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Prompt: Prompt: (I need some Roman Ducking Out Angst) He sunk out in despair he'd be contemplating it for a long long time but after that awful conversation he had after the wedding, he decided it was time. The next day Roman apologised to all the people he'd wronged including Thomas and let's say the person he expected least comes to stop him (Spoiler: Remus) - meltheromanstan
In the end, it’s an easy decision.
The way there wasn’t easy, by any means, but the decision has never felt simpler.
When Roman was little, he was given a small paper crown. It was colored in with yellow marker, a little streaky and with some white gaps, but it was meant to be gold. It fit a little too loosely on his head but Patton said he’d grow into it. Patton had smiled, his glasses a little crooked as Logan presented him with the crown.
They had spent all day making it in preparation for his birthday. Remus had helped with the scissors, Virgil had made sure the shape was right, and Janus kept it a surprise. It was perfect, and Roman had held it carefully in his hands as though it were the most precious treasure he’d ever been given.
And it was. Because they made it for him and they thought he deserved it.
And so for years afterward, he kept it in a special place on his desk. Perched on top of the Disney boxset and the first script Thomas had ever received, the crown sat in a place of honor. Always there, right where Roman needed to see it, when he looked up from his work or took a break from doing his job.
He felt honored that they thought him worthy enough to crown him Prince.
That meant that they cared for him, in their own way. That he was part of something bigger than himself, that he meant something.
But now the crown’s true meaning is revealed to him.
It’s paper. Thin. Worthless.
It’s only colored yellow. Not cold. A cheap imitation, nowhere near polished enough to look like the real thing.
It’s not the right size. He never grew into it, like Patton said he would, he grew out of it. His head was too big.
And it was the only thing they’d ever given him.
He wasn’t a prince, not anymore. He wasn’t a squire, he wasn’t a noble, he wasn’t anybody. He was just Roman.
And Roman couldn’t do anything right.
Roman couldn’t do his job. He couldn’t come up with ideas fast enough, or good enough. Those he did try and submit were too boring, were too over budget, were things that had been done before. Logan only found one in twenty that were good enough to be submitted for a second draft.
Roman couldn’t do his job. He couldn’t help Thomas find a relationship. His long-term one had fallen into shreds and trying to get it back only hurt Thomas and Patton more. He risked everything to skip Joan’s performance because they might have a chance and Virgil resented him over it. He tried to flirt with the new guy at the mall only for Virgil to have to do all the work and for Thomas to fall back to Janus instead of listening to Roman.
Roman couldn’t do his job. He tried to help Thomas by acting but that was because Janus wanted him to. He wanted to send Thomas to the callback because that’s what he wanted but he was wrong. He wanted to send Thomas to the wedding because that’s what everyone else wanted but he was wrong.
Roman can’t do anything right.
The aftermath of the wedding proved that.
In the lead-up to the wedding, he didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Just crawled into his bed, every second that ticked by another moment of finality that they weren’t going to the callback. He buried his face in his pillow and let the difference between thinking something was wrong and knowing it be sobbed into the fabric.
They would be so disappointed if they could see him.
They are so disappointed; they don’t need to see him.
He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep. Just lies there, curled up, and lets the others do their jobs. Thomas doesn’t need to hope and dream and hurt right now. He needs to be happy for Lee and Mary Lee, needs to be worried about making sure everything at the wedding goes well, and needs to have enough energy to lie if anyone really asks him how he’s feeling.
Because of Roman.
Patton didn’t say outright that it was his fault that Thomas felt so awful about attending the wedding, but he didn’t have to. Roman knew it was his fault. If only he had been better, cleverer, more eloquent.
If only he’d been able to put his feelings aside for Thomas.
Feelings weren’t his job, they were Patton’s.
He claws endlessly at the idea that he could’ve come up with something better, another workaround, something that would’ve made everyone happy, but he can’t.
Answers weren’t his job, they were Logan’s.
It was never enough.
Never enough for Virgil, when he was the last one to say that it was okay that Virgil was here, that Virgil was here, that it was okay. Never enough for Remus, who still hates him, despises every aspect of him, who is Creativity.
Never enough for Janus.
Roman winces.
If…if only he’d been a better puppet.
Maybe if he’d been better at convincing Thomas to lie in the first place, everything would’ve been okay. If he—since it was his fault that they missed Joan’s performance, if he…if he were better at playing the role Janus gave him then they could’ve lied then.
Maybe if he’d been better at being the judge then he would’ve known that it was never his decision what happened to Thomas, if he hadn’t kindly rushed ahead and done what he thought was right Janus could’ve actually talked and said what he wanted to say. Then maybe they would’ve gone to the callback instead.
Maybe if he’d been better, he wouldn’t have laughed at Janus’s name.
Because he wouldn’t have felt threatened by Janus. He would’ve known that Janus replaced him a long time ago.
Roman’s throat begins to close again as he holds the crown in his hands. The paper is growing brittle under his fingers, the sweat from his hands threatening to make the marker run. He already has ink stains on his hands from writing, writing, so much writing.
For the longest time, he thought this was it. This was what he was meant for, this was his job, this was—this was—this was him.
But then he had to stand there, stand there as Patton and Janus meticulously unpicked the foundations of everything he thought was right, undid everything he was taught to believe and then stood there. Like it was nothing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from glasses, scales, disappointed expression as everything he did was wrong, wrong, wrong.
He hurt Logan too, out of desperation and ignorance—heh—and didn’t realize it until it was too late because el principe es estupido. He let Logan get hurt, not just because he wanted him hurt, but because if he got hurt then he wasn’t alone.
He hears Patton apologize. Apologize for not knowing what to do. Apologize for thinking something was wrong, apologize for putting too much pressure on Thomas.
And suddenly it’s Janus that he looks to for someone to support him.
Roman panics. He cries out the only way he can, reaching, searching, for anything that could make him understand why they’ve made a complete full-turn from what should’ve happened in the courtroom. When Patton had told him what was right, what he should do, how to do things right.
Patton had tried so hard.
And Roman had failed.
Because he knows that he deserves this.
The looks and the silence that he gets from Thomas and Patton when Janus calls him evil, when he compares him directly to Remus, saying he’s worse, he deserves that.
The uncertainty boiling in his too empty gut from days and days of not venturing out of his room, from not knowing what to do anymore because maybe he never did, he deserves that.
This crown, made of paper, that doesn’t fit him, he deserves that.
And for the first time in many years, as he looks at it in his hands, it does nothing for him.
It taunts him with his foolishness, with his stupidity. Because he never was the Prince, he was never important enough to be crowned, there was a reason this was the only thing he had ever been given.
It’s what he deserves.
The rip startles him, jolts him out of his head as he blinks down to see the crown in pieces, his fingers drifting absently through the shredded paper. The pieces flutter to the floor and linger there, sticking to a few bits of dust in the carpet.
Of course.
Of course.
It’s so simple.
As Logan says, the best course of action is often the simplest one.
He’s not in charge of feelings, Patton is.
He’s not in charge of answers, Logan is.
He’s not in charge of protection, Virgil is.
He’s not in charge of pretending, Janus is.
He’s not Creativity, Remus is.
What is Roman?
Nothing.
For the first time in a long time, Roman smiles.
He can’t go right away, though. He has to apologize first.
They deserve that.
He waits a day. A day to make himself presentable again, get some food into himself to make sure he has the energy to make it all the way around the Mindscape, and slathers on makeup until he’s what he should look like.
He steps foot outside his room and the Mindscape already feels lighter. A strange euphoria bubbles up in his chest and he has to stifle a giggle.
He finds Patton first.
“Patton,” he asks quietly, getting the other Side’s attention, “can I talk to you for a moment, please?”
Patton, setting down the cookbook and turning around, blinks. “Roman? You’re—you’re out of your room, that’s a shocker—yeah, yes, what is it kiddo?”
“I’m sorry.”
Patton blinks again. “What?”
“I’m sorry I put you in a place of authority you didn’t ask for. I’m sorry I always tried to listen to you and then got angry at you when you were wrong, I didn’t realize that it was hurting you so badly.” Roman chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry it led to you feeling so awful, and I’m sorry that I never really listened.”
“O-oh.” Patton adjusts his glasses. “W-well, um, thank you, kiddo. You know, that’s, um, that’s good. To hear you say that.”
Roman nods. Of course. “You deserved to hear it.”
Patton’s mouth quirks up into a little smile. “Thank you, Roman. And for the record, I’m sorry too.”
Roman shakes his head. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
“Oh. Okay, uh, good!”
“I’ll let you get back to cooking now.”
Roman turns and goes to find Logan. Logan’s door is closed so he knocks and waits politely, humming a little tune quietly under his breath. He hears footsteps approach the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, it’s Roman.”
There’s a deep sigh. “What do you want, I’m quite busy at the moment.”
“Oh, uh, this shouldn’t take long, I’m just—I’m here to apologize.”
There’s a moment—should he come back later? He doesn’t want to disturb Logan if he’s working—before the door opens and Logan looks suspiciously at him.
“Apologize?”
Roman takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I hurt you, it’s never been my intention to do so. I’m sorry I tried to paint you as a joke in any situation, and I’m sorry I never took you seriously enough to listen to you properly. I’m sorry I tried to butt you out of videos or get you overlooked and your contributions are always—and have always been—important and worthy of attention. I look up to you and I respect you and I want you to know that I’ve always held you in the highest regard.”
Logan blinks once. Twice. Throughout the course of the apology, his posture has gone from tense to surprise to…something akin to relaxed. His mouth drops open slightly and two small spots of color appear on his cheeks. He swallows heavily.
“…thank you, Roman,” he mumbles, and he sounds more than a little hoarse, “I…appreciate that.”
“You deserve to hear it,” Roman says softly, smiling. This is good.
“I—yes, thank you, I, um…” Logan blinks again. “Yes. Thank you. I…that means a great deal to me.”
“And I should’ve said it sooner.” Something behind Logan beeps. “I won’t distract you anymore, I know your work is really important. I hope it goes well.”
“Yes, I, um, I do too.” Still, in a daze, Logan shuts his door.
Roman goes off to find Virgil.
He knocks on the purple door and waits patiently, knowing that in all likelihood, Virgil’s got his headphones in and can’t hear him. So he pulls out his phone after five minutes and sends a quick text.
“What do you want, Princey,” comes the holler from inside, “stop lurking outside the door.”
Roman does as bid, slipping inside and waiting for Virgil to yank one of the headphones out.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Now Virgil takes off both headphones. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“For…interrupting?”
Roman shakes his head. “For insulting you and belittling you. I know we’re always at odds and most of that is because I’ve never quite stopped treating you like a villain. I’m sorry that I’ve made it hard for you to be more involved and that I made you feel less than welcome. I’m sorry that I hurt you so much. I know that it’s hard for you to trust people with things and I’m sorry if I ever made it feel like that trust was misplaced.”
Virgil’s mouth hangs open. “Holy shit, Princey.”
“You deserve to hear it.”
“I mean, yeah, but—holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say something like that since I, uh…” Virgil swallows. “Since I ducked out.”
“I hope you never feel like you need to do that again,” Roman says softly, frowning, “I hope you know that you belong here.”
“…yeah, Princey, I, uh, I think I do.” Virgil shifts a little on the bed. “And, uh, thanks.”
Roman nods. “I’ll close your door.”
He leaves and goes to find Janus.
Janus simply raises an eyebrow and folds his arms, staring him up and down. Roman smiles. He’s got nothing to hide anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “I’m sorry for making fun of your name. I’m sorry for making you feel like an outsider, that you could never be accepted. I’m sorry for making you the villain even though you didn’t ask for that. I’m sorry that I never listened to you properly. I’m sorry I wasn’t better for you.”
If possible, the eyebrow ticks higher.
“I know I’ve never been the smartest Side—“ he chuckles to himself— “I think we all know I occupy the opposite end of the scale, but I’m sorry that you had to try and deal with it as much as you did.”
“What are you doing?”
“Apologizing.”
“…why?”
That’s an easy one. “You deserve to hear it.”
“Of course I do, that doesn’t explain why you’re doing it.”
Roman pauses. Janus is right. Why should he expect Roman to do anything right? Why should he expect Roman to be decent and apologize?
“Because you don’t believe that I would,” he says quietly, letting the regret bleed fully into his voice, “and that’s not right. I should be better.”
“Mm. You should.” Janus looks him up and down. “But that’s a very good start.”
As the door closes, Roman smiles. Janus will love the rest of his plan.
He leaves and goes to find Remus.
As it turns out, Remus finds him. The second he steps foot into the Imagination—it’s been looking so much better since Remus started having more control over it—he hears an ear-splitting screech from above him and just has enough time to roll out of the way before a Morningstar slams into the ground where he was standing.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Remus chants gleefully as he swings wildly at Roman, Roman summoning his sword out of habit and parrying the blow. “Fight! Fight!”
Well, if Remus wants to fight, he’ll do whatever he wants.
He gives Remus a fight, because that’s what Remus wants, but he never strikes back. He lets Remus run his roughshod all over the Imagination, up cliffs, down bluffs, across rocky shores, and finally to the middle of a craggy ruin, crumbled statues falling down around them. One of them bears a ruined crown.
“Hah!”
His sword is flung viciously out of his hand and the business end of Remus’s weapon thrusts him backward onto his hands. Remus grins as he pushes him to the ground.
“Any last words?”
“I’m sorry.”
Remus’s grin falters. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Remus,” Roman says, “I’m sorry that I pushed you away and didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry that I thought and said you were bad and wrong and not worth listening to. You have the passion that I never have and your ideas are always new, never recycled. I’m sorry that I tried to push you aside when we both know you’re the better Creativity.”
He allows himself one rueful smile.
“I’m sorry that I took being compared to you as the worst insult ever. I’m sorry that I’ve just been in your way.”
Remus’s smile slides off. Instead, he glowers down at Roman with an unreadable expression. Roman’s resolve falters. Did he…did he do it wrong?
Without a word, Remus pulls away and stalks off. Roman sits up warily.
…well, his apologies had been going a little too well. He should’ve expected that not everyone would be so willing to hear him out. Really, it’s what he deserves.
He knows better than to go bother Remus, so he sinks out to find Thomas.
Thomas is sitting on the couch, watching something on his computer. He looks up when Roman rises up.
“Oh,” he says, adjusting the computer screen so he can see Roman over the top, “hey, Roman, did we have something scheduled for today?”
“No, no, nothing like that, I just needed to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Thomas closes the computer. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry.” Roman smiles at Thomas’s confused look. Wow, he must be more awful than he thought. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get anything right, I’m sorry I sent you to the wedding. I know I’m supposed to be your hopes and dreams, but I’m sorry I keep getting them wrong. I’m sorry everyone keeps fighting because of the bad decisions I make and I’m sorry I keep making everything worse.”
“Whoa, wait, Roman,” Thomas says, holding up a hand, “you—you don’t have to apologize for that.”
Roman frowns. “Of course I do. I made the decision about the wedding, I made fun of Janus’s name, and I’ve been making it hard to get things done since…like, forever.”
Thomas falters. Roman smiles.
“You deserve an apology, Thomas,” he reassures, “and you deserve better.”
Thomas tilts his head. “That…that is what Janus has been saying.”
Roman smiles. “See? It’s okay, Thomas, you can accept an apology.”
“…thanks, Roman.” Thomas smiles at him. “You uh, you seem…happy.”
“I think I am.”
“Well, that’s good. I, uh, haven’t seen you happy in a while.”
Roman’s smile widens. “I’ve got reason to be happy now.”
“Good to hear.”
“Well,” he says, clapping his hands, “I will let you get back to…?”
“The Office bloopers.”
“Ah! A classic. Enjoy!”
He sinks out and goes back to his room.
That’s it. All taken care of. Everyone’s been apologized to. Every loose end has been tied up. And now…
Now he can go.
Roman goes to his desk and takes out the letter. A few of the torn bits of the crown linger on the surface as he sets it down and signs his name with a flourish in his favorite red pen.
He won’t use the sword, that will be too messy. He doesn’t want them to have to clean anything up. He won’t do it in the Imagination, there’s a chance it won’t stick, and he won’t ruin it for anyone else.
No, instead he’ll just…let himself fade.
He controls the Imagination, he controls Thomas’s Creativity, he—to some extent—controls how Thomas sees the Sides. He can let himself go.
His hands begin to go gray as he lies down on the floor. Not the bed, the floor. It hurts, just a little, but it’s okay.
He deserves this.
This is right.
This is good.
Roman is happy.
Remus is terrified.
He can’t find Roman anywhere.
The fight keeps playing over and over in his head, the fact that Roman didn’t fight back, the fact that he let him push him down without fighting, that he let him drop him, that he apologized sincerely instead of playing into the roles they both loved. The fact that he was happy after weeks and weeks of not coming out of his room without looking like a walking corpse.
What the fuck happened to his brother? Ages spent looking like he regretted even existing and then…happy? Just like that? And apologizing? That shouldn’t have happened, and not because Roman didn’t apologize, but because Roman didn’t apologize like that.
And what the fuck was this nonsense about deserve?
Why would Roman suddenly be happy? Did he realize something? Decide something? What could bring him that…kind…of…release…
No.
No.
No, no, no—
He shouldn’t have left. He should have fucking stayed right where he fucking was, but he didn’t and now Roman is gone.
It gets worse. He runs into Patton, frantically asking if he’s seen Roman, only for Patton to frown and say yes, he passed through a little while ago, why?
“Did he seem different,” Remus growls frantically, “did something seem off?”
“No, kiddo, he was fine, if anything he seemed happy. What’s wrong?”
“I need to find him,” Remus gets out before he’s tearing off to find Logan.
He almost trips over Virgil on the staircase, Logan just behind him.
“Whoa, easy, Remus,” Virgil mutters, “you’ll break something.”
“Where’s Roman? Have you seen him?”
“Sure, saw him a little bit ago. Came to apologize to me.”
Fuck. “Logan?”
“I had the same experience. I must say I was quite surprised, I did not expect that level of maturity from him.” Logan must hear the snarl he lets out because he gives him a strange look. “What’s the matter, Remus?”
“I need to find him!”
“I think he was off to see J before—hey, wait!”
Remus tears off trying to find the fucking snake only to run smack into a wall of purple.
“Let me go,” he spits, straining against Virgil’s hold, “let me go!”
“Not until you explain what’s going on,” Virgil says firmly, not budging. Why the fuck did he have to be fight or flight?
“Well,” drawls a certain fucking voice from higher up the stairs, “this certainly seems like a fascinating situation.”
“Hey, J,” Virgil grunts, still doing his best to keep a hold of Remus, “mind telling us what’s got Remus so upset?”
“By all means,” Janus says lazily, sauntering down the stairs, “I’m sure I know what he’s so upset about.”
“Where’s Roman?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Janus sighs, examining his gloves. “Why do you?”
How fucking dare he. Remus snarls and lunges again, trying to break free from Virgil’s grasp.
“Stop,” Virgil orders, tempest tongue slipping out, “cut it out, Remus, just tell us what’s going on.”
Patton must’ve wandered in at some point because he’s over there with Logan, not worrying about Roman, but about him when he’s fine, he just needs to go and find Roman before there isn’t a Roman to find anymore.
“Remus,” Logan says slowly, far too slowly, “if you tell us why you’re worried, Virgil will let you go.”
“Yeah, kiddo, it’s okay, you can tell us.”
Remus grits his teeth. “Roman isn’t okay.”
Janus rolls his eyes. “Yes, certainly the fact that he was well enough to come and apologize to all of us—“ Remus watches his eyes flick around the room for confirmation— “clearly shows that he’s not okay.”
“That’s the point,” Remus grounds out, “Roman has been shit for who the fuck knows how long, and then suddenly he’s all fucking fine? Just like that? And he apologizes and says all this shit about ‘deserving’ and you think he’s fucking okay?”
As if on cue, something in Remus’s chest explodes in pain.
He cries out, slumping in Virgil’s hold for a moment before redoubling his efforts to get out.
“Let me go!”
To his surprise, Virgil does, and he doesn’t stick around long enough to hear him quietly mutter ‘oh, no,’ before he’s up the stairs and out of earshot.
Roman’s door isn’t red anymore.
Remus lets out a scream and slams into it, the wood splintering under his weight as he crashes through it. Another scream leaves his throat.
Roman.
Wonderful, lively, red Roman is lifeless and gray.
Remus lunges forward and all but falls on top of his brother, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing. No, no, no, this can’t be happening, he needs his brother, he needs Roman, everyone needs Roman.
Roman goes limp in his arms, almost like he’s a doll, before there’s the slightest murmur under Remus’s ear.
“...Re?”
“Ro? Ro-Bro, you gotta stay with me here, I gotcha, you gotta stay, Roro.”
“…weren’t supposed…t’ find me yet.”
Remus’s blood runs cold and he grips Roman tighter, moving to cup his head in his hand and pull him into his lap.
“No, no, Ro, you gotta stay. I found you, you gotta—you gotta stay with me.”
“’S fine, Re, I gotta…I gotta go now…”
“No, Roman—“ Remus shakes him a little— “Roman? Roman, stay, gotta hold on, can’t let you go!”
“I’ll fix everything—“ no, no, Roman’s getting weaker— “gotta…gotta go…now…’s better like this…”
“Roman? Roman!”
“Deserve…better…”
Roman’s eyes flutter closed.
“Roman!”
He barely hears the others rushing up the stairs. He barely hears Patton gasp and Virgil curse. He barely sees Logan rushing to his side with the first aid kit. He barely feels Janus wrap more arms around the both of them, trying to hold onto Roman.
Roman is fading.
He’s so gray now.
He’s so—so—
Afterward, he’ll remember seeing the bits of the torn crown on the floor, remember seeing the letter laid out neatly on the desk. He’ll remember hearing Patton start to sob and hear Logan frantically muttering that they need to do something now, Roman’s fading too fast. He’ll remember cursing himself and everything else as Virgil and Janus look desperately at him because he’s the only one who might know what to do.
For now, all he remembers is reaching deep, deep into himself and finding the part that still remembers what it was like to be the King, when he and Roman were together.
Roman opens his eyes.
The first thing he sees is too bright and he winces, shutting his eyes and trying to turn away.
“Shit, turn the light off!”
“Roman? Roman, can you hear me? It’s okay, you’re safe now, we’re here.”
“Open your eyes again, kiddo, it’s okay, we turned the light off.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this was—this was supposed to work, he was supposed to fix it, he was—he was—
He messed everything up again.
Too late does he realize there’s still something holding his hand and something soft on his face.
“Shh, shh, sweetie,” someone murmurs, “open your eyes, don’t cry, shh, it’s okay.”
“Ro?”
Remus sounds awful. Hasn’t he hurt his brother enough?
Oh. Right. Stupid, stupid Roman. How could he forget how selfish ducking out is?
“Open your eyes, Ro,” Remus says, still in that horrid, haunted voice, “c’mon…”
Roman opens his eyes.
The second thing he sees is a sea of concerned faces staring at him. Virgil’s eyeshadow is deeper than he’s ever seen it. Patton’s glasses are tearstained. Logan’s tie is horribly crooked. Remus looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Janus looks like he’s on the edge of exhaustion.
“Roman,” Remus says and it’s with such grief that Roman wants to believe that all of this has just been some horrible nightmare and he’s just woken up, “you’re—you’re safe now.”
There’s no scolding. There are no questions. There’s no nothing. They’ll come later. Roman knows they will. But even this, their stares on him make the shame burn hotter in his chest and push tears to his eyes. They see them—of course, they see them—and they surround him.
“You’re alright, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, stroking a thumb across his cheek, “it’s okay, we’re here now.”
Had it been a while ago—hell, maybe even a day ago, the mere assertion that their presence was enough would’ve made him erupt. The rage and hurt and anguish would’ve exploded but now—now he’s just so tired.
“Easy, Princey,” comes Virgil’s soft rumble, “let’s keep those eyes open for a little, yeah?”
He can keep his eyes open but he can’t stop crying.
“Oh, shh, sweetie—“ it’s Janus, it’s still Janus— “come now, let’s get you—there…”
Remus is clinging onto him, letting him sob his pain into his shoulder, but then Logan’s hand is carding gently through his hair and he can’t.
He knows he could have cried for hours if not for the steady ache of not having enough liquid in his body—not having enough body—to do so. Instead, he feels the dry warmth of Remus against him and the softness of Logan’s fingers scratching along his scalp.
They feel stolen.
“I’m so—I’m sorry—“
“Don’t,” comes Logan’s voice, along with a gentle tug on his hair, “don’t apologize, Roman, not for this. Don’t apologize for being in pain.”
“But I—“
“No,” and this time it’s Patton, “no, kiddo, you’re not to blame for being hurt.”
Aren’t I, though?
As if he can hear him, Janus’s hand on his back moves, rubbing little circles in between his shoulder blades. “You aren’t, sweetie.”
Remus gives him another squeeze. “We gotcha, Roro, it’s gonna be okay now.”
But then Remus goes to pull away and despite himself, Roman whimpers.
“Shh, shh,” Patton soothes, immediately replacing Remus, “it’s okay, sweetheart, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Remus is just being kind enough to let the rest of us have a turn,” Virgil says softly as Patton rocks him back and forth.
Indeed as Patton pulls away, Virgil is there, scooping Roman into a hug and planting his chin firmly on his head. He rocks him back and forth and mumbles something quietly.
When he pulls away, Roman half expects Remus to clutch him right back but he can’t stop his eyes widening when Logan reaches out to cuddle him. He fails to stifle the surprised noise when a kiss is brushed against his temple.
“Hush,” Logan says in a soft and gentle voice that Roman has never heard before, “it’s okay. Everything is okay, little one.”
If Logan is at all surprised by the keen the pet name gets him, he doesn’t show it.
“You’re safe, little one, I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you now, we’re here.”
And just when he thinks it can’t get any more confusing, Janus is there to receive him when Logan lets go, his bare hand cupping Roman’s cheek as the rest of his arms wrap tightly around him.
“Wha—what—“
“What’s the matter, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, still stroking Roman’s damp cheek, “tell me.”
“What’re you—what are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you, sweetie,” Janus says without a trace of insincerity, giving him a gentle squeeze, “you gave us a bit of a fright.”
The shame burns his face again as he furrows his brow. “But—but—but why?“
“…are you asking why I’m hugging you, sweetie, or why you scared us?”
“Both!”
He hears Virgil curse over his shoulder.
“I’m hugging you because you’re important to me,” Janus murmurs as if it doesn’t completely rend Roman’s worldview in half again, “and you…you scared us because we care about you and you…you…”
“You tried to kill yourself, Ro,” Remus mumbles.
“But I—I just tried to duck out—“
“Yeah, but you’re like me.” Remus tucks his head against the nape of Roman’s neck. “You control what Thomas sees, like the Sides and stuff, and the Imagination access. If…if you duck out, it’s…worse.”
Oh. He didn’t know that.
“Shh,” comes Janus’s voice, “it’s alright now.”
But that doesn’t explain why you care.
“Of course we care, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “why—“
“B-but—“
“Shh,” Logan murmurs, running his hand through Roman’s hair, “let us talk for a moment, little one.”
Roman hushes.
“Thank you.” Logan takes a deep breath. “Of course we care about you, Roman. You’re…you’re you. You’re a vital part of Thomas and an integral part of our unit, we would not be the same without you here. And if we…if I have acted in a way that makes you think you’re not wanted, I am sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Same.”
“Me as well, sweetie.”
Remus just wraps his arms around his waist and squeezes.
…what has he done?
He—if he—he tried to hurt the people that care about him because he was selfish and he—he—
“Oh, no, honey—“ Janus cradles his face as he starts to sob desperately again— “shh, shh, hush now, it’s alright—“
“Get in here, you assholes.”
Sure enough, more arms wind their way around him as he cries. Any minute he expects them to say something is wrong or to stop pretending but they don’t, they stay and he—he—
“Shh, shh, hush, sweetie—“
“You’re okay, Princey—“
“We’re here, sweetheart—“
“We’ve got you, little one, rest now—“
“It’s safe, Ro-Bro, let it out.”
“I’m sorry,” he cries out into somebody’s shoulder, “it hurts and I wanted it to stop but it didn’t stop and I’m sorry and it hurts it hurts—“
They press closer. He can feel this. He can feel this and it hurts but it doesn’t hurt.
He just wanted everything to stop but it isn’t stopping but maybe it is.
He swallows with his throat pressed against—yes, that’s Virgil’s shoulder—and tries: “is it over?”
“Yeah, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, “it’s over now.”
Logan’s hand is back in his hair and there’s another kiss pressed against his temple. Janus’s bare hand still strokes gently over his cheek. Patton murmurs reassurances in his ear as Virgil makes sure no one’s about to fall over. And Remus holds him through it all.
“…’m sorry,” he mumbles, “you didn’t deserve that.”
“I think it’s time we retire the word ‘deserve,’” Logan says softly, “and you needn’t apologize anymore.”
“Let’s beat it over the head with a crowbar.”
“Remus!”
“What?”
As Patton and Remus start idly bickering, Virgil chuckles.
“You’re gonna be okay, Princey, we got you.”
“...promise?”
Virgil hums in agreement as Janus says: “we promise.”
Maybe…maybe it is over.
Maybe something else can start now.