Here is the ask for the Mari and Roman short if you still need it 😊😊😊
a/n: idk where the hell the inspo to write this came from, but i got to my office an hour early today and finished it in that same hour. words were just flowing. idk. 😭 thank you, friend, for sending the ask to post this with! 🫶🏼
warnings: angst
words: 2k
tags: @jaded-human and @sayyestoheav3nn and @bratzdoll // only tagging ya'll cause idk who else, by name, cares about this world 🫠
His eyes remain glued and focused on her, which is why he catches the glimmer and flash in her eyes in real time. Already knows her unannounced visit is for more than her just wanting to see him.
Roman eyes her once more. “What is it?”
Mari couldn’t hold water even if she tried, but the way she leans up on her toes and bites on her bottom lip, fingers scrunching his shirt, has his curiosity piqued even more. “I have a surprise for you.”
To the best of his abilities, which certainly isn’t very difficult, Roman maintains a blank expression. Even as she blinks several times, starting to bounce up and down almost on the heels of her toes. As if whatever said surprise is has her unable to stand still.
It takes a lot for him to not remind her for the umpteenth time how much he hates surprises. Something, in his opinion, she should know good and well by now given that some of their nastiest moments have been due to her not respecting that very boundary.
But once more, he finds restraint.
“Okay….”
She giggles happily and leans up to kiss his cheek before prying her body away from his. Roman continues to watch as she leans over to scrummage through her purse. He catches a glimpse of something clear before she turns around, moving her arms behind her as she stands with her front facing him.
“Ri, what—”
“Are you ready?” She interrupts, smile wide and broad, showing off almost all of her teeth to the point where the skin around her mouth and jaw is pulled tight and taut. “I know you’re not, but still, like, I have to ask, you know. It sets the tone, or is it the mood?” The question issued to herself is shoved aside as Roman realizes she’s leaned back at an almost awkward angle, resting most of her weight on his desk. It’s a position that’s a recipe for disaster for his accident prone wife, hence why despite his growing, invisible irritation at this drawn out, unnecessary build to a surprise he didn’t even ask for, he humors her.
He does so for many reasons. One being to get her upright and out of the danger zone of a freak accident. Most of the reasons, however, revolve around him not knowing how much longer he can hide just how much he’s currently in his head. In his head about her, which is why being around her right now….it’s not the best idea.
He doesn’t want to be around her.
Not when he’s not sure how to interact with her in a way that won’t result in him saying or doing something that’ll hurt her feelings.
“Yes,” he finally answers.
She giggles again, eyes twinkling before she stands up straight and swings her arms around, revealing the item in hand. “Surprise!”
Naturally, his eyes shift to the item she has hanging and swinging in front of him, almost at eye level from the way her arm is elevated. At first, it’s obvious. A gallon sized ziplock bag, one that, because of its translucent nature, allows him to see exactly what’s inside. And it’s realizing exactly what that is that completely changes everything. He’s only seen them a few times, not nearly enough for him to immediately recognize what’s dangling before him. But he does.
He fucking does.
Roman stares for a good almost fifteen seconds before he lifts his hand and slowly takes the bag from her, head bowed as he continues to stare at it. The cool texture of the bag in his hands, a new sensation, similar to whatever the fuck is coursing through him.
“I thought maybe…I thought maybe it was a mistake, ya know,” she starts off, and he hears her. He hears her talking. Can even picture the nervous way she’s probably twiddling with her fingers and making subtle gestures with her head. She’s expressive both verbally and non-verbally most of the time. They always go hand in hand. “So I took another one, and then another—we’re like totally out of cranberry juice, by the way—works great to help you piss, if you didn't know—but….yeah....….as you can see, i took a few more after the other few.”
8.
He counts eight of them. All staring back at him with the same two bolded, strong pink lines.
It’s only then that Roman lifts his head and breaks his transfixed gaze.
As expected, he’s met with that same big, happy smile from before. It’s never felt like a more uncomfortable, inappropriate greeting. “You’re pregnant?”
She squeals and steps forward, hands on his forearm. “I’m pregnant.”
And just like that, what started out as a stressful, confusing day just reached a new level he didn’t even know one could reach.
Fuck.
As thoughts, emotions, and everything else swirl within, the cool item in hand suddenly, significant warmer, hot to the point where he wants to chuck it to the side, Mariella remains unmoved, still staring up at him.
However, an almost minute into his shock fueled silence is when her demeanor starts to shift.
“Are—are you gonna say something?”
Yes. No. Perhaps. Who the fuck knows.
Roman has never considered himself a person who’s easily frazzled. Ever. And while he wouldn’t categorize his current state as frazzled, he certainly doesn’t know what the fuck is going on right now. Within. Around. None of it.
All he knows is his world just fucking changed entirely in the span of five minutes with a single bag of life altering items.
And his silence continues to penetrate through and dissolve Mariella’s obvious excitement. She chuckles quietly, almost awkwardly. “Well….don’t—don’t say it all at once.”
He looks at her once more, and it’s then that something escapes him. Unintentional and something he’d never allow to bypass him if not for whatever has him emotionally paralyzed.
“Shit.”
Whatever remained of Mari’s smile is instantly wiped away at a single word.
She drops her hands from his arm, looking away, the confusion meshed and bleeding all over her face. “I—I don’t understand.” While her initial statement is directed more to herself than him, the latter is inarguably said for and to him, as she brings her gaze back to him. “I—I thought you’d be happy.”
Happy.
Just hearing it stirs up irritation and aggravation. He doesn’t know what that even means or feels like anymore. He thought he’d started to feel it with her, but that doesn’t make any sense when juxtaposed to the irritation and avoidance that always accompanies her. How can someone both make you happy and annoy you at the same time? They can’t co-exist.
They don’t.
But for him, they do, and on top of that is the overwhelming, most confounding emotion of them all.
Love
“You need to go to the doctor,” he instructs, and even Roman can’t deny the sudden, jarring harsh tone of his voice. “Get it confirmed for sure.”
She blinks, voice even softer than before as she weakly gestures to the bag. “Is…is eight positive tests not enough?”
“Obviously not,” he snaps.
The dagger is just dug and twisted deeper, on both ends, as he witnesses the drop of her shoulders. The falter of her lips and undeniable forlorn countenance that feels like it’s seeped out and bled into the room. Turned his office into this space of deep thoughts and even bigger, heavier emotions and truths. But of course, it’s only as he witnesses the consequences of his actions, of his inability to figure out his shit—and feelings—that the regret starts to creep in.
“Mar—”
“Nothing,” she whispers, head dropped, her voice barely above an octave. “Nothing will ever be enough, will it?” Mariella lifts her head and points to her chest, her voice cracking halfway through. “I will never be enough.”
And now Roman is the one whose shoulders drop as he lowers his hand, the bag dangling at his side. “Mar—“
“Do you—do you have any idea what it feels like to try your absolute hardest to do anything and everything you can to make someone happy, to try to make the best of a terrible situation, to—to try to maybe, just maybe, get them to feel even a fraction of what you feel for them?” With each word that leaves her mouth, hurt gradually mutates into anger. But it’s the glossing of her eyes that has his focus, attention, and concern locked.
He attempts to step towards her. “Marie—”
“No!” She shouts, jumping back. Her hands lifting, defensively, as if protecting herself from him makes that weight in the back of his throat—and on his chest—strengthen. “I—I’ve tried so hard to make you happy. To do whatever I can to make this work. To make us work. And it’s like every time I think we’re getting somewhere, you remind me that no matter what I’d like to believe or want to believe, it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want me, you never did want me, and you never will.”
Roman can’t recall a previous time where he’s ever so strongly disagreed with something, but any attempt to disavow her accusation is lost amongst the way she continues to spiral. The tears leaking down her face as the anger undergoes another transformation. Hurt. She’s so fucking hurt.
And it’s all his fault.
She looks up, shaking her head, jaw trembling as the tears continue to flow in tandem with the way she's pouring her heart out to him. “I’ve done the one thing that you married me for. The only thing that you married me for and still…..nothing.”
Fuck. “Mariella, ple—”
“You have no idea what it’s like to—to love someone the way that I love you—unapologetic and without restraint—only for you to see nothing more than a burden and a necessity when you look at me.” Another sob breaks though as she once again points to her chest. “It hurts, Roman. It fucking hurts, and I’m so tired of feeling this way.”
Another attempt to close the distance between them is met with another act of resistance. She backs away again as he tries to draw near.
“And I won’t let you hurt our baby the way you’ve hurt me.”
Everything that’s left her mouth the past however many minutes have passed have penetrated deeper than anything else that’s ever been said to and towards him, but that last sentence….it’s immobilizing.
“What do you—”
“You can dislike or hate me as much as you want, but I won’t let you treat this baby that way,” she enforces, wiping at her eyes as she reaches for her purse. Another look towards him and another gleam of surrender, her voice riddled with cracks. “I won’t let you break his or her heart the way you broke mine.”
The unfiltered, raw words and confessions escaping from the deepest part of his wife’s soul should be enough to thaw away the ice that keeps him frozen where he stands. Should be enough to melt at least some portion of the frostbite that’s consumed the jagged, sharp edges around his heart for almost thirty years.
If not longer.
The only thing he hates more than seeing and hearing how much he’s hurt her is knowing that her sentiments are fueled by inaccurate belief systems. Her feelings are 100% valid, but the reasoning and thoughts that support her feelings are 100% wrong.
Roman doesn’t hate Mariella.
He loves her. He loves her, but he doesn’t know what to do with that. Doesn’t know how to express that. Doesn’t know how to knock down the barrier that prevents him from expressing that. And he damn sure doesn’t even know how to begin to wade through all the unprocessed shit that keeps him from even knowing how to love her.
He just knows what he feels.
If only he could tell her as much.
But even as she turns to walk away, stands still near the door after she reaches for the knob, as if waiting for him to say something, to stop her, he doesn’t.
She just leaves.
And it’s as he’s left with the blaring, torturous silence of his own self-induced, self-induced misery, Roman can’t shake the feeling that he’s just made the worst mistake of his life.
Like what just occurred between them wasn’t the climax.
You don't owe me nothing! The first time a comic actually made me cry. I've only read Volume 1 and half of Volume 2 but I understand why people say Sinners is similar at least with what I read so far. But it also reminds me of a lot of other Good vs Evil vs in between stories. I love it.
Its about a Southern family of monsters (Jinoo) healers/ hunters.
"Thus all Art is propaganda and ever must be, despite the wailing of the purists. I stand in utter shameless- ness and say that whatever art I have for writing has been used always for propaganda for gaining the right of black folk to love and enjoy. I do not care a damn for any art that is not used for propaganda. But I do care when propaganda is confined to one side while the other is stripped and silent."
-from Criteria of Negro Art by WEB DuBois (1926)
This was one of the quotes included among the articles included in volume one.
Best part - the people involved really care about its impact and in part use it as a way to teach.
I borrowed the digital copy from the library - then ended up buying it.
I’ve been thinking about reading this. This post just made me want to read it more. I saw that Regina kind was adapting in so I’m definitely going to check it out!
brother, let's be honest. you was a world champion, you won the royal rumble, you beat gunther at wrestlemania. everytime these people heard your music all the kids were happy. but now...
I know people are so pissed about this new iteration of the bloodline but i have to be honest and say as someone who wasn’t watching during most of their story the first time, I’m thoroughly entertained. Like i get it y’all got bloodline fatigue but Im having a BLAST!
yousharknotpass
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2087
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prguitarman
