He nods, taking mental notes for use later.

Dad's sudden question sends Roman's eyes darting anywhere but at him. His heart paces, the sound of its rapid thumping fills his ears as silence wafts into the room.

"Alright, I guess." he lies.

Bravado inflates his chest, and he forces himself to glance up at his dad. Emerald hues waver in their resolve, clashing with the proud smirk sprawled across his lips.

"I broke a kid's arm today. I heard the bone snap and everything."

boruta maher

Mom hadn’t told Bo that--just that he'd gotten into a fight. Why hadn't she told him? Was this a game? A lesson? His head drifted to the side a touch as his brain struggled to comprehend what he was hearing. This was… his fault still, wasn’t it? Somehow.

He tried to keep the burning hiss of his sharp breath inaudible.

This shit reminded him of them.

Rocket. Cian. Their father. (CIAN MAHER )

“Mm.” That was more than a black eye returned. That was a life-long enemy. That was fucked up. And the way Roman described it… the smirk on his face… it was chilling, and made his heart sink. This shit was genetic.

He was calm, at least on the outside, but his smile had vanished.

“Why’d you do that?”

Roman Maher

With bated breath, Roman waits for his dad to yell. It's what mom would do in this situation. The opposite happens, and he's left staring at dad with wide eyes.

Why.

No one had bothered to ask him that before. Roman's shoulders tense, and that cocky smirk of his fades.

"Because he deserved it."

Cold and angry with little regret or remorse for what he'd done.

boruta maher

Bo’s brow twitched a little and he stared, rotating his head a bit again. There was a light sigh.

“Alright.”

Crossed his arms, and leaned his ass against the edge of the counter. His gold eyes searched the boy’s, noting that the look of ultraviolent confidence had left him, at least for the moment. Good.

“What’d he do?”

Games were also genetic, apparently.

Roman Maher

There's still no yelling, only a sigh that seems filled with disappointment. Ro shifts, fidgeting with the belt loops of his pants now that he's the center of attention.

"Why's it fuckin matter?"

His dad's only asking what Roman wants him to. Doing the exact thing he'd been complaining no one did moments ago.

Then why did that make him so angry?

"It's not like you really care."

boruta maher

“Hey! Don’t talk like that, come on. I'm sure your mom doesn’t like that.”

He looked at his feet a moment, arms already unfurling again to put hands on his hips. At the next bit, he scratched his head, already growing towards exasperated—though he didn’t let it show too much. He wasn’t good at this.

At least, he didn’t feel like he was.

It wasn’t like he really cared, he said.

That stung. Bo knew deep down that there was no way to reverse that feeling in Roman after his absence. He looked at his shoes a moment and nodded. Turned his head over his shoulder to check the water and cleared his throat a bit.

“It matters because there is right and wrong in the world, Ro, and I’ll be damned if I let you turn into the wrong.”

He pressed. “What’d he do?”

Roman Maher

Dad's right. Mom didn't like the foul language. He'd gotten into trouble a handful of times before now for it. Sometimes it felt like the only reason he used it was to piss her off.

A nagging impulse compels him to start listing off bad words as if he's some old-timey sailor. He can feel it hammering into the back of his skull like at Pikipek at a tree.

The intensity grows as his dad pushes for an answer.

"I don't fucking care about right or wrong." he sneers at his dad from behind emerald greens. "And I don't give a shit what you want either." his voice brims with boyish anger.

From the floor, Po wines.

boruta maher

That was answer enough.

Bubbles began to rise in the water behind him. It was nearly to a boil.

He didn’t crack. Didn’t yell. Merely turned, and began ripping tops off of boxes. He had to think for a moment. Set them to the side. Water wasn’t quite there yet.

Kids like Roman didn’t surprise him. He’d seen plenty of them in Rocket.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t expect it of you, Ro.”

“You don’t have to care—I can’t make you, but you do need to understand some shit.” He put hands on his hips as he watched the bubbles increase in the pot even more. “And it’s my job to make sure that you do.”

“Come here.” His eyes were still on the water and he pointed. “This is what a ‘rolling boil’ looks like.”

Roman Maher

Didn't expect it? Roman's not surprised. The only expectations anyone had for him were bad ones. Well, either that or none at all. The kid was never sure which he preferred.

"Understand what shit?" again, the desire to be mean pecks at his mind. This time something keeps it at bay.

For whatever reason, Roman's feet move forward when dad says to come. Unfortunately, he forgets that Ro's not as tall as him. Roman can barely make out the bottom of the pot without something to stand on.

"You're an asshole. I can't see anything."

boruta maher

Bo looked down at his son and kicked himself inwardly.

Unable to come up with an answer immediately, he went the way of suspense, taking on a false, but to a child, likely convincing air that he withheld his wisdom by choice. In reality, he had none. As a father, he was flying by the seat of his pants.

“You’ll find out, won't you?” It wasn’t a lie.

Bo shot a sharp look down at Roman, then, not hesitating. “You’re an asshole. Stop talking like that.” He then shook his head with a sigh and went to grab a chair.

Setting it down behind Ro, he presented it with a hand.

Roman Maher

Silence.

Emeralds look at the offered hand with a cold hesitation. On an icy tundra, a Cubchoo locks eyes with a Beartric. Obedience asks the bear, rebellion replies the cub.

Anger snaps as a frosty front tumbles in.

"You stop talking like that." tiny hands attempt to bat dad's hand away. They lack the strength needed to make it budge.

boruta maher

A pacifying sigh hissed from his throat. Bo shook his head more, retracting his hand finally when it was batted at.

Sadness lingered in his golden eyes, which fell to a box of mac n cheese. He grabbed it, and, seemingly giving up on his teachings for the day, poured in the contents. Then, a second box. No amount of familial hardships would damage the man’s appetite. Roman wasn’t eating alone, regardless of what a stinker he was being.

Bo Fished in drawers for a spoon, stirred, dried it with a few taps on the pot, and set it aside. Set a timer on the stove. Seven and a half minutes.

“What happened at school, Roman?”

Let’s try again, with more bass in the voice.

Roman Maher

The deep bass of his dad's voice tears the storm brewing in his chest asunder. Limbs shake as the winds calm, blowing truth out his lips.

"He called me a bastard." lips purse into a tight line filled with anxious energy and repressed rage. "I hit him, but he wouldn't shut up. H-he...he said you weren't here because you didn't love me."

"So I stomped on his arm until it broke. He shut up then."

boruta maher