#elytra-galaxy

Roman returns to his room after the latest, not-exactly-greatest, brainstorming session with the other sides. It wasn’t all bad, of course- some of his ideas were liked, or at least liked enough to be kept for further revision. But the problem is that he’s having to remind himself it wasn’t all bad in the first place, because it means the vast majority of what he brought to the table was… not good. Rejected, unworthy of even considering any further. All the optimism and false confidence in the world can’t truly convince Roman he’s anything but a failure, if so much of what he’d originally thought to be good turns out to be hot garbage in the harsh light of reality. Sure, he can’t expect everything to be the best idea ever, but Thomas deserves better than this from him- he ought to be perfect for him. Roman knows everyone is disappointed with him, even if they’re mostly too nice to let him see it- but he sees the little glances when they think he’s looked away, and he knows what they mean.

He sighs heavily and falls into the chair in front of his vanity. He should take off his makeup before he falls asleep with it still on. Bright lipgloss and glittery red eyeshadow- applied this morning, when he felt ready to take on the day and wanted everyone’s eyes on him. Now, he wishes he could disappear. He doesn’t even get half the makeup off before he breaks at the sight of his miserable self in the mirror, tears streaming down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut. He knows he’ll only feel worse if he’s watching himself cry.

There are hands on Roman’s shoulders, squeezing lightly to announce their presence, and he doesn’t startle or open his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s subconsciously created an imaginary person in his room to provide himself comfort. He sits there trying to pull himself together while the hands gently remove the rest of the makeup for him, wiping away tears at the same time. He shivers at the soft touches. So badly Roman wishes he could have this for real, another actual person here for him in his vulnerable moment, but no- if anyone real were here, they would see how weak he truly is. He can’t ever have that. In any case, his imagination has outdone itself this time: the hands, now moving down to massage the tension from his shoulders, feel very realistic- if just a little too cold to be real.

And oh, Roman’s imaginary companion of the day is very good at giving him a massage. He leans back into it, keeping just enough restraint to avoid falling out of his chair should they suddenly vanish. The little sounds of relief he’s making are almost embarrassing. He smiles and tilts his head back, finally feeling like he’s not going to be sitting here crying forever, and opens his eyes- an action which should dismiss the imaginary person.

Which is why he freezes, letting out a very undignified shriek in the moment before his mouth is covered, when the first thing he sees is Deceit standing over him and looking almost as panicked as Roman himself.

“Would you mind not screaming like that, someone is going to think you’re being murdered!”

Roman considers asking how he’d prefer him to scream instead, but he doesn’t have the energy to start any banter. “What do you want?” he asks wearily, once Deceit sees he’s done freaking out and takes his hand away. He can already feel himself plummeting back into self-hatred, thinking about everything the other must have seen. Maybe that’s what he wants, to exploit Roman’s weakness. Well, let him try, he certainly can’t get any more pathetic than he is right-

“That,” Deceit snaps. “That, right there. Is why I’m here.”

Roman looks at him for another moment, then lets his head fall with a quiet sigh. He must have read the direction of his thoughts in his expression. “Get on with it, then.”

“Pardon?”

A hand is flapped in his general direction. “Mocking me, or whatever else it is you came to do.” His eyes are fixed on the frame around the mirror, his face resigned. “Tell me what a sorry excuse for a side I am and get it over with.”

“Oh…” Deceit starts to move, and Roman closes his eyes, bracing for harsher words than even his own thoughts can come up with. The next thing he knows, Deceit’s hands are cupping his face- no gloves, he notices distantly- and he looks at him in silent confusion. There’s an unreadable expression on Deceit’s face. “Oh, Roman, no. I’m not here to be cruel to you.”

“Then what?” Roman asks desperately. He can feel the tears building up again, hot and humiliating, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them. He squeezes his eyes shut once more as those cool hands, comforting despite everything, wipe them away. He doesn’t want to see Deceit pretending to care anymore.

“Roman, look at me, come on,” he says, trying to tilt Roman’s face up towards him.

Roman shakes his head silently.

“I’m only trying to help.”

He bites his lip. “I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”

“You’re not stupid, no,” Deceit agrees smoothly. “But perhaps a little too stubborn to see that it’s the truth. I do want to see Thomas succeed, after all, and that’s going to be difficult if his creativity is too busy being miserable and lying to himself to do anything.”

Roman’s breath catches, and he curls in on himself, halfheartedly trying to shake off Deceit’s hands. “I know, I’m only making things worse, it’s all I ever do anymore,” he chokes out. “Leave me alone, I- I’ll try harder, okay, I’ll be better.”

“Roman!”

Somehow, the note of stern command in Deceit’s voice has him freezing in place.

“Look at me.”

He opens his eyes reluctantly, and is rewarded with a small, encouraging smile.

“Of course you’re not perfect,” Deceit tells him, somehow immediately cutting to the heart of the problem. “No one expects you to be.”

Roman can’t keep up eye contact for long. He shakes his head again, more harshly this time, and isn’t quite sure himself what he means by it. “I…”

“Don’t argue, Roman. The only one with such high expectations for you is yourself.” He softens after a moment. “...Get some rest, okay? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He returns to himself a little at that. “What? No, I can’t, need to… work.” He gets up, ignoring the tired, dizzy feeling to turn in the direction of his desk. If he doesn’t get to work, how is he going to make the next session any better than today’s?

“No, you need to sleep.” Roman isn’t sure how it happens, but Deceit takes his hand lightly and the next thing he knows he’s sitting on his bed, blinking in confusion. How tired is he right now? (Can’t he even do this right?)

Seemingly out of nowhere, Roman bursts into tears.

“Oh- shoot, um- please don’t cry, why are you crying? Should I- get someone? One of the others?”

“No!” Roman’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. “I can’t- they can’t… see me like this,” he pleads haltingly.

“Okay, I won’t,” Deceit assures him, secretly more than a little relieved that he won’t have to talk to anyone.

Roman takes a breath and releases him, staring at his own hands as he tries to calm down. After a moment of hesitation, Deceit sits on the bed and tries rubbing his shoulders. It worked before, and it seems to be working again- Roman practically melts into him with a small noise.

“I just… I just- can’t do anything,” he finally says, “a-and if I can’t do anything then what am I even supposed to do?!” He punctuates the end of his sentence by throwing his hands up in the air, so at least he’s got some energy back. Not enough to be trying to work, though.

“You can go to sleep,” Deceit reminds him. He places a hand on Roman’s chest and, not unkindly, pushes him back until he’s flat against his pillows. “You had a long day. It will be better in the morning.”

Despite all his whining, Roman puts up very little actual resistance, snapping himself into pajamas and sinking into the softness of his bed. Deceit lets out a soft sigh of relief that his work here is done and turns to go, but Roman catches his sleeve.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, already half-asleep, and then, “Stay?”