Ok fuck it we ball. I need to go to bed but I’m posting the in progress drabble yeehaw.
There’s three quick raps on the bus door. When no answer meets them, the handle is tried. When it doesn’t budge, Roman hears the sound of shuffling and scratching for a few seconds. A telltale *click* rings loudly against the silence. The door swings open, and Roman doesn’t have to look to know who just barged in on him.
“The door was locked for a reason, Crash.” He calls, unable to stop his voice from cracking.
He buries his face in the pillow and hopes the fabric will be dark enough for Crash not to notice the wet spots his tears have left on the case.
Something cold is pressed to the back of Roman’s neck, making him jump a little and roll over so he can angrily squint up at Crash. There’s a water bottle being shoved in his face.
“Drink.” Crash instructs firmly.
What can Roman do but obey?
He sits up. He takes the bottle in shaking hands. He sips his water and watches Crash putter about the tour bus. It’s convenient that Roman’s favorite “pouting spot” (as Crash once put it) is in the kitchenette area— it gives him a prime position to watch Crash roll up his sleeves and start pulling out supplies from the cabinets.
The first thing he goes for is a small towel, which he runs under cold water to dampen before ringing out the excess. He returns to Roman with the towel in hand.
“Scoot.” Crash murmurs, nudging Roman’s legs out of the way so he can sit on the edge of the bench.
“C’mere. Just breathe.”
Crash cups Roman’s jaw with his left hand and carefully wipes at his face with the damp towel. He goes slow and steady, dabbing away the tears and easing the heat in Roman’s cheeks. God, he hadn’t realized how red his face must look. His eyes feel impossibly puffy.
“Good boy.” Crash tells him.
“Shouldn’t you be out there celebrating my downfall with everyone else?” Roman asks.
“Tomorrow night, they’re going to be chanting ‘Thank you, Roman’ loud enough that the arena will quake.” Crash replies. “Tomorrow night, you’re going to be well-rested enough to appreciate when they do it.”
“I lost, Crash.”
“So did Gunther. That doesn’t eliminate the six hundred and sixty six days that he held the IC Title for. You carried that belt for four years, Ro. It’s time you get the chance to lay down your burden and rest.”
Roman wants to argue. The best statement he can manage falls flat even as he says it. “I hit Seth with a steel chair.”
Crash shrugs. “You can apologize tomorrow.”
“He hit me first. Ten years ago. He hit me first. You told me I had to let it go. But I couldn’t let it go. And it cost me the match.”
“Yeah, dude, that happens sometimes. You gonna mope about it all night, or are you gonna let me help you wash up and untangle the mess in your hair?”
25- Write about your ship bathing or swimming together.
I will be honest the brain worms took over so instead of writing I present the current state of the Merman Roman and Selkie Crash illustration that this prompt inspired. Bonus Crab Heyman bc it made me giggle
