with photographs lining the walls, and felt his stomach drop out. This was where Roman had spent his life as a kid getting hurt, and yelled at, and abused, in this incredibly normal home with incredibly normal looking parents in a safe, suburban neighborhood. He looked at his boyfriend’s baby pictures, still sitting on the mantle in dusted wooden frames, just like any family with a little boy would have, and smiled a little bitterly, stepping closer for a moment to look at his boyfriend’s precious little face, with round little cheeks and a set of blocks, and, yes, maybe this baby had an adorably grumpy face, with angry little eyebrows, but there was no way anybody could look at Roman’s little face in that photo and not coo. “You were a cute baby,” he offered, leaning slightly against Roman’s arm. 

It had only been a suggestion at the start but Ren had ended up begging Roman to take him to the areas where he’d grown up.  To see the parts of the city that had made Roman who he was. It was Sweetie’s fault for encouraging Ren, what else were they going to do in Detroit on a weekend. Roman had decided that they should go on a Sunday. Ren would have to miss church but it was the best time to go to avoid running in to Roman’s parents. The drive to Royal Oak had been more enjoyable than Roman thought, Ren clutching on to him as they weaved in and out through traffic on his Harley-Davidson, maybe a little over the speed limit but Ren didn’t need to know that. 

As they pulled in to Roman’s old neighbourhood Roman began to swell with anxiety, clutching the handlebars tightly he pulled up in front of his parents house. Looking at it now it just oddly reminded Rome of Ren’s family home, white picket fence, nicely tended garden, the only difference is that this house had a darker past. He turned back at Ren who was wearing the full face helmet. Roman thought it would make him feel safer while ridding on the back. “You okay?” Roman asked Ren helping him off. Roman unclipped his shorty and pulled up the seat and stored both.  “Welcome to Royal Oak or as I like to call it, hell.” 

Ruben frowned a little bit as he saw his boyfriend’s childhood home. It looked so surprisingly-- normal. He hadn’t known what exactly he had expected, but a neat, green front yard and crisply painted white window frames wasn’t it at all. He let his (ever chivalrous) boyfriend help him get off the helmet and get off the back of the motorcycle, and ran a hand down the other’s arm gently, lacing their fingers together.