#dark!roman

Roman gasped, his eyes opening up to the familiar sight of Thomas’s living room across the dining table. He blinked a few times, looking down at his hands. He grasped them a few times and looked around the room. Thomas blearily picked at a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, scanning his phone as Logan harped on him to review the schedule. Virgil sat on the top of the fridge, chewing his thumbnail and Patton begged him to come down. A very normal morning. Was that a daydream? Or some kind of nightmare? Roman wasn’t sure.

“He always does this, Patton, there’s no point. He must like it up there,” Roman pointed out into the kitchen, and Patton turned to look at Roman. 

Patton smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, ah, Roman. Well, I still want him to sit at the table like a family.” Virgil pulled up his legs and looked away. “Aw, Virge, don’t be like that!” Patton knocked on the fridge, but Virgil just ignored him.

Roman sighed and ran his hand through his hair, glancing at Thomas struggling through his oatmeal another time. He didn’t seem to notice Roman. That was a motif, lately. Logan didn’t look up either, too focused on trying to get Thomas’ attention. Patton was back to ignoring him, pleading with Virgil to come down. Virgil just pulled up his hood and put on a pair of headphones. Virgil didn’t even have to be here. It was just breakfast. What was Thomas even worried about? 

“Patton, wh—”

“Virgil, that’s not good for the fridge,” Patton insisted.

“He doesn’t weigh anything, Patton. He is imaginary,” Logan reminded Patton with a weary tone, putting down his clipboard on the table with a clatter. “Thomas, there is nothing wrong with your food, and it is getting cold. You are going to fall behind schedule if you keep procrastinating like this.”

“Logan, please,” Thomas pleaded desperately, causing every side to look at him. “… I just need a minute.” Thomas just slumped further, holding his head down on the table. The oatmeal spoon was knocked out, leaving a mushy trail on the table where it fell.

Ah, well, that’s what Virgil was doing here. Would have been nice to have someone tell Roman that, but it seemed he was just in the way here. He didn’t tarry any longer, just sinking out on the spot. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, unlike some sides. Roman didn’t bother showing up the rest of the day. If they couldn’t appreciate his greatness, they didn’t deserve his presence anyway.

—

If Roman knew he’d be stepping directly into a minefield, he wouldn’t have tried to come out today. When Roman rose up to suggest an idea to Thomas more directly, he caught Patton’s eye. Patton looked stressed, a weak smile and shooting his eyes over next to him where Janus stood and mouthed ‘leave’. But it was too late, Janus caught the cartoonish gestures and turned from talking to Patton to see Roman standing there.

“Oh, you again. You know, as much as I love to see you, I think we’d all be better off if you and your ‘sense of humour’ took a little break, hm?” Janus suggested, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. Patton sighed heavily, looking conflicted.

“I wasn’t here to make jokes, Janus. Thomas wasn’t paying attention to me,” Roman stated in annoyance, fixing his hair with a sweep of his hand.

“Probably because he already has plenty of creative suggestions at the moment,” Janus said haughtily, flicking his gloved fingers over to the couch, where Thomas sat with his head in his arms, a TV show going on ignored in the background. Remus was sitting there rambling off things in an animated fashion that talked through a shadowy figure in front of Thomas, crouching on the top part of the couch like a gargoyle over Thomas’ left shoulder. The debris of one of his insidious (and overcomplicated) traps lay all over the living room floor and across the back of the couch.

Roman bristled and clenched his fists. “I assure you, my suggestions would be leagues better than his,” he shot defensively, motioning widely over to Remus who just ignored him as he continued to prattle off horrible, disgusting things as usual.

“Buddy, I think I’d prefer to hear what you had to say, too, but it’s more fair if we listen to everyone, isn’t it?” Patton said weakly, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater.

“Nobody has even heard what I have to say yet, how is that fair?” Roman insisted, stamping his foot.

Patton almost looked hopeful for a moment, but Janus’ sharp tongue sliced that away in an instant. “I’m sure we’ve all heard enough of you. I’m sure I have,” Janus scoffed, turning away from Roman to face Patton directly. Patton looked like he was about to object, but bit his lip, looking between Janus and Roman.

“I mean, Remus will be done soon… Right?” Patton said warily, holding up a finger just for it to sag as he watched the gross green gargoyle gallivant over the top of the couch, just out of sight of Thomas.

Roman recoiled at the idea, then again at Remus who was now topping his arm with deodorant to eat. “There is no way that those suggestions are anything worthwhile,” Roman insisted firmly, but nobody reacted to his loud frustration.

“Hm? Did you hear something, Patton? Anyway, as I was saying, a little sunlight does wonders. Perhaps a little sunbathing,” Janus said airily, twisting his hand in the air. Clearly he was not wanted. Once again. Roman groaned, his head suddenly hurting horribly. He sank out, feeling the blood pounding under his fingertips as he held his skull.

Roman’s hand nudged something on his head that was not there earlier, which he rubbed in surprise. It was hard and solid. He created a hand mirror and pulled back his hair to check what was hiding in his perfectly styled hair. A sharp white horn was sticking out of his skull. Roman panicked, shifting his head to check the other side. There was a horn sticking out there as well. The same size, evenly spaced, a beautiful curve. The perfect horns if they weren’t so deeply unwanted. Horns were always a sign of an evil character, and Roman was sprouting the devil’s accoutrement! 

He gasped, shifting the mirror again to examine them. He tried to simply shift them away like he was changing clothes. The horns stayed, sticking out of his hair. Was this some sort of prank? A trick? Roman tried to push them down back into his skull, but it only hurt his head worse. He summoned a comb and tried to style the hair up around them, but Linda continued to fight him and he just looked ridiculous with the only style that hid them. Roman reset his hair with a huff and summoned a crown. It hid the horns well enough, but an involuntary shiver ran down his spine when he realized the crown was familiar. He thought he had come up with it on the spot, as he often did, but it looked like the crown from his dream. 

The crown slid, and Roman huffed and adjusted it. It’s just a crown with red jewels. He’s overthinking it. Who is he, Virgil? No. It was fine. It hid the horns and it looked good. It wasn’t that deep. Whatever was causing the horns might not even be that deep, either. Maybe this was a prank from Remus. Or payback from some other side for a slight they imagined. Well, no matter. They were easy to hide and he always deserved a crown. Things just fell off of his head easily. The horns would hold it on for him, though. A blessing in disguise. Surely. Roman has a cool new crown and other than being purposefully ignored, things were fine. He would talk to Thomas later. And make him listen. ‘Fairness’ his royal hindquarters. Right now, though, his entire body hurt and he needed a nap.

—

It made sense Roman ended so bruised up, if he took the time to think about it. But when he woke up, yawned while he stretched out like the Disney princess he was, then summoned a mirror to check his hair, it surprised him so much he let out a very unmanly screech and dropped the mirror. It broke, of course. While Roman was preening and whining for help, he stepped on it by accident. But no one came, and the weight of it all sunk in slowly in the silent room.

Roman slumped to the floor and gingerly picked the mirror back up, checking again. A yellowing bruise around his eye. A pale blue on his cheek. Barely noticeable, but there. A massive green bruise on his neck. So his ego was bruised. And nobody cared to come take care of him. Unreasonable, really. Here he is trying so hard to keep Thomas distracted and delighted with all of his greatest creations, and nobody can even spare a pitiful ‘there, there’ with a pat on his very sore head. Roman reached up to check, and the horns were still there, though. Perhaps even bigger, but still hidden by the combination of the crown and hair. Maybe not a head pat, then. He grumbled and adjusted a loose strand back into place through the cracks of the mirror. 

This is how people get hurt. Not that that was a threat. But maybe it should be. No, that’s not who he was as a side. Well, who was he? Because he wasn’t being creativity, lately. Remus was doing that, much to Roman’s chagrin. His ego was too bruised to exist. His desires aren’t being listened to in the slightest right now, even if he knew all too well he wasn’t sure what he even wanted at the moment. But normally someone would at least listen to Roman ramble out vague feelings of yearning. There’s nothing but a hope of romance on the horizon, and all of his romantic schemes keep getting shut down as ‘premature’. His dreams are also shut down as ‘unrealistic’. All there is left is passion, and at the moment there was nothing anyone would let him be passionate about.

If the universe (or at least Thomassphere) was trying to send him a message, it needed to be a bit more clear. Like a shimmering golden scroll with a dyslexic-friendly font. Or perhaps some mystic herald. Ideally, an extended and fantastical musical number. That would really be grand. Roman tapped his chin, and it twinged in pain. He groaned loudly, still feeling like he just couldn’t win.

Carefully getting up, Roman started to pace the room again. It felt cold, and he wanted some comfort, so he summoned a red blanket to wrap over his shoulders as he walked, holding it tight over himself. It was honestly strange that no one came to visit. Patton would have been helping Roman in a heartbeat before. Patton loved helping. And yet he never answered any calls? 

“Patton?” Roman tried again, but it just felt like his words rammed into the wall and turned into dust that dumped all over the floor. He slogged through the debris of his words and sighed, pulling the blanket tighter. He kicked the dust and choked on his dead words, the coughing wracking pain through each and every bruise dappling his skin. 

This was truly unfair. What, was one catty remark enough to earn such revile? Well, not even that. That would require someone to even speak to him. He’s being completely ignored. Spurned, even. Is just one mistake all that it takes? If so, what a cruel double-standard to be held against him. Janus and Virgil are often making snide remarks, but Roman is somehow better than that? Were they not all Thomas? Even Logan gets to be a judgey bitch. And honestly, he didn’t even want to consider the types of things Remus said. And if Patton can make mistakes and apologize, then where was Roman? A unique doghouse made just for him. Unfairly. Cruelly. He wasn’t even given a chance to apologize, if that was indeed even the problem. No one ever even said what he did wrong to earn this exile. There’s no guidebook for this. 

Roman tried his hardest every second of his life to be who he thought Thomas needed. Creative, stunning, passionate, strong, dashing. A prince of fantasy writing scrolls of genius literature. But what was any of it worth if no one listened. If no one cared what he had to say or the works he wanted to put into the world. Why was Thomas putting so much time into listening to Remus and ignoring his glorious self? One who was objectively better in every way! For one, Roman could take the damned hint. If he wasn’t wanted, fine. He would be unwanted. If people—well, sides, at least, he knew the fans loved him—can’t want a good thing, that’s their problem. But he still had a job to do, even if they never gave him the chance. 

He looked like hell. Felt like shit. Honestly, not at his ‘A game’. But none of that mattered. It was time to make that hell someone else’s problem, whether they liked it or not.

Roman rose in Thomas’ bedroom, ignoring the looks he got from the other sides already in the room. “Thomas!” The man himself looked up from the edge of the bed warily. Remus was building another one of those god-awful contraptions across the bed. Roman raised his hand and Remus disappeared with a stinky gasp, clearly caught off guard. “Stop. Ignoring me for him. Make some time for me or I will do it myself. And I am right now.”

Patton held up his hand and opened his mouth, Roman just shushed him and zipped his mouth shut with his free hand, still holding the blanket around his shoulders. “Get your bodacious ass to that desk and write this down. I’ve been trying to tell you this idea for days and I don’t want to forget.” 

Thomas just stared blankly at Roman, not seeming to follow. He looked where Remus was, and his eyes shot to Patton who was trying to pull the fiddly zipper back open. “I don’t—”

Roman’s laughter cut Thomas off, gripping the crumpled bedsheet and leaning back in surprise. “I’m sorry for making that sound like a request somehow. I will turn this bedroom into a children’s hospital, so help me god. Desk.” Roman pointed at the desk with his unsheathed katana as he stared Thomas down. After a heavy pause, Thomas swallowed heavily and got up to go to the desk.

“I really don’t have the energy for this, Roman,” Thomas said weakly, and his exhausted face spoke that leagues more than his words did. Creases under his eyes, dry lips, a sag of the skin. Ugh, what he wouldn’t give for a spa day. But he sat at the chair and looked at Roman like he wished he did. The telltale pound of their shared heart in anticipation. A wave of nausea from needing some sleep and a good meal.

Roman steeled his heart for Thomas, and smacked the desk with the katana. “That’s what happens when you only make time for him. But I’m not letting any of you”—Roman pointedly glanced to the other sides in the room—“kill me. So it’s my time now. Open the damn notebook. And then we’re going for a shower. Have some pride, for god’s sakes,” Roman hissed out bitterly.

“But the schedule—” Logan tried.

“Was I even on it?” Roman shot, the sword now under Logan’s chin. Logan held up his hands and backed off. There was a look in his eye full of anger. But he bit his lip like he had something to say and sunk out, not another word. It seemed Logan understood how to choose his battles.

“Oh, hold on, change that word choice. This is better,” Roman hummed, waving his hand. Thomas scratched out the previous sentence and wrote the corrected version. He made notes of direction and key, and the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly before another sigh knocked through his chest, exhaustion not playing any games with this poor man’s body much longer.

“Isn’t this a little…” Patton trailed off. He must have worked that zipper open.

“I’m done being little,” Roman huffed, using the hilt of the katana to knock his crown back into place.

“I can see that,” Janus hummed, crossing his arms.

“Oh, shut it, snake boy,” Roman snipped, Janus holding his hand to his chest and gasping in response.

“Perfect. Finally, that’s written down. We’re not filming anything like that, though, gorgeous, so to the shower with you,” Roman commanded.

“We have other—” Virgil tried to object.

“Sh. Actually, strip the bed first. These sheets are disgusting. Touching them after a shower is nightmare material, and I’ve had well enough of that, I think,” Roman ordered. Thomas looked confused and looked to the other sides.

“You want to get that bee out of your bonnet?” Virgil huffed, his hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets as he sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets were pulled off under him by Thomas, but he didn’t shift from his spot as they phased through him.

“Someone else put it there, and it’s made its new home. And if I have to deal with this forsaken bee, then you can all deal with me dealing with the bee,” Roman insisted firmly.

“What?” Virgil’s stiff posture dropped to look at Roman sideways.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Roman waved Virgil off. Thomas deposited the sheets in the hamper and looked to all the sides again.

“Well, we do kind of smell. I thought that was Remus, but…” Patton trailed off again, looking to the floor and wringing his hands.

“Hot shower. Now. We’ll listen to Dear Evan Hanson for the emo, but we need some cleaning and hydrating, tout de suite,” Roman said, sending his sword away. Janus just rolled his eyes and Patton kept staring at the floor.

“I can’t call that musical anywhere near alt rock, princey,” Virgil said, leaning back on the bare mattress.

“It’s about all those sad loser things, close enough.” Roman grinned, leaning with one hand on the desk.

“Speaking of being a sad loser,” Janus said derisively.

“I’m sure you’re a professional at it, but I don’t have time for nonsense like that. Shower time is when I shine. Keep the phone close for notes, Thomas!” Roman motioned with his free hand and Thomas sighed, doing as told. Janus said something back, but Roman just ignored him and followed Thomas into the bathroom.

The hot water was divine. Life-giving, really. He could see what all those metaphors were about. Surely he could come up with a better one, though. Thomas gargled the hot water before just standing under the hot waterfall. Virgil appeared sitting on top of the toilet tank, surprising Roman. Everyone else seemed to have backed off. But if Virgil wanted a fight, he could get one.

“We’re not worrying this shower through, Virgil,” Roman stated flatly.

“Maybe you’re not,” Virgil scoffed, leaning on his thighs. “No, what’s with…” He motioned in Roman’s direction. “All of this?”

“The perfection? I know.”

“I more meant the shiners.”

“I am sparkling, aren’t I,” Roman said with a fond sigh.

“I’d rather be shiny,” Thomas sang in the shower. Oh, they forgot to turn on the tunes. Well, any musical is a good one. Virgil looked over to Thomas for a moment, humming along.

“Is that why the crown and the cape, too?” Virgil asked, turning back to look at Roman.

“Cape. Yes. Right. This is a cape.” Roman blinked and quickly turned the red blanket over his shoulders into a proper cape, hooked in the front with a golden embellished cape hook, sporting a red amulet in the design. He dropped his hand from the nape of his neck to lean with both hands on the bathroom counter.

“… That’s what I said,” Virgil stated oddly, looking over Roman again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Even other than the full spectrum of bruise going on,” he asked with a suspicious twinge.

Roman turned over his shoulder to look into the bathroom mirror at himself. There were massive cracks along the surface of the bathroom mirror. That was odd. When did that happen? The breaks in the surface distorted and fragmented the image of himself from behind. He saw a small version of his face give himself the once over. Small hairs sticking out from under his crown, littered with bruises, but still standing tall. Perhaps not ideal, but ideals were Pat’s territory. Creativity and passion could be messy. Wrought with mistakes and burdened with criticism, however heavy either are, these things move on. Perfection is an idea, but passion is a force of nature, not to be reckoned with. Creativity is the divine spark that brings new life to the world. Maybe ideals and such were beneath him all along, even.

“Princey?” Virgil asked again, shaking Roman from his reverie.

Roman looked back to Virgil and cleared his throat. “No. No, I’m not. I don’t think I’ve been okay in a long time, even. I may never even be okay again. But I can’t keep waiting for someone else to fix things. And I’m certainly not going to put up with being shoved aside any longer.”

“Uh, Ro—”

“Honestly, it’s been hard. And I’m tired of all this gaff and faff. Really, it’s too much for any side to handle. I shouldn't have been the side who who had to stepped up.”

“Roman—”

“I simply couldn’t handle all that mess any longer,” Roman said, with a hot huff through his nose, reaching up to adjust his crown again, since he shifted while he spoke. “And if no one is going to take care of my poor bruises, I will. And if that makes me a problem, I’m afraid that’s a you-problem. Not a me-problem,” he said resolutely.

“Princey,” Virgil insisted loudly.

“What is it, nightmare on whine street?” Roman narrowed his eyes at Virgil. If he was going to object…

Virgil pointed behind Roman, which was odd. There was just a sink there. Roman turned to look over his shoulder and just saw the shattered mirror again, the red cape misshapen along the breaks of glass. Fog spread along the edges of the glass as the steam from the shower heated up the bathroom, giving the visage a dreamlike appearance. Virgil grunted, attracting Roman’s eyes once more, and motioned with both hands to Roman’s body.

“Yes, I’m here, Virgil, spit it out already!” Roman’s head lolled back, and the crown caught on the horns this time instead of sliding off his head like it probably would have. He’s so not used to hats.

“How’s the amazing technicolour dreamcoat?” Virgil said, returning to leaning on his thighs with a big smirk.

“You know, I considered going full rainbow plenty of times, but it just gets clashy. So classic was the way to go. At least for now, anyway. Though getting someone over here to dye our whole head rainbow really would be a fun way to mix things up, wouldn’t it?” Roman hummed, rubbing his chin as he pondered the idea. Thomas pulled at a wet lock of hair and looked at it in the shower with interest.

“Classic villain?” Virgil asked, sounding amused.

“Now’s not the time for jokes, Virgil, don’t be silly,” Roman waved him off, still thinking about rainbow hair. Wasn’t that what people did when they wanted a change, anyway?

Virgil snorted. “Hey, Princey, what colour is your tunic?”

“Black, of course,” Roman joked, figuring he may as well play along. He stood up straight again and it was too fast, causing the crown to shift on his head, so he reached up to adjust it. The sleeve of his arm caught in his eyes though, and it was genuinely black now. Roman’s breath caught as his eyes locked on the fabric. Virgil tilted to look at his face, but Roman just grinned, rubbing the amulet on the cape hook with the sleeve to a shine. “It was time for a change. Isn’t it great? I’m a dark side like you used to be!” Roman enthused.

“Dark side? Roman, you made up that name. We never—”

“So? Everything real starts as an idea!” Roman defended. “What, are you jealous I look better in it than you?”

“More surprised than anything,” Virgil said, covering his mouth.

“You really did wuss out, Virgil. I think you were right all along. Being horrible and demanding gets things done,” Roman pondered on.

Virgil’s back shot straight, gripping his knees. “Excuse me?”

“Ugh, we still have to make the bed to actually go to bed,” Roman realized with a whine. “Oh, wait, that scene! Thomas, phone!” Roman waved at Thomas frantically, and Thomas reached for the phone to write it down, leaving wet marks on the screen. “Well, maybe since we’ve been staying up late already, it would be fine to write a little more…”

“Roman, what is going on with you,” Virgil demanded, standing up and hopping down from the toilet seat.

“Nothing that wasn’t a long time coming,” Roman huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

Virgil jabbed at Roman’s chest with a finger and stared him in the eyes. “Do you really think—” Virgil started, and Roman snorted out an angry sound, heat licking at his face as smoke rose past his eyes in the fogged bathroom. Virgil’s eyes widened and he stumbled back, looking over to Thomas before looking back to Roman. “Creativity,” Virgil said, sounding taken aback for some reason. “Right,” Virgil muttered flatly and walked through the bathroom door, fading out and leaving nothing but the humid haze of the small bathroom to keep them company.

Roman turned quickly to look back into the shattered mirror, but the fog had completely overtaken the mirror, leaving nothing but a black and red smudge staring back at him. He could barely make it out as himself, but he knew it instinctively to be true. Roman gripped the counter top and stared where his eyes should be. This was what he wanted, right? Though having two dark creativities was a bit much to handle for his brain. That didn’t make sense. They needed new names. Roman was still passion, love, and hope. He wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t creativity, as well. That’s not a phase he’s growing out of. Remus being called ‘creativity’ is an affront, in Roman’s opinion. Perhaps the poopoo-stinky side still worked. Or the murderwhore. Buttface? Well, he could workshop that.

“Roman! That’s an unexpected look from you,” Thomas stated warily, sliding open the shower curtain. 

Roman turned around with a flourish. “Fortune favours the bold, darling, and I will be bold and fortunate if it kills you,” he said confidently, stepping out of the way of the sink.

“I’m sure Virgil has something to say about that.”

“Face, body, and hair moisturizer, Thomas, the emo already scampered off. We can get back to writing now that everyone is off my back, and I’m not wasting a second of my time,” Roman insisted, pushing Thomas closer to the sink to get to his beauty routine.

— 

“Well, one of us will have to change,” Remus said cattily as Roman rose up to enter the room.

“I already changed. Since you’re the stagnant skidmark in question, how about you?” Roman snipped back, putting up a hand to block his face. He ignored Remus’ gasp and faced Logan. “When am I on the schedule today, my walking, talking spreadsheet of a side?”

“My opinion matters today?” Logan asked shortly, his fist tightening at his side.

“Oh, like anyone else was listening to you either,” Roman scoffed, flicking his wrist to hurry along with the indignation and answer the question. Logan didn’t say anything, just continuing to glare. What a drama queen. “I’m asking now. Have you made time for moi, or am I taking time for moi?”

Logan paused as if considering something, before responding, “a half-hour in the evening,” between gritted teeth.

“That will absolutely not do, Logan. We’ll barely get started in that amount of time,” Roman objected right away.

“Well, you kept Thomas awake late with that stunt, and we are very behind on other responsibilities. We need to clean. Get proper groceries. Update our budget spreadsheets. Do some exercise. There is only so much time in the day, and as you are well aware, we still need extra sleep. Be reasonable,” Logan stated flatly.

Reasonable? Roman glowered back at Logan, who summoned a notebook to write something down. He didn’t think he was being unreasonable. Not that he was even ‘reason’ to begin with. That was so stupid it didn’t even dignify a response. And from Specs of all sides. Really. 

Roman looked over Thomas, who looked like a zombie as he tried to eat some dry cereal. “Out of milk?” Roman asked.

“Out of nearly everything,” Patton piped up. “I think—” 

“Hm, well, I don’t think I care that much about all the minutia. I’ll let you all handle that and be the artiste I am and just do what I need to as the moment demands,” Roman said haughtily, feeling joyously indulgent in himself. He reveled in Patton’s gaping stare, Virgil throwing back his head in a groan, and just ignored whatever Remus was doing as usual. “Ta ta for now!” 

Roman wiggled his fingers and sank out of the room, letting himself get caught up in a fantasy of not having to deal with all those things and simply get to be the star of the show. Oh, getting into another production was also a good idea. He had Thomas pull out his phone to check for auditions while he crunched on dry cereal and considered the options. The other sides had gotten into an argument, but it wasn’t about anything that mattered, so he left them to it and focused on more important things.

— 

“Hello again, my adoring audience!” Roman rose into the room with a twirl, his arms in the air in a pose. “Oh, not so much an audience today,” he said, examining the room with no one but Thomas. So many sides have been very present lately. “Finally feeling a little free of conflicting feelings, Tommy-Salami?” Roman put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, who was splayed on the couch like a starfish.

“Not really… feeling.” Thomas’ head lolled over to Roman, looking up at him. “The cape is neat. What made you change your mind?”

“Ah, well, just an impulse, really,” Roman dismissed, not caring to even think about that himself. He looked around again, looking for Logan. Logic made it sound very important, and While Roman didn’t particularly care or agree on the methods, their life needed a bit of organizing. Who better than Logan to help? “Wasn’t there some schedule you were supposed to be keeping? I thought I’d be having at least a little rebuff here,” Roman stated, scrunching up his face in confusion.

“Happy to provide,” Janus hissed, appearing with his leg crossed over the other and his hands folded in his lap in the chair. Thomas’ head rolled over to look at him, but didn’t react otherwise.

“That wasn’t an encouragement,” Roman objected.

“Funny thing! Neither is this. I thought you realized we had a problem here and were doing the gracious thing,” Janus said pointedly, staring Roman down.

“I’m not feeling particularly gracious at the moment.” Roman rolled his eyes, motioning to the bruises all over his face and neck.

“We did always have an easy to bruise ego, didn’t we,” Janus remarked banally, as if he couldn’t be less interested. Roman just narrowed his eyes at him. “We’re taking a breather.”

“We’ve been doing nothing but taking a breather. Trust me, I understand a good spa day. But we’re not even recuperating! Look at him!” Roman motioned to Thomas who looked up lazily at Roman and shrugged. “Go do something good, or stop wasting me time.”

“What’s this really about Roman?” Janus said flatly.

Roman startled, pulling up his hand to his chest as his jaw dropped. “Excusé moi?”

“All… this.” Janus motioned to Roman, who looked down and looked up so fast he nearly launched his crown. It caught on his horn and he pushed it back into place on his head with a huff. “I’ve always known you were bitchy, but plagiarism? Come now, that’s supposed to be beneath us. Other than that whole… Inside Out situation,” Janus said insultingly, twisting his gloved hand in the air. Roman bristled, a thousand insults all fighting to bubble out at once, leaving him speechless and stammering. “No more zingers? Thank god,” Janus scoffed, looking away to Thomas and opening his mouth again once more, but Roman beat him to the punch.

Literally.

Janus stumbled back, holding his face and looking utterly and completely aghast.

“I have listened. And struggled. And tried. And I get all these conflicting requests and messages. Give me fun nicknames and quips Roman, they’re good for comedy! Oh, but not right now. Express yourself, Roman! But not that way, no no! That will not do! Perform right now! Ope, the moment’s passed, too late. Stop acting afool!” Roman shouted out as Janus stumbled back to fall on the couch next to Janus. Thomas seemed to be coming to, the haze in his eyes clearing as he looked over to Roman. “Or how about even just you, no other side involved? Doting on me with sweet compliments, playing along with my jokes, having a gas. Just to throw me out of the damned air balloon the first disagreement we have! I’m not buying what you’re selling anymore, Sanctimonious Snitch!”—Janus gasped loudly at that one—“If you have a problem with me, tell me. I’m not a damned mind-reader.”

“We’re literally the same person, but go off, I guess,” Janus muttered, rubbing his face. He knocked his hat back into place and tugged at the caplet to remove the rumples. But that wasn’t an answer.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” Roman said cattily, crossing his arms. His tail flicked behind him, knocking over a trinket on the shelf. Wait, tail?

“I could ask you the same question,” Janus grumbled, looking away. Roman shot his tail to fall down the back line of his legs to hide it in a panic. “Fine, I’ll leave you to these wet mashed potatoes. He’s so responsive right now, I’m sure it will be a breeze,” Janus drawled and disappeared from the couch.

Thomas looked up at Roman, seeming to slip back into that daze. Roman snapped. “Bup-bup-bup! Look at me! Best side, most handsome, easy on the eyes, shouldn’t be a problem,” Roman said confidently, striking a pose. But Thomas waned again. “Wake up, bitch!” Roman shot, clenching his fists and stamping his foot on the floor. The tail flicked again, but it was no matter. “Thomas!” Smoke billowed from Roman’s mouth and the room heated.

“Someone’s throwing a little temper-tantrum,” Remus hummed, placing an empty can on a precarious pile in his latest abomination of a Rube Goldberg machine. “What, do I get no invite to the pity party? You know how much I love balls,” Remus preened, leaning forward with a manic expression distorting open his eyes and lips.

“I already made that joke. But better. And ages ago. Get with the program,” Roman huffed, looking away. He let his tail swish freely along with the frustration, not caring if Remus saw. Roman took the chance to look at it as well. A red-scaled dragon tail with a spade at the end. On the thinner side. The base had some golden-white scales on the underbelly. At least the color-scheme made sense. Suddenly having a dragon tail didn’t. 

“Aw, did nobody wisten to your tales and you got so constipated with them, they shot out of your ass instead of your mouth?” Remus joked, flicking his fingers in Roman’s direction.

“More action than you’ve gotten,” Roman scoffed, his arms crossing again as he paced the room. He turned on a foot and faced Thomas pointedly, ignoring whatever machinations Remus had going on pointedly. Roman tugged at his tunic and cleared his throat, looking directly at Thomas who was still utterly dazed. “Thomas. You are getting up off this damned couch. We are making a mug cake for a little sugar so I can think in this hell hole we call an apartment, and we are writing, do you hear me?” 

Thomas just stared at him. Or maybe through him. 

“Listen to me!” Roman shot, fire passing from his lips, the carpet smoking beneath his boots.

“Did we upgrade to temperature-tantrum?” Remus mused playfully, rubbing his mustache.

“Weak, Remus. And you call yourself creativity,” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Eh, we’re sleep deprived.” Remus waved off, unfazed, and Thomas seemed to have caught himself tittering. Remus adjusted the remote control right next to Thomas’ hand, teetering to get knocked off to start the trap.

Roman sighed heavily and pulled Thomas off the couch by his left arm, away from the obvious set up all crafted behind him. 

“Spoilsport!” Remus shot, knocking down the remote himself. The trap set off, but Roman simply pulled Thomas away into the kitchen and away from all that mess.

“I’m not really hungry, Roman,” Thomas objected, but Roman didn’t care and sent a single arm flying, tugging him through the kitchen to the cabinet and pantry to make a mug cake. 

Logan rose up with a tired sigh, the other hand going into Thomas’ pocket for the cell phone, looking up a recipe for one. Roman was just going to wing it—honestly, how hard could it be—but with Logan’s help they had a mug brownie in hand with a spoonful of frost-bitten ice cream no one remembered buying on top in short order. Roman stuck the tail to the back of his pants and tried to hide it there, but Logan didn’t seem to be looking Roman’s way at all. He wasn’t sure if he was offended or relieved about that. 

There was a bit of fight to eat the sweet treat, Thomas stubbornly dodging with his head when they tried. The poor fool got a big smear of brownie on his face. But after a single bite, his stomach woke up and he was eating it in no time.

Roman felt incredibly self-satisfied with the victory, but Logan looked just as stale and unimpressed as before. “Geez Logan, it’s not a funeral,” Roman huffed, Thomas tossing a glance to Logan in-between bites. He handed off a wet paper towel to Thomas for him to clean off his cheek.

“Do you even care what I have to say?” Logan asked flatly, looking stoic as usual. Thomas took the paper towel automatically, and then did a double-take between Roman and the wet rag before cleaning off his face.

“Not really, but it’s not like you care at all,” Roman said dismissively, and Logan’s eye twitched. “But I don’t think that matters. When is dinner time on that schedule of yours again? I wasn’t paying attention,” Roman asked. Logan’s arms dropped to his side and he stood there blankly for a moment. “Logan?”

“Earth to the ass-tronaut!” Remus shot from the living room.

“Remus I will cut you into bite sized pieces and feed you to the birds!” Roman shouted back angrily.

“What, not enough of a man to vore me whole?” Remus teased, wiggling his ass in the air.

“Logan, what time do we need to go and make dinner,” Roman asked again, just ignoring Remus. Then glanced around the kitchen to all the dirty dishes. There wasn’t even a clean counter to work with. “Er, well… order out dinner, actually,” he amended his question. Even if they started cleaning the kitchen now, he didn’t think they’d be done in time to make dinner. And they certainly didn’t have the energy to clean up after making dinner, either. Roman glanced over to the garbage, and even that was full of take out containers. Roman groaned inwardly as his head sagged. He knocked the crown back into place and looked at Logan who still stood there like a robot.

“You’d think he’d be hopping on the opportunity to answer a question like that,” Roman remarked.

“Maybe that scheduling fetish doesn’t have the same spark anymore,” Remus suggested, leaning over the counter to look into the kitchen. “Let’s add roaches to the mug cake. Ant sprinkles. A little bit of sh—”

“No,” Roman and Thomas said simultaneously, but Thomas was still struck with a shudder.

“Rude,” Remus whined.

“I… don’t understand the purpose of this question,” Logan finally said, and to his credit he really looked lost.

“And I don’t understand the confusion. What, did you shred it up? Feed it to the neighbor’s dog? Did Remus light it ablaze?” Roman asked incredulously. 

“Oh!” Remus cackled with delight at the idea.

“Well, obviously not that one, then,” Roman groused, shoving some food in Thomas’ mouth since he got distracted from eating again. “I know you have redundant schedules. And those back-ups have back-ups. Just give me a time, I don’t care about the specifics or some sob story about how one of Remus’ little brain demons at your day planner,” Roman said, leaning on the counter lazily.

“… Why?” Logan asked.

“Ugh. I see now that too much chaos and disorder is a problem. And while I don’t want it cutting into my me time, I’ve been cut all the same. I’d rather stop early than not get to be myself at all. Did you think I wanted this fashion flip? No! It sucks!” Roman tried to explain but fell off into complaining.

“Sure suits you though,” Remus said with a high teasing tone. Roman raised his arm and tried to send off Remus again, but the gremlin’s smile only widened. “That trick will only work once! You can’t surprise me with the audacity anymore when you have nothing but!” Remus announced brightly, leaning in and shackling himself dramatically to the counter, the chains loudly clanking and he posed like a waif dying in a dungeon. “I’m here forever,” he sighed miserably.

“No one is allowed to call me over-dramatic ever again,” Roman said flatly. Remus collapsed to the counter and coughed out blood, his cheeks growing hollow and dark as he coughed. “You act like you’re trapped and withering, but you’ve always had it good,” Roman stated darkly.

“Oh ho?” Remus looked up from the counter with high eyebrows, wiping the blood from his lips with his hand. It smudged all over his face, only looking worse.

“You’ve never been stuck listening to all these stupid rules,” Roman started. “Do it this way, Roman. What about what’s popular, Princey? That won’t sell, Roman. Don’t be mean, Roman. You can’t talk about our current project, Roman, that’s spoilers! Why don’t you stand up for what’s right, aren’t you a prince? Distract me, Roman!” He said with increasing volume in a mocking tone, his hands yapping along with him. “You’ve always just done whatever you wanted without ever considering another soul, and nobody blinks an eye. If I was anywhere near as bad as you, I’d get chastised from all sides!” Roman ranted out, slamming his fist into the counter. Thomas put down his mug and considered Roman carefully, looking aware of him for the first time this afternoon. “I didn’t even ask, and you helped me,” Roman said quietly. “Which is more than I can say about any other side right now!” He shouted to the ceiling. Remus cackled loudly, echoing eerily in the room. “So. When are we ordering dinner on your schedule? Or have you been shut up by Janus again,” Roman insisted in a hard tone.  

“You. You started that,” Logan said in a baffled tone.

“Be the fun side, Roman. Come up with a joke, Roman. Keep it light-hearted, Roman,” he hissed through his teeth as he reiterated, glaring at Logan through the words forcing their way through the walls of his pearly whites.

“That’s rich,” Remus said with a dreamy sigh.

“If we were rich, the kitchen would be clean and our private chef would be making us a meal right now!” Roman shot angrily, his tone nothing short of bitchy and done-with-it.

“Soak the mug, Thomas,” Logan said quietly, pointing at the empty mug Thomas held as he gaped at the other sides.

“Please do.” Roman waved him to the sink. “I thought it was a joke. Between friends. But here we are and I fucked up again if you’re holding something that stupid against me. Sorry. Should I hold a sign,” he grumbled out, flicking his head side to side.

“I would appreciate that,” Logan said, suddenly holding the day planner in his hands.

“That was a joke, but you know what, sure,” Roman agreed with exasperation. “Time!” He snapped impatiently again.

Logan regarded Roman through thin eyes. “We should order dinner in around two hours. Ideally, something nutritionally sound. And since we’ve been eating out or having pre-packaged meals, we should be drinking plenty of water to be mindful of our sodium intake,” Logan said warily, like he expected to get cut off any minute.

“Ugh, boring,” Roman groaned, his head falling back. “Alright then. Thomas, a glass of water and to the desk, right now. We’re going to color a little to wake you up from whatever fog you’ve been in and then writing for the rest of the time. Let’s go! We have a limited amount of time! Look alive, Thomas!” He stood up straighter and pointed, adjusting his crown.

“Unlike me!” A zombie Remus conjured said at the same time as Remus.

“The cross on the wall will handle it, go!” Roman insisted, and Thomas grabbed a glass from the cabinet with wide eyes and filled it from the pitcher in the fridge.

Roman thought he saw Logan smiling out of the corner of his eye, but he was just stoically taking notes in that stupid spiral notebook as he sank out of the kitchen when Roman looked at him properly. More zombies appeared, but Roman just made a bolt-action holy water stake launcher appear in his hands and shot them all in the head before Thomas had a chance to notice them as he took his glass of water upstairs. He passed Virgil, who shot Thomas a quizzical look, but didn’t say anything as Thomas passed.

The zombies all fell over into dust, which Roman gathered and washed down the sink with a sigh as Remus threw a massive fit on the floor, thrashing his arms and kicking his legs. “One of those days, huh?” Virgil remarked. 

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe, sister,” Roman agreed with a tired whine. He looked at the stake-launcher in his hands and where Remus threw a fit on the floor and took aim. Roman paused and sagged, walking over to Virgil and dropping off the gun in his hands as he passed upstairs to follow Thomas. “If you use it, I won’t say a word.” Roman winked and headed up the stairs with a flourished wave, turning away from the nonsense.

—

Roman lounged in the chair, munching on one of the cream cheese wontons they ordered as a side to the mushroom stir-fry and watching the film. It wasn’t exactly his choice of media, but it seemed that Thomas somehow got it in his head that a zombie movie would be fun. He couldn’t imagine where. 

Virgil sat on the top of the couch, gripping his knees, while Remus laid on the floor far too close to the screen, propped up on his palms and kicking his legs as he watched the carnage with rapt attention. At least it was distracting the little bastard. Roman didn’t pay much attention to the screen. He really only wanted a wonton. 

Thomas, as usual, wasn’t a big horror fan. Especially watching horror movies alone. It was honestly a terrible idea. Virgil may be extra ‘vigilant’ all night. Roman didn’t see much merit in these kinds of shows, and they also freaked him out, but he didn’t really want to be even more alone by going back to his room, either. Sitting there was close enough. Janus checked in from time to time, but otherwise there were no other sides there, and Thomas wasn’t paying attention to them. It may be the closest they were going to get to ‘relaxed’ for tonight, anyway. After Roman wrapped up with writing, it sunk in with Thomas that he laid around and did nothing all day when he could have been writing or cleaning or organizing or catching up on any number of other things and Roman didn’t quite know what to do with that. 

These little dilemmas where Virgil goes between stating the obvious and being helpful to being part of the problem randomly seem to be tricky waters. Roman honestly would have rather been writing than moping. Logan would agree that it would have been a better use of his time. Patton was the one most wrought with guilt about it sometimes. Putting on a scary movie as a distraction was Janus’ suggestion in the end. Something about leopards. Roman wasn’t paying attention, he was busy picking what he wanted to eat. He’d been struggling with wants lately and just needed to feel sure. Thankfully, the wontons hit the spot, so he was right. 

“Are you even watching?” Virgil whispered, and Roman just hummed in response, pulling out his phone to play on it. “Why even be out here if you don’t want to watch, Princey?”

“Logan’s probably busy with Patton at the moment. That whole ‘effective use of time doesn’t include guilt, so it is unproductive to mourn time you wasted’ spiel we’ve heard a million times before that never seems to click. So sitting alone while our heart is pounding out of our chest from this zombie nightmare is not how I would like to spend this evening. May as well sit here if I’m just going to sit somewhere, anyway. Our brain is proper mush after today, I’m not wringing another word out of it no matter how fine the cheesecloth,” Roman explained quietly, swiping through the apps to pick what he wanted to play. Oh, the prince dress-up app seemed nice. 

“And the tail?” Virgil asked, leaning over to look around Roman’s side, to the red scaled tail wrapped around his side. 

Roman glanced at it briefly to see the end flicking like an annoyed cat before returning to dressing up his dream prince. “Like I’m in control of that,” Roman huffed distractedly.

“You’re literally the mos—” Virgil started, but jumped when there was a sudden noise, stopping to look around suspiciously. “Zombies!?” Virgil hissed in surprise.

“Shotgun?” Remus asked, as if in a daze.

“Sides, Virgil,” Logan said, standing with Patton in the kitchen as they gathered a drink of ice water. Roman summoned a throw pillow right away and slammed it over his tail.

Virgil looked over, seeing Roman’s hot face and his hand gripping over the red throw pillow to hide the tail. Virgil snorted, flicking his eyes between Roman’s face and the white-knuckled grip on the pillow. “Princey—” Virgil started, but Roman shushed him quietly and sat up straighter, smiled a bit, and quickly checked to make sure his crown was in place.

Logan looked into the living room, a bored look on his face when he saw the TV. Patton said something quietly, and Logan returned to conversation with him and they both sunk out a moment later. Roman’s shoulder’s relaxed and he sighed as he sunk back into the chair.

“Kiddo, can I talk to you?” Patton asked, rising up, and Roman screamed, falling over sideways on the chair.

“Okay, maybe this movie was a bad idea,” Thomas admitted, looking over to them. Roman’s face grew hot again and he knocked his crown back into place. He coughed and sat up straight.

“Shut it or I’ll shut it for you,” Remus sang out, waving a hand above his head.

“Let’s go elsewhere,” Patton suggested warily, grabbing Roman’s shoulder. Roman nodded and swallowed heavily, and the pair sank away from their spots and Roman found himself sitting in the same spot in Patton’s room. Though the throw pillow that hid his tail here said ‘there’s no place like home’ in sky blue instead of the plain red one he summoned before. 

“I’m quite done explaining myself, Patton,” Roman defended when Patton didn’t talk to him right away. Patton just wrung his hands and stared at the floor.

“No, you’re right, I think I heard enough. I am on a streak, lately,” Patton said despondently, trailed by a weak laugh. “It’s not about that. But I am sorry for the mixed messages I had a part in. It’s not as simple as ‘do this but don’t do this’, though. But that’s besides the point.” Patton waved slightly, looking nervous. “You did a good job.”

Roman froze at that, not expecting those words out of his mouth. Honestly expected some kind of long-winded discussion about nuance with that starter. Compliments, though? He couldn’t believe that for a second. He’s been doing nothing but fighting for the last few days. “Spare me the platitudes, Patton,” Roman dismissed, looking the other way.

“Really, kiddo. You did. We’ve done something other than sleep and distract ourselves for the first day in months. You somehow got Thomas out of that fog yesterday that no one else could shake,” Patton said with a soft smile. “Hoo boy, I was there before Janus. And I just don’t know how you did it, champ! Must be magic,” he added, putting his hands on his hips and laughing lightly.

“I did my job. And I haven’t exactly been the most pleasant prince to parlay with,” Roman said, blinking up at Patton. His tail tried to twitch out of the pillow, but he slammed it down harder. “And I’m still mad at you for not coming when I called for help,” he added, his tone biting.

“Sorry again, Roman. I just… didn’t know what to say. I was worried I’d do it again, say the wrong thing, and just… contribute to the mess instead of fix it,” Patton said, contrite with his palms wide open. “And I still don’t know what to say.”

“I’d rather you stand there mute then leave me to rot, Patton,” Roman hissed out softly, looking up at him. 

Patton’s smile sagged slightly, but he spread his arms wide. “Then would you like a hug?” He asked, and Roman’s arms shot around him faster than he even realized that yes, he desperately did. Patton’s arms wrapped around him slowly, rubbing Roman’s upper back as they embraced. “I’ve been learning a lot lately. Especially a lot about what it means to be good. I used to think that kindness was always the right thing to do. There’s no situation that a little kindness would hurt. At least, that’s what I thought. But…” Patton trailed off for a moment, and Roman looked up to see him looking to the ceiling, deep in thought. 

The hug loosened, and Roman reluctantly let go for Patton to back up. He dropped onto the floor and looked up to Roman instead, crossing his legs and summoning himself what looked like a mug of hot cocoa. Patton sipped it silently for a moment, and Roman was at a loss for what could possibly come after that. That was what made sense. Every scene could use a hero. A dashing prince whose kindness and generosity helped the many, and people supported that prince in return.

Patton swallowed a gulp of cocoa before putting the mug on the floor and folding his hands in his lap. “Well… sometimes the kindest thing to do is be firm. And insistent. And sometimes that will end up looking a little mean.” Roman scoffed at that. “Okay, more than a little. You’ve been very mean. But Roman? I tried every kind word and encouragement under the sun. I tried to be soft. I tried to be patient. I almost tried bribes! But Thomas never moved. He just sat there like a rock while Remus worked on his next contraption. Janus literally came to take bets to see how long until you give up. But you forced your way through it, got us some food, and got us out of that funk. I’ve always been pro-peace, and I still am, don’t get me wrong. But I see now… in situations like this… an unwavering force can be good. And you did more good for Thomas than anyone else did with it.”

“I… How can I be unwavering if I don’t even know what I want, Patton?” Roman said weakly, letting go of his vice grip on the pillow to sag back into the chair.

“You wanted some time to write. You wanted a sweet to get the brain going. You wanted people to pay attention to you. Those seemed to work plenty!” Patton said brightly, going back for the cocoa.

“But those are so small and meaningless,” Roman objected, dejected.

“Rainbows start out from raindrops,” Patton said wisely, holding up a finger. “We’re just… starting small. While we figure it out. But we need to be resolute, I think. And forgiving,” he explained, his hand dropping back to the mug to hold it. “Speaking of, I think you have some words to say, mister.”

“Explaining how light refracts is a Logan-type situation.” Roman waved off, lolling his head to the side.

“No, no,” Patton chuckled. “The mean behaviour? The dismissing? I think you can be firm without being so rude,” he chastened.

“Can I?” Roman drawled, summoning himself a cocoa to hold on his lap.

“We’re re-learning our priorities from the ground up. I can’t say that it’ll always be a walk in the park. But I can say the stroll will be more merry”—Roman winced at that—“if we all start out with being kind… then perhaps be a bit more forceful if it’s important and we’re being bull-headed,” Patton explained.

Roman sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. “How am I supposed to know what’s ‘important’?” He asked, raising a hand to do finger quotes around the weightiest word.

“I… don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find out, huh,” Patton said, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

Roman’s arm fell to his lap, and he took a deep breath in as he looked up to the ceiling. “I’m… Sorry, Pat. I shouldn’t have zippered your mouth shut. I felt like you wouldn’t have my back and was too tired for a fight. But… I can see now that wasn’t fair of me,” Roman said genuinely, his eyes growing uncomfortably warm and wet. “Who am I, teenage Virgil?” He joked with a weak laugh.

“Very moo-ving apology,” Patton dropped a delayed pun, and Roman shot him with a finger gun along with a half-smile. “And?”

“Sorry for steam-rolling you, too,” Roman sighed, lifting up his mug to his face.

“You’ve been a real steam-powered dragon like—”

“How did you know?” Roman shot, gripping at his tail under the pillow. “Who told you?” He demanded.

“Like… like in one of those coolio steampunk novels?” Patton finished with a completely lost expression, and Roman’s face heated worse. “Roman, your head is smoking.”

Roman cleared his throat and swished at the air to clear up the fog, the tail now sticking out from under the pillow at the corner of his vision. “It… does that?” Roman said. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. 

“Well… you’re going through some things. We all are. Change can be… difficult. But it’s good, this time. You did good. That’s my point,” Patton followed up, ignoring the Roman’s obvious failure to mask the draconic situation.

“… Things were easier when they were black and white,” Roman admitted quietly. It felt hard to take the praise, for once. That used to come naturally to him. But he had to admit that considering how long they’ve all been wallowing, it was a victory worth claiming.

“Speaking of,” Patton hummed over his mug of cocoa. Roman slowly pulled his head off the chair to look at Patton who bounced his eyebrows and looked down, then back up to Roman’s face again. Roman sighed and looked down, seeing his tunic had turned back to white somehow. He lifted the pillow, but he still had the dragon tail underneath it. “Oh, neat!” Patton declared excitedly.

“I have no idea what I’m doing. But I also think I need people to respect me for what I am doing. Is that something that’s even possible? To respect someone with no control over themself?” Roman asked tiredly. 

“I respect you, champ,” Patton said softly. “Especially if you apologize to everyone else as well,” he added in a chiding tone, and Roman rolled his eyes. He’ll apologize for punching Janus if he asks. And he wasn’t even sure what he did wrong with Logan. Or Virgil. He also couldn’t mean Remus, could he? Roman was knocked from his reverie as Patton continued. “We’re all just doing what we can, and myself in particular learned the hard lesson that doing what you can when there’s still so much more you could do isn’t some kind of moral failure. Maybe you can take a page out of my book on this one. It wasn’t a fun lesson to learn,” he suggested, sounding very battered and worn.

“Patton, darling, I’m sure it was very poignant or whatever, but I don’t see how that applies,” Roman stated tiredly, leaning back again to drink his cocoa.

“Judging someone for not doing something they can’t do isn’t helpful. So If you don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re trying… that’s enough. And that will probably always be enough. We just keep… trying,” Patton said, sounding like he was coming to the conclusion at the moment rather than explaining what he meant. Maybe it didn’t quite matter. All this morality discussion was hurting his head.

Roman looked to Patton again, who seemed to be deep in thought now. Figuring out some big answer to the meaning of life no doubt. Roman looked down at himself and took stock. Still had a dragon tail. Tunic turned white again. The cape bunched up under him on the chair. Roman knocked at the crown, and it still bumped against the horns. Well. Maybe being part dragon wasn’t so bad. As long as he wasn’t a dragon witch. That would be awkward to explain. Made him more interesting than Remus, at least. Damned side put so much thought into his outfit’s small details it was embarrassing to look so plain next to him. But no matter.

“I think I’m keeping the cape,” Roman said resolutely. At least he could follow that. Want what you want whole-heartedly. Even if it’s little.

“It looks very fun,” Patton said happily.

“And Remus still sucks.”

“R—” Patton was cut off right away.

“Dick!” Remus screamed, reverberating through Patton’s room. 

They both sighed together and sipped some cocoa, and the moment grew quiet. It was comfortable, though. Patton’s loud and eccentric room glowing softly. Some familiar music played distantly in the background, and Patton hummed along. 

“And wouldn't it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong?” Roman sang along, starting out a bit meek before leaning into it and adding a riff. The mirror above the couch also looked shattered, still, but he just moved on and let his eyes roam all the other pictures on the wall.