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Roman was acting like himself when Thomas was younger, yk overdramatic, prince aesthetic, love of theater etc etc but after a fight with Virgil he decides he wants to be respected and completely switches up reads body language, stays quiet and subdued, refuses to state any opinions the other sides wouldn't completely agree with – himguy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: bullying, more unsymp!sides than I normally go

Pairings: none

Word Count: 8613

Roman is over the top, bombastic, and enthusiastic. He is prone to fits of passion and emotional outbursts. Such is the nature of Creativity. But the others...don't like that. They aren't exactly ambiguous about it either. Or, Roman struggles to walk the line between being himself and being something the others can tolerate. It gets far worse before it gets any better.

“I mean—it’s outrageous! Despicable! Why, the very greats of theater performances past are affronted at the very notion!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, lounging against the bottom of the stairs. “Are you done?”

“Am I done? Am I done? How can you even ask such a question like that, when you have awakened in me passions the likes of which would make the Ancient Greeks rise from their slumber—“

“As if your tantrum hasn’t awoken them already,” Logan mutters under his breath and Janus muffles a snort.

“—to speak in verse so as to demand an answer to the question of why you have decided to make a mockery of their livelihoods! What—how can you ask me if I am done when it is you who started this in the first place!”

Virgil yawns.

”And now—how dare you?”

“Here’s a fun game, take a shot every time Princey says ‘how dare you.’ You’ll be dead in two minutes.”

“We only drink responsibly, Virgil,” Patton chides.

“Yeah, which means you agree that he’s saying it, like, every other sentence.”

“Exactly, so if we’re going to be playing a drinking game, then you should pick something that’s either happening less—“

“Roman being reasonable?”

”How dare—“

“Quick, everyone, take a shot, he said it again!”

Roman puffs his chest up, spluttering, and Virgil just snickers, mocking his half words until Roman’s face is as red as his sash, laughing the whole time. Even Logan has to try and hide his grin as Roman keeps trying and failing to articulate much of anything.

“Oh, give it up,” Virgil sighs after a while, “you’re not making sense, Princey, you haven’t been making sense for like, half an hour. You just keep saying ‘how dare you’ and going on these monologues that don’t mean anything.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t mean anything?’ Have you not even been listening?”

“Nope.”

“Well, then, you should—what did you say?”

“I said no, Princey, I haven’t been listening. It’s not worth listening to you when you’re not really saying anything.” Virgil scrubs a hand through his hair. “You’re just…you know, talking. Making noise. That’s what you do.”

“What exactly is talking if not making noise, then?”

“Well, ‘talking’ typically refers to stringing words together in a way that actually communicates something worth saying, and ‘making noise’ is just that. Nonsense.”

“That’s not—“

“L? Back me up here.”

“He’s right,” Logan says, crossing his arms as Roman starts to puff up again, “you’ve been wasting our time with these dramatic fits and tantrums that are not and have never been productive. So unless you have something that’s actually worth saying, then I agree with Virgil that you’ve made enough noise for the evening.”

“Or ever.”

“Kiddo,” Patton scolds, “it’s not nice to say that Roman shouldn’t ever make noise again.”

“But you agree with me.”

“…I think that—“

“That’s a yes,” Janus says helpfully, smiling as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when Roman glares at him.

”What is this, Pick On Roman Day? Did I miss a memo where you all decided it would be good funny to belittle me?”

“More like did you decide to wake up and abuse our eardrums for ages and ages.”

“How is this more productive than the things I was saying?” He flings his hand out at Virgil. “He’s just insulting me?”

“Yes, which is doing the productive task of making sure that you’re not monologuing anymore,” Logan sighs, rubbing his temples. “I believe I’m going to call it here. If there’s nothing else pertinent…?”

“No,” Janus says before he can say anything, “nothing.”

“I will see you all for dinner, then.”

”Wait, Logan, you can’t just—“ Logan sinks out before he can finish his sentence— “how come he gets to do that and when I do it you all yell at me?”

“Because he’s doing the healthy thing of respecting his own boundaries,” Patton says, “and not just deciding that he doesn’t want to be here anymore.”

“How is that different?” Patton just looks at him like he’s the most disappointed he’s ever been. “What? Don’t look at me like that!”

“I’m gonna go too. I’ll see you kiddos later.”

”Wait, Pat—“

“He’s gone, Princey,” Virgil declares, still lazing about like some great over stuffed cat, “he’s not coming back.”

“What, are you two going to sink out next?”

“Oh, no, please,” Janus drawls. “Don’t mind me, this is the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in weeks.”

”What is?”

“Watching you be a peacock getting your feathers plucked.”

Roman yelps, hands going automatically behind him, and both of them burst out into laughter. Embarrassment and humiliation burn his cheeks and they just keep laughing, calling him a tomato, a pincushion, a whoopee cushion, and—and—

“Aww,” he hears Virgil simper, “is Princey gonna cry?”

Something deep inside of Roman’s chest snaps.

The living room disappears. He’s standing in his bedroom. Did he sink out? He doesn’t remember. His hands burn. His chest is splitting in agony. He can still hear laughter ringing and ringing in his ears, louder and louder and louder and louder—

Distantly, he registers that he’s on his knees, somehow, hunched over until his forehead burns into the rough shag carpet. The balloon in his chest keeps snapping hardly against his ribs with every rough inhale, the ache in his hands giving way to the sharp bite of his own nails in his palm. He splutters again, gasping for breath. It doesn’t work. He does it again. His chest feels like it’s about to splinter into pieces. They just keep laughing. Why do they always laugh?

Peacock. Tomato. Pincushion. Whoopee Cushion. Spluttering, overblown, overdramatic, messy, nonsense Prince.

That wasn’t fair. It isn’t fair.

Life isn’t fair, Roman, he can hear Logan sighing, you can’t just complain about everything all the time. You have to work for things.

Fine. They want Roman to work for things? They want him to act like he’s someone worthy of respect? Fine. He’ll play their stupid game.

***

”Ah. Roman.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I know, I was caught up in—“

“It doesn’t matter,” he continues, turning back to Patton like Roman hadn’t been speaking, “at any rate, I find it highly unlikely that a video on the animal shelters nearby will be a successful venture for Thomas.”

“But it’s a good thing to do, Logan! Besides, they have a fundraiser thing going on right now, we could help raise awareness?”

“Yeah, but what if that’s not what they’re asking for?” Virgil shakes his head. “We might just end up making things worse.”

“Besides, Thomas’s content shares to far more than just a local audience. It would be in an effort to reach the wrong demographic.”

“Well, as Thomas’s Creativity, I think that we should—“

“Oh, good, here we go, Princey’s gonna lecture us again.

Roman frowns. “I’m…but I am Thomas’s Creativity. It’s my job to come up with ideas.”

“Come up with ideas and order everyone else around like we’re your personal servants are two very different things, Roman.”

“I didn’t say that, you slippery snake—“

“Name calling will not do you any favors.” Logan’s voice cracks across the room and Roman just manages to resist the urge to flinch. “You showed up late, Roman. You do not have the authority to override anyone else, as much as we all know you wish you could.”

“Only we can,” Virgil pipes up as Janus gives a little wave, “sorry, Princey.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“Neither are you, and you should be for being so rude.”

“I—“

“They’re right, Roman,” Patton says quietly, “go on.”

Roman looks around at all of them. They stare at him expectantly. A lump grows in his throat and he mutters an apology.

“That’s better.” Logan turns away from him again. “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted…”

The others respect Logan, at least, they think that he’s worth listening to. And he’s not scolded for interrupting anyone. Maybe he could be respected the way Logan is, if he shows them that he knows what he’s talking about.

***

Roman shows up to the next meeting with his arms full of binders and notebooks. Janus raises an eyebrow as he sets them all in a neat little row around himself, waiting for the meeting to start.

“Jeez, Princey, did you murder enough trees yet? You know we’re trying to save the planet, yeah, not just kill it faster?”

“It’s research.”

“Research,” Janus repeats dubiously, just as Logan shows up.

“Ah, good, nice to see we’re all on time this time.”

“Uh, Patton’s not here yet.”

Virgil scoffs. “Snitch.”

“How am I being a snitch? You can clearly see he’s not here.”

“There’s no need to be rude, Roman.” Logan eyes his pile suspiciously. “Despite how…overeager you might be.”

“But I just—“

“Sorry, sorry!” Patton rises up. “Sorry I’m late, I just lost track of time!”

“It’s alright, Patton—“ how come it’s alright when Patton’s late, but not me?— “we can get started now.”

Great. Roman picks up the binders and starts trying to hand them out, only for Virgil to raises his eyebrow and nudge it away like it’s radioactive.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?”

“It’s…it’s research. For the video idea. I was looking into media study theories about the subjects that we wanted to include—“

“‘We?’ There’s no ‘we’ in this, Princey, we haven’t even made a decision yet. I feel like we went over this.”

Roman chews on his lip. “I know, but I wanted to have evidence for my side, and—“

“There are no sides anymore, Roman,” Janus sighs, looking almost bored, “we’re working together on this, remember?”

“…okay, I wanted to have evidence to back up what I wanted to say, is that better?”

“Well, considering you’re trying to hand me a phone book, no, not really.”

Roman huffs, letting the binder fall to the floor. Patton tuts disapprovingly at the noise. “You guys like it when Logan brings in a bunch of evidence, why can’t I—“

“Excuse me?” Logan’s expression darkens. “Is that all you think I do, Roman?”

“Oh, shit, you’ve done it now,” Virgil mutters as Logan takes a step forward.

“I—I just—I wanted to—“

“I bring in evidence to support the things I say because that is the responsible this to do. I choose the sources that will most accurately and succinctly back up my claim because I respect the time of the people I am talking to.” Logan looms over him, even though they’re about the same height. “If you are so desperate as to try and steal what it is that I do because you don’t feel as though your ego has been properly sated—“

“Ooh, get him, L.”

“—then I highly suggest you do your research.”

Janus is openly grinning and Virgil is hiding snickers behind his hand. Logan stares at him for a moment longer before he drops the binder with a thud. Roman flinches. He barely hears anything else over the rush of shame in his ears as he gathers up all of his binders and clutches them to his chest.

If they’d even bothered to look inside, they would’ve seen his summary of the academic essays and papers he’d read where he put in only the relevant parts and annotated his ideas with them, but they didn’t. They didn’t look inside. Not one of them. That wasn’t fair either. What else is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to get them to listen?

Remus. They pay attention to Remus when he shows up. Maybe he should ask Remus what to do.

***

“Remus? I—whoa!” He dodges a flying piece of…something. “I had something I wanted to ask you!”

Remus looks up from his perch on top of a mountain of various animal parts and grins, sliding down what Roman hopes is a giant tongue and shaking himself off. “What’s cracking?”

“How do you get the others to listen to you?”

“Scream until their eardrums bleed, that’s a good way.”

Roman winces. “But then they’re not—then they can’t hear at all.”

”That’s not my problem.”

“No, I mean—when you show up, everyone pays attention to you. How…how do you do that? How do you get them to take you seriously?”

“I find holding a very sharp weapon does wonders for making sure you’re listened to. Especially if they know you’ll use it!”

“I don’t want to hurt them, Re.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I just—I’m struggling with getting them to take me seriously. They don’t want to listen to me, they don’t really respect me, I just—“

“Here, hold this.”

“—I want them to—ack!”

The ball of whatever-it-was Remus placed in his hands explodes into a noxious cloud of spores, making him crouch and flail as Remus cackles. The familiar burn forms the lump in his throat and he tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down—

—only to go into a massive coughing fit when he inhales the spores again.

“Sheesh, Ro, maybe you should’ve learned your lesson.” Remus pats him on the back with mock sympathy. “Did you want to say something?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly swallows another round of the spores and has to double over, hacking them up. Remus just grins. He waves his arms frantically to get those stupid things out of the air and glares.

“Aw, lighten up, bro! You looked like you could use a laugh.”

“Re, I came to you for help.”

“Pfft. That’s your fault, not mine. What’s the matter, Ro? I’ve never had problems with getting them to take me seriously.”

“Well, yeah, because they’re scared of you.”

Remus freezes. The smile slides off his face. “Wh-what?”

“You threaten them with weapons, you scream at them until their ears bleed, wouldn’t you be scared?” Remus’s lower lip wobbles. “Wait, I didn’t mean—“

Remus sinks out before he can say anything else. He groans in frustration and scrubs his hands over his face, remembering too late that there are still spores there, and he sinks out to his bathroom to wash them all off. Scrubbing at the skin doesn’t really do anything to dull the frustration of Remus being so unhelpful and the guilt at…upsetting him.

No sooner has he dried off—actually, better make that started to dry off—does he feel the familiar yank of being summoned. He rises up in the middle of the Dark Side’s living room to see a teary Remus in Janus’s arms and an absolutely furious Virgil.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you,” Virgil spits in his face before he can even say anything, “how the fuck can you be so cruel?”

“I didn’t—“

“You actually fucking told Remus that we’re all scared of him? What the fuck, Princey?”

“I didn’t mean to, I just—!”

“Please,” Janus hisses, voice laced with enough venom to make his throat tingle, “tell us what you did mean, since clearly we must be missing something.”

Virgil glowers and folds his arms. Remus sniffles, head still pillowed in the crook of Janus’s shoulder. One of his hands rubs soothing circles over Remus’s back and a jolt of longing makes Roman’s chest ache anew.

“Well?”

“…I just meant that he threatens you guys all the time, and he—“

“Wow.” Virgil scrubs a hand over his face and starts to pace in a circle. “Just fucking wow, Roman.”

“What? He does! He admitted it, that’s what he does whenever he shows up!”

“And of course he only shows up to be the bad guy, right? That’s what you’re gonna say next?”

“I never said that! I didn’t say that! I would be scared if someone showed up and threatened to hurt me with an extremely sharp weapon or scream until my ears bleed, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, jeez, Princey, seems like you got it all figured out. No use asking us how we feel, no, you already got everything all sorted. Just the way you like it, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant, I just—“

“What is all of this racket about?”

Roman’s heart sinks when he sees Patton and Logan come in from the hall. Patton, of course, catches sight of the still-sniffling Remus and rushes over, all soft care and concern that makes Roman burn with envy, and Virgil wastes no time telling Logan about all the horrible things he said and how he’s refusing to apologize for it. Sure enough, Logan’s disappointed look turns on him in less than one minute.

“Roman,” Patton says sternly, “how could you say something like that?”

“Is there something I’m missing here? Do other people not get scared when someone shows up and threatens to hurt them?”

Patton frowns. Logan and Virgil don’t bother to hide their disgusted expressions. Janus bends down to murmur something comforting in Remus’s ear. Roman throws his hands up.

“I don’t get it! What am I not getting? Please, someone tell me, tell me what I don’t get about—“

“That’s enough.”

Patton’s tone, cold enough to freeze even the brightest stars, stops him cold.

“You’re behaving horribly, Roman, and you know that. You’re reacting in a very immature way and I expected more from you. Now, do you have an apology to make to Remus, or are you going to keep throwing a tantrum about getting caught doing something bad?”

Roman swallows around the lump in his throat. He looks at Remus, who peers out from Janus’s protective hold to look at him. In truth, he never meant to hurt his brother. He does feel bad about it, and yes, he wants to apologize.

But he looks around at the sheer force with which the others have decided to support and care for Remus, and he just…

“I’m sorry I said everyone was scared of you, Remus.”

Janus bares his teeth and hisses and Patton’s face darkens.

“Out.”

“But I said I was—”

“Get out, Roman.”

Virgil steps forward as if he’s going to bodily shove Roman out of the room and Roman quickly sinks out, listening to the comforting words of the others as they start to gather around Remus and he—he—

You know what? Fine. Fucking fine.

They say he’s being immature and dramatic and stupid and disrespectful and cruel and mean and a peacock and a tomato and a pin cushion and selfish and egotistical and badly behaved and he’s throwing a tantrum then fine. Then fine,

He sinks into the Imagination atop a vast, barren wasteland of dry cracking stone and winds racing across miles and miles of absolutely nothing. Sand stings across his exposed skin and he pays it no mind. The ground begins to split and crack under him.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. He’s not allowed to be passionate about anything or be hurt when people make fun of him. He’s not allowed to do research or do anything similar to what anyone else might be doing. He’s not allowed to go ask for help because he’ll say the wrong thing and everyone else will immediately take the side that isn’t his. He’s supposed to be this stupid dancing monkey that no one has to listen to and he never gets to actually say any of this out loud.

When was the last time someone asked him if he was okay? When was the last time someone actually listened to him? But no, Roman doesn’t get to be taken seriously. Roman doesn’t get to be hurt and upset and want things like everyone else. Roman doesn’t get to do any of that.

Roman gets to scream himself hoarse in a sandstorm until the sand scrapes his tears from his cheeks and the grind cracks under him, that’s what Roman gets to do. He gets to scream and rage and shout that it’s not fair, because it’s not fair, in a place where no one could or would care enough to hear him. He gets to scream and rage and be hurt all on his own where even the wind won’t give him the breath to speak and you know what? Maybe this is better.

Because when he looks around at the scar in the face of the earth he’s made with blood on his knuckles and an undying ache in his chest, maybe the others were right.

***

That was three months ago.

Roman wasn’t allowed to come to the meeting for a while. Remus went instead. Roman spent his time in the Imagination trying not to let the hurt in his chest turn him to stone. They dropped off a list of everything they needed him to do after the meetings were over and he did them.

Then he was allowed to come back on a sort of trial basis as long as he behaved himself. He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew they didn’t like it when he said things or acted like he knew what to do, so he didn’t say anything. Remus was still there and Remus interrupted and said things and the others laughed or listened or told him his ideas were good. They didn’t ask Roman if he had any ideas.

They still got mad if Roman was late, even if he wasn’t saying anything anyway. They still got mad if Roman wasn’t paying attention, even though they didn’t listen to any of his suggestions when he wanted to make them. They still expected him to do all of the things they wanted, even if that wasn’t something that he could do and he tried to tell them that and they told him to stop being lazy because Remus was doing all of this stuff too. It still wasn’t fair, but Roman knew better than to ask why now.

He still went to the Imagination. The Imagination didn’t judge him when he wanted to make his ideas, or when he wanted to just say something wasn’t fair out loud. He went there almost every night just to feel a little bit better, to go sit by the waterfalls and watch the rainbows form, or to go sit in the glowstone forest for a while and listen to the chirping of the tasselflies. Mostly he went to go take care of his dragon. She didn’t mind if his hands shook as he brushed her scales or if he needed to whisper-ramble to himself about how much it hurt to be in the meetings now. In the beginning he tried not to cry on her because he worried that it was rude but then she snuffled into his face with hers and wrapped her tail around him so he figured she didn’t mind too much. Sometimes he just went to her so he could lie against her scales; she was warm the way all dragons are and if he was very tired or very upset, it was almost like getting a hug. She couldn’t hug him, outside of wrapping her tail around him a few times, but she was warm and she was nice and she let him cuddle up to her, so it was okay.

Then he gets called to a meeting that isn’t the one they have planned and he only just gets there on time. He rises up into the living room and everyone else is already there, staring at him. He straightens his shirt a little self-consciously—he stopped wearing the prince costume when Janus told him he didn’t need to dress like he was always about to go to his own coronation—and waits for someone to explain what’s going on.

Logan eventually breaks the silence, sighing and straightening his glasses. “Roman, do you know why you’re here?”

He shakes his head.

“You’re because we think—well, we feel that this temper tantrum has gone on long enough.”

Temper tantrum? What temper tantrum? He’s doing what they want, isn’t he? He’s not being dramatic, he’s not doing anything wrong, he’s—he’s behaving. Just like they wanted.

“This moping, the silent treatment, the lack of initiative you’ve shown,” Logan continues, “whatever point you’re trying to make, it would be better if you just said it. Then we could come to a solution and move on.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

”He means,” Janus says, his voice way too condescending, “that this little poor-me-I’m-the-victim charade you’ve been putting on isn’t fooling anybody. So if you wouldn’t mind using your words?”

But he…they didn’t like it when he was being the way he was before. Why would they want him to go back to that? That was bad, they hated it, hated him, he—he doesn’t understand.

“Roman?” Patton prompts. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Told you,” Virgil mutters, “here we go.”

“I…you didn’t like it when I was being dramatic, or when I tried to give ideas or said I knew what I was doing—o-or when I tried to research what I wanted to do and show you, so I…I didn’t…I don’t—what am I doing wrong?”

“For fuck’s—you can stop it, Roman,” Virgil groans, “whatever act you’re doing, great, we bought it, show’s over, now tell us what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on! I’m not trying to trick you guys! I’m just trying to be what you want!”

Janus scoffs. “And you think what we want is a limp, wet blanket of a person that shows no initiative and barely bothers to put in the effort?”

Roman’s mouth just opens and closes a few times, staring at him, before his gaze desperately lands on Remus. Remus will understand, he has to, he has to know Roman’s not trying to play a trick on them or anything, he has to—

“Remus,” he starts, and has to swallow when Janus moves slightly in front of him as if to protect him, “Re, please, I didn’t—I’m not trying to do anything, I swear.”

“…why else would you be acting like this?”

Any hope he may have had that Remus would come to his defense drops like s stone to the bottom of the deepest ocean in the Imagination. The lump swells up in his throat and he has to look down.

”Oh, look, here it comes,” he hears Virgil mutter, “he’s gonna cry.”

“I’m not.”

Virgil huffs and now Roman has to do everything in his power not to cry in front of them. He won’t do it. It’s not fair. He’s not giving them the satisfaction of it.

There’s a long pause before Patton sighs.

“Do you have anything else you want to say for yourself?”

He shakes his head.

“Then perhaps it’s better if you don’t come to the meetings until you’ve sorted yourself out.”

He just nods. Patton must’ve expected him to say or do something else because there’s a sigh.

“Then you can go.”

Roman sinks out the second he’s given permission and hits the rocky cliffside on the way up to his dragon’s favorite perch. He’s already losing the battle; tears and sniffles leak out of him as he fumbles for his bag with her brush and her snacks in it, stumbling up the cliff as the clouds roll in. He manages to clear the threshold of her mountain-top cave before his knees give out and her brush clatters out of the bag.

In an instant, she raises her head and turns to look at him, letting out a concerned rumble and promptly scooping him up in one of her claws and taking flight. He clings to her talon as they fly down to one of the small coves on the edge of the Great Sea, settling in the soft, warm grass and letting go. With tail, wing, and snout, she maneuvers him into the lea of her, wing lowered protectively over him like a blanket with her head turned so her nose nuzzles into the soft part of his chest.

“They still think I’m—I’m being bad,” he hiccups as she purrs soothingly, “they think I’m faking all this, that I’m—that I’m trying to—to trick them or something, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and it’s not fair because Remus gets to be as messy and over-dramatized as he wants and they like it, they’re not even—even mad about it, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not—not fair—“

He dissolves into stupid, blubbering sobs and his dragon just huffs, blowing warm air over him in some phantom embrace and he throws himself in a heap over her snout, trying in vain to hold her back. She purrs in contentment, though he has no idea why, and just lets him be a mess all over her. He’s just so tired of this; of not being right, of not knowing what they want, of not being able to just exist without being critiqued or criticized or mocked. At least he won’t have to attend the meetings for a while, but then that means he also won’t get to see the others for a while.

Maybe that’s for the best.

Distantly, he hears the sound of water sloshing. He peers out to see the arms of the Kraken rising up from the water, the very top of his head poking out. The dragon lets out a rumble of greeting as an arm reaches toward them. She opens her wing to allow it to rest on the grass and Roman reaches out a shaky hand. He’s still sniffling too much to say anything but he pats the arm and the Kraken trills. At the questioning burble, he shakes his head and curls up a little tighter. The water around the arms churns into a slight froth as the Kraken shifts. Another low trill rings out and the arm slips away, the shadow fading beneath the surface and moving away. Roman closes his eyes again, resting against the dragon’s scales, until he hears a faint voice coming from the water.

“—drag me off like that, you know better, what is it you want to show me so badly over here?”

Roman’s blood runs cold. Remus. Ollie went to go get Remus.

He curls up even tighter and the dragon snuffles, lowering her wing protectively.

“Roman’s dragon? Why’d you bring me here?” Footsteps on the grass as Remus gets closer and the dragon growls in warning. “What’s wrong? Are you—wait, Ro?”

No. I’m not here. He curls up as small as he can go but that damage is done.

“Ro, what’re you doing? Did you fall? Are you hurt or something?” The dragon’s growl turns to a snarl when Remus keeps getting closer. “Why’re you…are you just upset that we figured out your acting thing?”

There’s no way in hell he could ever hope to disguise his flinch. The dragon lifts her head and properly bares her teeth at Remus. Ollie rumbles in warning too.

“It’s—I don’t get it, Ro. You had to know—it wasn’t exactly a believable thing.”

“Remus? Are you over here?”

“Fuck, this place is pretty. Why do you think we’ve never seen it before?”

”Roman hoarding it to himself, most likely.”

No.

No, no, no, why are they here?

The Imagination is his space. His place to be alone, to be messy, to be himself. They can’t—if they take this too, where else could he go?

“Yeah, I’m up here, so’s Ro, we just need to—whoa!”

Ollie had grabbed Remus bodily around the waist and thrown him far out into the water with a single arm. As the others come over the hill, more arms rise up and the Kraken takes a defensive stance, head raising with water pouring off the sides as it rumbles. The dragon growls too, her tail coming up to circle protectively around him.

”Roman,” he hears Patton call, his voice a little higher than normal, “Roman, come out and talk to us, please.”

Nope.

“Fuck, that thing’s huge,” he hears Virgil mutter and part of him wants to snap not to call Ollie a thing. “And the dragon too—how are we gonna—?”

“We won’t have to do anything, because Roman knows when enough is enough, and he’ll come out and talk like a mature person, won’t he?”

Nope. No, the fuck I won’t. The dragon growls too.

“Roman, be reasonable,” he hears Logan say, “you can’t expect us to take you seriously if this is how you want to have this conversation.”

On the contrary: this is the most seriously they’ve taken anything to do with Roman for a long time, and he has no intentions of having any sort of conversation right now.

“You’re not doing a very good job of demonstrating that you’ve learned from your mistakes,” he continues, “nor that we should be taking you seriously.”

“Or that we should continue being so patient,” he hears Janus mutter.

He knew it was coming, it’s been the only thing coming for months now, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Ollie heard it too, though, and gasps and scuffles come as more of the arms reach and Roman feels a sudden stab of fear—

He throws his arm out and miraculously, Ollie notices. He pauses, a questioning burble, and reaches an arm to lie on the grass near Roman. Roman rests a hand on it again, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“They’ll be mad at me,” he whispers, “please—please just—just let them. I can’t—I can’t anymore.”

The dragon rumbles and Ollie makes a discontented noise, but his arms lower back into the water with a splash. Just then, another splashing noise accompanied by Patton’s cry of relief signals Remus’s return to the cove. Roman closes his eyes and tries to forget that he’s here. Maybe if he stays still and quiet enough, they’ll leave.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Remus says, “he wasn’t trying to hurt me, just get me away. Why he didn’t say that when he was the one to bring me over here in the first place, I don’t know, but—“

He’s cut off when a furious set of burbles comes from Ollie.

”Slow down, I can’t understand you like that.”

“Uh, Remus, could you get some sort of translator so we can all understand?”

“Sure. One sec.” A brief whiz and a flash of light. “There. Now: from the beginning?”

Ollie burbles again, but this time a deep gravely voice comes from what Roman guesses is the translation device.

“Red Prince is upset.”

“Red Prince? Is that Roman?”

“Yeah, that’s what they call him. Why’s he upset?”

The Kraken shifts. “You have made him upset. Red Prince comes everyday to She-Who-Tends-The-Clouds and he cries. He is cold. He is scared.”

“Scared?” Remus asks as the others mutter. “Why is he scared?”

“He was scared when I brought you.”

Roman flinches. They’re all going to take that the wrong way.

“Why was he scared when you brought me?”

An arm lifts from the water and points. “Because you bring the others. The Untouched. Those-Who-Do-Not-Shape.”

“Those who do not shape? I shape very much, thank you.”

“He means you don’t control the Imagination, Janny. But why would Ro be scared of that? Of you guys?”

Now his dragon snarls, her voice coming from the translator. “Because you do not protect him. You protect Green Duke. You do not protect Red Prince, you are cruel to him. He is scared of being hurt when he comes here. He is scared now because you have come where you are not supposed to be.”

“Uh, Miss Dragon? We only followed Remus, Remus brought us in here to show us something. We watched him get taken by that monster—“

“Don’t call him a monster,” Remus says lowly as Ollie growls.

“—sorry, sorry, by, um…by him and we wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Why’d you bring me, Ollie, if you knew Ro was scared?”

The Kraken shifts as the water froths. “I brought you because you are his brood mate. I thought you were going to help.”

The condemnation in Ollie’s voice is enough to make Roman wince, squeezing the arm still on the grass lightly. The Kraken stills ever so slightly, the arm pressing back against his hand. The dragon noses his hair, blowing warm breath over him.

“I am sorry, Red Prince. I did not mean to bring this here.”

He shakes his head. He could never be mad at Ollie.

”Perhaps we’ve not had the best of first impressions,” Logan says, “I’m not sure either of us has the full picture here, but Roman—Red Prince, if you prefer—has been…acting unfairly towards us in the past, and we are concerned about his behavior.”

“You are correct in stating you do not have the full picture,” Ollie says, rising to an even more terrifying height, “for you do not know how much hurt you have been causing Red Prince.”

“I’m not sure you understand—“

“We understand that Red Prince is provoked to defending himself while the One-Who-Speaks-In-Storms mocks him. We understand that the One-Who-Speaks-In-Lies ridicules and confuses him. We understand that the One-Who-Speaks-In-Absolutes sees him as a disobedient child who only acts to get attention and not with other cause. And we understand that you, One-Who-Speaks-In-Rules, do not see him.”

The dragon picks up where Ollie leaves off, lifting her head to glare at them over the wing covering Roman.

“You mock and belittle his interests and scold him for being hurt over it. You act proprietary over the things you deem yours and chastise him for doing the same. You hold him accountable for every word he speaks and do not think that your words could be wielded just as carelessly. And when one of you is hurt by him,” and here she snarls at Remus, “you are quick to turn on him like a limb caught in a trap to be torn off.”

Roman hears the tense silence after she finishes speaking and braces himself.

“…I don’t believe this,” Virgil grumbles, “is this what Princey does everyday? He comes here and what, makes them believe we’re bullying him? Abusing him?”

“Torturing,” Janus says lightly, “I believe torturing would be more apt.”

“I understand that you’ve heard Roman’s perspective,” Logan says, his voice a little harder now, “but surely you must understand that there are two sides to every story. Are you not at all interested to hear ours?”

“From how you have behaved since setting foot on these shores,” the dragon growls, “no, we are not.”

“Do you even know what he said about Remus?” Patton says. “What made him so upset and us all ‘turn on him?’”

“He said that Green Duke is scary, and that you are scared of him. Because he threatens you with weapons that are sharp and screams that make your ears bleed.”

“Don’t you see how that’s mean?”

“Mean or not, it is the truth. And it is what Green Duke has said of himself.”

“They’re right,” Remus says before anyone else can say anything, “I did say that.”

“What—why?”

“Because it’s true. He came and asked me why you guys listened to me and I said it was ‘cause I…well, yeah.”

“Oh, Remus,” and Janus’s voice immediately softening hits Roman like a lightning strike, “you don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I think that yeah, you guys are scared of me sometimes. I…got caught off guard when Ro said it because Ro’s never been scared of me. At least…not until now.”

Wait. That’s why Remus was so upset? Because he thought Roman was scared of him? No, that’s—that’s not—

“But what do you mean ‘being proprietary,’ Ollie? Over what, the Imagination?”

“It is Red Prince’s job to come up with ideas. He claimed ownership of the role and was scolded. And yet when he tried to work in the way that the One-Who-Speaks-In-Rules does, he was scolded once more.”

“Wait, wait, wait, is this about that research thing Princey did like four months ago?”

“You mean the ‘thing’ that Ro spent days on, researching and annotating his stuff so that you guys would understand how much goes into creating stuff for Thomas? That ‘thing?’”

There’s a pause.

”They did not even look at it,” the dragon says, “they tossed it away while the One-Who-Speaks-In-Rules took offense to Red Prince’s comparison to his diligence.”

There’s another pause.

“We’re not…we’re not seriously buying this, are we? That Roman’s—that Roman’s—“

“Currently got a very angry Kraken and dragon defending him and still so scared that he hasn’t said a fucking word to us the whole time we’ve been here,” Remus interrupts Virgil, “yeah, Virgil, I think we’re buying it. Why the fuck didn’t any of you guys tell me this shit?”

“We didn’t—“

“Didn’t what? Didn’t think I should know that Roman’s been hurting? Didn’t think that Roman was hurt?”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Janus warns, “you also thought he was putting on an act until a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, and I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that that’s not true and I’ve been a real Class A Dickbag to my brother for like, three months.”

Logan’s scoff hurts. “Why would Roman act like that and believe it? In what set of circumstances would he ever behave that reasonably?”

Roman would not like to be here anymore. He shifts and taps the dragon’s side and she unfurls, humming soothingly as he climbs up into the dip on her back. Ignoring the shouts from the others. They take flight, climbing higher and higher into the sky, breaching the cloud layer and only then does Roman slump. Tears drying against the scales.

“Take me somewhere they won’t find me,” he begs, knowing she’ll hear it over the rush of the wind, “anywhere, please.”

***

“You guys,” Remus growls as the dragon flies away, “are dicks.”

”Again, Remus, you also believed—“

“Yeah, I did. But hey, guess what I don’t do: I don’t make fun of Roman for getting upset or excited about stuff, I don’t disregard his work or tell him he’s stealing my shit, and I don’t make fun of him for being scared. My whole fucking life, our whole fucking lives, Roman’s never been scared of me. Not once. And now? Guess what, now he’s scared of me. Because of this shit.”

“How could we have known this was how Roman was feeling? It’s not like he told us?”

“Yeah, I wonder the fuck why the person whose emotions you make fun of didn’t want to tell you his emotions. Oh, wow is, what a mystery this is.” Remus scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Ollie just watches them, arms idly toying with the water. He looks up at him, running a hand through his hair.

“You said every night?”

“Every night, Red Prince comes. Sometimes he is able to smile. Not often, not anymore. Mostly he cries, or is too quiet.” The arms shift again. “I have not heard Red Prince sing in a long time.”

That, more than anything else, sobers them. Roman sings. That’s what he does. The sky is blue, the grass is green, Roman sings. Remus takes a shaky breath and Logan adjusts his tie.

“Why is Roman crying?”

“He does not know what he is doing wrong. You did not like him as he was, you do not like him as he is now. You believe he is trying to trick you. What would he have to gain by tricking you?”

“Perhaps he thought that we would realize we treated him unfairly, and that we would apologize.”

“And did you?”

There’s another long pause.

“…oh, dear.”

***

Roman’s awoken in the night by his dragon snuffling at his shoulder. He blinks, sitting up from the bed of soft moss and flower-down to see a figure approaching the dragon’s cave. He blinks again and the silhouette of the wolf fades into view. The dragon hums a greeting and the wolf’s nose bows, before he steps aside and another figure appears.

Roman draws back and the dragon growls.

“It’s just me,” Remus says, hands raised, “I promise, I’m the only one here and I locked the Imagination behind me, no one else can come in. He can confirm.”

The wolf huffs. Roman eyes both of them warily. The dragon’s wing drapes around him.

“Please, Ro, please, I just wanna talk.”

The warring fear and hope make him stand on shaky legs, edging from the dragon’s protective embrace to where Remus can just about reach him. The wolf is a reassuring presence—he wouldn’t have brought Remus if he didn’t think he would be okay, he knows them both well enough.

The twins stand there, looking at each other in the thin shaft of moonlight.

“Are…are you scared of me, Ro?”

“No.”

“…really?”

“I’m scared of them. They all seem to think you need protection from me.”

“I don’t,” he says in a rush, “I never did. I should’ve told them, told you—“

“I said it wrong. It’s not your fault.”

“You said it fine, Roro, you said it fine. I—I miss you. The real you.”

A long pause. The dragon rumbles and the wolf blows out a long breath.

“…it’s not fair,” Roman whispers in the quiet of the night, “it’s not fair, Re.”

“I know, I know it’s not. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, I’m sorry I didn’t know—“

"They hurt me, Re, they hurt me and they didn’t care at all and then they made it seem like I was always doing the wrong thing I I never knew what I was supposed to do—“

“I know, I know—“

“I just wanted them to listen to me, I just wanted them to take me seriously and they never do, they never did, it’s not fair, it’s not fair—it’s not fair—“

Remus bundles his brother in a massive hug that sends both of them to the ground, Roman sobbing into Remus’s chest as someone hugs him for the first time in ages. He’s so cold, he’s so warm, everything hurts, everything is so scary, he has no idea what the hell’s going to happen next, but then he feels the soft brush of the wolf’s nose over his forehead and the gentle rumble of the dragon lowering her wing around the two of them and he thinks maybe…maybe he can just exist here for right now and that’ll be okay.

***

“Princey? Whoa, hey,” Virgil says, raising his hands and taking a few steps back when Roman startles terribly, “didn’t mean to scare you, sorry, sorry.”

Roman just eyes him warily.

“We, uh, we wanted to talk to you. In the, uh, in the living room. Are you…free right now?”

“…I guess.”

Virgil’s shoulders slump in relief. “Great. Great, uh, that’s good. Uh, Remus is there too, so…”

Oh, thank god.

He follows Virgil downstairs and still balks when he sees everyone. Thankfully, Remus is standing in his usual spot by the TV and he holds out his arm for Roman to come stand with him. He goes over and Remus immediately snuggles up to his side.

“Roman,” Logan says, and his voice is so soft that it takes him a moment to even realize he’s holding something, let alone that it’s one of the binders from forever ago, “thank you for joining us. We owe you quite the apology.”

“Wh-what?”

“I apologize for how I’ve treated you,” he continues, still in that soft, soft voice, “it was rude and cruel of me to dismiss and belittle you the way I did. Especially with this—“ and he lifts the binder— “this is fascinating, and I would love to discuss it with you. I…understand that I’ve caused you considerable distress recently and I want you to know that I…I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry.”

“Me next,” Patton says, “I’m sorry too. I assumed you were being immature and rude to us and so I was immature and rude to you. But you were just trying to get us to understand how you felt and I didn’t let you. I’m sorry, Roman, really. You didn’t deserve any of that, kiddo.”

“Now me.” And fuck, Janus is speaking gently to him too and Roman can’t deal with this, he can’t—but Remus holds him firmly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. It seems I—I seem to have a horrible habit of being very, very mean and cruel to you and I’ve never been more determined to break a habit.”

“Guess that leaves me.” Virgil grins sheepishly from under his fringe as Roman turns to stare at him. “I’m…I’m a real piece of shit to you, Princey. And I’m gonna work on it. It’s—I’m the reason shit feels really unfair to you a lot of the time ‘cause I’m the one poking you until you snap back at me, and then only you get yelled at, which sucks. So I’m…I’m gonna work on that. But it still sucks, also I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to accept any of them,” Remus murmurs when Roman just stares bleakly at them, “you don’t have to decide anything right now either.”

Roman just blinks.

“Do you need to go be alone right now?” He nods. “Okay. You tell Ollie I say hi?”

He nods. Remus plants a big obnoxious kiss on his cheek and lets him go and he sinks straight into the Imagination, leaving the rest of them in the living room.

***

That was three months ago.

He did cry again that night, just because he was so overwhelmed. His dragon cuddled him and Ollie swam him around the pretty coral reefs to make him feel better. The wolf even gave him a ride over to Remus’s side to see the galaxy clouds from the tall tower.

He did accept their apologies after a few days, but he said he’d need time. They agreed and he felt…strange.

He went to the meetings, Remus by his side, and slowly he started to share his ideas again. It didn’t go very smoothly, not at first, but then bit by bit it got a little better. He still didn’t want to talk about anything that was actually important to him, because that was too scary.

Then he had a panic attack when Remus wasn’t there and Janus wrapped him up in all his arms, murmuring gentle reassurance in his ear while Logan carefully talked him through it. Patton made him hot chocolate and Virgil covered him in a weighted blanket so he could rest. He was so confused, so scared, so unable to relax until Janus helped him take another sip with a gentle kiss on his cheek and he broke.

It took Logan two seconds to figure out he was touch starved.

Tuesday nights became Cuddle-Roman nights, all of them swaddled in blankets and pillows while Roman cried a little—or a lot—just from how new this was. They got very sad when he said that and he didn’t sleep alone for about a week.

He still went to the Imagination. Sometimes he needed to be by himself and there was nothing wrong with that. His dragon took him flying and cuddle with him on mountaintops, Ollie went swimming with him and the wolf went on walks when he was upset and needed someone to just be there. And Remus would always come play with him whenever he wanted to.

And maybe…maybe things would be okay. Maybe things would get better now.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sander #fic

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