Super rich kids

00;the prologue(part 1)

                                                                       "So what's your problem?"

Roman was an artist. He played the guitar. He did theater(well, technically he did the backstage tech stuff, but still). And most of all, Roman was a writer. Growing up with a dad always at work and a mom who didn't really use her words all that much left a lot of his free time to his imagination. So he made stories. Stories of princess and knights and dragons and other worlds. You know, regular kid imagination stuff. As he grew up, he kept those stories with him, but they also grew with him. His princesses turned into his biweekly crushes and the dragons were the teachers in his hallways that seemed to breathe pink slips instead of fire. It was all right, he was all right. He had his stories and his friends and his family.

And then eighth grade year, he fucked up in school and his dad thought 'what better than to move to California?'. The worst decision of his life wasn't even really his. His dad could grow his business empire and Roman could get a fresh start. Roman didn't want a fresh start. Roman would have took the expulsion if it meant staying in Rome, where he was supposed to be, where he got his name. But it didn't matter. As soon as his mother had his little sister, they moved to America.

For Roman, freshman year was...something. He had made a friend, he got good grades in his classes, nobody really truly disliked him because they didn't know him. And he was okay with that. He knew who he was, Felix knew who he was, that was enough.

During Roman's freshman year of high school, there was a story writing contest. For once something he knew how to do in this place where the only thing he knew was himself. He signed up without a second thought and started writing. He wrote about a girl, with long dark hair and auburn eyes and skin the color of freshly rained on soil. He wrote about her falling in love with a boy and him falling for her in return. He wrote about how happy they were and projected all of his wishes onto one college ruled sheet of paper.

And he came in second. Fucking. Second. He wouldn't have been that mad either if he hadn't got beat out by the girl from his story. The same description, slightly taller than he imagined, but it's not he could change that. Matter of fact he didn't even care that she was taller than him. He cared that she had beat him in one of the only things he knew. And soon, he realized she was in everything he knew. All his tech work? She was in his theatre class, performing while he worked behind the curtain. He played guitar? She got solos in choir because she had the 'voice of an angel'. He didn't care if she sounded like Celine Dion mixed with Whitney Houston. She had beat him, and he took it personal.

             "Hey, I'm Elaina, nice to meet you-"
So that was the name of the girl who had stolen his talent

                           "Fuck off, Elaina"
He said, before he could register what was leaving his mouth

       "Wha-fuck you too then, second place"
She said, before he could tell her he was sorry