TW// Panic Attack

        "GET THE FUCK out of my apartment," Roman seethes, a vein popping in his forehead. "That was me asking nicely. The next time, it won't be like that."

        Roman's father smiles cuttingly, staring at his son. "Your threats are baseless. You won't hurt me. You have too much of your mother in you."

        "You may come to find that I've changed."

        His father pats his chest mockingly. "Not that much."

        His eyes turn on me and I can feel it pierce through me like a sword. It was a look of pure hatred, one that I'd never seen in its entirety before. I knew the gears were turning in his head just as much as I knew why he hated me. For loving his son. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Giacomo. And you?"

"Why are you here?" Roman presses, staring at him before I could even think to answer. Roman was taller and seemingly stronger than his father but that didn't seem to matter much. I watch as his back muscles flex. "We haven't spoken since you kicked me out, remember?"

Giacomo laughs harshly. "You're the one that left. After knocking up that slut."

"Do not talk about Eden that way," Roman rasps angrily. "You have five seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing here, or so help me God, I will call the police."

Giacomo leans forward, pressing a hand to a chest. My eyes widen in horror as he begins coughing repeatedly. He grabs a handkerchief from his well-kept suit pocket and coughs into that for a few minutes. When he's finished, I noticed specks of red on the white tissue. "You're sick," I realize, and Giacomo's eyes stare me down. "You're dying, aren't you?"

        Giacomo's eyes narrow in on me. "You're not as dumb as you look, I suppose." His gaze turns back to Roman. "Stage four lung cancer. The doctors have told me I'm going to die."

        Roman's jaw clenched. "So, what? Did you come here to say goodbye? To ask for forgiveness? Is a monster like you even capable of that?"

         Giacomo leans against the door, clearly exhausted. "Why don't you let me in and find out?" He snaps his fingers towards me. "Boy, help me sit down."

         "No. You walk in yourself," Roman croaks, opening the door wider and stalking to the couch. I follow after him, taking a seat beside him on the couch as his father limps over to the opposite chair. It's cruel, but I can't bring myself to feel sorry for the man. I also can't blame Roman for doing it.

        He takes a seat in the chair, glowering at Roman as he sits back. "Small apartment," he notices. "You run out of your savings yet, son?"

        "Don't call me that," Roman whispers. "I don't care if you're dying, I don't care if you came here for pity. I am not your son. So get to the point or go."

        Giacomo's eyes flash to me. "Anything and everything I did was to protect you, boy. Do you think you'd be who you are today without me? Think you'd have anything without me, hmm? I made you." He laughs harshly. "I made you and this is the thanks I get."

         "Thanks?" I hiss harshly. "You're not just sick, you're delusional. He has no reason to thank you. Not when you've made his life a living hell."

        Giacomo's eyes go back from Roman to me. And then he laughs. "Oh, I see. He's told you some story of me, has he? Of how I was just this big, bad monster that ruined his life? Aren't you so sweet for sticking up for the little runt?"

         "Get to the point," Roman repeats, fuming, "or go. I won't say it again."

        Giacomo laughs. "I remember the day you were born. Remember naming you after your grandfather, bless his soul. Putting my everything into raising you, teaching you everything you needed to know. It's not my fault you took the wrong turns. It's not my fault that you chose to become like this. All I ever did was help you learn.

        "I thought I'd have a few more years before I had to do this," he grumbles, staring down at his hands. "I thought I'd be here much longer than this. But it doesn't matter. Verdant Oil is a relatively young company. Without proper leadership, it will fail. And, unfortunately, I cannot lead it any longer. Which means that you must."

Roman pales. "No."

"Shouldn't you hear my offer out first, boy?" Giacomo presses. "You're my only son, moreover, my only child. No one else is equipped for this role. No one but you. You have a legacy to carry on. People are counting on you for this."

"No, you're counting on me for this," Roman argues. "Why should I help you?"

He smiles sadistically. "What a stupid question, Romano. Of course, you should help me. Because I'm the only one who can help you."

        Roman and I exchange a look. "What?" he whispers.

"You could capitalize on this business, Romano. But only if you play your cards right," Giacomo says. "There's a house in Italy. It's big, with multiple bedrooms for your child and Eden. You will be wed to her but are free to do as you please with any lovers you like...discreetly." His eyes dart to me. I glare back. "You'd run the business out there. Further it in Italy, come back and make more profit in America."

"You're insane," Roman chuckles. "I'm not moving my family to Italy for your business and I'm certainly not marrying Eden for appearances. Take it to the grave with you. I don't want it."

It's instant. Giacomo's eyes turn deadly and he slaps his hand on the table. I watch as Roman flinches before he sets his jaw. "It's not about me, dammit!" Giacomo yells. "Think of your little girl, will you? How often do you see her? Do you honestly think this is enough for her? Going back and forth working minimum wage just to not be there for her?"

Roman looks away and I can see he's considering his father's perspective. My heart clenches. Malibu was one thing; San Francisco was another. But Italy?

My heart thuds against my chest. I rub it with the palm of my hand.

"This is the right move, Romano. You could have everything," Giacomo says. He's right. He could have everything. I just wouldn't be around to see it. "Find me in a week with your answer." Giacomo's glare cuts to me before he turns back to Roman. "Think critically. Not emotionally. I know you'll make the right decision. Son."

Roman is motionless. I suppose Giacomo lets himself out of the apartment, but I don't watch. My eyes are solely on Roman. I watch as his hands shake, as his eyes stare down the seat that his father sat in just moments before.

And then he's crying.

The only other time I'd seen Roman cry, really cry, was when we cut his hair in the bathroom after Pride. He was drunk and even then it wasn't a huge breakdown. Not like this.

         The tremors in his hands spread to his entire body as if he were fighting with himself. I stare up at him and grab his hand only for him to shove out of my grip. "Roman?" I whisper, worriedly. A sob wracks through his body, just once, and then he covers his mouth to stifle the sounds. "Roman, we're alone. He's gone, okay?"

        He was still shaking. Shaking like he was frozen cold, shaking as if he'd never be still again. I realize he wasn't only crying. This was a panic attack.

         Immediately, a wave of panic washes over me. I didn't know how to do this. I didn't know how to calm him down. That's what he did for me. I didn't know how to do that for him.

         "Roman," I say, struggling to keep the worry from my voice. "Roman, it's okay." I reach forward to touch his shoulder and he flinches away from me as if I'd burned him. He didn't want to be touched. He couldn't. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to...Rome, I know it hurts but you have to breathe, okay? I—I won't touch you, just...breathe."

        He does. He takes a staggering breath, a painful-sounding one. "Good. Again," I say. He takes another breath, longer this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. The panic attack had stolen his voice, too. "It's okay, you don't have to talk. We can just sit here, it's okay."

        That's what we do. For a while. I'm not sure how much time has passed before his tremors slow down. Before his breaths become regular. He leans forward onto his elbows and his shoulders slump. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeats, over and over. I stare at him, frozen. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do.

        His muttering stops eventually and I figure that the worst is over. Roman lifts his head to me and I see his bloodshot eyes, his tear-stricken face. He curses lowly before wiping a hand over his cheeks and sighing. "Sorry, Braylen."

        "Stop," I mouth, shaking my head. "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who's sorry. I was pretty much useless that entire time."

        Roman smiles ruefully, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles. "There's not much anyone can do when I get like that. You helped, though, okay? I promise," he murmurs. I open my mouth to argue when he leans forward and rests his head on my lap.

        I bite my lip and look down at him, at his closed eyes and red face. I fall in love a hundred times over. "I can't believe that just happened," he whispers.

        I had questions. So many questions and none of them were okay for me to ask right now. But I had to. I ask the one plaguing my mind the most at the moment. "What are you going to do?"

        He doesn't answer for a long while. I run my fingertips along his face as his breathing slows even more. "I don't know," he says slowly after a few moments.

        "It's a generous offer," I point out, almost bitterly.

        "Yeah," he agrees. My fingers stall as Roman sits up, eyes turned down on me. "I feel like shit for asking this of you. But I—"

"Need to be alone," I finish. His lips turn down and I force a smile. "I get it. I understand." Roman darts his eyes away and I reach forward, cupping his face in my hand and bringing his eyes back to mine. "Hey. I get it. I do."

Roman wraps his arms around me, tucking his nose into my neck. "I'm sorry," he repeats. I hold him tighter.

It takes me all of fifteen minutes to pack up my belongings and leave Roman's apartment. We knew it was temporary but I couldn't stop myself from wishing that it weren't. I also couldn't stop myself from wishing that his dad had never shown up, never interrupted my confession. Did Roman know how I felt? He had to, right?

I load all of my things into the car and wipe away a stray tear. I was exhausted. And, truthfully, I was ready to go home too.

The drive to Oba's house is short and in no time at all, I can see the beige house standing tall in front of me. More tears spring in my eyes at the sight of it. I blink them back. It was just a house. Just a house.

I unlock the door and step inside. It smelled like cinnamon and something lemony and I was inhaling like crazy. It smelled like home.

"Hello?" I call out. "It's Braylen. Anyone here—oh!"

Bridget and Bethany rush into my arms, nearly taking me out onto the floor. "Is it really you?" Bridget gushes. "Oh my gosh!"

"You're a douchebag for leaving us like that!" Bethany groans, clutching me tightly. "We missed you so much."

I couldn't help it. I was in tears. "I missed you guys, too. So much."

Beth and Bridge pull back from me, eyes wide. "What happened to your hair?" Bridget asks, laughing loudly.

I wipe tears off of my face. "It's a long story."

"You'd better tell it later," Hiro says, running down the stairs two at a time. "You'd better tell them all."

I grin, holding out my arms. "Hi, little brother."

"Hi," he responds back, crashing into my arms immediately. I tuck my face into his shirt, still crying. "When you said soon, I didn't think you meant this soon."

"Surprise," I murmur, and we both laugh.

I pull back from him and let out another watery laugh before glancing around. "Where's Aunt Amanda?" I ask, my heart still thundering in my chest.

Bethany speaks up. "She's—"

The back door opens and there's Oba, dressed in overalls with dirt smeared on her face. "Those gardenias better look good before my wedding, I'll tell you. I've been watering them for too long for them to still look so dead."

She shrugs out of her garden gloves before turning to us. The shock on her face sends a pang through my heart. And then she's smiling and running up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and crying softly. "Oh, it is you! God!"

I hug her as tightly as possible, wishing I could take away all the pain I knew I caused her when I left. "I'm so sorry, Oba."

"Shh," she shushes before pulling back to get a good look at me. "What on earth happened to your hair?"