Roman x Caspian

Caspian was wide awake by now, captivated by the open conversation they were having. Seeing Roman inch his way out of his shell, testing the waters of this newfound freedom of speech, was fascinating to him. Rather than rejecting his simple fantasy life, Roman built upon it, painting a picture of how they might start a life together, away from the chaos of their home country. The fact that they both longed for the same peaceful lifestyle only reinforced the idea that they were meant to be together. In that moment, Caspian felt a strong sense of motivation, like this vision they had conjured together was something worth fighting for. He’d always thought that he’d be content living a life of solitude, but the idea of returning to his old ways suddenly felt bleak and lifeless. When it came to Roman, he was beyond the point of no return.

Hanging on to every word, Caspian’s eyes locked onto Roman’s lips when they twisted into a smirk. He could sense the subtle shift in the energy between them and he held his breath in anticipation as countless dirty fantasies flashed through his mind in response to Roman’s suggestive words. Part of him longed for Roman to take him again, right then and there, but the moment passed as quickly as it had arrived. Roman’s touch coaxed him back to the conversation at hand and he inhaled a slow breath, reveling at how in tune he was with the man beside him.

“You like me dirty,” he contended, offering a sheepish smile. He paused to see if Roman would add more to his vision of the future, but he could tell that the bout of lightheartedness had abruptly ended. As the silence stretched, he resisted the urge to distract Roman before he succumbed to the darkness. Clearly there was something on his mind, and Caspian would be damned to interrupt him before he let it out. Instead, he relaxed into the pillows and trailed his fingers up Roman’s arm until they reached his shoulder where they lingered over a faded scar. His fresh wound throbbed at the reminder; the encounter with Xander and Lennox already felt so far away, but he had a feeling that the memory would linger forever, similarly to the defining moments that plagued Roman. He smoothed his thumb across the raised skin and considered prompting Roman to share the story behind it when he finally filled the silence.

Caspian stilled in response to the question and his expression instantly darkened at the mention of animal abuse, though his face was mostly shrouded in the shadows of the bedroom. It was an incredibly difficult question to answer, especially with Roman clearly intent on using his response as a gauge for whatever unforgivable acts he was hiding away. If he had any hope of getting Roman to open up, he needed to tread carefully. More importantly, though, he needed to speak truthfully if he were to maintain the trust between them. The problem weighed heavily on him for a while until he had no choice other than to trust his instincts and start speaking.

Lifting his head, Caspian rolled onto his elbows and gazed down at Roman intently, a line of concentration forming between his eyebrows, “I was raised by butchers, Roman.” Even after all the tumultuous breakthroughs between them, he knew he hadn’t mentioned it before. He’d spoken of his late brother, out of fear that Roman was going to take his own life, but admitting to his origins was something he avoided out of pure shame. Most would find his upbringing and his family’s way of life to be insignificant, but to Caspian, it was pure hell.

“I killed countless animals. I heard their screams, I saw their fear, and I felt their pain. To me, it felt like murder every single time.” He meant it. His face read like an open book, filled with disgust and regret, but he continued, “I killed them anyway. Do you know why?” he paused, searching Roman’s gaze for signs that he understood where this was going, “Because I felt like I had to. It was all I knew, and I thought it was for the greater good.” Feeding people had always been the one consolation he clung to, until he realized that it was very much possible to sustain people without the need for meat. “I thought that I had no other choice.” His eyes continued to search Roman’s, practically begging him to find solace in the fact that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. Even if there was a world of difference between their transgressions, he got the sense that there were similarities in the root of it all.

“I think…” he sighed, doing his best to answer the hypothetical question directly, “I think that if someone truly regrets what they have done and does everything in their power to redeem themselves, then they deserve a chance at forgiveness. I’m not the judge of good and evil, and neither are you. Asking me to place an uncrossable line is unfair; you’re looking for the easy way out,” he accused, feeling confident enough to dole out some tough love.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I could live with myself. Animals can sense the grief and self-loathing that comes with suppressing all that pain. They didn’t want anything to do with me. It wasn’t until I was able to forgive myself that they chose to trust me again.” Caspian paused, having gotten caught up in his long-winded response, and released a heavy exhale as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, “Now, I dedicate my life to protecting the creatures I once led to the slaughter. So, yes, I think someone can come back from that,” he finished decisively.

The vulnerability left him feeling exhausted all over again, but it felt necessary to lay it all out there, and to let Roman absorb whatever tidbits resounded with him and his story. Lowering his gaze, he felt an unexpected wave of self-consciousness wash over him, as though worried he had overshared too much, too fast in an effort to navigate an impossible subject. He buried his face into his pillow and heaved a sigh, “No more hypotheticals,” he warned, voice muffled. He knew that Roman had meant well, but it felt as though he was subconsciously sabotaging the peace. The heavy feeling in Caspian’s chest told him that one wrong choice of words could have shut Roman down forever.