Third P.O.V.

   Roman had always hated the feeling of helplessness. He hadn't felt it many times in his life, but he had always despised it. 

   He could it remember clear as day. He didn't want to remember it. It wasn't supposed to happen.

   He knelt down, placing the flowers on the ground. He examined the violet colour of them. He hated it.

   "I used to love these flowers. Now I only see you in them. I hate it." he whispered, pressing his forehead to the cold marble.

   "You were supposed to be here, with me. Why did you-?" he choked back a sob, slapping a hand over his mouth.

   "I miss you so much."

   Roman took a small box out of his pocket, placing it next to the flowers.

   "Why did you have to leave me?" 

   There was no answer, as usual.

   "I waited too long, didn't I?" he sobbed. "You would've loved the ring. It's still yours. It always was, it always will be."

   He waited. 

   "I've never liked having one sided conversations."

   In the moment Roman felt helpless.

   He had always hated the feeling of helplessness.

   "I love you, Virgil. Don't you dare forget that."