Who: Rome and Aaron What: TV Troubleshooting Where: Hamartia 202 When: Before Rome’s conversation with Drake about their father. Warnings: Some isolated language, as it’s Rome.
Though Aaron didn’t have classes or a job yet, he wasn’t idle. Job hunting took a lot of time, and while he had his eye on the prize of a Seattle Times position, he knew he had to stay on earth. Even if he managed to land the gig - which wasn’t likely, he knew - it likely wouldn’t be enough. His days started early in the hopes that an early visit would make a better impression on his future bosses than a late-day arrival. The whole process left him weary, wracked with nerves and unease. What if none of them hired him? What if no one in the city would hire him?
As he climbed the rickety stairs of the Hamartia complex, he reminded himself that he had to stay positive. Someone would hire him, eventually. Even if he was washing dishes, he’d find a job somewhere. With a small, mildly forced smile on his face, he reached the second floor. He was about to launch into a mental pep talk about the virtues of patience when something else caught his attention.
Someone was shouting nearby, someone angry. He hesitated on the landing, hand on the railing, as he peered down the second floor hallway. After a few moments of listening, he carefully left the stairs, creeping down the hallway. Whoever it was sounded angry, or in trouble, or both. He couldn’t quite tell. Biting his lower lip, he walked past the doors until he seemed to have located the apartment in question - 202. The sounds seemed to be coming from there, and really, what harm was there in making sure everyone was okay? After a few moments of hesitation, he knocked, hoping that if someone was in trouble, it wasn’t particularly violent trouble. He was wearing the wrong pants for a fight.
Rome only had one pair of pants, and at the moment they were hanging in the bathroom of his apartment, dripping onto the broken tile. He’d used some pink liquid soap he’d stolen from a public bathroom, and the place smelled like damp wood and weird fake pink soap flowers. Upon closer inspection, the door had been jimmied, the jamb scarred, and at Aaron’s touch the door swung open, revealing a very scrawny Rome in blue boxers, gray socks, and full t-shirt and oversize jacket.
He was crawling over the tv and poking at its back, trying to get the white snow to resolve into something besides... white snow. His Noise, increasingly ‘audible’ so near, rattled with frustration. What is the point of hauling this piece of crap all the way up here if it’s not going to work, I could static someone to death but otherwise it’s fucking useless, maybe if I stuck some wire in it? He rolled off the top of it and gave the machine a kick.
The fact that the door swung open automatically made Aaron hesitate. Was this trespassing? The door had just opened on its own, he’d barely touched it. So maybe it was only half-trespassing. Chewing on his lower lip, he leaned into the apartment, eyes wide and curious as he saw the unusual scene set before him. He touched two fingers to his temple, flinching slightly at the sound that burst forth from this very tiny boy.
“Uh...” Aaron started, taking a few cautious steps forward. He flinched visibly as the boy kicked the television, trying not to think about how much that likely hurt. Aaron was well-acquainted with what hurt and what didn’t, and while he had gotten used to the nightly punishment of a few well-placed kicks, he wasn’t exactly a glutton for it. “Hello? Your door kinda swung open, I don’t mean to trespass, but...” He paused, looking about the barren apartment awkwardly. “I could hear you from the stairwell, is...everything okay?”
Rome would declare that he was not tiny, just--thin. Of course, Rome also had a perception that tangled hair was cool, and so it was hard to argue such things with him. He did look remarkably knobbly-kneed in his faded blue boxers, however, and he spun around with a sharp note of silent surprised interrupting his Noise, which picked up again a second later.
Who is it? No one I know, come to steal what I have? Fight him off. He tensed and moved in front of his belongings, all of which were piled in a strange, rat-like little nest in the corner, surrounded by water-stained boards and empty space. The squinting eyes took a better look at Aaron and the things he said, however, and Rome quickly revised his (audible) opinion. No, already got things, nice clothes, looks like he goes to a boarding school, what’s he want? I’m too loud? The Noise, which wasn’t really volume but rather perception, had quite subsided to this point to what could be compared to a conversational level. I am fine, Rome decided, giving Aaron a slightly less suspicious look.
Well. This was different. The boy’s lips weren’t moving, but someone was talking. Aaron looked around the room in wide-eyed confusion as if hoping to see the video cameras that proved he was being “punked.” When he saw nothing, he raised both hands, palms facing the boy, and took a slight step away from his pile of belongings. How the hell was he doing that? He supposed the guy with spider webs coming out of his wrists shouldn’t be allowed to judge weirdness.
“Okay,” he finally said, his voice sounding breathless - betraying the fact that he’d been holding his breath ever since he heard the words “fight him off.” He let his arms drop, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from visibly fidgeting. But his elbows bowed and straightened a bit as his fingers tangled together, knotting and unknotting nervously. “I’m not here to steal your stuff or anything, I just...heard you and thought you’d need some help.” He hesitated, looking over at the TV. “TV troubles?” he asked, though he knew the answer was obvious. “I might be able to help. Can I...?” He gestured with one hand, looking to the other boy expectantly.
Rome caught Aaron watching his mouth and he self-consciously pulled on the huge oversized collar of his jacket so that it unfolded and came up over his lips. He looks kind of nervous, Rome observed, pleased that he had the upper-hand and therefore feeling far more secure even though-- Wish I had pants on. Easier to meet somebody when you got pants, he thought, regretfully. I’m Rome. Y’know, like the city. If you want to give it a shot, sure. But I don’t think it’s going to work, I couldn’t get it to work, there’s no more places to plug in to get picture.
Rome shouldered his jacket a little more firmly on his shoulders and backed off, bare feet silent on the damp board, to give Aaron a clear shot at the TV, which was in perfect working order. Carried it all the way up here myself. Sucks if it won’t work.
The fact that the other boy went through the pains of pulling his collar up over his mouth made it obvious to Aaron that something strange was going on. But what? He couldn’t say. “Hey,” he said cautiously in response, keeping a faint smile despite the fact that his gut was telling him to run in the other direction as fast as his legs could carry him. “I’m Aaron. Not like any city, as far as I know,” he added with a small half-laugh.
When Rome stepped back to give him direct access to the TV, he moved towards it, just looking at the thing for a few moments. “Hmmmmm,” he murmured, shifting around behind it. He was no expert TV repairman, but for some reason, he was sure he could do something to help. Or maybe he would just trespass into a stranger’s house and get his ass handed to him by a guy wearing boxers. Peering at the cords, he loosened and then tightened them, squinting as he did so. “How’s that?” he asked from behind the screen, fingers on the cord.
Since the difficulty was that only the electricity cord had been plugged in, or indeed even had a place to be plugged in, all Rome saw was more snow. Not changing, he said, the words ‘sounding’ no different from any of his more private thoughts. Rome didn’t really understand how televisions received pictures. He assumed that you plug it in and it just starts working. That wasn’t happening, so his must be broken, logically. Maybe it just doesn’t work, he said, scowling at it as Aaron dug around in the space behind.
Fast food wrappers and an old pizza box were the primary furniture of the place. Rome’s tattered backpack sat open and squished since he was using it as a pillow, and other than a beat-up office chair Rome had scrounged off the street while it waited for the trash men, there wasn’t anything else in the room.
“Well,” Aaron said, pulling lightly on the cords as they trailed away from the television. He could see where the electrical cord had been plugged in, but what of the rest? He pulled at them, revealing their ignored endings. “It looks like you don’t have the cables plugged in. Now I don’t have a TV here, so I don’t know where the cable box is.” He stood, stepping over the random debris as he approached the wall. “Do you?” he asked Rome as he paused, looking along the wall curiously.
A box for cables? Rome thought, blankly. He moved a few steps to the side so he could get a look at the cables Aaron was holding, and those didn’t make any sense to him either. I thought those were to play movies, he thought sheepishly, perplexed. More wall plug-ins? This dump have anything like that? I thought it was abandoned, but this guy is here, too clean to be squatting. You live here?
It was surreal, having a conversation with someone that wasn’t even moving his lips. And the random asides, the comments that he certainly wouldn’t hear, made Aaron the slightest bit apprehensive. It was scary, the idea that you could hear what someone really thought about you. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “See, the cord you plugged in gives the TV power so it can turn on. But if you want to watch things on it, it needs to be plugged into the cable box. Or whatever it’s called.” He scratched his jaw, frowning as he looked about. At the question, he glanced to Rome, nodding. “Yeah. Upstairs.”
In Rome’s experience, people didn’t see what they didn’t want to see. When they didn’t see his mouth move they assumed they missed it, that he was mumbling, that it was some trick. Very few people had ever actually accused him of reading minds, they sounded crazy and they knew it. Generally he just ran the other way if someone actually took the phenomenon seriously--if he hadn’t already run for some other reason.
Rome was disappointed that his find wouldn’t yield hours of luxury entertainment. Oh, guess I should have known that, he said, the thought colored with chagrin as well as disappointment. Can you steal something like that off someone? I bet they take real good care of them. Where do you plug it in if you get it? He leaned forward to look at the cords, rising on his toes.
Rome’s reply was met with a small smile and shrug. “Nah, it’s kind of weird. I mean, TV should work just by plugging one plug into the wall. But I guess that’s too easy and convenient.” He chuckled, leaning against the wall. The question about stealing made him hesitate. “Uh...” he said slowly, eyes widening. “I’m not sure. There should be somewhere to plug it into, on the wall. Usually it’s in the living room-type place.”
Rome just stood there, equally as awkward. I think this is the living room, he admitted, looking around. Obviously, the stealing comment was not meant to be ‘aloud,’ and he hedged a little uncomfortably since he knew as well as Aaron did that it had been. Sucks, he thought, rather helplessly, most of his anger gone now. It was a good find, lucky find, and now it seems kinda pointless. Thanks for looking at it.
“Oh,” he said softly, glancing down. After a moment, he glanced to Rome, shaking his head. “It’s not totally pointless, I mean...cable boxes aren’t unicorns. They’re somewhere.” He chuckled lightly at his own joke, scratching at his arm. “And no problem. I just feel bad I wasn’t able to make it work. Unless you like watching the blizzard channel.”
No, I want to watch something, I just don’t know how to make it work. Might be able to find a cable box at the Goodwill, or maybe the people around here don’t have very good locks. Rome rubbed at his shoulder and scowled. Now what, he’s gonna go tell people to hide their stuff, or they won’t believe him, or I could borrow, do you have a cable box? he asked, hopefully, as if the entire rest of his train of thought had not been utterly obvious.
If Aaron had ever tried to name a conversation past as the strangest he’d had in his life, this one took the cake by far. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to address the comments that were clearly not meant for his ears, or if he was just supposed to ignore them. “I’m not going to...warn anyone...” Though he was going to promptly invest in a better lock for his apartment. The last thing he needed was someone intending on stealing something cheap and replaceable and ending up with his Spider-Man suit in their hands. “And sorry, I haven’t even thought about getting a TV yet. I just got here not too long ago, I’m still settling in.” And amassing the money necessary to buy a TV and all the needed accessories. “But tell you what, I’ll be looking for one soon, and when I find cable boxes for cheap, I’ll let you know where I found them.”
Have to be really cheap, Rome said doubtfully, mistrusting. It wasn’t really possible to know what one was ‘supposed’ to do in a conversation with Rome. Can’t prove I did anything anyway, he said, almost a warning, not looking frightened but feeling it anyway. I don’t want to leave, it’s warmer here than outside, what’s worst he can do, run me out, tell landlord? Does he pay rent?
The urge to jump out the window was overwhelming. They were only two stories up, and Aaron was sure that he could catch himself in time. But no, he had to push those thoughts out of his head. What if this kid could read his thoughts? What if everyone could read his thoughts? What if- He mentally slapped himself. This wasn’t helping. “Well, I’ll let you know anyway,” he offered, feeling that if he did that much, he’d actually helped. Even if it didn’t really help Rome at all. “And I’m not going to...run you out. I’m not the apartment police.”
Rome didn’t get why Aaron was looking at the window he’d clumsily repaired with a paper shopping bag and duct tape; he looked at it too, not seeing anything but broken glass, then back at him. What’s he looking at? A second later he shrugged. Okay, cool. Let’s me know about easy cable boxes. Maybe I can make it work then. You don’t run me out and I don’t run you out, if I could, not that I can, but I might try if you tried it with me. Don’t think he will.
Aaron flinched when Rome seemed to notice his window wishes. Looking back to the boy, he smiled, managing something genuine. After all, it was clear that this guy had something going on. Some ability that was making him project his thoughts this way. And if Aaron panicked and ignored him - like he imagined so many did - he wasn’t contributing to the solution. He was just adding to the problem. “Sure thing!” he chirped, peeling away from the wall and stepping over piles of debris on his way towards the door. “I’ll slip a note under your door?” he asked, gesturing to it.
Rome didn’t know what the smile was for, but he uncertainly returned it, all lips and no teeth, cautious. Um, sure, even though he could just come in, I don’t want people just coming in, maybe I can block the door with the tv and come through the window. The trash wasn’t piled too high, maybe a week’s worth, and thank god nothing that smelled. Rome just moved through it rather than around, shadowing Aaron to the door, but not too close. You’re really not going to tell anyone? he asked, dropping his nose to hide his mouth with the question in what looked like long habit.
He hesitated briefly at the mention of blocking the door. Raising a brow, Aaron glanced to Rome curiously. “Or I’ll just...tape it to the door, maybe.” He’d figure something out. Hell, he could even get it through the window - spider webs were a real gift. Pausing at the door, he nodded at the question. “I’m really not going to tell,” he repeated. “Promise.”
Underneath is okay, Rome thought/said hastily, shrugging as if he didn’t care when obviously he did, because he continued, I was just thinking that it’s too easy to get in, I mean other people, not me, and not people helping with my tv. I sound stupid. A mental sigh. I always sound stupid, why can’t you just hear the parts I want you to hear instead? The flicker of frustration didn’t even pause before he added, Thanks for helping me.
It was obvious by Aaron’s expression that most of the nerves and apprehension were melting away. The more Rome “spoke,” the more relaxed Aaron seemed, until he was smiling genuinely at the thanks. “You don’t sound stupid,” he said with a shake of his head. “Just think of it like this: you can’t help what we hear. Other people that sound stupid choose to sound stupid. Which is more stupid, if you think about it.” He gave a small chuckle, stepping out into the hallway. “And it’s not a problem. If I find some cheap cable boxes, I’ll let you know.”
Rome wasn’t much reassured by that. He sounded a lot more stupid more often than most people did, and thought it out loud, but of course he didn’t actually want to continue a conversation about how stupid he was, so he just gave an awkward kind of nod, a little wave that said he didn’t wave at people much, and then he shut the door. His Noise (What a time to do laundry...) died away into the background of the television snow.