Ruin the Friendship (Reader x Rommulas) PART ONE
lmk if u liked this! just a quick Drabble I rote hehe
read part two here
Roman doesn't do relationships.
He doesn't.
Not the late-night texts. Not the planning weekends around someone else. Not the arguments over nothing. Not the sharing clothes or bathrooms or playlists. Not the “we should talk” talks. Not the birthdays, the holidays, the anniversaries. Not the compromises he’d have to make, the patience he’d have to find, the feelings he’d have to admit.
He doesn’t do that. And he doesn’t plan to.
But why would he ever do that, right? he never found someone he wanted to actually commit to anyways.
you’ve known roman since forever. you can’t even remember a time he wasn’t there, dragging you into some ridiculous mess or cracking a joke that made you groan so loud your ears rang. you grew up together, awkward together, humiliated together, every scraped knee, every terrible haircut, every botched science project. somehow, through all of it, you became inseparable.
he was always kind of mean. not the everyone hates him kind of mean, just sharp. quick with a jab, a teasing comment, a smirk that could cut through your patience like it was nothing. other kids noticed it. they’d ask, “why are you friends with him? he’s so mean to you.” and you’d just shrug or smile. because you saw him differently. you saw the way he’d pull you out of trouble when no one else noticed. the way he’d remember the stupid little things about you that no one else cared about. the way he could make you laugh at something so dumb it shouldn’t have been funny but it was, because it was him.
roman, of course, had his own opinions about you. you were too sensitive, too trusting, too slow sometimes. dense, he liked to call it, with a grin that was half teasing and half frustration. but he never left. he never walked away when everyone else might have. you didn’t just tolerate him you counted on him, relied on him. and he, begrudgingly, relied on you too, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
you watched each other grow up. you saw him become taller, stronger, a little more reckless, a little more confident, but still the same roman underneath. you knew all his embarrassing moments, the ones he tried to hide, the ones he swore you’d never breathe a word about. and he knew yours. he laughed at your mistakes, sometimes too hard, sometimes just enough to make you feel like it was okay to be human. you could tell him things no one else would understand, and he’d listen, grumble, roll his eyes, make some sarcastic comment, but he’d listen.
and somehow, in all the teasing, the sharp edges, the arguments over nonsense, it worked. you were close. closer than anyone else could get. people didn’t understand it, probably never would, but you did.
things changed when high school started. roman found other friends and slowly, he left you alone. not completely, not right away, but enough that you noticed. those friends weren’t great influences. you saw the way they dragged him into stuff he never cared about before, the way he started doing things you didn’t understand. drugs at first. you were mad, really mad. you tried to say something, tried to pull him back, but… it didn’t matter. he didn’t listen. and eventually you just let it go. there was nothing you could do anyway.
he started becoming quieter. more closed off. the sharp, teasing roman you knew started to fade, replaced by someone who kept his eyes down and his words short. you tried to reach him, tried to hang on, but the space between you got bigger without either of you saying it out loud. you grew apart. slowly, quietly.
and maybe you should’ve been hurt, maybe you should’ve felt it more, but it was just… how it was. people change. friends change. roman changed. and you… you stayed, just a little further away, watching.
it wasn’t until midway through high school that it all came to a head. roman got into a fight with them, the friends who had been dragging him down. you didn’t know the full story, only that he showed up at your house that night, his face and arms badly bruised, his shirt torn, and the way he walked in made your stomach drop. he looked smaller than usual, like the fight had taken something out of him. you froze for a second, just staring, then panic hit, and you rushed to get him inside, guiding him gently, worrying about every limp step, every flinch.
your hands shook as you patched up his wounds, cleaned the cuts, pressed ice to the swelling. you tried to keep your voice steady, tried not to let panic slip into it, but inside you were spinning. he didn’t complain, didn’t make a joke this time. he just let you take care of him, quiet, tense, like even letting you touch him was an effort. you noticed the small things—the way his hand trembled when you dabbed at a cut on his arm, the way his shoulders hunched even when he sat down. it made you ache, seeing him like that, seeing roman, who was usually so untouchable in a way, so bruised, both physically and somehow emotionally.
you moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to hurt him or make him flinch, and for a moment it was just the two of you in the dim light of your kitchen, quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge and the faint sound of traffic outside. you didn’t ask questions, didn’t press for details, even though you wanted to know everything. you just kept working, cleaning, applying ointment, wrapping his arms. every motion felt heavy, like you were carrying all the worry you’d held back for weeks.
when you were done, he sank back onto the couch, staring at nothing, his breathing finally slowing. the tension in his jaw eased a little, and he quietly said, “i’ll stop hanging around them.”
you felt a rush of relief, a little happiness that he was listening, that maybe he was finally choosing differently. you didn’t say much, just nodded, glad he’d come to you, glad he was still here in some way. you sat beside him, not touching, just close, letting him know silently that you were there. for once, roman didn’t push you away, didn’t make some sarcastic comment or tease you. he just let you exist in the same space, and for a second, you thought maybe things could go back, maybe he could be the roman you remembered.
and as you watched him quiet, bruised, tired, something soft shifted in you. relief, but also a cautious hope. not the naive kind, not the kind that ignored reality. just a small, careful hope that maybe he’d come out of that darkness, at least enough for you to catch him when he fell again.
you always believed in love. not in a dramatic movie way, just in a quiet, steady way. you wanted all the normal things, the simple things people didn’t think twice about. you wanted late night talks, sharing secrets, waking up next to someone who actually cared. you wanted someone to hold your hand without thinking about it, someone who’d text you just to say they miss you. you wanted the birthdays, the holidays, the small anniversaries nobody cared about except the two of you.
but you had a problem. a really stupid, painful, complicated problem.
you're in love with roman.
not on purpose. not because you were looking for it. it just kind of… happened. slowly. quietly. like all the moments you kept brushing off finally caught up to you. the late nights talking. the times he let you patch him up. the way he’d look at you without saying anything. the way he always came back to you even when the world pushed him away from everyone else.
you tried to ignore it. you told yourself it wasn’t real, that you were confusing history with something else. but every time you looked at him, every time he said your name in that tired voice, every time he showed up at your door without explaining why, it hit you all over again.
you were in love with roman. and roman didn’t do love at all.
around junior year, roman found a new group. hollis, nate, and ryan. they were different. chill, easy to be around, not like the friends who had dragged him down before. you liked them instantly, the way they joked, the way they laughed, the way being around them didn’t feel like walking on thin ice. it felt lighter. easier.
the first time you met them properly, nate grinned at you and roman and said, “ohh shit, are you guys a thing?” you froze for a second, and roman, without missing a beat, shook his head and said no. instantly. like the idea was ridiculous, like you didn’t even exist in that way. you didn’t know if you should feel hurt or relieved, so you just said “oh ok” and let it go. roman didn’t even glance at you while he said it, just kept smiling at nate like it was nothing.
this time, the group was getting into music in a different way. they were producing, writing, making beats, experimenting with sounds. you got to watch them pull ideas together, hearing rough verses turn into something real, seeing the process unfold in the room.
roman was different here too. quieter at first, but you noticed him leaning in when someone threw out a line, offering a note, a suggestion, sometimes laughing quietly at something silly Ryan did. he still teased you, still rolled his eyes when you got too excited about something stupid, but there was a warmth underneath it. he was present in a way he hadn’t been with anyone else lately, and you felt it, noticed it, and didn’t say anything because maybe saying it would ruin it.
“why do you walk so fast?” roman complained, jogging a half step to catch up with you as you both left the school gates.
“i literally walk at a normal speed,” you said. “you’re just slow.”
“slow?” he scoffed. “i’m the definition of peak athleticism.”
“right. that’s why you got tired walking up one flight of stairs today.”
roman dramatically clutched his chest. “that stairwell is steep as hell and you know it.”
you just snorted. “ok grandpa.”
he bumped your shoulder lightly. “keep talking and see what happens.”
“what, you gonna chase me?” you teased.
roman blinked at you, dead serious. “no. i will never run voluntarily. for anything.”
you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re impossible.”
“nah,” he said, grinning, “you just like pretending you don’t enjoy bullying me.”
“i do not bully you.”
“you literally roasted my haircut this morning.”
“because you let your cousin cut it,” you said. “with kitchen scissors.”
roman dragged a hand over his hair, groaning. “yeah, ok, i regret that.”
“as you should.”
there was a moment of quiet before he glanced over at you again. “so what are you doing when you get home?”
“probably nothing,” you said. “i still gotta finish that english assignment but i’m pretending it doesn’t exist.”
“oh, perfect. then you can call me,” he said casually.
“call you? for what?”
“i dunno,” he shrugged. “just… call me. i get bored.”
you tried not to smile too much. “yeah, maybe.”
“maybe,” he repeated, rolling his eyes playfully. “you always say maybe.”
“and?”
“and it means yes,” he said, bumping your shoulder again, softer this time.
the crush you had on roman only grew bigger. every joke, every teasing shove, every quiet moment walking home together. it all made it worse, like you were slowly pulling yourself closer while he stayed the same, just roman. and the more it grew, the more you realized something you didn’t want to admit. he would never want you. not like that. not in the way your heart wanted him to.
and then one day, you heard it. not on purpose. you weren’t listening. but you were walking past his room when voices drifted out. roman and Ryan, talking. light, easy voices. nothing heavy. and then Ryan said something about this girl he was into, joking maybe, and roman. roman’s voice was calm, quiet, almost casual, but it cut right through you.
“i could never see her that way,” he said.
and you froze. that one line, just like that, and your chest felt like it had been punched from the inside. lowkey, quietly, heartbreak crept in, and for a second you couldn’t breathe.
you turned around slowly, pretending to be somewhere else, your hands in your pockets, your heart dragging behind you. and as you walked away, you felt it, clear and heavy in a way you hadn’t expected. roman wasn’t ever going to be yours. and maybe he never could be.
and you could never tell him. not even once. the idea alone made your stomach twist. you didn’t want to lose him, not even a little, not even for a second. so you kept it all buried, pressed down somewhere deep where he would never look. you laughed at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he teased you, acted normal through every dumb moment of junior year and senior year, until suddenly it was graduation season and you had carried this quiet secret for years.
prom came around and you weren’t expecting much. you weren’t even thinking about dancing or romance or any of that stuff. you were mostly thinking about getting through the night without letting anything slip.
some guy in your grade asked you to slow dance. you didn’t really know him. he was just someone from math or bio or something, standing there with a half smile, waiting. so you said sure. you put your hands on his shoulders, moved to the music, tried to act like you were in the moment.
but the whole time your eyes kept drifting. across the room, past the lights, straight to roman.
he wasn’t even doing anything special. just standing with nate and Ryan, hands in his pockets, listening to something one of them was saying. he looked the same as always. like he was on his own wavelength. like he didn’t know. like he would never know.
and you were swaying with someone else, but your head wasn’t there. you kept looking at roman and thinking about everything you never said. everything you never could say. and maybe it was stupid, but in that moment you felt this strange mix of sadness and acceptance and something that hurt a little, something you were used to by now.
u blinked, looked back at the guy dancing with u, pretended u were present. but all u felt was roman’s name echoing in the back of ur mind.
after prom, you and roman ended up walking back together. he kept kicking a pebble down the sidewalk while you talked about post grad stuff, not super serious, just whatever came up.
he said he really wanted to write music for real, like actually produce and move somewhere bigger. he mentioned downtown la like he could already see himself there.
you laughed a little and said, without thinking, “i’ll go where you go.”
it slipped out so easily. too easily.
roman looked over at you with that small grin he always gets when he is about to say something stupid.
“careful,” he said. “if you say that, i’ll think you’re in love with me.”
he meant it as a joke. you knew he meant it as a joke. but something in your chest tightened so fast it stole your breath for a second.
you forced out a laugh that didn’t sound like you at all, shoved his shoulder lightly the way you always did. he didn’t notice. he just kept walking, talking about la and what kind of studio he wanted someday.
but you were stuck on that one line, replaying it again and again.
careful i’ll think you’re in love with me
and you were terrified because you already were, and you had no idea how much longer you could pretend you weren’t.
that comment he threw at you, the one he didn’t even think twice about, rubbed you the wrong way for days. you kept replaying it in your head, not because it was cruel, but because it hit a part of you you’d been trying so hard to ignore.
and somewhere in that mess of thinking, you realized something you didn’t want to face: your infatuation with him wasn’t healthy anymore. it wasn’t cute or harmless or something you could laugh about in ten years. it was this constant ache that followed you everywhere, and the closer he got, the worse it felt.
you started thinking maybe you just couldn’t stay connected to him like that. not because he was bad, but because you liked him so much it hurt. because every joke, every smile, every stupid little moment just made it worse.
so when college stuff started coming up, and everyone was planning to move to downtown la, roman, nate, Ryan — you silently made a different plan. new york. completely across the country. completely away from him.
you didn’t tell anyone. you didn’t even hint at it. you just filled out the forms, made the deposits, arranged everything behind closed doors. it felt wrong, but it also felt like the only way to breathe again.
because deep down you knew he would never like you. not the way you liked him. not even close.
and leaving felt like the only thing you could control. the only way to break the habit of loving him in silence.
even if it shattered you a little.
the day before you were supposed to leave, you finally told roman. he was sitting on the curb outside your house, scrolling through something on his phone, looking completely unbothered by the world.
you sat beside him and said it as calmly as you could. “i’m leaving tomorrow. for new york.”
the reaction was instant. his head snapped up, his brows pulled together, and for a second he looked almost offended. “what do you mean you’re leaving? since when?”
you kept your eyes on the road. “since a while. i just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
roman scoffed, shaking his head like you were being ridiculous. “so you’re just dipping? you’re really going across the country for school? seriously?”
he was mad. not yelling, but sharp. sharper than he’d been in a long time. and you tried to explain. “it’s for the best.”
he stared at you like he didn’t know what that meant. maybe he didn’t. maybe he never would. “yeah,” he muttered, leaning back on his hands, “go. like i care.”
you knew he didn’t mean it, not really, but it still stung. you nodded anyway, pretending it didn’t feel like your chest was folding inward. “we’ll stay in touch,” you said quietly. “i promise.”
he didn’t answer right away. he just kept his eyes on the street, jaw tight, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
and he didn’t know why — he couldn’t even explain it to himself — but something about you leaving him, actually leaving him, hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for. like something he thought would always be there was suddenly slipping out from under him.
you didn’t see that part. you only saw him shrug and say, softer this time, “yeah. whatever. don’t be a stranger.”
to be continued...
