39. Damon
Damon
Roman’s fingers are tracing lazy circles on my ribs, his touch featherlight. We’re tangled up in his sheets, my head resting on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat the only thing keeping me tethered to the moment.
My body is loose, completely spent, and my mind finally quiet after the storm that’s been raging all fucking day. Roman hums softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. “You okay?”
I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips against his collarbone before I nod. “Yeah.”
He shifts slightly, tilting his head to look at me, his brows pinched in concern. “Liar.”
I smirk, but it’s weak. “Not lying. Just… thinking.”
He hums, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “What’s going on in that messy head of yours?”
I hesitate, my fingers twitching against his stomach. I don’t want to ruin this—this calm, this moment. But I can’t keep this shit bottled up, not when it’s already eating me alive. I sigh and close my eyes. “My mom’s coming down.”
His fingers pause, just for a second, before they continue their slow path along my back. “Yeah?”
I nod against his chest. “Yeah. I called her after my session. It wasn’t a… good session, and I just needed to hear someone else’s voice.”
“What’d she say?”
I take a breath, trying to sort through the fucking mess in my head. “I told her about us being together and… then she asked me if I knew about you and Caleb.”
Roman’s whole body goes rigid, and I lift my head to meet his gaze. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. A few seconds pass and he finally tries again, only managing a whispered, “She knew?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “She said she was waiting for him to tell her like I did. But he never did, “my jaw clenches. “She blames herself for not going to him first.”
His face twists, and I know exactly what’s going through his head. The same fucking what-ifs that have haunted me for years.
“She said she needs to tell me something in person,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “I don’t know what the fuck that means, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Roman doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the shift in the air. The way his fingers tighten slightly against my skin, the way his breath turns just a little shallower. I press my forehead against his chest, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what she wants to tell me. But it feels… big.”
He lets out a breath, his fingers threading into my hair. “When is she getting here?”
“A few days, maybe.” I close my eyes, exhaustion settling in my bones. “She didn’t say much else.”
He’s silent for a moment, then he tightens his arms around me like he’s trying to shield me from whatever’s coming. I let him. Then, quietly, I say, “I don’t know how to accept this.”
Roman shifts, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him. “Accept what?”
I wet my lips, suddenly feeling too raw, too exposed. “Affection. Care. Whatever the fuck this is.” I gesture vaguely between us. “I don’t know how to just take it without thinking there’s some kind of catch.”
His expression softens, but he doesn’t push, he just waits. I force myself to keep going, to rip the bandage off completely. “The night before Caleb died… my father called me.”
I force myself to keep talking, even though my chest is getting tighter with every word. “He found out about me being gay.” I huff out a humorless laugh. “Said I was a demon. That I was corrupting Caleb. That I was an abomination.”
“Then he cut me off financially,” I continue, my voice flat. “Luckily, my grandfather set up a trust for me, so I was able to get by, but still… I was cut off—from my family, from everything I knew and to hear my father call me those things… Then, not even twenty-four hours later, Caleb was gone.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers pressing harder into my skin. “That’s when it started,” I whisper. “The voices. The static. I lost my fucking mind, Roman.”
His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. “Babe—”
“I got help,” I say quickly. “I—I was in a bad place for a long time, but I got help. I was better.” I shake my head, my throat tight. “Then I re-enrolled this year, and I saw you.”
Roman swallows hard, his eyes locked on mine as I continue. “And suddenly, I wasn’t better anymore.”
His face twists, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “I blamed you,” I admit. “I fucking hated you. Told myself you let him die, that you were responsible, that you should’ve done something.”
His entire body flinches like I struck him. “But it wasn’t true,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t fucking true, and I knew it. Even when I was telling myself it was, even when I was feeding myself that fucking lie—I knew.”
Roman’s quiet for so long that my stomach fucking churns. “I don’t blame you,” I murmur. “I never really did.”
He exhales shakily, his eyes glossing over. “Damon…”
I lean in, pressing my forehead against his. “You loved him, and when you lost him, I lost him, too.” His breath catches, and I press my lips against his, soft and slow, trying to make him understand.
“I don’t know how to be loved, Roman,” I admit against his mouth. “But you’re making me want to fucking learn.”
Roman pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something I don’t fucking deserve. But he gives it to me, anyway.