Things We Hide || Sanders Sides

~Part 12~

Trigger Warning ~ crying, descriptions of injuries, mentions of child abuse and physical violence, extreme bullying, homophobic language

They didn't talk about what happened. They were scared to. More accurately, Logan was scared to incase Roman burst into laughter and confirmed his worst fears, pointing out how naive he had been and the tears that time around would be from laughing. He still very much doubted that this would happen - over analysis of the situation led him to believe Roman - but the doubt was there. Always there.

He'd also decided that he needed time away from him. Whilst Roman stayed in the park until long after the sun had disappeared, slowly eating through the packaged sandwiches that Emile had left him, Logan returned home. Instantly regretting it.

His parents, he found out too late to avoid it, had switched roles once more whilst he was out and had firmly locked themselves into helicopter mode. Extreme helicopter mode.

Hours and hours and hours of his evening were spent going over test after question after entrance exam, each somehow more strenuous and time consuming then the last. Then there was the lack of food, the lack of sleep, the lack of general rest which slowly built up and pushed down on his shoulders, painting dark bags underneath his eyes and putting a strain on his entire body that led him to collapse into bed by Sunday evening. Picking up his phone, Logan barely managed to set an alarm for school, hands shaking so much from the effort that it took several attempts for him to get it right. He had several messages from Roman, missed call after missed call and even though he knew he needed to reply, he dropped his phone onto the side and passed out within seconds.

Roman was concerned. Greatly. He'd hidden on his bed, locked the door and refused to leave for the past two days. He knew that Logan couldn't always reply but he didn't know what had happened, he didn't know if Logan was hurt or upset or worse. Mind, he'd also had a lot to have to deal with alongside Logan, including the banging on his door and drunken slurs which made him glad he'd locked it earlier.

Putting his headphones in, Roman watched as the door rattled, straining to remained closed and the handle was forced down over and over and over. Turning up the music, he stayed, back against the wall and wished that it was tomorrow already.

Concealer, Logan discovered, was a lot harder to apply then he had thought it would be. His entire face looked exhausted and he really didn't want to have to try and explain why to anyone, so he'd searched through his things and found a small bottle of concealer which he thought could have been from when he was director of the school play. Probably.

Trying to rub it in with his fingers, Logan made sure he was satisfied that it wasn't obvious, quickly shoving things into his bag and running out the house. Firstly, he didn't want to have to deal with his parents and secondly, he nearly missed the bus and he didn't know how he'd explain being late to anyone. 'sorry I was putting on makeup to hide how tired I am' was not going to cut it. Giving the bus driver a glance at his pass, he flung his bag onto one of the seats and sat beside it, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. This was hell.

"Ayy the fag is back!"

Wincing slightly, Logan pretend not to hear the laughs from the back of the bus, focusing his eyes in front of him so much that his head began to hurt.

"Can't hear me or something? You know, being gay and rude isn't gonna get you anywhere."

Muttering complaints about how being homophobic wasn't going to get them anywhere either, Logan pulled out his phone and opened his messages. Twelve from Roman, the initial ones just saying that he hoped he was alright, desperation edging in until the last one.