Behind These Eyes I Believe That Fantasies Can Come True [Closed]

[velveteenwolf]

When: Night of October 16th ; backdated.
Rating: PG-13? Who knows.
Characters: Roman Godfrey & Peter Rumancek.
Summary: Sometimes not seeing each other still doesn't keep you apart.


He hasn't been back to the apartment since he left that night, just after midnight. Just enough to rinse the blood from his body. When he looks into the mirror at first he can almost see gold glowing eyes, the wolf behind this human facade. He wonders if Roman saw them when he pulled his eyes from his head, or if there was too much blood. Derek had offered him Isaac's room before hand, and when he'd run to the Alpha, all of a sudden he'd been just that much more glad for it.

He can't count the number of times he's almost texted him, but each time he either puts his device down, earlier tonight he texted Stiles instead. He just can't bring himself to do it, doesn't know how to talk about this, about what happened. And so he contents himself with hiding in the room that's his, with knowing that Derek is here, and that he's okay. He lets himself drift off, expecting another nightmare.

But it's not.

It's clear blue skies, and the back side of a school building he hasn't seen in months. He toes at abandoned cigarettes, a fond smile curving his lips because shit how many packs much they have smoked out here? He shakes his head, leans against the railing, and it seems both perfectly natural and eerie when he turns his head and Roman's there beside him.



Don't wake up.

Comments

[saturniapavonia]

The two way circuit of communication was wide open but Roman too couldn't bring himself to reach out. After midnight he found himself holed up in his room with a cup by his bedside like his mother put as a boy. Except the water was tainted with red, it had a pair of unseeing eyes tilted just so his direction. The sheets were wrecked. Some sort of perverse mockery of a wet dream, wet with blood on his hands, his face. No amount of pinching, or in this case, open palmed hitting of himself could make it a dream. By the time he made it to the rest of the apartment his roommate was gone.

Since then the trail has been cold. Roman would leave to pretend to keep his head clear for work then return to no avail. Still empty. Still so full of questions. That's become the perpetual state of Roman Godfrey's heart. It's some kind of a tomb. To what? What purpose? The whole event was rattling, maybe more so than it should have been.

Lydia was the only person he turned to. It only made him more anxious. More guilty. Peter really cared about him. Whatever he told her was enough to make her step aside. Already there were feelings that ghost Roman's every expression with that fucking frustrating gypsy, he meant to tell her sooner. He meant to tell Peter. But then he took his eyes out.

Too cool for sunglasses is usually his style. Besides, they live in a pretty clouded state and season. It is bright, almost too bright. He has to close his eyes. Roman feels a presence before he knows that someone is there. If it was supposed to be a surprise, it's not.

When had they been to school really? Roman lost plenty of time to a coma and their quest. His already low ball GPA was in peril. What did it matter? What does anything matter?

"It takes 1,400 degrees Fahrenheit in order to ignite a human body," he says without a shred of doubt or wonder.