8.4

When Roman's eyes land on me, he smiles.

"You're nice to come home to." He kicks off his boots. "Have you been here long?"

I shake my head and watch him head to the kitchen. After tossing me a water bottle, which I catch clumsily, he gets one for himself and takes a long drink.

"How was band practice?"

Roman shrugs. "Alright. You should come sometime."

"How do you practice without your drums?" I wonder. Roman follows my gaze to the kit sitting in the corner of the living room.

"There's an old set at our singer's house. Easier than lugging mine around."

I fidget with the plastic bottle in my hands. "Play for me."

"What do you want me to play?"

I've caught him off guard.

"Anything."

Roman smiles and sets his water bottle down on the countertop. "Anything," he muses. He's slow walking to the drum set, but once he sits down, he picks up the sticks right away. And then he's in his own world.

When Roman plays, you can tell that drums are his passion. Each beat creates it's own music that together, the sounds is more than just the backbone of a song. As he plays, the drums become the song.

I press my palm to my chest. The bass drum beats vibrate into my hand from my collarbone, all the while I can't tear my eyes away from him. I feel honored to have Roman play for me - it always seems to take my breath away. He sings the words of the song he plays to himself, inaudible to me over the sound of the drum set.

When he's finished, Roman lets the drums settle and stares at me, a small smile upon his lips.

"You're amazing," I tell him.

"No, not really," he laughs, rising from the kit. He heads back for his water and takes a couple of swigs. "What are you up to today? Want to go somewhere and doing something?"

"Actually," I respond quietly, "I kind of wanted to talk." Again, I've taken Roman by surprise. I rise to my feet and nod my head towards the open door of his bedroom. "Can we?"

"Of course."

Behind the closed door of Roman's bedroom, we sit on the messy bed, facing each other. It's now that I feel choked up and nervous. I don't know how to tell him and yet here I am, having to.

I open my mouth slowly, trying to form words in my head so that I can speak them aloud.

"The night before you came home," I start, looking up at him, "it was a really bad night."

Roman reaches out and gently grasps my fingers, holding them firmly in his hand.

"But before I tell you what happened, there's some things I think I should tell you first."