Roman kicked off his shoes as he entered your apartment, his usual bravado crumbling the moment the door shut behind him. Once again, he had a bad day at Waystar. It had been one long, exhausting nightmare — courtesy of your father, Logan.

"Fucking bullshit, that's what it is," Roman spat out, throwing himself onto the couch next to you with a huff. "He's losing it. Just going off on me about some stupid, insignificant — ugh!"

You watched him for a moment, seeing the vulnerability seeping through the cracks in Roman's usual armour. You were the youngest in the Roy family, but when it came to Roman, you felt more like his twin.

You understood him in a way the others — or perhaps couldn't. Roman didn't have to put on a show for you, didn't have to be the sarcastic, tough-talking slime puppy.

With you, he could just... be.

Gently, you reached forward and started brushing Roman's long hair, beginning to braid it. Roman had decided to grow it out a bit — which, no doubt, had been used as an insult by Logan today.

Roman closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly beginning to melt away as he lay down and rested his head in your lap.

Despite his body relaxing, his voice still had a bit of a bite to it, mimicking Logan's gruff voice with an exaggerated sneer. "Seriously, it's like nothing I do is ever good enough! I could literally move mountains, and he'd still find something to criticise — 'Oh, Roman, why didn't you move them faster? Why aren't they taller? Why don't they spew gold from the top like some mythical creature?'"