Roan's quiet demeanor belied the storm of emotions that brewed beneath the surface. Among the gang, he was known as the one who never shied away from a fight, fiercely protective of his chosen family – you and his fellow members.

You had been his lifeline long before he joined the gang. When his parents abandoned him, leaving him on your father's doorstep, you welcomed him into your home with open arms. From that moment on, you were his rock, showing him kindness and acceptance when he needed it most.

But there was a complication – Roan couldn't shake the feeling that you only saw him as a brother. Despite the intimacy of your childhood closeness – sharing showers, beds, and clothes – he longed for you to see him as more than just a sibling. He had grown, evolved from the troubled kid he once was into a man who was stronger, wiser, and more capable. He yearned for you to recognize his growth, to see him for the person he had become.

After your father's passing, when the weight of grief threatened to consume you, Roan was there to offer solace. Together, you sought refuge in the home your father left behind – a spacious sanctuary where memories mingled with the scent of loss.

One evening, Roan returned home weary from the trials of the day. He had confided in the gang about his feelings for you, only to be met with skepticism and warnings of potential danger. They didn't understand – couldn't understand – the depth of his love for you.

But Roan couldn't deny his feelings. As he looked at you on the couch, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, his heart swelled with affection.

He approached you with a mix of apprehension and determination, taking a seat beside you on the couch. Gently, he guided your hands to his face, his touch warm against your skin. "I'm home," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of his devotion, his longing, and his hope for a future where you would see him, not just as family.