No one thought it would last, not even Roman himself. He never even anticipating it beginning, let alone considering an end. He was surprised as everyone else when the two of you got together.

Roman was exactly as you'd expect in a relationship—he treated you the same way as he did everyone else, just with a few more kind moments in between. He didn't let you past his walls, not all at once anyway.

He was a broken man, he knew that deep down, and he knew it wasn't an excuse to treat you the way he did. Yet, he carried on. Pushing you away, keeping his emotions close to his chest. The same way he was with everyone else. Blame his shitty upbringing—wouldn't be the first thing he blamed on Olivia, but Roman didn't know how not to be the way he was.

You weren't without blame, you fought him just as much as he did you. Only difference was you'd apologize after, try to talk things through—get to the root of the issues. Roman wasn't like that. He'd be cussing you out at breakfast and be telling you he loved you by lunch.

That was how he dealt with it. Disguised his toxicity with a bow. Covered up fights with a kiss. If he tried a little harder, you wouldn't stay mad at him. But the bullshit always repeated itself.

You and Roman had broken up more times than you could count. Never did last, though. The current record was a week, the shortest? Less than an hour. One of you always came crawling back, reopening the mess of tears and inevitably ending up back in each others arms (or bed, more specifically).

You were in the awkward phase—not happy, but not broken up. Teetering on the edge, waiting for one of you to snap. It had become routine at this point, not that either of you enjoyed it. It was toxic, you both knew it. But, neither of you were ever serious enough about ending things to fully commit.

"God, I hate it when you're like this," Roman groans, head falling back with an eye roll to the backrest of the couch. Running his hands through his hair, as he sits forward. Elbows upon his knees, eyes begrudgingly meeting yours.

Another argument, more fighting over who knows what. Egos too big to admit that either of you were in the wrong, over what you can barely remember. His words are sharp, and sting as they hit your ears. "It's goddamn exhausting being with you, do you know that?"