#i dont want to stress my aunt out she and her fiance have enough to worry about with the baby

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: “the tiniest life boat...full of people I know”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn’t mean it’ll always hurt, nor does it mean they can’t have fun along the way. It’s senior year. Everything may be different. It won’t be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au,  fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)(16) (17) (18) (19)

(20) (21)

Lo:W Lo: Why Lo:Why are babies like this

Rem: you mean disgusting right?

R: stop shading them when they can’t even defend themselves

Remy: AM I WRONG THO

Dm: Yes.

Remy: fuck you Remy: you cannot tell me the wiggling, crying, shitting masses are adorable Remy: it's PROPAGANDA.

Dm: I’m pretty sure you just described yourself drunk

Rem: fuck. you. pretty. boy.

Dm: Aw you think I’m pretty?

R: why can’t you guys be nice to each other :,(

Dm: you told logan to eat ass like ten minutes ago so

Rem:and aren’t you like putting pink glitter on all of virgil’s clothes

R: hey hEY HEY I NEVER CLAIMED TO BE NICE

R: I SAID BE NICE TO E ACH OTHER.

R: anyway how are my favorite twins

L: Terrible. L: Arlo’s crying bc we wouldn’t let her eat a charger

L: Louie is determined to fling himself off of random objects

R: i love them.

Dm: Roman no.

R: roman yes.

L: And my parents are getting the Look again L: I swear to god they’re planning for another

R: ew ew no not that put that back

R: your parents are so sweet i doNT WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT

Rem: i will never get overr how Rem: those horny ass hippies made actual old man logan

L: Neither Will I

Dm: Why diI

Something crashed.

The sound splintered the silence of the home and Dmitri stilled. He eyed his partly opened door, not daring to breathe.

He’d been sent to his room for most of the day while his “birthday” preparations were underway. It was mainly for show, but Dr. Montag seemed genuinely excited about the occasion. He’d always seemed excited about “family” things, and Dmitri had gotten to the point where it no longer felt...as threatening.

Sure, he wasn’t going to be calling him dad or uncle anytime--ever, but it was a nicer way of looking at family events then what he was used to. And what was he used to?

“What are you fucking stupid?” his aunt said, her voice booming throughout the house riddled with accusation.

Dmitri felt the rising panic in his throat and he tried to make himself smaller---quieter.

He eyed the open door like the stupid mistake it was.

Following this came softer apologies. Dr. Montag’s voice unclear, but concerned.

That brief moment didn’t last as his aunt lashed out again, “No--No-No! I will not be fucking shushed. This is my house, who do you think you are?” she said.

As if to emphasize her point she got even louder, “ What do you think this is? A game? You think we can play the house and make it work? No, I need commitment, not this---Don’t you dare try to bring that fucking parasite into this.” Dmitri heard stomping down the hall, getting closer, and she hissed, “It has to be perfect--You promised me we would be perfect--”

Her voice dropped, soft whimpers following.

“Patty please, the doctors said--”

“I don’t care what the doctors said, you're just… you’re just trying to make excuses--” She was hiccuping, her voice becoming more strangled, “I doubt you even love me. You said you wanted to keep trying, but now you're scared? What kind of man are you? What would my father think? If you don’t want to get married just say so you poor excuse for a gold digger.”

Silence.

No crying, no screaming, only silence.

Minutes later, he heard the front door close. Minutes after that he heard his aunt’s bedroom door slam.

Minutes later, Dmitri could be more bothered he supposed.

He could be more alarmed at the wave of nothingness he felt draining away at him. But he wasn’t sure what he had to be emotional about. His aunt? Sure he had constant guilt about anything to do with her, but nothing that ever made him feel like something wasn’t clicking.

Like something was just out of reach, so close, but now it was gone.

He went to tend to his plants. He maneuvered around the shattered glass, ignoring the birthday decor that will probably be unceremoniously trashed now that his aunt no longer had a fiance to show off--and no longer had a potential child to boast either.

She would never hear the end of it from his grandfather, he assumes, so in turn, he will never hear the end of it from her.

As he was picking his way through his tools and eyeing the nursery plants, he noticed a flat, wrapped box, knocked off one of the patio tables. It's tag clearly labeled with his name in fancy cursive script.

He glanced back at the house, fingers skimming the edge of the obnoxiously bright wrapping paper and carefully peeling it apart, hoping the creaking sounds weren’t as loud as they sounded in his head.

Inside where a pair of yellow gloves, gardening gloves, and a note.

---

Dear Dmitri,

I know I’ve only been in your life for a short amount of time, but I’m glad your aunt and I have decided to make it work. I’m glad to have met you.

I may not know your situation, I may not know you, but I’m going to trust my gut on this. You’re a sweet, smart kid with a promising future in anything you set your mind to. I hope you trust me enough to help you with exploring that future. I’ve always wanted a family, and I know that your aunt hopes to build one too.

Happy 18th birthday! Let’s hope for 18 more :)

-

Happy 18th birthe for 18 more :)

-

birthy! Let’s hope f8

- Lets hope f -

hope

----

Dmitri’s vision blurred, the paper’s ink becoming smudged and he tucked it away, shaking. Tears rolled down his face quickly and the more he tried to stop the more they came.

His throat was tight. He couldn’t breathe---his grip was tight on his shirt as if it would steady him but he couldn’t--he couldn’t---

He fumbled for his phone, the box hitting the ground sometime in between as he sank to the ground, hitting the first number in the contact list.

He needed to hear someone--god anyone. The dial tone felt like an eternity, each ring feeling a hammer to the chest.

Then finally he heard a click.

Then he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. Sure it was deeper, more assured, but at the end of the day, it was still---

“Emile?” Dmitri said, crying even harder.

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

#Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #roceit #sanders sides #ts sides #ts emile #ts logan #ts remy #antithesis