8. Roman
Roman
The house is quiet when I lace up my running shoes and head out the following morning. The air is crisp when I step outside, the kind that burns your lungs with every inhale, but I need it right now. My head is too full, and I need an outlet that doesn’t include pain.
I hit the pavement hard, my feet pounding in a steady rhythm as I make my way down the empty streets. The ache in my lungs is grounding and the burn in my chest is almost comforting. It’s better than being stuck in my own head, especially since I don’t have anything else planned for today.
The thing about running is it forces you into the moment. There’s no room for thinking about bullshit, no room for thinking about the feeling of a tongue over a split lip. Just the sound of my breathing and the slap of my shoes against the ground.
I round the corner toward the trail that loops back through campus and then hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder and immediately groan.
Fucking Killian.
“You’re an asshole for not waking me up, you know,” he says as he falls in step beside me. The fucker doesn’t even have the decency to sound winded.
I don’t bother looking at him. “I thought you’d still be hungover.”
He snorts at this. “Please, it takes more than a few beers and a shitty blowjob to put me out of commission,” he says, and I don’t even ask where the blowjob comes in. “You, on the other hand, look like you didn’t sleep at all.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” he says and I watch the grin spread on his face. “Come on, Roman. What happened before you left last night? You were gone for a while after that fight and when you came back, you were spacey as fuck.”
I grit my teeth and focus on the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement. “Nothing happened.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, drawing the word out like he’s not buying a single syllable. “You’re acting weirder than usual, and that’s saying something. Was it Damon?”
His name hits like I slap and I stumble for half a second before catching myself, hoping that Killian didn’t notice. But honestly, this is Killian fucking King, of course he notices.
“Wait,” he says, his grin slipping. “It was him, wasn’t it? What the hell did he do?”
I pick up my pace, hoping he’ll get the hint and drop it, but he still matches me stride for stride.
“Roman,” he says, his voice losing its teasing edge. “Talk to me.”
“Fucking drop it, Kill.”
“No,” he says firmly. “Not until you tell me what happened. Did the fucker start shit with you again? Did he—”
“He licked me, alright!” The words burst out so suddenly that it brings both of us to a stop and I feel the heat crawling up my neck.
Killian looks like I just told him the sky is red. “He what? ”
I lean forward and place my hands on my knees to catch my breath, my heart pounding from more than just the run. I didn’t want to tell Killian this because it’s embarrassing as fuck.
“He licked me,” I repeat, glaring at the ground. “The fucker pinned me to a wall in the alley and licked the blood from my lip like it was nothing.”
I look up and see Killian’s eyes are so wide that his eyebrows nearly disappear in his hairline. “Wait, wait, hold the fuck on,” he scoffs. “He licked you… Shit, what did you do?”
I straighten up. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? He had me pinned, and it made me—”
I stop abruptly and shake my head, not wanting to go down that road. “And he said if I ever need to feel the pain of a hit, he’d be more than happy to oblige.”
Killian lets out a long whistle and shakes his head, but the look in his eye is… weird. “Damn, that’s intense.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I mutter as I drag a hand through my hair. Fuck, I could never hide anything from him even if I tried.
He steps closer and places a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” comes out automatically and I wince at the lie. Kill knows I’m not fine, I know I’m not fine, so what the fuck am I lying for?
He studies me for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay, let’s unpack this. First of all, why the hell did you let him pin you?”
“I didn’t let him,” I snap and glare at him. “He just… fuck, he caught me off guard, alright?”
“Caught you off guard, huh?” Killian smirks and that teasing edge is back. “That why you look like you’re outrunning your own mind?”
I flip him off and start to jog again, but he follows me. “Oh, come on, Rome. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and expect me not to ask questions.”
“There’s nothing else to say,” I mutter, my gaze fixed on the road.
“Oh, there’s plenty to say,” he shoots back. “Like why was he close enough to lick you in the first place, and why do you look like it’s the end of the world.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it’s like, because you look like you haven’t slept in a month.”
“Because he’s in my head, alright!” I snap, rounding on him. “He’s in my fucking head and I don’t know what to do about it!”
Killian stops dead in his tracks, clearly not expecting this reaction from me. “Roman—”
“No, you don’t get it! He’s…” I trail off, struggling to breathe. “He’s Caleb’s brother, Kill. I—last night shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let him get that close at all. It was wrong . You know what I—what we—”
“I know,” he cuts through my spiral and places his hands on my shoulders. “I know what happened and I know what Caleb meant to you. I also know you’re beating yourself up because you think this is some kind of betrayal.”
“It is a betrayal!” I exclaim, shrugging him off. “I loved Caleb, and I let Damon… I wanted him to…”
I can’t even finish that sentence without feeling ashamed.
“Roman, listen to me,” Killian says, his voice softer now. “This isn’t your fault.”
I laugh bitterly and shake my head. “Of course it’s my fault. If I hadn’t—”
“Stop,” he says, grabbing my shoulders again and forcing me to look at him. “You’ve been carrying this guilt for years when it’s not yours to carry. What happened with Caleb wasn’t your fault, you didn’t force him to put that noose around his neck—”
I flinch. “Fuck you, Kill—”
“No, you’re going to listen to me,” his grip on my shoulders tightens. “Caleb’s choices weren’t your responsibility. You didn’t make him do anything, and you sure as shit didn’t make Damon come after you.”
I stare at him, my throat tightening and my hands curling into fists at my sides. “You’re not responsible for Caleb’s death, Roman. And whatever this is with Damon, it doesn’t change what you had with Caleb.”
His words hit me hard, but they don’t stop the ache in my chest or the feeling that I’ve somehow fucked up in a way that can’t be fixed.
“You don’t owe Damon anything—not your guilt, not your headspace, not whatever the hell he’s trying to do to you. I was there, I remember how it fucked you up—”
“Don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me right now, Kill. I just… I just need to run, okay?”
Killian sighs and lets me go. He doesn’t say anything for a while, he just jogs next to me and the silence somehow feels worse than him talking. Damon’s face flashes in my mind—those green eyes that remind me so much of Caleb, and that smirk that is more dangerous than comforting.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.