Lita had joined him on the couch, curled up next to him as he had his feet on the couch to hold the laptop at drawing level, hunched over the screen and focused in on the canvas. He didn’t feel like he could think about anything else. Roman normally would have turned on music or something to draw so that he wouldn’t just sit in silence, but pulling himself away from the mercat art felt impossible. He’d used computer art programs in the past, but they never had as many options as this one. It made him feel like he can create something awesome.

   The sounds of dishes and chatter didn’t really register with him other than passively hearing them while he looked up reference photos for marine plants to help populate the background, copying the ones he thought would blend well with others and make new underwater flora for the mercats to stalk. One sneaking through the seagrass and hunting a cricket-fish seemed really adorable, too. He had so many ideas for this that he wasn’t sure he could keep up with them all.

   The pen didn’t make any sound against the screen as he worked, which amplified the unnatural feeling. It seemed like it took more effort to do what he could with normal art supplies, but finding out how to get there was so interesting, it was hard to be frustrated while being focused fully on the art. Roman stopped thinking about all reality. He wasn’t even aware of his hand, only noticing the intersection of where the pen and laptop screen met and the colours that bloomed there.

   Something touched Roman, and he automatically shrugged it off and went back to drawing. There was a change in colours behind the tablet, but it seemed familiar enough to not worry about, so populating the world with plants was still more important. Then a hand with black nail polish pushed down the laptop and flicked Roman in the nose.

   “Virgil, seriously?” Thomas asked, and Roman shook his head a few times, blinking moisture back in his eyes. Virgil just shrugged back at Thomas and flicked Roman in the nose again. Roman scrunched his face up and rubbed his nose, trying to get rid of the horrid crawling feeling spreading across his face.

   From the indignant expression, Virgil most likely signed, ‘See!’

   “What’s up?” Roman asked, looking around to see where he was. It registered as somewhere he knew, but he couldn’t really place where. He blinked and cinched his face tight once more before releasing and shaking off.

   “Are you okay, Roman?” Patton asked with that awful concern dripping from his words.

   “Yeah, why?” Roman took a deep breath, and it almost felt foreign. There was a sudden well of panic that he stopped breathing until he realized how stupid that was, since he was still alive and all, letting it out slowly. “Fine, right, what’s going on?” Roman asked again, saving the canvas he was working on.

   There was a brief pause of Patton looking over Roman with a tight smile before he responded. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for a while, and you weren’t responding at all,” Patton asked, stepping a little closer to Roman.

   “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Thomas asked as well. Virgil rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back and lolling his head.

   “I’m feeling like I want to draw. I’m fine. What do you need?” Roman asked shortly, not appreciating being coddled like this.

   “Remember how we talked about going to the cat café?” Patton covered his mouth with one hand, holding the other arm. What is with them?

   “Not really. When are we going?” Roman followed up, glancing at the clock on the laptop to see the time. He saw the numbers and didn’t know what they meant, though. The hour was in the double digits, and the date seemed wrong.

   “Now, ideally,” Thomas said, looking amused at Roman with a little smirk.

   “Oh, okay…” Roman trailed off slightly, closing up the laptop and putting it beside him on the couch.

   “You can take the laptop if you want to keep drawing while we’re there. Just make sure you keep a hand on it while we’re out. It will take a bit to get to on a bike,” Thomas told him, looking like he was holding back a much bigger smile. He liked the Sanders, but damn, could they be weird sometimes.

   “You’re sure?” Roman asked hopefully, putting his hand back on the laptop. “Wait, I don’t have a bike as far as I know,” he pointed out, even more confused. Fuck, his brain was in a fog, and he was not functioning, but he was very aware of his hand on the laptop.

   “We told you that you’ll both have to ride in the tow-behind.” Patton’s eyebrows stayed locked in deep concern, and Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder comfortingly.

   “He doesn’t remember, but that’s fine as long as he still wants to go.” Thomas smiled at Patton, slightly shaking his head. Virgil huffed loudly, tapping his foot. “Come on, Virgil seems impatient,” Thomas said, pushing Patton out the door. Oh, there would be live models at the cat café for the mercats. Roman got off the couch in a hurry, sliding the laptop pen back in place and holding it close to himself. Virgil smiled briefly and nudged him with his shoulder, and followed Thomas and Patton out the door.

   Thomas waited for Roman to pass to lock up behind them, and Patton was wheeling out a bike with a large tent-like attachment hooked to the back. Roman got closer to look at it, and Patton pulled out the bottom pad that was caked in dog fur to replace it with a new one, then motioned with a smile to the open pod.

   “You’re serious,” Roman said flatly, and Thomas chuckled, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

   “It’s the safest way, but one of you can stand on the back pegs of my bike the whole way, if Lita’s journey submarine is too tight a fit for you two,” Thomas suggested reassuringly.

   “It’s fine with me, but…” Roman looked over at Virgil, who just shrugged and climbed into the pod, scooting to the side and patting the pad. “I guess Virgil’s cool with it,” Roman commented mildly and climbed into the pod as well. A wide rubbery-looking mesh made up windows between the supports, so it wasn’t exactly claustrophobic, but Roman and Virgil sat close enough to each other that they were touching. Roman was so used to Virgil needing a wide berth that it was weird.

   “Great!” Patton enthused, zipping up the tent and moving towards the bikes. “Roman, let us know if either of you need us to stop or do anything else, all right?” Patton asked, leaning down to talk into the pod.

   “Sure,” Roman said, still feeling like this was completely surreal. Virgil didn’t act like this, right?

   Virgil nudged Roman, and he looked up to see Virgil signing ‘You’re a cranberry fuck nut’ at him, and Roman just raised his eyebrow at that. ‘Eat bees and die’ came soon after. Okay, that made sense. He was being over-dramatic again.

   ‘Shut your face, pickle-tits,’ Roman signed back with a smirk.

   “Boys,” Thomas said flatly, his hands on his hips outside the tent. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but as usual I am questioning the tone it’s taking,” he looked at them with his lips pressed into a flat line.

   “We’re simply exercising our creativity,” Roman said, finger-spelling out ‘tacky sea slug.’

   ‘Snooty snot licker,’ Virgil signed back, then stuck out his tongue, wriggling his head from side to side.

   “Virgil.” Thomas sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Never mind, as long as it’s good natured,” he changed his mind and pivoted away with a flourish, walking into the garage and pulling out another bike while Patton mounted the one with the trailer on it. Virgil made a breathy snickering noise and leaned against the tent, pulling out his phone.

   Roman took that as a good enough sign that he could go back to drawing, so he flipped the laptop open and converted it to a tablet, returning to drawing out the underwater flora. The bikes took off soon after, and Roman adjusted a few times to draw more comfortably while maintaining Virgil’s space.

   Even after finding a comfortable spot, the bike kept bumping about, so it was hard to draw while getting jostled. Focusing while moving around so much was also a struggle, and he felt a little trapped with the tent flap closed, so Roman sighed and closed up the laptop again, holding on to it with both hands against his chest while he watched the streets pass. He was still thinking about ideas, though, wondering about different applications of the tools. Roman was pretty certain he could make the ribbon tool spin plants underwater for him. He was not paying attention in the least as to why they were going to a cat café, but if Virgil wanted to go, Roman wouldn’t stop them by wanting to hang back to draw either way.

   Glancing over at Virgil, it was clear he was nervous. Virgil balled up tightly and scrolled on his phone, gripping his legs to his chest, buried with his hood up in the oversized hoodie as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Patton and Thomas were chatting about what to order at the café, so they must have been before. Roman felt the edge of the laptop with one hand and reached into his pocket for the fidget with the gears stashed in there, feeling it between his fingers to find the right angle and push the cogs quietly in his pocket.

   The further they got into town, the heavier the traffic on the road next to them got. If Roman had to guess, that’s why Virgil’s foot was now tapping so hard he could feel it in his whole body. Wanting to go somewhere that required passing a lot of cars with Virgil’s phobia seemed odd, but Roman could understand feeling cooped up or just wanting to see cats. Or maybe Virgil wanted something from the menu. Who knows. But Roman couldn’t help but monitor Virgil. He was getting increasingly agitated and Roman had to help somehow. Maybe Roman should ride on the pegs on the way back so that Virgil can spread out. Or maybe he wanted Roman nearby? It was impossible to tell with Virgil. Roman knew basically nothing about him.

   Roman regretted not asking how long the ride would take, getting increasingly restless. Maybe he had time to pull out his phone, too. Roman laid the laptop on his thighs and fished out his phone, still spinning the cogs as he fought the phone open. Roman huffed and put down his phone to pull the glove tighter with his teeth to be able to use the touch screen, and the press registered this time for him to enter his passcode and look up some underwater ruins for inspiration.

   There was a tire screech nearby that made Roman jump, looking up at the car that must have been going too fast for the stop sign. Roman sighed and looked back at his phone, scanning the ruins. The pod was shaking, and Roman leaned over to see what they were biking over, but it was the same urban streets as before, so he looked around for what else was wrong. Virgil’s face was pale, and his forehead was sweating, his hand still positioned like he was holding his phone, but it had fallen out. Oh, shit. The car that was bad at braking. Fuck, does Virgil want him to get Patton and Thomas, or does he want to deal with this himself?

   Virgil didn’t respond when Roman signed at him, even after tapping Virgil’s knee to get him to look. He was still staring straight ahead and breathing hard, coming in as little as shudders rather than deep breaths. Roman put his hand flat on Virgil’s knee and squeezed slightly, and Virgil’s eyes shot to it, then Roman in short order.

   ‘Do you want them?’ Roman signed quickly, and Virgil shook his head, pulling in his knees tight to his chest. Roman’s phone went off with an alert, and Roman grunted, pulling up his phone to see what was so damn important. It was just his breathing alarm, so he turned off the notification and threw it to the side. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s face and the discarded phone as he hyperventilated while Roman tried to figure out what to do.

   “It’s just my breathing alarm,” Roman mumbled, racking his brain with how to help Virgil. He couldn’t just let him stay like this. Oh. Breathing. “Oh, uh, shoot. Got to do my breathing. You know. Deep breaths as slow as you can. So annoying. Anyway,” Roman was aware how not-subtle he was, but as long as nobody else noticed but Virgil. Virgil just stared at him. Okay, time to be even less subtle.

   “In,” Roman started and took in a deep breath. Virgil lagged, but started soon after him. Thank fuck. “Hold,” he instructed, keeping a hand on Virgil since Virgil hadn’t shoved him off yet, and if he was panicking, he’d love to have something to focus on himself. “Out,” he said, slowly breathing out at the same time. Roman started over with instructing him, but in ASL this time, still performing each exaggerated breath as an example. For once, his minimum length of the exercise didn’t seem like a bad thing. He vaguely remembered Patton calming him down from hyperventilating like this, so it probably wasn’t counter-productive at least, but he had no idea if this would help at all.

   Virgil followed, which was almost as surprising as him letting Roman be so close to him. But the shaking slowed down to a shuddering halt under Roman’s hand, and Virgil’s eyes went from dinner plates back to only a little wider than the normal tired expression, so it must have been doing something. Roman ignored timing the exercise at all, just going to keep at it until Virgil is no longer as stiff as a statue.

   He did eventually sag against the tent, nodding his head, which Roman understood as meaning to stop guiding him. ‘You good?’ Roman signed, letting go of Virgil’s knee as well. Virgil nodded slowly and continued to breathe deep on his own, though there were still a few shudders.

   Virgil looked at Roman oddly before signing, ‘no smoke?’

   Roman blinked a few times and sniffed at the air, smelling nothing but tarmac, spent rubber, car exhaust, and a hint of fast food oil. ‘No,’ he signed back and Virgil nodded again, sighing heavily, slumping against the tent to lie down, feet pushing against the tent door in an uncomfortable position. Virgil was too tall for this thing. Roman shifted Virgil to his side by his hoodie, letting Virgil bend his legs into where Roman was sitting, and Roman tucked his feet behind Virgil’s knees to give him a little more room. Virgil didn’t move from the floor, just adjusting his hood and closing his eyes.

   Confirmation that he was okay would have been nice, but whatever. Virgil was breathing better, and that’s what was important. Roman put on some Lo-Fi to help mask the sound of traffic, though it wouldn’t drown out the peal of tires. It just felt better than doing nothing. Roman sighed and leaned his head back on the tent wall, looking up at the arch. He hoped the cat café would be worth it for Virgil. Roman wasn’t exactly going to brave the choking factory tour for fancy chocolate at the end.

   But then again, cars were kind of more unavoidable than the smell of whiskey and hands around your throat. Virgil had it rough. Roman glanced out the side of the tent, seeing a shopping center glide past. It was still bright out, so they must have eaten dinner early today to make sure they weren’t out too late. The Sanders put a lot of forethought into things. They were considerate people, which left a bittersweet feeling in his heart. They pulled into a small strip center and parked their bikes on the rack on the sidewalk.

   Neither Roman nor Virgil bothered moving until Patton came around to unzip the tent, exclaiming, “We’re here!” Roman lifted his legs up for Virgil to get out of the tent first. Virgil rubbed his face with his hoodie sleeves and rolled to get up, adjusting his hoodie as he got out. He stretched while Roman crawled out of the opening, holding on to the laptop carefully and making sure his phone was situated tightly in his pocket. He swept the tent to make sure he had everything and grabbed Virgil’s phone, passing it off to Virgil silently. “It’s nice to see—” Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder and shook his head with exasperation, cutting Patton off. Virgil and Roman both looked at Thomas in confusion, along with Patton, but Patton seemed to trust whatever that was and zipped the tent closed.

   “Let’s get a table.” Thomas smiled brightly and headed into the café covered in garish cutesy decorations. Roman grimaced, wondering how they got boys to come in here normally. Roman had nothing against the design, but he wouldn’t want to get photographed next to it. Virgil tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket and hunched over, following Thomas in while Roman looked at the exterior. He swallowed and headed in, followed closely behind by Patton.

   The café smelled amazing. The smell of hot chocolate and baked goods smacked him in the face as soon as he entered. They decorated it with lots of pastels, soft spots for the cats to recline, and a very complex-looking series of cat-platforms up the walls. The café was very casual with bench-seats at the tables and a self-service counter. Roman wondered how the cat hair from the ten-odd cats he spotted in the small café wasn’t an issue, but maybe that was just something you had to accept as a patron here.

   Thomas walked up to the counter and smiled at the person behind it. “Give us a sec. Get two things each, boys. Roman, don’t look at the prices and just order what you actually want to eat. We came all the way out here, so let’s enjoy it the best we can, yeah?” Thomas said pointedly, and Roman huffed, crossing his arms over the laptop as he rolled his eyes. Thomas really up and called out Roman in front of the person at the register?

   Virgil looked up at the menu quickly and signed at Roman ‘Dark hot chocolate and chai cheesecake,’ without hesitation. Geez. Maybe he’d been here before. That was a few seconds, tops. Thomas looked at Roman expectantly. Fuck, making choices is garbage. Roman scanned the menu as fast as he could. The hot chocolate was the only thing that wasn’t a smoothie and didn’t have coffee, so at least that was a given. There were way too many choices of desserts, though.

   “Two dark hot chocolates and two chai cheesecakes,” Roman said, just opting to follow what Virgil chose instead of making them wait any longer. He wouldn’t enjoy himself if he panicked about the menu, that’s for sure. Suck on that, Thomas. Virgil headed over to a table and Roman followed, not wanting to hear the total when they finished ordering. Roman didn’t like dark chocolate so much he’d order a mug of it, but maybe with the cheesecake it would balance out the bitterness. He didn’t care as much about eating food he didn’t like as much as others did, so it wasn’t as big a deal to Roman as Thomas made it out to be if he got something he only kind of liked.

   A white cat and a tabby cat came up to them as Roman sat down on the bench next to Virgil, the tabby cat hopping up on the bench across from them and the white cat going under the table to rub against their legs. Virgil smiled and leaned down to put his hand out for the cat to sniff, petting the cat after it greeted him. Roman watched the tabby with interest as it stared back. Maybe Roman failed the vibecheck, because it hopped up on a shelf on the wall, climbing up high with lithe movements. It was exactly what Roman was looking for, though. Roman flipped open the laptop to sketch the escaping cat on a fresh canvas.

   Virgil snickered, turning to the side and focusing on the cats while Roman sketched the tabby. He moved on to sketch a black cat partially falling off a shelf while lazing, then the white cat when Virgil got up to play with it with one of the provided toys. The jumping around was perfect, so quick gesture sketches of the cat were exactly what Roman was looking for to impart that weightless feeling to the mercats. When Virgil returned, Roman picked a few gestures to fill out to put in the underwater scene, wondering how best to paint the cat fur.

   “Hey, buddy, don’t let your hot chocolate get cold,” Patton said, rapping a knuckle on the table. Everyone had already taken their seats and had partially eaten their desserts, with Roman's untouched in front of him. He sheepishly and saved the canvas to hold in his lap while he ate his treats. The hot chocolate was leaking onto the saucer with soft whipped cream and adorable half-melted cat-shaped marshmallows. That must be why Virgil got the dark. All the sugar on top would make the milk chocolate too sweet.

    Roman picked up the mug and leaned over the table to stay over the saucer a bit to take a drink, dribbling a little on his chin and cleaning up with the fabric napkin under the cheesecake plate. Virgil smirked and made a show of taking a cleaner sip, and Roman rolled his eyes, going for a bigger drink this time. It was definitely the homemade kind from real chocolate and not any packet mix. The cocoa was the perfect temperature right now, and if you let it cool too much, the thick stuff will settle in at the bottom of the mug somewhat, and he didn’t want chocolate sludge.

   The cheesecake was more spiced than sweet, but it was really delicious with the hot chocolate. Virgil once again absolutely knew what he was doing with unexpected flavour pairings. ‘Good taste, Virgil,’ Roman signed at Virgil, who just shrugged in response and kept eating. Thomas looked at him oddly, but he wouldn’t up and admit out-loud that he just ordered what Virgil did just so he didn’t have to make a choice.

He looked over at his twin. Roman had no difficulty sitting this long. He didn’t need to have his hands busy or constantly look at something else. He was always good. Remus just didn’t get it. Why did Roman get to be able to be normal while Remus got called weird and creepy. Nobody wanted to be friends with him but everyone wanted to be friends with Roman. It wasn’t fair.

He shook his head slightly, turning his attention back to the movie. Why did his thoughts have to wander off like that? He tried to focus on the television. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focus. Soon, he was focusing on the act of focusing so much that he didn’t notice when their dad, Patton, walked into the room. He only noticed when Roman shook his shoulder, jerking him out of the thought to focus.

“Remus, dinner.” Roman said as he moved into the dining room.

Remus nodded, getting up to go wash his hands first. He noticed the way the light glinted off the mirror and stared at it until Patton came into the bathroom. “Remus, turn off the water. Your food is getting cold.”

Remus looked down to see the water still running. “Sorry, Dad.”

Patton sighed. “It’s alright, kiddo. Let’s just go eat.”

When he got to the table, he noticed it was a baked potato bar with green beans. He groaned. He really hated green beans. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way they sounded like rubber while being chewed, maybe it was the slimy feeling of them in his mouth, maybe it was the taste that he couldn’t stand, maybe it was how they were the color of puke. Normally, he found puke funny or interesting, but food should not be puke colored.

He slid into his seat, and, when the other two weren’t looking, tried to slide his green beans onto Roman’s plate. He loved green beans, let him have them. Roman noticed what he was doing before he could get any on the plate. “Remus, eat your own food. I’m not eating it for you.”

Patton looked over at them. “Remus, could we not, tonight?”

Remus sullenly choked down the slimy rubber tubes of death, hating every second of it. He didn’t see why Roman got to get out of eating things he didn’t like, like mushrooms, but Remus had to eat the things he didn’t like.

They went to bed that night, Remus avoiding the itchy set of nightclothes that made him want to scratch his skin off. The next morning, they were off to school. As Patton dropped them off, he called to Roman out the window. “Roman, don’t forget that you have an appointment with Dr. Picani after school.”

Roman held up a hand in acknowledgement as they walked into the building. Remus made a beeline for his locker, meeting up with his best friend, Virgil. They high-fived as they opened their adjacent lockers.

“Anything you wanna talk about?” Virgil asked as he always did at the beginning of the week.

Remus stopped himself from bouncing on his toes in joy at being asked. “Did you know that goats have rectangular pupils?” He proceeded to ramble about the interesting bits of goats for the next few minutes as they walked to their first class together.

During the class, history, Remus tried to pay attention, even took notes. It didn’t matter that it was only middle school and the lecture probably had nothing to do with the reading for the day, he needed his hands busy. He felt better after being able to keep his hands and eyes busy while keeping his ears busy at the same time.

On their way to the next class, Virgil rambled about aliens and spaceships and Remus tried to listen but found his thoughts wandering yet again. He tried to compensate for it by asking questions that summed up whe general idea of what he was saying. 

In math class, Remus wanted to sink through the floor and die. His teacher gave him a sharp look over his glasses. “Remus, I assume this paper is yours. It’s the only one without a name. It also has many problems half finished or not even started. I expected better from you.”

Remus nodded meekly as he took the page from him. “Sorry, Mr. Crofters. I’ll do better, I promise.”

Logan smiled at him, pushing his glasses back in place. “I’m counting on it, Remus.”

Remus sat at his desk and really tried to focus on the next worksheet. He made sure to put his name on it, rewriting it multiple times when it wasn’t legible or just looked wrong. He started the worksheet, not letting himself move on to the next question until the one he was on was done. Before he knew it, the class period was over. Looking down at his page, only half of the front was done. He slipped the paper into his bag, determined to work on it after school.

Remus’ English class was the worst. He forgot whole words and forgot to put in some letters in words in his last essay, making it less than satisfactory. In science, he didn’t understand the instructions from the teacher and none of his classmates would explain it to him. He wanted to cry but he didn’t, knowing he would be labeled a baby and that Roman would yell at him later for messing up his reputation. 

Remus wanted to bounce, to rub his arms, to bite his nails. He didn’t do any of those things, trying to be as still and attentive as possible. He tried to remember the good listening rules he learned in kindergarten. Ears listening, eyes focused on the speaker, hands in your lap, no wandering thoughts, no speaking over the speaker, and no moving his legs. This meant that he couldn’t swing his legs like he wanted to, couldn’t rub his hands on his arms like they itched to, couldn’t do a million other little things. 

Instead, he sat there and ruthlessly pulled his thoughts away from the bunny trails, focusing them on the teacher. By the end of science, he was frustrated. He had no idea what was going on no matter how hard he focused on the instructions, no one was willing to repeat the instructions to him, and the teacher was not having it today. 

By the time lunch rolled around, he was exhausted. He met back up with Virgil, leaning his head on his only friend’s shoulder as they sat at their table. Virgil looked around. “Where’s Roman? Doesn’t he usually at least walk in with you?’

Remus groaned. “Ro’s probably eating with the theater kids..” He sat up, pushing his food around. Virgil nudged him. “How was science?”

Remus groaned and went into another tirade over how stupid the subject was, even though it was usually his favorite, and how mean everyone else in the class is, shoveling bites of food into his mouth when Virgil paused him to ask a question.

Eventually, lunch was over and it was time for art. This was his second favorite subject as he got to play with a bunch of different colored things and let his creativity out. Today, it was painting. He wanted to use his fingers but got scolded the last time he did that so didn’t. Instead, he went for an abstract that represented his mood. It was a turbulent green with reds and purples and some shades of blue thrown in there. He called it ‘Frustration’. His teacher loved it.

While on the high of having done one thing right all day, he went to study hall, where he focused as hard as he could on the math page, determined to finish it before he left. While in study hall, someone was playing music that the teacher was making no effort to stop. Remus groaned as he couldn’t focus due to the noise. 

Suddenly, all the lights were too bright and he could hear them buzzing as if they were flies that were in his ear. The music was too loud. His palms felt like they were on fire, causing him to drop his pencil and move his hands, palm up, into his lap. He felt like crying as everything was suddenly too much to deal with at one. Raising his hand, he asked to go to the bathroom, trying not to sound like he was begging.

The teacher gave him a hall pass and told him to be quick. Almost running to the bathroom, he sat in one of the stalls with his eyes closed, just trying to get everything to go back to the way they were. He knew there was a limited amount of time that he was allowed to be in there but couldn’t remember how long it was. After a while of sitting there, he ran his hands under the faucet, turning the water as hot as he could. It helped just a bit. 

He felt calmer after that and went back to the classroom, focusing so hard on his math he didn’t notice the bell had rung until the teacher came over and told him to leave. He packed his bags, palms still feeling like they were on fire every time something touched them. At least he had managed to get the math sheet done. He would ask his dad to check it later.

As he made his way out, he hugged Virgil goodbye, not knowing if his hands could survive a high five. He slid into the back seat of Patton’s car while Roman hopped into the passenger seat. Patton adjusted the mirror to look at Remus, noticing the pain in his eyes and the way he held his hands at his sides. “Remus, are you doing okay?” His voice was laced with concern but it was too loud and too sudden, causing the preteen to jump.

“Yeah, Dad. I’m fine.” He didn’t see Roman struggling not to cry, didn’t see him cradling burning skin, didn’t see him being anything but his normal self as he regaled Patton with tales of his day.

The drive was silent on Remus’ end as he tried to get a grip on himself, telling himself he needed to follow Roman’s example and be normal. Roman was giddy as he talked about his day, waving his hands animatedly as he talked and bouncing in his seat a little. Before Remus knew it, the car stopped moving as Patton turned the engines off.

“Remus. Remus!” Remus looked up to see his dad’s face turned to look at him. Looking out the window, he saw the doctor’s office instead of the house. Right. Roman’s appointment for something or the other. “You have to get out, Remus. It’s going to be too long to leave you in the car.”

Remus nodded, hopping out to join his brother on the pavement. The trio walked into the building, Remus immediately going to sit in the waiting room and pulling out a book he was supposed to be reading for English. Roman and Patton went up to the front desk, signing in and almost immediately being told that Dr. Picani would be with them shortly. They went to sit on either side of Remus as he tried to concentrate on the book. Honestly, it was really interesting and he had been waiting all semester to read it. But right now, he was exhausted after the day he’d had and the office had too many distracting things.

After a few minutes, the door leading to the back room opened and a pink-haired man in a tan sweater with a white button up shirt and blue tie underneath walked out. He took one look at the almost empty waiting room and smiled. “You should be my last clients of the day. Come on back.”

Patton and the twins stood and followed him back to a toy filled room. Remus looked around a bit before sitting in the corner of the couch, tring to make himself as small as possible with his hands in his lap, still burning.

The pink-haired man sat in the chair opposite the couch as Patton sat between the boys. “So, who am I seeing today?” His eyes were trained on Remus.

Patton patted Roman’s knee. “This one. He’s needing a refill of his ADHD medication.”

The man, Dr. Picani, nodded. “I see, and what does he take?”

“Uh, Adderall.”

The doctor took a note. “I see. Is the other boy here for anything?”

Patton shook his head. ‘Nope, he’s fit as a fiddle.”

The man frowned. “May I speak with you outside for a minute?”

Patton nodded and followed them out. Remus was tempted to swing his legs but noticed that Roman wasn’t and was determined to be better behaved than he was.

The adults talked for a while outside. Remus pulled the book back out and tried to concentrate on it but kept getting distracted by all the toys and figurines in the room. Eventually, they came back in and the man sat back down, looking at Remus. 

“Remus, was it?” He asked, his voice kind. 

Remus nodded. “Yes, sir.” He knew adults liked it when they got a verbal response. 

The man smiled. “My name is Emile Picani. Would you mind coming with me for a bit? I just want you to take a test.”

Remus looked at his dad, who nodded and smiled encouragingly. Roman put a hand toward Remus. “Do you want me to hold your book?”

Remus nodded and handed it over before standing to follow the doctor. The man led him down the hall to a quiet room. He sat him down at a desk and started up the computer in front of it. He clicked through some files, getting to one that read, ‘ADHD test’.

“Okay, Remus, I want you to take this test. There is no rush, feel free to take as long as you need to. I’ll be in the chair over there,” he pointed to a seat across the room, “let me know if you don’t understand anything or need any help, okay?”

Remus nodded. He filled in the slots that asked for his age and gender. He got to one that asked if he was ‘newly diagnosed’ he didn’t know what that meant so hit ‘yes’. He answered as many questions as he could on a scale of ‘never’ to ‘often’. He tried to give an honest answer but some of the questions he had to think about as many of the situations described he was able to hold himself back from doing the activity. He answered honestly, for the situations where he even wanted to do it, he answered as if he did it. 

When he was finished, the screen said to wait while it was loading. He looked over at Dr. Picani, who seemed to be watching him as he took the test. The doctor stood, coming to stand behind Remus’ chair to wait for the results. Remus didn’t know what to make of the numbers and big words in front of him but the doctor sure did as he made a noise.

Remus looked up at him. “Is that good or bad?”

He smiled down at the boy. “That depends on what you define as good or bad. Is it good that these results are positive? Maybe. Is it good that we are now aware of this and capable of helping you with this? Yes.” He held out a hand. “How about we get back to the family while we talk, okay?’

Remus nodded but stared at the hand. He looked down at his own palms. They seemed to have cooled down while he took the test as they didn’t feel like they were on fire anymore. He reached up and took the hand, sliding out of the chair to follow Dr. Picani down the hall. They got back to the room with Patton and Roman in it and Remus went to sit on the couch.

“Mr. Sanders, it appears my suspicions were correct. Remus also has ADHD, just as Roman does.” Dr. Picani said.

Patton put an arm around Remus. “How is that possible? He’s nothing like how Roman was when he was first diagnosed? He’s always been so quiet and calm.”

The doctor nodded. “It seems that your son may have been hiding his symptoms.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I can’t say. You’ll have to ask him later. For now, how about we discuss getting him a starting dose of Adderall, the same as Roman’s.”

The adults talked as Remus looked at his brother. He didn’t know if the medication they were discussing was what helped Roman stay so calm, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it. What if it made him boring and dull? Worse, what if it changed him to the point that Virgil didn’t want to be friends with him anymore? 

“Remus?” He tuned back in to hear the doctor call his name.

“Yes, sir?”

“I just wanted to explain what is going on with you and what the medicine is going to help with. You have something called ADHD. This stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. A fancy way of saying that you have a hard time concentrating on one thing sometimes or can’t stop concentrating on the thing other times. This also means that you have a hard time sitting still when you want to move around. From what your father has told me, you’ve done an amazing job managing to sit still, but you shouldn’t have to do that anymore. You won’t have to force yourself to be still and quiet or force yourself to focus anymore. The medicine will help you with that.

“You also have to realize that this means that some actions you do are part of this and are okay. Sometimes, you might want to make weird noises, or rub your arms, bite something, flap your hands, or spin around a lot. These things are perfectly normal for you and are okay to do. If you aren’t comfortable doing those things in public, your father or I can help you think of other ways to get out the energy. Do you understand?’

Remus nodded as all the pieces fell into place. He wasn’t broken but the way he had been handling it had been bad. “Is that why I felt like crying earlier today? Is that why my palms felt like they were on fire?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes. You experienced sensory overload combined with, probably, a meltdown. This should help with that as well.”

Remus nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

A few months later, Remus was back on the couch watching a movie, only this time, he was coloring while he did it. Roman came out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand. “Dad, we’re getting low on meds. Might need to make another appointment.”

“Got it, Kiddo.” Their dad called back from the dining room.

Roman sat next to Remus. “Whatcha drawing?”

Remus smiled and held up a picture of his latest hyperfixation: Frogs. “Frogs!” He gleefully shouted.