November 9

     Roman got off work at 12, which left exactly one hour to get ready and be at the diner to meet my mom. My hands were shaking, and I jumped when I heard him knock on my bedroom door. He didn't wait for me to invite him in, which was good, because I doubt I could speak even if I tried. "There's my favourite emo," he said cheerily, walking past me and straight to my bed. He was wearing a light peach-coloured shirt with black pants. I watched as he silently stared at the outfit options I had laid out. After a moment, he just mumbled, "Well this is tragic." I rolled my eyes. On my bed was a black button-up, black t-shirt, purple t-shirt, and the cleanest-looking black jeans I owned.

     "I don't own nice clothes," I admitted. I felt suddenly guilty that I hadn't gone out to purchase something better to wear. He sighed, then smiled over at me.

     "May I take a look in your closet?" he asked. His innocent tone made me even more nervous, so I just shrugged and sat on the bed. He turned to the closet and threw its doors open. "I guarantee we can do better than that. It's lunch, not a funeral."

     "If you're looking for something with more colour, tough luck," I said. He flipped through numerous black (mostly band) shirts before landing on a grey knitted sweater. I felt sick just looking at it. It was something I bought for myself for going out with my ex. Conveniently, I bought it right before he stopped taking me on dates, so it was never actually worn.

     He pulled it out with a satisfied nod. Before I could protest, he tossed it at my face. "That with the jeans. Get changed and meet me in my car," he said, and I heard the door shut. I pulled the sweater off my head and let out a slow, shaky breath.

     I wanted to disappear into the covers of my bed and never emerge.

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     "Nope, no, take me home," I said when the diner came into view. Roman chuckled, but even he seemed a little jittery. We pulled into the parking lot.

     "You'll do fine," he assured, glancing at me with the most synthetic confidence I'd ever seen from him. "Plus, you've got a mighty prince to protect you!" That part was genuine. I allowed myself to smile, and we finally stepped out of the vehicle. The air was cold and full of tiny snowflakes, though it was too soon in their fall to actually cover the ground in any way. I wished I'd brought a jacket, but before I could even process that thought completely, we were inside.

     It was 60s themed, with checkered floors, bubblegum walls, and red and white booths that were brimming with families. I looked at Roman, who was looking at me, and for a moment we were in our own little bubble. It was like we were separate from the resonant chatter surrounding us. It was impossibly bizarre, but it still made me feel more at ease, even just a little. It was a fleeting moment, as I heard the tired-sounding voice of a middle-aged smoker calling my name. I winced and looked around.

     Sitting alone at a red table beside the bar, under a neon sign shining with the words DRIVE-IN, sat a 47-year-old woman with greying hair. She was dressed in ugly blue dress pants and an off-white blouse. I looked at Roman with pleading eyes, ready to beg him to pretend we didn't see her so we could just go home, but he placed his hand on my back and guided me forward. I knew that I couldn't resist without causing a scene.

     The table sat 4, so I sat across from her and Roman sat next to me. I tried to get comfortable on the weird, flat barstools that the table had. It was no use.

     There was a moment where none of us spoke. I looked from the table to her and then back to the table. A few more seconds passed, and as it grew more awkward, I gave in. "Hi, mom," I said, meeting her brown eyes. The last time I had seen them, they were burning with resentment. Now they were just dull, like the eyes of an old doll.

     "Virgil," she greeted. Time was not treating her kindly. Even though she had barely any signs of wrinkles, her voice really did sound like that of someone much, much older, and the longer I stared, the more tired she appeared. "You look... healthy," she said, though her gaze was elsewhere now. Her eyes wandered the restaurant before landing next to me. "I don't believe we've met," she said to Roman.

     "Oh, no," Roman said, smiling politely. "My name is Roman, your son is a very good friend of mine."

     My mom raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you're wording it?" she asked. It was the kind of thing that might be said as a joke, but there was not a hint of humour in her voice. Her eyes met mine again. "I thought we were past all of this. We're not here so you can keep these secrets."

     "Excuse me?" I asked. Roman looked like he wanted to speak, but I kept going. "You stopped having the rights to my secrets when you belittled me and tried to convince me that the person I am was an illness. I can keep whatever I want from you." I tried to keep myself calm and not let my anger seep out too much. I wasn't here for a fight, and she wasn't worth the looks we'd get if I raised my voice.

     "Oh, come on," she said. "It's been, what, 5 years? 6?"

     "It's been 8," I spit.

     "Fine, 8 years. It's been 8 years, and you still haven't gotten over that?"

     "Gotten over it?"

     "I mean, really it was nobody's fault but yours. Your father and I raised you right. We raised you to be a man. Your mistakes are on you."

     "My only mistake was agreeing to come here," I said, ready to stand up and walk away. I was stopped by Roman's hand grabbing mine under the table. I froze up for a moment, but the simple gesture made me feel instantly better. It was like I remembered how to breathe. I looked over at him and his features were calm.

     "Forgive me for intruding, ma'am," he said. His tone was still polite, and he didn't falter at my mother's offended expression. "I understand that whoever raised you did a terrible job, but the only mistake that I can see is that you turned away the most wonderful human being this universe has ever made. I mean, look, you've been treating him like rubbish for more than a decade, and he's still here to give you a second chance." He still seemed so serene, as if he weren't talking to a horrible person. I squeezed his hand, hoping it would make him stop, but he just shook his head.

     My mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. "He made a choice. If I were you, I'd get out before his disease can spread to you, too," she said.

     Roman squeezed my hand, and I saw a new kind of spark in his eyes as he stared at her. He looked ready to kill, but his voice was still calm somehow. "I'm sorry, is it a choice, or is it a disease?" he asked rhetorically. I tried not to smile, but a smirk still fought its way to my lips. "Listen. You are very lucky that you brought Virgil to this world. At least your existence wasn't a complete waste, eh?" He looked at me finally. "We should probably get going, should we not?"

     "Yes, I'd say so," I said, smiling gratefully. We stood, keeping our hands together. I almost laughed at my mother's glare. We started to walk away. When we reached the door, Roman stopped and turned around.

     "Oh, and one more thing," he said loudly so she could hear him. Everyone else could hear him, too. She looked up with a frustrated glare. "I am radically gay."

     I didn't have time to freak out, because he was pulling me out the door, and his laugh was too contagious for me to be upset. Even the cold air didn't faze me as much. Our hands didn't part until we reached the car.

     I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my hair. "You're such an idiot," I laughed out.

     We started the drive back to Patton's place. Roman had the Mulan soundtrack playing over the speakers, and hearing him singing along was a nice distraction from the thoughts that I could have been thinking. After A Girl Worth Fighting For, he turned it down. "Hey, I actually need to show you something," he said somewhat nervously. I looked at him and he was fidgeting with the steering wheel. My stomach began to twist. "Do you mind if we make a stop?"

     I silently shook my head, sinking into my seat, suddenly wrapped back up in my previous anxiety.

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     I was more confused than worried when we parked in Roman's driveway. He had developed this little half-concealed smile that he was hiding by looking anywhere but me. I undid my seatbelt, but he stopped me and told me to wait. He jumped out of the car and ran into the house.

     A couple of minutes passed. There was the passing thought that he'd left me out here on purpose, or that he forgot about me, or that something bad happened, but it was luckily eradicated when Roman opened the front door and waved me over. I let myself out of the car and walked up to him. "Now," he said. I stopped to listen. "To be truthful, I've been hiding this for a week now."

     "It's that bad?" I asked, frowning.

     "No, it's just-"

     "You were scared," I smirked.

     "What? No!" His eyes were wide.

     "Sure, Princey."

     He just sighed and took my wrist in his hand, pulling me into the house. My breath caught in my throat at the action. Inside, the air was warm and smelled like vanilla and mint, like him. I breathed it in for a moment. "Okay, so, please don't be mad," he said. I tilted my head and looked at him. Despite the guilty statement, he was grinning as he slipped his hand into mine and lead me further into the house. We walked through a hallway and stopped at a door. I looked at him cautiously, and he nodded and motioned towards the door.

     I took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. As I slowly pushed it forward, there was a noise on the other side, high-pitched and loud. Barking? "You didn't," I said, looking back at Roman. He pretended to zip his lips. I grinned and opened the door, immediately being jumped on by a white ball of fluff. "Peanut!" I knelt down to get closer to him, trying not to smile too wide because I was starting to feel stupid. Still, I was shaking with joy as I scratched behind his ears. He hadn't grown since I'd last seen him, so he was still just a big puppy. He licked at my face, and I laughed and shoved him away gently. "How and why?" I asked, leaning back to look up at Roman.

     "He made you so happy," he admitted, smiling shyly. "Plus, look at that face." He knelt next to me and ruffled the top of Peanut's head. "How could I not?"

     "Thank you," I said, but it wasn't really what I wanted to say. If I weren't afraid of rejection, I might even have said what I was feeling in that moment. It was never that simple though. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and hid my face in his shoulder. "Thank you."