#ft. devil

call him an asshole, but the last thing romy is thinking about after a twelve hour shift is seeing goddamn tristan mei. he doesn't want to see anyone, really, but this was a special kind of salt on the wound. the sudden appearance of a friend, something that should make him feel cared for, with the singular goal of using him. he rolls his eyes as he approaches the pool house, beating tris to the door "i need to start locking that gate." he mutters, unlocking the door and stepping in. under the warm light of the pool house, he almost wants to laugh at the picture they make. her, no doubt wasted if her stance was anything to go by. him, scrubs covered in a mystery red liquid "what do you want?"

he's not sure when he became that guy. romeo's a lot of stereotypes, none of them good, but he prided himself on his decency. maybe it was the youth of he and amelia's relationship that had made him more hesitant, more decent. everything about him at the time was naivety and love. something's changed. when he became the dude who makes out with people in bathrooms at parties, he's not sure, but it could've been a lot worse he supposes. it's the sharp, continuous knocks against the door that separate them, that bring romy back to reality. he was allegedly in a relationship. "shit." he whispers under his breath, but can't help but to laugh at his own stupidity (and give tris a chance to make fun of him, too. break whatever tension they'd just created) "i'm kinda dating someone." it's complicated, he wants to add he's smoothing out tris' clothes, her hair, it's maybe the most gentle he's been with tris since they've known one another. usually, when their lips weren't crashing into one another's, they were arguing in some way. she was someone that, like amelia, should not have given romy their time. and she was doing a damn good job of it up until their recent arrangement started. he didn't get it. but he wasn't complaining. "they've gotta go away eventually, right? go piss in the ocean or something."