Ren squeezed Roman’s hand softly, rubbing his thumb in circles on the other’s palm, leaning up on his toes as the other pushed the key into the lock and pecking his boyfriend on the cheek. “I wasn’t going to say anything about the key, babe, I just– last time, when I asked if you reported them to the police, you…you said you didn’t know if they were out of the country or not, you said it was too late for you to do anything, and it’s not– it’s just not fair, is all, that they’re still sitting pretty in their white picket house with no consequences, that’s all.”
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.
“There’s not much else to see…well there’s my room and their room and the bathrooms and stuff upstairs if you want to look at that.” Roman said looking out in to the hall glancing at the stairs.
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