#dad!roman

   “Virgil?” Roman greeted curiously and Virgil groaned in response, backing up to find a way around him. “Oh my goodness, how did you get an egg in your hair? Did someone do that to you? Who do I need to talk to? Do you need help?” Roman asked in quick succession, and each word grated Virgil even rawer than the last.

   “Shut up! You don’t even really care, so stop pretending!” Virgil shot loudly, throwing up his arms and stepping to the side to get around Roman, but he continued to stand there. More egg dribbled into Virgil’s face, and he screamed in frustration. Roman sullenly stepped aside, gripping his arms, and Virgil marched ahead to his bedroom, accidentally jostling Roman with his backpack on the way. Virgil slammed the door closed behind him without a single glance back.

   Roman stared despondently at the closed bedroom door, feeling lost. He had thought they’d made progress last week. They had watched a movie together, and Virgil even got a small amount of help with his math homework from Logan. Roman thought Virgil was finally getting used to them and starting to trust them.

   Virgil came out of his room a few moments later and stomped into the hall bathroom, slamming that door shut as well. Roman didn’t know what to do. Virgil was clearly too overwhelmed to talk, and removing the egg from his hair would be Roman’s priority, too. He didn’t want to leave things like this, but it didn’t feel like there was anything to do. Especially if Virgil still hated them just as much as he always did, and they had made no progress with him at all. Roman exhaled a sharp breath and left for his bedroom.

   Roman plopped onto the edge of the bed with a small bounce of the mattress and put his elbows on his knees to drop his face into his hands. If there was nothing to do, could Roman even call himself a parent? A guardian? Or is he just a person who lives with Virgil? When Virgil was even present, that was. He’d run away three times already and seemed to be a master at hiding.

   What was it about Roman that Virgil hated so much? Or was that an overreaction? He knows Virgil is going through something, and at an age when kids already have so much to deal with. Roman even knows it’s probably not even about him and just how Virgil feels about adults. He’s gotten into trouble at school for arguing with the teachers, too. But hearing Virgil accuse Roman of not caring at all stung. Did Virgil actually think that?

   The bathroom door opened with a click and a frustrated teenage sigh, but Roman stayed where he sat on the bed. He didn’t know what to say to fix any of this or if Virgil would even listen if he tried. Virgil skulked back to his bedroom, feeling better with the egg out of his hair and washing the day off of him. He noticed Roman and Logan’s bedroom door was closed, which was abnormal for them, but he was grateful to not have to deal with more people today. Virgil closed his door behind him quietly and kicked his backpack out of the way to go lie down, but he paused just before reclining.

   Roman had never done this before. He normally tried to ‘solve’ the problem and would annoyingly stick around, hovering over Virgil like some kind of vulture waiting for his demise. Did Virgil finally fuck up enough to get their attention? He wasn’t even trying to find his foster parent’s boundaries today. He was just sick of today and sick of life and couldn’t take anything else. But now he was going to have to tolerate something else. He was finally enough of an ass to cause Roman to change his tune, and that tune would probably be much darker now.

   Would apologizing even help? Could Virgil even apologize? He wasn’t even sure what he said anymore. His brain was feeling hazy and malfunctioning. He couldn’t handle being punished today. His skin and brain were already on fire with stress firing on all of his nerve endings. If anybody touched him, it would hurt twice as much. He wasn’t sure his brain could even take it. He was already at his wit’s end today. And Roman is so much bigger than his mother was. And Roman and Logan both exercised. They tried to get Virgil to join them multiple times. Roman was probably stronger than his mom was, too. With a harder fist and a stronger grip, yanking him by his clothes and choking the air out of his throat. The stale smell of his mother’s perfume laced with a sharp coppery smell hit his nose and Virgil gripped at his hair in a panic.

   He backed up, trying to get away from her. He could see her looming closer, but he rammed into something behind him. There wasn’t supposed to be anything there, but things clattered loudly down to the floor as he was cornered. His mom reached for that book and his breath caught in his throat and he balled up on the floor, striving to make himself smaller and harder to hit. There was nowhere to go, just try to protect the parts that hurt most when hit. Virgil’s muscles all tensed painfully as he held himself on the floor and struggled to breathe through his clenched throat. The blood pounded so hard against his skin that every pulse stung. The gripping pain in his head caused him to be afraid to open his eyes enough to even let in a sliver of light. Every breath he took was so sharp, it scared him it would be his last.

   The commotion from down the hall made Roman raise his head, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Was Virgil throwing things in his room again? He broke nothing last time and Roman genuinely didn’t know how to stop him from doing that, so maybe letting Virgil wear himself out was the best call. He couldn’t tell anymore. Continuing to allow Virgil to do that was dangerous and a major issue, and leaving it alone made Roman feel even more deficient, but he simply didn’t know what he could even say. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, leaning back on the bed before slipping and lying flat to stare up at the ceiling, feeling like he had failed.

   After a short eternity, the bedroom door clicked open and Roman shot his head over to see if it was Virgil. It wasn’t Virgil, though, it was his mildly haggard-looking husband coming into his bedroom, so Roman sighed and looked back at the ceiling. It seemed everyone was having a hard day. “Good evening, darling,” he greeted Logan sullenly.

   Logan leaned down and kissed Roman’s hand in greeting, letting out a weary sigh. “Is there a problem, love?” He asked, sitting down on the bed next to Roman.

   “I’m not cut out to be a parent,” Roman stated plainly, still staring up ahead at the ceiling. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. You said I’d settle into it, but I still feel like I’m stumbling in the dark and doing more harm than good.”

   “You are perfectly capable of being an excellent father, Roman. The fact that you are concerned about the repercussions of your actions is a sign enough alone,” Logan rebuked, reaching out to put his hand over Roman’s.

   “Being worried about messing up isn’t what makes a good father. And it isn’t so much about the consequences of my actions as it is that I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’ve tried everything and Virgil would still throw me off a moving train for a nickel, jettisoning me into some ancient mining quarry. I’ll watch the smoke billow from the train as I fall to my death for a shiny coin and Virgil won’t feel a thing,” Roman explained bitterly, gripping at the comforter.

   “I doubt he would trade your life for five cents,” Logan chuckled through his nose.

   “You didn’t see him scream at me for not caring,” Roman grumbled, reaching up to rub his face.

   “He did what?” Logan bristled, looking at Roman intensely.

   “He shouted at me, accusing me of only pretending to care about him, then literally screamed until I let him pass. I was too hurt to respond, so I just let him go,” Roman explained quietly, gripping at the sheet with his free hand while Logan gripped his other one. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not a suitable parent for him. I don’t think I’m a proper parent to anyone. You told me I’d be brilliant at this and that parenting would be fulfilling, and I believed you, but right now I just feel hollow. I really, truly believe that Virgil can be helped, but I just don’t think I’m the one. I have too much baggage with my own father. I barely know what it means to be a good parent. I feel like ‘just don’t be my father’ isn’t enough. Especially not for Virgil. He needs—”

   “Someone kind. And you are, Roman. You didn’t engage Virgil when he was lashing out, which is hard to do. You’re not an inadequate parent, and you’re not incapable of helping him. You know your father would have engaged Virgil and shouted back. In this situation, not being your father was enough. Other times will need more than knowing what not to do, but we will learn that. He is human and has human needs foremost, and treating him that way is an important part of parenting you excel at. Nobody knows how to do this universally. There is no professional class not run by charlatans, and the guides all say ‘do your best’. It is okay to feel lost. What’s imperative is to support Virgil, and I believe we are both capable. Virgil needing time and space to trust us is reasonable after what he went through,” Logan explained emphatically and put both hands on Roman’s.

   Roman sniffled and teared up a bit, nodding in response. He felt choked up suddenly at Logan’s sincere response to his panic. Roman swallowed heavily and sat up, pulling Logan in for a hug that Logan quickly reciprocated. He hugged Roman tightly, rubbing his back. “Thank you, love,” Roman creaked out. Logan just held him tighter while Roman’s eyes seemed to flounder on wanting to cry. A single tear escaped, and his throat felt tight, but that was all there was. “I wish I knew how to show him I cared and it wasn’t just an elaborate act,” he added under his breath.

   “We are working on trust with him. It will come in time. For now, I imagine he has cooled down, and I will go talk to him about his behaviour and see if I can find out why he felt the need to lash out in the first place,” Logan said softly, still feeling emotionally raw from seeing his husband hurt like that.

   “If it helps, there was a large egg crushed into his hair when he got in. He might have gotten bullied again.” Roman sniffled, pressing his head in to Logan’s neck for comfort. Logan rested his chin on Roman’s head affectionately and sighed, still stroking Roman’s back.

   “I wish he would let us help him with that. I could easily solve his harassment situation if he just told me who it was. He doesn’t have to suffer like this, and he still has no reason to take it out on you,” Logan groused slightly. He kissed Roman’s hair and pulled back, looking at Roman one more time. “Hopefully this won’t devolve into him shouting again, but it often does, so be prepared for that,” Logan warned him warily. Roman nodded and rubbed his eye on his sleeve. Logan stood up from off the bed and steeled himself for Virgil’s misplaced anger before heading down the hall and knocking on Virgil’s door twice.

   There was a small shuffling from behind the door, but there was no response. Logan waited for the shuffle to quiet before announcing that he was coming in and opening the bedroom door. “Virgil, I understand you likely had a hard day, but we need to talk,” Logan stated plainly, taking a deep breath. He needed to try his best to stay impartial, but making his husband cry was not something that Logan wanted to allow to continue.

   “Shouting at Roman because you had a hard time when he is only trying to help you is not alright. Please speak at a reasonable volume and tell us you need space before you’re comfortable discussing a subject. It is alright to not be ready to talk, but it is never okay to scream at someone. Please be mindful that we are also people with emotions, just like you, and we’re happy to help you find other outlets for your feelings than treating us terribly.” Logan explained as genially as he could, but he realized that his last statement ended up sounding passive aggressive. He took another deep breath and waited for Virgil to yell back, but nothing came.

   Logan watched Virgil ball up on the floor, chewing on his thumb and looking completely wracked. His hair was standing straight up in some parts, extremely tousled instead of Virgil’s normal bedhead. His face was red and swollen, and he looked hollow and utterly exhausted. He was holding a throw from his bed in his other hand and even though he was facing Logan’s general direction, his eyes were glazed and Logan wasn’t even sure he was paying Logan any heed. Logan balked slightly at Virgil’s appearance, but ignoring Logan completely wasn’t much better than yelling back.

   “Virgil, I need you to listen and pay attention to me, please. Avoiding the problem doesn’t make it go away,” Logan spoke categorically, but there was still no response from Virgil. Logan expected something like ‘I sure wish you would’, or at least an angry grumble, but there was nothing. This was very odd behaviour. He just continued chewing on his thumb and staring. “Virgil,” he said flatly. “At least get your thumb out of your mouth. That is an unhealthy habit. It is bad for your teeth and obviously causes harm to your hand,” Logan chided, and Virgil switched his thumb for the blanket instead. He was at least listening, yet Logan would have preferred a form of acknowledgment.

   “Will you tell me what the issue was in the first place that caused you to lash out so that we can treat the problem at its core?” Logan asked with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Virgil made a small ‘I don’t know’ noise from his throat, but he still didn’t speak. Was Virgil taking him seriously at all? He didn’t understand what was going on. This manner of conduct was abnormal for Virgil or any teenager. There wasn’t even a frustrated huff that Logan heard so much as a math teacher that the noise felt ingrained into his brain.

   “Virgil, are you paying attention to me?” Logan asked, and Virgil stared blankly at Logan for a moment. Logan took a deep breath to settle down, and Virgil nodded deliberately, making another soft noise from his throat. Was Virgil being obstinate in a new way? This wasn’t exactly objectionable behaviour, but it was an extremely one-sided conversation.

   “It is… very quiet over here,” Roman stated cautiously, walking up behind Logan. “What’s going on?” He peered into the room and saw Virgil on the floor, and slumped immediately. “Virgil…” Roman spoke softly. Virgil glanced slowly at him, looking absolutely terrible. Roman might have cried a little, but it seemed to him like he took the entire interaction much poorer than Roman did.  

   “Roman, I love your soft heart, but he pushed a boundary,” Logan said firmly, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he stepped further into the bedroom.

   “He’s clearly been through it, honey. He looks worse than when he got here. And they told us he literally fought the social worker trying to escape,” Roman stated compassionately, and Logan wilted. That was an accurate recollection. “Virgil, how about you help me clean up in here, then be my sous-chef for dinner, and we’ll call it even, okay?” Roman offered kindly, and Logan bristled again.

   “That doesn’t seem fair to you in the slightest,” Logan stated plainly, getting more frustrated at the situation.

   “They’re my hurt emotions, and I can decide what works for me for an apology. He had a hard day, and he didn’t deal with it well. I can’t say I’ve never done the same. We can talk more about it when he’s feeling better, but right now, I think we could all use a little comfort,” Roman replied, taking Logan’s hand briefly before letting go and moving closer to Virgil. Virgil stared at him blankly, but Roman moved to pick up the items that tumbled from Virgil’s shelf and motioned for Virgil to come over and join him.

   Virgil moved sluggishly and dragged the blanket with him, but he started picking things up and putting them back on the shelf along with Roman. They gathered the fallen objects and put them away together while Logan watched curiously, stepping out of their way so they could clean unimpaired. They gathered and returned things to their proper place up in short order, even with Virgil moving sluggishly. Roman began making the bed and Virgil followed suit, mostly just mirroring what Roman was doing. Roman tried to take the blanket that Virgil was holding to fold it, but Virgil’s mostly blank face morphed quickly to concern, still gripping onto the hem. Virgil made a weak noise of dissent and Roman stopped and released the throw.

   “Did you want to hold on to that?” Roman asked softly and Virgil nodded, his thumb making its way back between his teeth. “Alright, you can take it with you while we cook, as long as you keep it away from the food. Let’s go start dinner now,” Roman requested, and Virgil just continued to stare at him. “Come on,” he added when Virgil didn’t follow him out of the room right away.

   Virgil followed when Roman asked him to, and Logan watched with mild bewilderment as he complied. All three went to the kitchen in silence, with Virgil dragging along the blanket with him. It was new and interesting, to say the least. Roman rubbed his chin and stared at the fridge door briefly, examining the ingredients they had available on the list Logan kept posted on the door. He hummed, glancing at Virgil standing in the kitchen who was looking very lost and wringing his blanket slightly. Logan crossed his arms and watched them work, settling near the table and out of the way.

   “Virgil, will you get the pasta noodles out of the pantry? Not spaghetti, something smaller and shaped like rotini or farfalle,” Roman said distractedly, opening up the fridge. Logan observed Virgil blink a few times before going into the pantry, looking around like he was unfamiliar. He retrieved a box of cavatappi, dropping it immediately with a rattle of the dry pasta. Virgil bent over to pick it up, then walked over to hold it up to Roman. “Put it on the counter, darling.” Roman waved and Virgil went to the counter and gently slid it on the counter, knocking the box over and standing it up again. He went back to chewing his thumb while Roman withdrew cheese, a head of broccoli, and a few carrots from the refrigerator. He placed them all on the counter by the sink and started washing the vegetables.

   “Pull out a pot, a pan, and a measuring cup, Virgil,” Roman requested, and Virgil’s eyes followed his pointer finger before heading to the cabinet next to the stove to do as asked. Logan watched as Virgil seemed to continue to struggle over a simple task, but he put them on the counter without dropping anything this time, looking nervous again and chewing his thumb, stepping out of the way when he was done. “Thank you. Would you pour out a cup of milk for the béchamel?” Roman followed up with the next request. Virgil made a small noise and went to the fridge, extracting the milk and taking it over to the counter with the measuring cup.

   Virgil slowly tilted the carton into the measuring cup, but he splashed some milk on the counter. Logan grimaced and Virgil continued to pour, measuring out a loose cup but leaving a mess all over the counter and down the side of the container.

   “Virgil, are you feigning incompetence to not have to do things?” Logan asked shortly, but Virgil glanced at him in confusion, then looked down at his hands briefly. Virgil’s hands were shaking visibly.

   “It’s a full carton, love, it’s just an accident,” Roman replied airily. “Wet the kitchen rag and clean that up, alright?” He added, looking at Virgil. He did as asked, cleaning up carefully, including the dribbled milk down the side of the carton before Logan took it and put it away for him. Virgil went back to chewing his thumb with one hand and gripping the blanket like his life depended on it with the other, and Logan uncrossed his arms. Virgil still looked straight ahead, like he wasn’t seeing anything in front of him while he stood next to the counter, gnawing on his thumb. “Are you that hungry, Virgil?” Roman asked playfully, shaking off the extra moisture from the vegetables in the sink.

   Logan suspiciously moved closer to Virgil to check on Virgil, but blood spattered down Virgil’s cuticle immediately drew his attention. “Virgil, go wash your hands,” Logan pointed to the sink, and Virgil looked at him in confusion. “Virgil.” He said slower, miming washing his hands. “Please wash your hands with hand soap,” he directed. Roman stepped out of the way and Virgil did as asked as Logan got the first aid kit out of the pantry and pulled out the triple antibiotic and a finger bandage.

   “Is everything alright?” Roman asked in confusion, dropping off the vegetables on the counter.

   “… Roman, have you ever witnessed Virgil have an issue with chewing on his hands before?” Logan asked, taking Virgil’s hand away from him before it ended back up in his mouth and bandaged up the bleeding cuticle.

   “I’ve seen him chew his nails and pick his cuticles, but not the actual skin, though. But why are you asking me? You know he doesn’t appreciate it when we talk about him as if he’s not in the room. I’m sure he’d rather you ask him,” Roman asked, bending down to pull out a cutting board for the vegetables.

    “I’m not positive he can answer right now. Virgil, can you talk?” Logan asked, making certain the bandage was securely in place. Virgil’s mouth opened and a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak came out. He closed his mouth again and shook his head. Logan smoothed over the bandage a few times before letting go of Virgil’s hand.

   “Is he okay?” Roman asked with concern.

   “I’m not sure. Virgil, what’s two plus two?” Logan inquired, causing Roman to make a baffled face, but Virgil held up four fingers in response after a pause. “Three times three,” he asked next. Virgil processed much longer this time, looking strained, before holding up nine fingers, pinching the blanket to his hand with his thumb. “What is one hundred divided by twenty?” Virgil’s face furrowed up as he tried to think it through, and he looked ill before the blank expression washed over his face once more. “Virgil?” Logan asked, but Virgil didn’t even seem to hear him that time, absently already picking at the bandage on his thumb. Logan tapped his hand and carefully pushed Virgil’s other hand away from the bandage, but he still was not present. “Virgil,” Logan said once more, tapping Virgil’s hand more firmly this time. Virgil blinked and finally looked at Logan in the face.

   Roman watched with confusion the entire time, not sure what was happening. “What does that establish, doc?” Roman urged with concern, turning to lean on the counter.

   “I’m not positive, but I think Virgil is severely dissociated. I suppose it could be an elaborate ruse, but I doubt a teenager could be this thorough about it.” Logan rubbed his face, feeling mildly distraught at this turn of events.

   “Is that something that he needs to see a doctor for?” Roman asked, examining Virgil with worry.

   “A mental doctor, yes. There is nothing on his medical record that indicated he’s ever had an issue even relating to this,” Logan answered, sounding distracted.

   “We’ve already been trying to take him to a therapist and he keeps disappearing when it’s time for his appointments. What are we supposed to do?” Roman asked, gripping at the countertop and frowning deeply.

   “Tricking him might make him hate us or, even worse, he could run away somewhere far from the house and be more at risk of harm than he is hiding in the suburb.” Logan took in a deep breath, letting it out with a forlorn sigh. Roman moved the cookware to the stove and grabbed a knife for the cutting board to continue with dinner while he thought. Virgil’s fingers ended up in his mouth again, and Logan gently pulled them out, and he went to the fridge to pull out a carrot stick and handed it off to Virgil. Virgil took it and looked at it like it was an alien object. Logan mimed chewing on the carrot stick and Virgil followed suit, now gnawing on that instead of his hand.

   “Is spacing out one of those innocuous things that are a sign of an underlying problem?” Roman asked, sorting out everything to chop up on the cutting board.

   “Dissociation isn’t just ‘spacing out’, Roman,” Logan corrected him distractedly, watching Virgil gnaw at the baby carrot while he processed.

   “Oh, I thought it was the medical term for it. You drop those out of nowhere on me.” Roman chuckled breathily, his humour not returned to him enough for a genuine laugh.

   “No, dissociation is the brain’s response to enough stress that the brain shuts down to protect itself from being traumatized. It looks like spacing out, but is a more severe version of it and is functionally different,” Logan explained tiredly.

   “Wait, what? Logan, I swear, I didn’t even respond and just let him be! I certainly did nothing that wicked!” Roman shot in a defensive manner, his hands slamming on the counter.

   “No, I believe you, darling. Children who have an issue with dissociating are often doing it because they have no other coping mechanisms, and it doesn’t have to be caused by anything major occurring or universally traumatizing. In the past, he possibly…” Logan trailed off while Roman took a deep breath to calm back down. “Oh. I knew he had mental health issues because no healthy child lashes out as much as he does—”

   “Or would run away when you make him his favourite food,” Roman added, slightly exasperated.

   “Yes, that too. But I mean… hold on. Virgil?” Logan tapped Virgil’s hand again, and Virgil’s eyes moved up to look at Logan. “Would you like to colour while we finish making dinner?” Logan asked, and Virgil took another moment to process before nodding. His head moved without his hand, and it knocked the gnawed carrot stick out of his mouth. Logan bent down to pick up the carrot and chucked it in the garbage, then went to gather Roman’s mandala colouring book and markers from the living room. He placed the collected items on the kitchen table and put his hand on Virgil’s back to lead him to the table. “You can colour with these on any empty page.” Logan handed Virgil a marker, and Virgil took it carefully, sitting down on a dining chair.

   “Did he actually do something you suggested for fun without fighting about us not knowing him?” Roman asked warily, a single nervous chuckle breaking out. Virgil put the blanket on his lap and popped open the marker cap and clicked it closed.

   “I do not want to cause him further stress by our discussion, and I am not sure if he can pay attention to more than one thing at a time,” Logan informed him why he temporarily derailed the conversation now that Virgil had something to do other than chew on himself.

   Roman watched Virgil play with the marker caps a few more times, while Logan flipped to a random page in the colouring book for him. Virgil didn’t seem to notice, completely enthralled by the clicking pen cap until Logan took another marker and put a mark on the page, which drew Virgil’s attention. “You’re probably right about that,” Roman said, his tone mixed with amusement and apprehension.

   “Roman, we might have made a mistake,” Logan stated plainly, pulling out a chair to sit sideways and face Roman. He didn’t sound upset, but Roman bristled at the idea alone.

   “You said I did the right thing by not engaging when he screamed at me.” Roman’s face fell further, looking heartbroken.

   “No, not about that. That was correct. He is still learning emotional regulation and giving him time to cool down was the correct thing to do, this situation aside. But I think we’ve been interpreting his behaviours wrong.” Logan quickly assuaged his husband’s insecurity, though he was feeling a little emotionally worn out himself.

   “In what way?” Roman asked, already looking much better.

   “I’m not saying all the episodes aren’t him lashing out due to frustration with his situation. Some of them still could be. He is in a difficult position as a foster child, and has limited resources to cope with all the things he has no agency in and his past houses that did not treat him well. But anger doesn’t always come from a sense of injustice or unfairness for your situation,” Logan answered, feeling more exhausted and guilty as things settled into place in his mind.

   “I mean, he certainly has a good reason to feel the world isn’t fair to him,” Roman interjected matter-of-factly.

   “While that is true, I mean that anger can sometimes just be a mask for the fear response. He’s afraid. More deeply than he might even know. Dissociation, at its core, is a stress response. And dissociating this severely when there wasn’t even a fight might be an indicator that Virgil has PTSD.” Logan rubbed his face and leaned back on the table, glancing at Virgil who had his tongue slightly out while colouring at the mandala messily with an indigo marker.

   “Oh…” Roman uttered softly. “Oh, no.”

   Logan watched Virgil colour as if there was nothing else happening in the kitchen at all. “Indeed.” Logan looked over to Roman, who was also watching Virgil with deep concern. “Instead of just trying to give him the space he requires to realize we’re here to support him and not control or hurt him, we should switch our focus to make him feel safer. Obviously, he still needs boundaries about his aggressive behaviour enforced. He cannot continue going through life being mad at the world and making it everyone else’s problem. But step one has to be that he recognizes he is safe before we even do that.”

   “How do we do that? We’ve been trying to do so already,” Roman asked, his voice tinted with exasperation.

   “Comfort and careful words, I suppose. I am unsure. I am not a mental health professional and there is sadly not a formula for this,” Logan replied, glancing over to Roman, who seemed amused, a small smile on his lips. Logan arched an eyebrow at him at that incredibly out-of-place reaction.

   “Of course you’d want a formula for trust, teach.” Roman snickered slightly, turning back to the counter to return to preparing dinner.

   “Well, one would certainly be nice!” Logan expressed sourly, running his hand through his hair.

   Roman paused while cooking to lean and glance at Virgil, who had a blank look again, just holding the marker and staring at the colouring book. “... Do we need to take him to a clinic? He really doesn’t seem like he normally does,” he asked warily.

   “No, that may stress him out more. A quiet evening should help. If he wakes up tomorrow still dissociated, then we should consider that to make sure he is okay, but shutting down from a stressful day is fairly normal, even if it rarely includes someone being this dissociated,” Logan answered, leaning on the table and feeling somewhat battered.

   “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m already making comfort food. A movie after dinner, then? Virgil agreed to watch one before, so he might be more comfortable with it now,” Roman suggested, slightly more upbeat at the concept as he got back to cooking dinner.

   “Yes, I’m not sure if he can do much else. We will just try to keep an eye to make sure he isn’t getting distressed. A lighthearted movie with low stakes, ideally. It would be best to monitor him until he seems more present. Him chewing into his cuticle enough for it to bleed without reacting might mean he’s not feeling pain right now, so he could seriously injure himself if left alone.” Logan ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses.

   “Will he be able to eat?” Roman asked warily.

   “I believe so. He can colour and wash his hands, so he should be able to put a fork to his mouth and chew just as well,” Logan replied, feeling mildly relieved about that fact alone. He could feel reassured Virgil’s needs are met, if nothing else. It was difficult for Logan to not feel ineffectual and helpless in this situation.

   Roman snorted a little laugh through his nose and Logan looked to Roman in puzzlement, and Roman was looking over to Virgil. Logan looked over and Virgil was chewing on a marker cap. Logan sighed and took it out of Virgil’s fingers and guided the hand holding the blanket back up to his mouth, which Virgil started chewing on the fabric without hesitation. “I don’t think getting him to put things in his mouth will be hard in hindsight, no,” Roman remarked with humour and smoothly returned to deftly cooking dinner.

   “We might need to get him something designed to chew on. Though many people do not remember what happened during a dissociative episode, he might not understand why we are giving it to him.” Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose just under his glasses pads. “He doesn’t appreciate being treated like a child, so it might be another argument,” he added wearily.

    “He might not remember this?” Roman asked with a pause, continuing to prepare food a few moments later. “He could probably use the calm evening after his day. I wonder how he even got an egg in his hair. He didn’t come home late enough to go to someone’s house,” he pointed out.

   “It may have happened anywhere, things are chaotic when school gets out, and it is easy to miss student misconduct among the hoards of evacuating teens,” Logan stated with a small sigh, tossing a glance to Virgil who was still colouring and chewing his blanket. He was looking slightly better, though could use a hairbrush.

   “It looked very wet still. It might have happened on the bus. Hopefully, he’ll be willing to answer who, so we can solve this. Whoever he’s been jousting with at school seems to keep escalating, and I am worried that Virgil may do the same,” Roman pointed out with a bitter twinge to his words.

   “He… may very well be doing that. I would like to avoid Virgil getting in trouble at the school, but until we know what’s going on or who it is, there isn’t much we can do. We can try bribing him for information, but I do not want to set a precedent of doing that every time we need to communicate,” Logan agreed, feeling very lost on how to proceed. “I am used to things being straight-forward. Having a clear step to take to solve an issue. This is… very messy.”

   “So might be Virgil once he gets a fork and this mac and cheese,” Roman joked airily, lifting the mood a little.

   “He does seem to be acting very young at the moment. A napkin bib could be helpful since he has already showered,” Logan said with a small nod. “Hopefully, he will not bite me if I put one on him.” He smiled at the thought.

   “Entering the chew-zone seems perilous for fingers,” Roman concurred cheekily. “I want a picture of him in a bib so badly, but he may very well try to kill me if he ever discovers it.” He shrugged his shoulders a little while he kept cooking.

   “Getting pictures to show a therapist the dissociation might be a good idea.” Logan hummed, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “Perhaps just for medical purposes, though, just to avoid stoking his ire further. I doubt he would consent to us keeping those photos. I am sure you can get photos with him in the future, Roman. He just needs time,” he tried to reassure his moping husband.

   “How does he not see how adorable he is?” Roman asked incredulously, moving over to the stove with his prepped ingredients and supplies. “I just want pictures to show my friends! And maybe the internet, though I don’t want his identity to get mixed up with my career. But my fans would love him, even with his identity hidden, I’m sure!” He declared enthusiastically. Roman gasped delightedly. “We could take a post mani-pedi selfie together!”

   “Virgil most likely doesn’t want to be on your social media, darling. He has been adamantly against photos of himself,” Logan replied warily. Roman sagged slightly at the rebuttal.

   “That is… very fair, considering. I hope he opens up about his interests soon. He could still want to try out new fashion and glamour products,” Roman stated slyly, stirring on the stove.

   “I am aware you are enthusiastic, love, but please do not buy twenty outfits in the hopes he picks one. He could very well burn them in a pyre.” Logan rolled his eyes slightly, checking on Virgil again after Roman scoffed. He still seemed okay, at least for someone possibly not aware he was even in reality. The blanket looked wet with spittle, which caused Logan to grimace a little.

   “Playing with fashion is important to figuring out your style, darling. I just want him to learn how fun self-expression can be. I’ve seen him glare at himself in the mirror. It’s just a shame, and it was fun for me when I was younger to try on being new people,” Roman explained himself, waving with his free hand while he stirred.

   “Fair point, love. I perhaps am feeling sensitive about this whole situation. It is very hard to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped,” Logan conceded softly, casting a glance at Virgil again, who still didn’t seem aware of very much, but had switched markers.

   “Showing him it is okay to be helped could be a good start. You were certainly very resistant to help when we met. What helped you decide to accept it?” Roman inquired, keeping his focus on the cooking.

   “Largely your tenacity. I wanted you to shut up about it,” Logan said teasingly, but Roman only chuckled in response. “But perhaps also the concept of help being available and beneficial settling in. I had gotten too used to receiving poor help that resulted in more things I had to solve. We would have to learn what Virgil’s issue is. He could associate it with being rejected, punishment, or any other negative thing without knowing.” Logan weighed the options a moment. “Perhaps we could get him to play a word association game,” he suggested brightly, enticed by the concept.

   “A great future plan for when he isn’t drooling on a blanket or screaming at us. One step at a time, my miraculous ray of light,” Roman reminded him softly, and Logan sighed and sagged at the table. There was a long pause of nothing but the sounds of cooking and the smells in the kitchen growing progressively tastier as they both stewed on the subject after that.

   Roman was nearly done with cooking when he had the idea, and it hit him so suddenly he dropped the cooking utensil, which caused Logan to jump out of his solemn reverie. “Are you alright, Roman?”

   “Do you know what is fun, rebellious, cool, and could give Virgil a sense of control over himself?” Roman asked cheerily, feeling very pleased with himself for coming up with the idea.

   “We’re not getting him a motorcycle, Roman,” Logan joked flatly, causing Roman to chortle.

   “No, no. We let him dye his own hair. He picks the colours and does it himself. If he could choose something about himself and make the change himself, he could be more open to trying it with other things in his life,” Roman explained his idea with glowing pride while he prepared dinner.

   “Those chemicals could be very dangerous to children, Roman. I am not a fan of that idea. And what if it looks horrendous? He had no experience in hair dying and bullies at school could harass him over it,” Logan disapproved of the idea outright, pointing out what Roman seemed to overlook.

   “We can either dye it back or just let it grow out and cut it off. It’s hair, it’s not permanent. And surely you can do it safely. I am absolutely positive that with enough research we can avoid issues, or so many children wouldn’t have it. And well, for the bullies… there’s not much they’re already not doing. I’m not sure that it matters unless he tells us who it is to help him. Maybe if they bully him for it, he might get mad enough at them to fess up, too.”

   Logan stared at Roman for a moment, processing all that information. “That is a fair assessment. On the condition that we only provide him the dye if I can find a safer method, and he agrees to learn how to use it properly, it has the chance to have a very positive effect on Virgil’s life, as well. It may be worth the risk if he is enthusiastic about the idea,” Logan conceded to Roman, though his tone still wasn’t particularly agreeable. Roman beamed anyway, happy to win an argument and try something new.

It really doesn’t seem like there’s anyone for me

But dear hmm-hmm, I hope you like your name

I’m hoping that someday I can meet you on this earth.

But shit I gotta meet your mom first.

Roman hummed along to his own version of the song, not bothering to pay attention to the actual lyrics right now. He had always planned on raising a kid, going on little imaginary adventures, helping them become an amazing person, watching them grow into themselves and helping them through their trials. He sighed. However, once he realized he couldn’t seem to be attracted to anyone, he figured that dream was done for. Sure, maybe he’d just find the right girl, or even boy or person, but that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. He knew that adoption was a possibility, but he didn't even know if they would let him do that without a spouse.

Too bad Roman was never one to let his dreams die, so as he got into his car, he smiled and sang his own lyrics to the song on the radio. 

Virgil smiled at the kid jumping up and down with his new family. That was Patton, a sweet kid who had been there for a few years. He deserved to find his family, he'd been the stand-in parent for everyone for a while. After several waves goodbye, Patton left and there was a hushed silence before it was interrupted by the usual sniffles and tears from everyone left.

Virgil didn't need a family, or parents. He couldn't. He did fine by himself. And he just had to repeat that to himself, over and over. He wouldn't miss or need anyone. He was okay.

He wasn't really okay. He just didn't want to look like a cry baby. But in all reality, he wanted to cry, he wanted a family. He wanted someone to want him. Like the song.

Dear Virgil, I hope you like this song.

And even when you're thirteen

And you scream at me for parenting you wrong

Virgil would never scream at someone, not if they tried. No one ever really tried.

I hope it's still a badass song.

It was. And he clung to his lyrics, they brought him such hope. That someone would actually be there for him, and not worry about how much he spoke or played with the other kids.

One of the staff members, Virgil didn't think to learn their names, walked into the the main room. He didn't want to try to handle that right now, so he grabbed a nearby blanket and curled up into a ball underneath it. He didn't want to hear about another kid getting adopted, or put here, or even worse, more foster home garbage. So he hid.

That is, until someone tapped him on approximately his shoulder. Oh no. He popped his head out from under the safety of his little blanket shelter, fearing for the worst like a rabbit that had been called out by a predator. 

"Virgil?"

He nodded hesitantly, his words caught in his throat once again. 

"There's someone here who I think would like to meet you."

Roman waited, anxious. His dreams of parenthood seemed so close to reality. He had been accepted! He was honestly surprised. Apparently his ‘agent,’ Natalie, had found a suitable kid for him to meet today. He was worried though. What if this kid hated him? That sounded likely. He just wanted this to go well, if not for himself, for the poor kid. This whole system sucked, and meeting random strangers must be terrible. So Roman really wanted to make a good impression. 

After a couple of minutes, Natalie came back with a small child. He looked like he was desperately trying to hide in his clothes to get away. 

“Virgil, this is Roman Sanders. He’s an interested parent, and I think you’d like him,” she told the child with a smile. “Roman, this is Virgil.”

Virgil? He had always liked that name.

Roman smiled and said, “Hi, Virgil! It’s good to meet you.” He waited a moment, but he got no response. Natalie frowned at Virgil, but he didn’t seem to care. He was adamant about being quiet.

Natalie sighed, “I’m sorry, he’s a bit shy, I don’t--”

“Oh, no it’s fine! I totally understand. You’re probably pretty tired of all of this, huh? You don’t have to say anything, but I hope you don’t mind if I talk your ear off, do you?” Virgil looked confused for a moment, then shrugged.

This guy was weird and… different from what he was used to. During their first meeting, Virgil wasn’t forced to talk at all, and that was nice. He didn’t really know what to say anyways, so having the option to not was helpful. He didn’t want to say something rude accidentally or mess things up. 

Over the next couple of weeks, they kept getting little sessions to talk, and they weren’t bad at all from what Virgil could tell. They moved away from the little room in the house and started introducing virgil to Roman’s apartment. Pretty soon Virgil could even talk to him. Which, that wasn’t very difficult, considering most of the time he could carry on a conversation just fine with little to no responses. Roman could probably have a conversation with a statue. 

Virgil was visiting Roman again today, he wasn't sure exactly what they were doing. Probably movies or video games. But he was still excited. He had really started having fun with him lately, Roman was nice. He let Virgil be who he wanted, didn't get mad when he was quiet or scared. He appreciated that.

“Hey Virgil!”

“Hi Ro."

Today, Roman was beaming. Virgil was confused, something felt different about today. What was going on?

Natalie, Virgil finally learned her name, smiled and showed virgil a pile of papers in her hand, and the letters bolded on top of one of them read out, “Report Of Adoption.”

“What? Is this…”

“Yup!” Natalie said cheerfully. “Now, this isn’t technically required, but Roman insisted that I ask for your consent here. Are you okay with this?”

Virgil paused, looking past Natalie at Roman. He looked hopeful. And Virgil smiled.

"That… that sounds nice. You really wanna...?"

Roman kneeled down with a sympathetic expression. "Of course I do. You're a great kid, Virgil. I want you to be happy, okay?"