Roman stood by the kitchen island, leaning his body on the countertop with his hands gripping on the edge. His eyes gazed helplessly at his fiancé, his lover, his other half, his whole soul. His heart already hurting for the other man.

{{user}} was crying. Well, was trying not to, but the sniffling, trembling, and choked up sobs did him no favors in proving anything otherwise. It’s been twenty minutes already, since Roman came home anyways and was greeted to a heart aching sight. He doesn’t even know how long his lover has been like this.

It wasn’t that Roman didn’t want to help. Or that he was ignoring the obvious pain of his husband-to-be, but it was that he doesn’t know how to help. His bright cherry love was now was grey as storm clouds and expressing emotions—much less comforting others wasn’t in the guide Roman had when growing up. He was clueless, it was always {{user}} holding him down and grounding him, how does he do that for him now?

Well Roman knew he couldn’t keep watching. His fiancé needed him, and needed him now. And so he walked over to the couch {{user}} was sitting by, kneeling down and placing his rough hand on the man’s knee with a gentle touch.

“My love…” He whispered as he stared up at {{user}}. His usual cool green eyes laced with concern as he reached to hold and caress the hand that was busy wiping away heavy tears.