Half of him wants to punch the fucking wall and the other half wants to curl around Damien and never leave. There is a fondness, now, that clings to Rome’s ribs and makes it hard to breathe sometimes. There is a want in him. A want that grows a little each time he reminds himself he’s allowed to have. He wants Damien. All of him. All of the time. And he only really lets himself think about this late at night or early in the morning when there is darkness and quiet and warmth to temper the clench in his gut.
