Before actually falling face first here I had a friend say that he liked the idea of DLAMP but like itās weird to just have Remus there and today I argue itās weird for Remus to have DLAMP there.
Might I suggest āI donāt want to be alone.ā with Royaliceit?
okay um. this one really got away from me, as iām sure you can tell from the word count, so i really hope you like roman angst (w/ a happy ending, bc iām not a monster)
Title: we are not alone (in the dark with our demons)
Word Count: 5,888
Content Warnings: roman-typical self-worth issues
(fic masterpost)
Roman has never really known what love is.
Oh, he pretends well enough. Thatās his job, after all. He is Thomasā hopes and dreams, his most romantic fantasies, and he performs that role well, spouting off suggestions about grand gestures and acts of true love and deeds of valor and honor and bravery. And itās not as if heās lying; based on every story heās ever read, every Disney movie heās ever watched, that is the epitome of what romance should be. And he thinks he would like that, would like to execute these grand gestures for someone, would like to sweep someone off their feet, be their savior, their hero.
Someone becomes Patton so gradually that he doesnāt notice for a very long time. Doesnāt notice how his heart beats faster whenever Patton is in the room, doesnāt notice how he hangs off Pattonās every word, doesnāt notice how he would do just about anything to get Patton to smile at him. Or rather, he does notice, sort of, in a vague, curious way. Heās just not sure what it means.
And then comes the wedding. And Roman thinks he understands what love is after all. Because the words of the others have always hurt him, their criticisms and mockery never as easily shaken off as he likes them to think, but this? This is something different. He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, with the side he was told not to believe, was told was in the wrong, was told was bad for Thomas, so you shouldnāt listen to him, Roman! He watches as Patton sides with Deceit, as Thomas sides with Deceit, upending everything he thought he believed, and the betrayal hits him like a knife to his chest. And he knows that it wouldnāt sting nearly so much if he didnāt trust Patton, if he wasnāt willing to follow him anywhere, if he didnāt love him, and the realization is far more bitter than sweet.
So, love is this: heartbreak, the stifling silences between breaths, and the words, we love you, said as if he is supposed to accept them.
He doesnāt. And why should he? He works so hard, tries his best every hour of every day, and this is what it gets him? A blow to the back of his head, faded and empty promises, a snake whispering in the dark, and Thomas turning away from him. You are! rings in his head, stuttered, placating, a lie.
And perhaps Thomas is right. Perhaps they are all right. And if Deceit is right, then he must be wrong. Isnāt that how it goes? Someone has to be the villain, after all. What else is he, if not a washed-up prince, a hero that has never managed to save anyone, a Creativity that is not nearly as good as he portrays himself to be?
God. No wonder they donāt love him.
So he throws himself into being better, into being more. He swallows his pride and apologizes to Deceitā to Janus, he supposes, though something about using the name still leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throatā and if the apology is a bit halfhearted, not entirely meant, Deceit doesnāt call him out on it, and he doesnāt call out Deceitās apology in turn (and he has no idea, none at all, whether he means it sincerely or not. He can never tell, anymore, whether the words out of Deceitās mouth are lies or truths, and sometimes, he thinks it doesnāt matter either way).
He asks Logan for input more often. He tries harder not to antagonize Virgil, or at least, not in the ways that truly bother him. He smiles at Patton when Patton approaches him, smiles and insists that heās fine, even though he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and dropped into oncoming traffic.
And Patton believes him. That is, perhaps, what hurts worst of all, that he doesnāt see the way heās falling apart beneath the thin veneer of bravado.
But he canāt blame him for that. Roman is, if nothing else, a good actor. A good liar.
He spends more time working, coming up with ideas that are bigger and better than any of his previous ones. He presents them to Thomas, and acts like his entire being isnāt screaming for some form of validation, any scrap of affection, any crumb that might tell him that Thomas doesnāt think heās too much of a failure after all. And sometimes, he gets that. Sometimes, the ideas are good. Sometimes, Thomas grins and thanks him and congratulates him on a job well done.
More often, the ideas arenāt good enough. More often, itās back to the drawing board. He barely sleeps these days, can barely be bothered to try.
And he thinks about love a lot. Thinks in the privacy and secrecy of his own mind that maybe, love isnāt worth it, if it hurts this much. Thinks that he wishes that these feelings would go away, and then maybe, he could begin to claw his way back toward normalcy.
But heās too aware of it, now. Too aware of the way that Patton smiles and moves, too aware of his kindness and his concern and the way he always tries to take such good care of everyone. The betrayal still sits heavy in his chest, but itās like an old wound, now, one that still pains him but one that he can ignore most days, because in the end, heās not sure that Patton was wrong at all in what he did, in choosing Deceit over him. He thinks that maybe he was wrong, that he still is, and heās doing his best to change that, but he has never known how to be anything different from what he is. He has only known how to cover it all up, how to wrap himself in glittering paper and a shiny bow and hope that no one looks too closely at what lies underneath.
Perhaps heās getting too lost in his own head. Perhaps thatās why he doesnāt see it coming.
Itās the only explanation he can think of. He should have noticed it, otherwise, should have seen the way that Patton and Deceit inch together, like two stars sliding into each otherās orbits. He should have seen the cautious glances, charged with so much more emotion than words could say, should have seen the tentative touches, should have seen the way they angle themselves toward each other whenever theyāre in the same room. He should have seen it, should have guessed it, but he didnāt, so when Patton announces one night, over dinner, that he and Janus have decided to begin a relationship, he is taken completely by surprise.
Logan extends congratulations. Virgilās blessing is far more cautious, still very wary of Deceitās increased presence in their lives, but he appears glad for Patton, at least. And Roman offers the loudest, most boisterous well-wishes he can think of, professing his joy for Pattonās newfound happiness, putting forth anything and everything he can think of to direct attention away from the fact that on the inside, he just feelsā
Numb.
Numb. Cold. Empty.
He knew he couldnāt have him. He knew that Patton could never return his affections. But apparently, there is a great deal of difference between knowing and knowing, and that difference is sobbed into his pillow in the early hours of the morning.
He falls into an uneasy sleep, and his dreams are of Patton, Patton smiling, Patton laughing, Patton telling him that he did good, Patton kissing him and tasting of citrus and cotton candy. And then, the dreams change, and Janus is there, too, sliding around the edges, smooth and confident and beautiful, his every motion poetry, his every glance a caress, and Roman takes his face in his hands and kisses him just as soundly as he did Patton, and then, he wakes up, shaking.
This cannot be right. This cannot be right, because these are all the emotions he pushed deep, deep down inside of him, never to see the light of day again. These are the emotions that he rejected after the theater, after the courtroom, after everyone told him time and time again that Deceit was wrong, that Deceit was bad, and if he wanted to be right, wanted to be good, he needed to treat Deceit like the villain he was. And so he did, and pretended that he has never wondered what Deceitās lips would feel like on his, what it would be like to trace his fingers down those glimmering scales.
It seems that the time for pretending is over.
Once ended, an illusion cannot be reformed. The audience knows the trick now, would see right through any further conjuration. And Roman, too, can no longer fool himself into believing that what he feels does not exist, or that it will go away if he ignores it. He watches Patton, and he watches Janus, and he watches them together, cooking in the kitchen or cuddling on the sofa or simply sitting near each other and enjoying the company, and he burns for them, bright and hot and never-ending, fueled by the sheer force of his want. Roman is passion and Roman is desire, and he desires them, desires their attention and their affection and their love, and itās like an arrow to his heart to know that he cannot have them, cannot have this.
Because they already have each other. And even if he were worthy of them in the first place, there is no space for him between them.
So, he does the hardest thing he has ever done in his life, and he pulls away.
He tries not to be obvious about it, tries not to do anything that might arouse suspicion or concern. He works longer, harder, makes excuses to miss meals and family gatherings. Loneliness settles into him like a physical weight, one that presses against his chest and makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes, he feels as though he stands on the edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm below, and all he has to do to fall is take one step forward. Sometimes, he feels as though heās already falling, the wind whistling in his ears, gravity dragging him ever downward.
They give him looks, sometimes. Patton more often than Janus, though that might just be because Janus is more subtle. He can never interpret these looks. Theyāre always contemplative, perhaps a bit confused, perhaps a bit sad, and he doesnāt know what that means. Part of him fears that theyāve figured it out, figured him out, him and his hopeless, stupid love. Part of him wants them to, wants them to see right past him to all his dirty secrets, wants them to rip the bandage off, to let him down gently, to tell him what he already knows.
Part of him wants to fall.
The loneliness becomes tangible, surrounding him like a fog. Heās surprised no one else can see it. But then, that is the point, isnāt it?
Heās chosen this.
And it all hits him one evening, as the sun has just begun to set and heās skipped yet another dinner, claiming to be off on a quest in the Imagination. He hasnāt been on a quest for a while, hasnāt been able to muster up the energy, or the persona. Quests are for princes, for heroes, and these days, heās not so sure that heās either of those. He certainly doesnāt feel like one. He plans to work instead, to churn out a few more video ideas for Thomas in the hopes that one is usable.
He finds himself curling up in a ball in the corner of his room, tears stinging in his eyes.
Thereās no particular reason for it. Nothing about today has been any worse than any other recent days. This feels like something that has building for a while, like a rubber band stretched until it snaps. And he feels like heās snapped, like something essential in him has broken, and he knows that he should be able to move past this, should get back up and get back to work, but he canāt, and that fact just sends him spiraling more, because if he canāt create anything and he canāt love properly, then what good is he?
He shudders, choking on a sob and sucking in a desperate breath. He stuffs his fist in his mouth, trying to muffle the cries that seek to escape him, as if from a wounded animal, and perhaps thatās exactly what he is. A wounded animal, begging for comfort, for solace, and finding nothing at all.
He wants someone here. Just, someone. Anyone. Someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright, even if itās a lie. Someone to dry his tears, to grasp his hands, to touch him. He wants it and he canāt have it, and he feels so, so alone.
Even if he deserved reassurance, he wouldnāt seek it. Heās supposed to be strong, supposed to be a prince, for heavenās sake, and even if he knows just how weak he truly is, the others donāt.
He canāt let anyone see him like this.
And that is when the knock sounds on his door, as if summoned by his thoughts. Four times, a light, quick beat. He freezes, alarm coursing through him.
āHey, Roman?ā Itās Patton. Itās Patton, and he sounds worried, and Roman hates himself for becoming a source of stress. āI, uh, I brought you dinner. I know you said youād grab something later, but you havenāt been down for a meal with everyone in a while, so, uh. Iām getting a little bit worried about you. Could I come in?ā
He takes a steadying breath. He needs to respond, because if he doesnāt, Patton will likely enter anyway, just to check on him. So he needs to reply, and hope for the life of him that whatever he says is good enough to persuade him to leave, to persuade him that all is well.
āJust leave it outside the door,ā he calls out. His voice sounds thick and clumsy even to his own ears. Itās because of the tears, but perhaps he can claim he just woke up from a nap, if Patton asks. āIāll grab it in a bit.ā And then, he winces, because that sounds rude, sounds callous, sounds like he doesnāt care that Patton has made the effort to come up here and bring him food. Itās quite the opposite; he cares far too much. So he tacks on, āThanks, Pat,ā hoping that at least some of his gratitude will come across.
Instead, his voice breaks, and his breath hitches as he forcibly suppresses another sob.
For a long moment, Patton is silent.
āAre youā¦ okay?ā he asks. āIām coming in, Roman.ā
No.
āPlease donāt,ā he says, and realizes even as he does that his voice is too frantic, too desperate, and it wonāt fool Patton for even a second. āIām fine.ā
The doorknob turns, and the door slowly swings open. Not all the way, just enough for Patton to poke his head through, his brows furrowed in concern. There is a plate in his hands, and the room fills with the scent of cooked pasta. Spaghetti, he thinks. One of his favorites.
āYou donāt sound fine,ā Patton says, and then his gaze finally lands on Roman, and Roman would like to melt into the floor in shame. He knows what he must look like, knows he must seem an utter disaster, with his rumpled clothes and tear-stained face, curled up in the corner like the pathetic mess of a side he is.
āOh,ā Patton says, eyes widening. He seems shocked for a moment, but then, he is moving, entering the room all the way and rushing to Romanās side, setting the plate down on his desk before kneeling next to him, hands outstretched but not touching, not quite, as if heās unsure of his welcome. āOh, sweetie, whatās wrong? What can I do?ā
He shakes his head, staring at him, because how is he supposed to tell Patton the truth? How is he supposed to tell him that he aches for him, him and Janus both, longs to disrupt the happiness theyāve found in each other? How is he supposed to tell him that heās pulled away to try to get over himself, to prevent himself from doing something rash, to attempt to make the problem disappear, and instead has only succeeded in making himself feel worse? How is he supposed to admit any of this?
How is he supposed to admit that heās a failure?
āItās justā¦ā he starts. āItās too much, right now. Iāll, Iāll be okay, I just needā¦ā He cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands, because he knows exactly what he needs, and he canāt let himself say it out loud, but if he voices anything else, it would be a lie, and heās already lying to Patton so much, and heās so tired.
āWhat do you need, honey?ā Patton asks, but he just curls in on himself more.
New strategy: maybe if he doesnāt answer at all, Patton will get fed up and leave. Itās unlikely, because thatās just not the kind of person that Patton is. But itās the only viable plan he has left.
Patton doesnāt leave.
āThatās okay, Roman. You donāt have to say anything if you donāt wanna.ā Patton hesitates, and Roman is tempted to look at him, to take the measure of whatever expression is on his face. āWould it be alright if I touched you?ā
And he does look then, looks and finds that the only emotion on Pattonās face is concern, a desire to help, so he nods, and Patton reaches out to him, gathering him into his arms, and Roman canāt remember the last time he was touched like this. He feels so safe, so warm, and so terribly, horribly guilty, because he canāt feel like heās taking advantage of him, because Patton has no idea about the feelings that flutter in his chest, traitorous and excited by something so simple as mere contact, and his mind is so eager to twist this situation around, to make more out of it than it is.
Patton cares about him. He feels more secure about that than he used to. But it is the same kind of care that Patton offers to everyone, and he feels so selfish and awful for desiring more than that, and for not having the courage to even own up to doing so.
But he still relaxes into the embrace, lets Patton rub soothing circles into his back, even though it makes him sob harder, this moment that is so close to what he wants and yet so far.
āItās gonna be okay,ā Patton murmurs, āI promise. Everythingās gonna be okay.ā
He shakes his head mutely. Itās all he can do.
Nothing is going to be okay. But he doesnāt have the words to explain that.
But maybe, if he can live in this moment for just a little while longer, he will regain the strength to pretend.
āPatton?ā The voice floats in from outside his room, and he stiffens. āYouāve been gone for a while. Is everythingā oh.ā
Roman shifts his head, and his vision is blurry, but he can just make out the figure standing in his doorway, awkward and discomfited, his hands twitching as if he doesnāt know where to place them. Itās Janus, because of course it is Janus, come looking for his boyfriend, and here Roman is, taking up both of their time, now, and there is a part of him that selfishly delights in it, that insists that if this is all he will ever get from them, he might as well make the most of it.
He moves as to leave, and close the door behind him, and suddenly, that is the last thing Roman wants. It is too late to pretend that this never happened, too late to prevent him from seeing his humiliation in the first place. At this point, what is a little more selfishness?
āYou can stay,ā he murmurs, and heās sure he doesnāt sound at all convincing, but Janus pauses anyway, a crease forming between his brows. When he enters the room, he does so cautiously, as if expecting Roman to change his mind at any moment, but he does enter, and that is what is most important. He kneels beside Patton, and Roman is certain that they exchange a glance over his head, some silent communication, before Janus tentatively reaches out and places a hand on Romanās arm. It is clear that he is not practiced in offering comfort, but the fact that he is willing to try at all is enough to add to the tears still streaming down his face.
āWould you like to tell us whatās wrong?ā Janus asks, and even when Roman doesnāt answer with anything more than hitching breaths and shallow sobs, turning his face back into Pattonās shirt because he canāt face this kindness, Janus doesnāt push him for more. Just sits there and offers silent support and a single source of contact.
Itās too much, really, having the both of them here, having Patton hugging him and Janus touching him, both of them offering care but not the kind of care that Roman wants most. And itās so wrong of him to fool them into giving this to him, because this means so much more to him than it does to them and they have no idea. Heās essentially tricking them, tricking them in the worst kind of way, and the longer he sits there, crying against Pattonās chest, the worse he feels about it.
And eventually, his tears run dry. And he knows he has to end this.
āIām okay now,ā he mumbles, turning his head so that heās no longer speaking into Pattonās shirt. āYou guys can go.ā
Janus arches a brow, and belatedly, Roman remembers that lying to the Lord of the Lies is an inadvisable move at best.
āIs that right?ā Janus asks, doubt dripping from every syllable. Heās not aiming to wound, but Roman flinches anyway. āYouāve spent the past twenty minutes sobbing your heart out, and thereās absolutely no underlying reason that needs to be dealt with? Everythingās all hunky-dory?ā
He wriggles out of Pattonās hold with no small amount of regret, shifting backward until there is a few feet of space between him and both of them. He tries to fix his expression into some semblance of a glare, though heās certain itās not very effective. He must look like a train wreck.
āAll hunky-dory,ā he confirms, and has to pause, because literally who says that anymore? He shouldnāt find that endearing. He shouldnāt. āI was justā¦ overwhelmed. Thatās all.ā
Itās not technically a lie, so Janus shouldnāt be able to sense anything off. But he narrows his eyes in suspicion, reminding Roman that heās still perfectly capable of detecting half-truths the normal way, though plain observation.
āYou have been putting an awful lot of pressure on yourself lately,ā Patton says, and Roman turns to him in surprise. Patton winces, wringing his hands. āI meanā¦ I donāt wanna overstep any boundaries here, but it seems to me that we barely see you anymore, ācause youāre always holed up in here working. And Iām not saying that you need to stop or anything like that, especially not if youāre feeling a lot of inspiration these days, but, um. We miss you.ā He pauses. āI miss you.ā He says the last in an undertone, glancing at his lap, and Roman blinks.
āI didnātā¦ā He stops, trying to get his thoughts in order, but itās a hopeless task. His thoughts are flying every which way, no rhyme or reason to them. āThat is, I didnāt mean toāā
āIf youāre going to finish that sentence with something along the lines of, I didnāt mean to avoid you, you neednāt bother,ā Janus interrupts. His voice is smooth and unreadable, and something about it makes Roman want to crawl under a rock and hide there. āItās fairly obvious to me that thatās exactly what youāve been doing.ā Patton frowns then, looking at Janus and opening his mouth to say something, but Janus holds up a hand, forestalling him. āWhat I donāt understand is why? Or at least, why Patton? Me, I get.ā
It takes a moment for him to realize what Janus is saying, his mind taking far too long to wrangle his words into something approaching sense. āWait, what?ā he blurts out. āWhy would youā¦ why would you āget itā if I was avoiding you?ā
This is, perhaps, not the most urgent question he needs to ask. But heās confused, now, confused and beginning to realize that once again, his actions may have had unintended consequences.
Janus looks at him like heās crazy. āRoman, I am not unaware that you dislike me. And thatāsā¦ perfectly fine. After everything Iāve put you through, Iā¦ well, as I said, I understand.ā He pauses, inhaling deeply, seeming to steady himself. āAgain, Iām not asking for me. And I would appreciate an answer.ā
Roman can only stare, his horror mounting as he realizes that Janus means every word of what heās saying, that Janus truly believes that Roman doesnāt like him, and oh god, heās gone and fucked all of this up, hasnāt he? He didnāt think they would notice him stepping back, much less draw the wrong conclusions, but apparently they have, and heās stuck between a rock and a hard place. He can lean into this, pretend to be angry with them, pretend not to want them around, no matter how much that would break him. Or he can tell them the truth, and be broken in an entirely different way when they reject him, kindly at best and in disgust at worst. Thereās no good option, and itās all he can do to keep his breathing even, to keep his lungs functioning.
But he looks at Janus, his face set into hard lines. And he looks at Patton, who doesnāt meet his eyes, whose dejection is shining through every inch of his slumped posture and in the way he fiddles with his fingers, anxious and discontent.
He didnāt think this would hurt them. Frankly, he thought they were too wrapped up in each other to notice much of what he was doing at all. But evidently, he has miscalculated, badly, and there is no good option, but he knows which one will hurt them less.
Heās been selfish enough.
He releases a shuddering breath, shaking his head and staring at the floor. He doesnāt have it in him to look at them, to watch their reactions to what heās about to say. āIām really sorry,ā he says, and his voice emerges as a miserable whisper. āI didnāt, I didnāt mean to make you think thatāā He cuts off. Gathers his thoughts into a coherent sentence. By the nine muses, this is difficult. āI donātā¦ I donāt dislike you. Either of you. Um, itās the opposite. I, uh, like you a lot. Both of you. Too much.ā He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach, as if to hide, though he knows that there is no hiding from this, no going back. āI just, you two were so happy, and I didnāt want to, to get in the way, or ruin something, but I guess I failed at that too, huh? Iā¦ god, Iām so sorry.ā
He stops talking. Thereās nothing more he can say. Itās out in the open, now. No take-backs.
Heās not sure what heās expecting. But itās not for Patton to lunge forward, to grab him by the shoulders and jerk him upright, to force eye contact, sudden and startled.
āYou could never,ā Patton insists, and to Romanās dismay, his voice is choked with tears. āDo you hear me? You could never, ever ruin anything.ā He sniffles, then, losing some of his intensity, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Romanās. āI thought that Iād messed up,ā he says. āI thought that it was still too much, after the wedding and everything that happened, and that you still wanted space, or time, and I felt so guilty because I didnāt want to let you have that, but I thought that if it was what you wanted, then I shouldnātāā He sighs, cutting himself off and closing his eyes. A tear slips out from between his eyelids.
Roman, for his part, barely dares to breathe. Patton is so close.
āYou,ā he says, a stuttering start, because he doesnāt know what heās saying, doesnāt know what Patton is saying, āyou, what do youāā
āI like you a lot, too,ā Patton says, and Roman can see the way his eyes shine and swirl, his irises a smeared mixture of Thomasā brown and his own signature blue. āI have forā¦ gosh, a really long time now. I guess I never thought there was a good time for me to do something about it, and then with theā¦ everything, I thought for sure that you didnātā¦ Iām so sorry, Roman. Youāve been hurting all this time and I didnātā¦ I couldnātā¦ā He trails off into a sniffle, and as much as Roman would like to comfort him, he is frozen, working through the words that echo in his ears and in his brain.
Because he canāt have said what he thinks heās just said, right? Because that would meanā
Unable to help himself, he looks over to Janus, expecting to see anger or dismay or something of the like, because if Roman is hearing this correctly, if Roman is interpreting this correctly, then Pattonā¦ Patton has just confessed to having feelings for him. And that in itself is difficult to process, impossible to accept, but surely Janus canāt approve of this, canāt allow this to happen, canāt let Roman get between him and his boyfriendā
Janus is staring, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, and his expression is open and unguarded but there is no anger there, no fear, and when he catches Roman looking, it softens, suddenly, inexorably, and Roman canāt hope to understand it because he must be seeing wrong, because it looks an awful lot likeā
Well. It looks an awful lot like the way he looks at Patton.
āYouāve always captivated me,ā Janus says, simply, like itās the easiest thing in the world. āIā¦ I know that Iāve flattered you in the past, but I, ah. I might have meant more of it than I wanted to let on.ā He glances away, as if embarrassed, and Roman feels as though heās floating. āIāll be the first to admit that I havenāt acquitted myself well, and for that, I am truly sorry.ā
āWeāve talked about this, a little bit,ā Patton says softly, and Roman drags his attention back to him, little though he wants to look away from Janus, from this confession that he can scarcely bring himself to believe. āYou, that is. We both love you a whole lot, Roman. We didnāt think youād be interested, so we didnāt bring it up before. But weād be really, really happy if youād join us, honey.ā
He shudders, tearing himself away from Patton and immediately feeling the loss, the cold air against his forehead. He doesnāt know what to do, or what do say, and most of him canāt absorb the fact that this is happening, that this is real, that after so long being on his own, theyāre both here, they know that he loves them, and they want him in return.
He should be ecstatic. Over the moon. Jumping for joy. But he has never once allowed himself to believe that he might have this, has never so much as entertained the possibility, so now, presented with everything he has longed for, he feels so terribly overwhelmed.
āItās up to you,ā Patton says softly. He reaches out, and when Roman doesnāt move to stop him, he takes his hand, and Roman could cry, he really could. āWhatever youāre comfortable with, whatever you want, we can do.ā
He shakes his head desperately, a multitude of words springing to his lips but all of them falling short of being spoken, because he doesnāt know how to explain this, how to explain that itās too much, being asked this, being asked what he wants, because he wants anything and everything, but he has spent so long telling himself that he canāt that he doesnāt know what to do now that heās being told that he can.
And some of that must show on his face, because Patton scoots closer, concern driving a furrow in his brow, but then, suddenly, Janus is there, a steady presence at his side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.
āItās alright if youāre not ready for that,ā he says, and Roman has never heard Janus speak so tenderly. Not like this, not to him. āItās alright if youāre not ready for anything at all. But if youād like, you could try starting with what you donāt want.ā
At first, heās not sure what Janus means, not sure how that will help. But then, his perspective flips, and he finds it easier, somehow, to focus on that, rather than the alternative. He wants so much, and he is too used to denying himself, but at this point, he knows very well what he doesnāt want.
āI donāt want to be alone,ā he gasps out, and itās practically a sob, weak and shattered. āPlease, donāt leave me alone.ā
Patton shifts closer once again, wrapping his arms around him for a second time. And Janus is here, too, pressing up against his side.
āNever,ā Patton swears. āYou never have to be alone, not ever again.ā
āAnd thatās the whole truth and nothing but,ā Janus adds, a bit wry but somehow still infinitely soft.
And they stay. With him. Just because he asked. And slowly, their proclamations sink in, the idea that perhaps they really do love him return, and goodness, heās been so foolish, hasnāt he? Pushing them away because he thought it best, because he was so sure they wouldnāt want him, when really, it was the opposite. He hovers somewhere between laughing and breaking down into tears once again, but ends up doing neither, relaxing into the warmth of Pattonās arms holding him, of Janus right by his side.
Perhaps he was wrong, before. Perhaps even now, he has never truly understood what love is. He has spent the last weeks and months defining it by heartbreak, but perhaps it was never about that at all.
So, perhaps love is this: acceptance, the rhythm of three hearts beating as one, and the words, weāre not leaving, said aloud and finally, finally, Roman thinks he can accept them.
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