First Published: November 19th 2017

Pairing: background/mentioned moxiety, one-sided royality, one-sided logince

Genre: angst, some hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1635

Warnings: putting self in dangerous situations

Summary: Roman can't understand why Logan cares because he thinks he hates him. Logan doesn't disagree with that, but he also doesn't leave.

*I love the emotion in this one and the unrequited everything.

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Roman blindly grabs a blade from his collection and lets his room fade into a training arena. Opposite him is a straw dummy, held together with strings and rags. With a snap of his fingers, music starts blaring, and he charges at the object.

He swings his sword with no precision and little care, letting his hurt fuel his rage which in turn fuels his strikes, effectively destroying his creation in mere moments. He waves a hand and it resets, and he goes at it again, relishing in the tearing sound the rags make and the clang of the sword against the metal pole holding up the dummy. The jarring pain of his arms whenever this happens gives Roman something tangible to focus on, and he finds himself hitting the pole more. He can't distinguish whether or not he's doing it on purpose, but it doesn't matter, because the dummy is unrecognisable again.

Roman impatiently waves his hand to get a new one, and the process repeats itself again and again and again. He doesn't – he refuses to – stop, even when his muscles ache and his chest heaves with the exertion. His arms bear the brunt of the exhaustion and he loses his grip for a millisecond, and that's all it takes for him to swing his weapon so poorly that he narrowly misses his own feet. He hisses as the blade leaves a small scratch and it's only then that he finally – finally – allows himself a break.

Still, he doesn't notice that the music has stopped changing, and instead, it's one song on repeat.

He leans on the hilt of his sword, trying to catch his breath. A minute later, and he's about to get back into it when he feels a steady hand on his shoulder. If he wasn't so bone-tired, he'd jump.

"Roman," Logan says – and of course it's Logan, who hates him more than he despises emotions – "you're crying."

Surprised, he raises a shaky hand to his face and swipes under his eyes. Logan's right, but Roman doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of belittling him. "No shit, Sherlock," he snarls, roughly shrugging off the hand. He picks up his sword and is about to drive right into the dummy's chest when Logan speaks up again.

"What's wrong?"

Roman falters and consequentially misses his target, the tip of his sword bouncing off of the hard concrete wall behind the dummy. Roman stifles a gasp of pain and rubs at his shoulder. "Why do you even care?" He spits, finally facing Logan. Worry is etched onto the other's face, but he knows it's just a farce.

Logan hesitates, mulling over his words before speaking. "Thomas has been having a rough day."

The prince slumps against the wall and ignores the twisting of his gut. Of course. "Wow, and here I thought you were actually concerned about me," he mutters sarcastically. He pushes himself off the wall and walks past Logan to the weapons rack, intentionally ramming his shoulder into the other's. It probably hurts Roman more than Logan, but he doesn't care. "Whatever. Give me an hour to finish up here and I'll ensure that my problematic mood isn't affecting Thomas anymore. Now go back to being a nerd."

"You never answered my question," Logan persists, and Roman swears he's trying to get himself killed. "What's wrong?"

Roman slams his hands down on the rack with more force than intended, sending some of the other arms tumbling to the ground. He kicks one with his boot. "I just said that I'll stop hurting Thomas, so why," Roman near-yells, breathing heavily, "are you still here?! Don't you have something better to do? Just fuck off and stop pretending you care. Leave, for Christ's sake. You wouldn't be the fucking first."

He regrets saying the last sentence as soon as it passes through his lips. Roman swallows down the rising sob and screws up his eyes, trying to force the tears away. He can break down once Logan does as he demanded.

He doesn't.

"Roman, seriously," Logan begins slowly, as if he's approaching a wild animal. "Did... Did something happen with Patton?"

The name sends a new wave of hurt all throughout the prince's body, and his fingers twitch on the hilt of a sword that hadn't fallen with the others. He doesn't respond.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The matter-of-fact tone make Roman's eyes fly open. He picks up the weapon and whips around, facing Logan with a face of fury. He charges, and Logan yelps backwards, watching as Roman rushes past him and impales the repaired dummy. He yanks his sword out and swings it, cutting into its sides and ripping out the hay that was once tied neatly together. Roman adjusts his grip and cuts the head clean off, but then he stumbles and the momentum of the swing carries him forward until he crashes into the dummy. He yells in frustration and burning embarrassment, chucking his sword to the other side of the arena. The world ripples back into Roman's room and he barely makes it to his bed before he collapses into it.

Logan considers it safe to approach again. "Did he do something?"

Roman stares miserably at a wall. "No," he says finally, word half-mumbled into the pillow under his head. "Well, not exactly. Patton isn't capable of intentionally harming anyone, but god, I wish he wasn't so oblivious." Roman laughs drily, his chest aching again. He rolls over until he's staring up at the ceiling. Logan sits beside his head and brushes the hair from his sweaty forehead. The gesture reminds him of Patton. "You know about my... feelings, right?"

Logan pauses his ministrations, but continues when he hears Roman grunt. "It's hard to be unaware of the love you hold for Patton." He says this so softly that Roman has to strain to hear.

"Yeah, well, Patton... loves someone else." He chokes the last bit out and suddenly the aching consumes him.

It had been that very morning Roman had found out. He was about to head to Patton's room in order to recount his latest adventure to the one side who listens when he thought to make them both hot chocolate. It was quite chilly, and he knew that Patton would appreciate the gesture. He got out the mug with the heart print and decided to fish out some chocolates too.

He had a good feeling about today, so he decided then and there that was no use putting off his confession any longer. He practically skipped his way to Patton's room (and he was sure that he would've if he wasn't carrying such a load) when he saw the moral side himself.

"Roman!" Patton had exclaimed. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Funny that," Roman grinned, heart fluttering in his chest, "me too. Oh, and I got this for us!"

"Aw, how sweet of you." Patton picked up a piece of chocolate and popped it into his mouth. They made their way over to the couch and sat down when Patton had turned serious. "Anyway, Roman, I wanted to ask you..."

"Yeah?" Roman breathed, hardly believing this was happening.

"What would be a good gift for Virgil?"

His smile froze in place. "Why do you want to get him a gift? We don't exactly have birthdays."

"Well, I thought it'd be nice to get him something anyway..." Patton's cheeks flushed.

The door had opened then, and in stepped Virgil – hoodie and all.

Patton had seemed to light up, and was instantly enraptured by the side's presence.

"And that's when I knew," Roman finishes with another bitter laugh choking its way out of his mouth. "When our resident raincloud left the room, Patton continued to ask me about gifts for him. He seemed so excited, so I... I had to help him. I don't even know if Patton knows he likes Virge, but it's so clear that he does. I want to be there for him – Patton hasn't done anything wrong – but it hurts so damn much."

"Oh," Logan murmurs softly, then clears his throat. "I thought that Patton was one of your... fanatical crushes that come and go, but it's clear now that he was... more than that."

"Yeah," Roman sighs. "It doesn't matter now. He's happy. That's all that I care about."

"It shouldn't be. Roman, you're..." Logan coughs, and fixes his tie absentmindedly, "you're simply one of a kind. You deserve to be happy too. Any man would be lucky to have you."

"Now you're just saying that to make me feel better."

Logan shakes his head, but doesn't speak again, knowing Roman would only deny it. Instead, he keeps playing with Roman's hair until the prince is asleep. Then and only then does he stop. He smiles down at him, and a single solitary tear escapes his control and splashes onto Roman's face. Logan swipes it away and stands up from the bed. He's overstayed his welcome.

He flicks off the light and pauses at the doorway, watching Roman's chest rise and fall peacefully. Ignoring the longing that constricts itself around his insides, he shuts the door as quietly as he can and walks to his own room.

(And, once he's secure in the knowledge that no one can hear him, he'll let the rest of the tears fall. He won't sob and he won't gasp for breath, because Logan won't allow himself to do so. The song he heard in Roman's room will play, and he'll think about how ironic it is that they're both pining for someone they can't have.)

-

Loving you, loving you is too hard,

All I do, all I do's not enough,

Loving you, loving you,

I cannot be loving you, loving you.