Second floor bathroom
11:25
She turns to look at him but he won't meet her gaze. Whatever, it's not like she's going to go anyways. She balls it back up and tosses it in her backpack. The teacher tells them to open their books, and she struggles to keep up with the notes being put on the board. Nothing too new there, though.
They're reading Macbeth now, which isn't the worst thing they could have read in her opinion. It's not that she doesn't like or respect the play, it's just that she's already read and seen it performed. Roman, on the other hand, has never and never will finish it. He hasn't even looked up the plot on the internet.
When the bell rings, she wastes no time standing and getting as physically far away from him as possible. She goes to her locker, grabs her French book, and goes right to her desk. Not even stopping when her friends say hello to her. Once class starts, she tries to ignore the clock on the wall. It's moving slowly as if to tease her with the option to go.
It's 13 minutes into class when her curiosity gets the better of her. She slowly raises her hand. "Oui, Emma?" The teacher calls out.
"May I go to the restroom?"
"En français?"
"Puis-je aller aux toilettes?" She bites back an eye roll.
"Oui," he nods.
"Merci." Once in the hallway, she tries to keep her feet at a normal pace, but the anxiety starts to build up. She can hear the patter of her boots speed up as she gets closer. She stands outside the door thinking it over. Is she really going to go meet him just because he asked her to?
"What?" She asks as soon as the door is closed behind her. Roman stands, leaning against the sink with a cigarette lit. He holds one out to her and she shakes her head no.
"Hi," he says softly, looking her up and down. She tries to ignore his gaze.
"I'm not coming with you guys tonight," she says flatly, putting it out there.
"Oh," he laughs a little, "this has nothing to do with the stuff tonight. Well, not completely."
"Well, what then?"
"I just thought," he struggles for words. "I don't know, I just thought if you were going to die tonight we should probably y'know..."
She raises her eyebrows, unsure what he's trying to get to. They should what? Talk about all the horrible things he's done before she dies? "What?" She asks, frustrated.
"We should probably fuck one last time," he says so quick she almost misses it.
"Oh my god," she says with disgust and turns to leave.
"I mean, just in case," he chases after blocking the door.
"Just in case I die?" She laughs. "You are unbelievable Roman, absolutely unbelievable."
"I know, that's why I'm saying we do it one last time," he gives her a crooked grin.
"Why are you the way you are?" She crosses her arms and waits on him to move. "I think I'll be fine without one last fuck, but thank you."
"I see the way you look at Peter, still."
"Okay?"
"Well," he shrugs. "Just pretend I'm him?"
"How desperate are you?" He looks offended at her remark.
"I'm doing this for you."
"For me?" She laughs. "How considerate of you! And to think I might have died without having the Roman Godfrey inside me one last time! The humanity of it all!" She tries to push around him again. "Seriously, let me out before I scream for help."
"You won't scream," he tells her. He's right, she won't scream. "You're going to be honest with me." She nods. "Do you like fucking me?"
"Yes."
"Do you think about it a lot?"
"Yes."
"Do you still like Peter?"
"Yes."
"Do you like me?"
"No."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes," she replies with no hesitation.
Roman stares down at her, her eyes are vacant and obedient. She would do anything he said. "Go back to class, this never happened." She nods and leaves. He turns back to the mirror and dabs a wet paper towel under his nose. He returns to class as if nothing happened.
He contemplates skipping the rest of the day. He's way too focused on the full moon that night to even look like he's paying attention to his teachers. Even at lunch, he feels a bit spaced out which Shelley picks upon.
Are you okay? She types out.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Shell," he smiles at her. "Just tired I guess."
Will you be home tonight?
"No, sorry. Peter and I are having a little sleepover," he smiles empathetically to her. He would hate to be left home alone with Olivia.
"Sleepover?" Letha pops in. "Are you guys going to talk about boys and paint your fingernails."
"Yes," Peter jokes. "And when we're done we're going to have a pillow fight."
"I'm a little jealous," Letha flirts teasingly with him. Peter can feel Romans glare on him. "Maybe some other time."
Like the day before, Emma sees their interaction. She tries and fails to ignore it. Every glance up causes a small twinge of guilt to appear in her stomach. It's not like her to have feelings of jealousy towards a relationship. The girls in her friend group had dated and had their hearts broken then re-fell in love a million times over. Emma had always been content as an observer.
Now though- not so much. Now she doesn't feel so content. Not only is their guilt for having feelings towards someone that was a friend, she feels guilty for looking so lowly on Letha. Emma couldn't see why he liked her instead. Why she was the one he was gravitated to.
Sure she was sweet and kind, but she was bland. She was a stickler for the rules, and Emma hated it when she was around growing up. Roman adored her, absolutely idolized her as the epitome of kindness and virtue- something he himself would never be. Even against the cruelest intentions, Letha met them with consideration and patience.
It made Emma sick.
There's no reason she should look down upon Letha. She knows that she's being irrational, but she can't shut it down. He loved Letha so much that he didn't care she was pregnant, he was going to raise the baby as his own. He didn't care, she was worth it. And even in her predicament, she upheld her status as innocent and pure.
She would never do the things I've done.
_______
Emma tries to play it cool that evening when she gets home. She has dinner with her mom and does her chores. Once Kay's car is out of the driveway the facade falls. When the sun starts to set she really starts to worry. It's stupid, she knows, but she's still a little afraid.
She can't let herself sleep that night. She's locked herself in her bedroom with no intention of moving. It's funny how you realize how much you don't want to die when death is at your doorstep. There's a light sprinkle coming down outside, but she doesn't dare peak out the window to look at it.
A knock comes from downstairs. She stays seated at her desk. There's another knock. Her phone buzzes. There's a new text from Roman. She unlocks it, the text she had sent him weeks ago still there. He never replied.
Let me in.
She doesn't reply and doesn't move.
Seriously, let me in.
Emma stands and slowly makes her way downstairs. She peaks out through the peephole to make sure it's him. She unlocks the bolt. "What?" She asks after cracking the door open. The chain still locked.
"Let me in," he looks at her through the crack.
"Why?"
"Because I'm trying to help you," he tells her. "Peter and I decided it would make more sense for me to stay here, with you."
"You're a bit late," she nods up towards the cold night sky. Even though she doesn't want to be alone with him, she's just spooked enough to let him in. She shuts the door and slides the lock over. She opens the door and moves out of his way. He locks it behind him. The pair stand there together for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "Here," she hands him the TV remote. "I've got homework to do."
She's not going to do her homework, but she's sure as hell not staying down here with him. "Offer's still on the table," he calls to her.
"I'm good."
"It can stay between us!"
"Oh," she smiles, "well, when you put it that way."
"Really?"
"No," she gives him a look. "Goodnight, Roman."
"Goodnight," he smiles back. "I'll be down here if you change your mind." Emma doesn't reply and goes into her room. She locks the door behind her, and props it closed with her desk chair. She's not worried about the vargulf coming in. Back at her desk, she downs the rest of the coffee in her mug and replaces it's spot with rum.
Roman sits downstairs flipping through TV channels. He didn't want to be there, he wants to be out on the hunt with Peter. When he signed onto this whole "Sam and Dianne" thing they had going on he didn't think it'd be as a babysitter. He doesn't even see a point in it. Unless the vargulf could grow thumbs, it was highly unlikely it'd get in.
But then Peter reminded him it wasn't babysitting, it was protecting a very valuable asset to their mission. Roman didn't completely buy it, but he didn't want to disagree with Peter. He swallowed his pride and headed to Emma's before the sun even set. He didn't go straight there, but he got there eventually.
Now, he'd been sitting on her couch for over an hour. He was bored out of his mind and a little hungry. He's kicked his shoes off and is slouching on the couch. After flipping through every single channel available and finding nothing, he turns the tv off. He sighs and stands, walking upstairs to her.
"Emma!" He calls from the other side of the door. He starts knocking when she doesn't immediately answer. "Emma! Em! Emma! Emma! Em! Emma!"
"What?" She growls, standing from her spot at her desk. She reaches into her side table to grab her pocket knife. She puts it into her hoodie pocket and throws the door open.
"I'm hungry."
"And?" She toys with the knife in her pocket.
"Are you hungry?"
"No," she pinches her brow with her free hand. "Go find something in the kitchen, or order a pizza. I don't care."
"I'm ordering a pizza, do you want one?" He takes out his phone to put in his order.
"No," she tries to shut the door but he won't move. "What do you want?"
"Well, now that you mention it-"
"Nope," she cuts him off.
"I was going to say you should come downstairs. Get your mind out the gutter."
"You are such a fucking man-child," she tries to not explode. "Now please, leave," she shoos at him but he doesn't move. "Roman, what is your deal? You treat me like shit and now you want my attention? Do you hate me or do you want to fuck me?"
"Can it be both?" Emma doesn't even know how to respond to that. Luckily, she doesn't have to because at that moment the kitten shoots out the door. She pushes past Roman to catch him before he hits the stairs. "When did you get a cat?"
"None of your business." She scoops the little fellow up and brings him back to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. The kitten claws his way out of her arms and to the floor. He walks to his favorite napping spot, under her bed.
"Are you drunk?"
"That is also none of your business," she says then shuts the door in his face. Emma takes a seat at her desk. She needs to do some reading for Lit, but what's the point when she might die? There's so many conflicting thoughts running through her mind and it makes her dizzy.
As the night draws on, her anxiety comes and goes in waves. Even though she's trying to convince herself otherwise, Emma knows the source isn't exclusive to the vargulf. There's a whole bubble of it radiating from the source downstairs.
She shouldn't care, but she wonders what he thinks of her now. Clearly not anything good, but still... Maybe he always felt this way, who knows. Everything she thought she knew had self-imploded.
"Pizza's here," he calls to her but she doesn't respond. She's not hungry.
"Hey," there's a knock on the door. "Pizza's here," he tells her as if she hadn't heard him before.
"I'm not hungry," she calls back.
"You should be! You weigh like 10 pounds, you gotta be hungry."
"I'm not hungry," she repeats.
"Fine, more for me." It takes a great deal of self-restraint for her to know through her coffee mug at the door.
As the night draws on, the light sound of raindrops turns into a full-on downpour. The cat is completely hidden under her bed and she can't get him out. She wishes she could join him under there, but instead she's buried in a mountain of blankets. The wind picks up slamming rain onto her window. The sound of lightning and thunder is distant but quickly approaching.
She used to not be afraid of storms. It was a recent development and not something she had shared with anyone. What adult woman was unable to sleep because of a storm? To be fair, it wasn't so much the storm as it was the sudden, loud noises. The moment her heartbeat steadied it would thunder again.
About 20 minutes into the unpredictable sounds that cracked clear through her headphones Emma has to rush to the bathroom. No matter how loud she turned them up or how many pillows her shoved over her head they couldn't be blocked. She struggles to catch her breath between dry heaving into the toilet and her heart palpitating too fast.
Downstairs, Roman couldn't sleep either. Not because of the storm, but because of what was out in it. Somewhere in the rain, Peter was wandering around trying to find a mythical monster that neither had actually seen. If he didn't find the vargulf tonight there was no backup plan, they would be back at the start. Shee-it out of luck.
After a long night, the sun comes up. Once she's sure of it's full emergence over the horizon, Emma goes to the kitchen to get something to eat. A creak on the stairs awakes the snoring boy on the couch from his slumber. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and watches as she pours a bowl of cereal. She doesn't notice him and jumps when he clears his throat. "You survived."
"Yeah," she nods.
"You going to school?"
"Yeah," she nods again.
"You need a ride?"
"No."
"It's cold out there," he observes.
"I have a coat."
"The snow-"
"I have a coat and boots," she interrupts him. "I've lived in Pennsylvania my whole life, I have winter clothing."
"Okay," he nods. "Just wanted to check. I'll be on my way then," he waves and turns to leave.
Emma stands there for a moment, bowl in hand and confusion painted on her face. Why was he being so nice? Also, when did doing the bare minimum become nice in her mind?
A/N blehhhh not super happy with this but I got there. Thank you all the comments! It seriously is so fun reading them and seeing what people think! Thank you so so so much for reading!
Also, how did we feel about the flashback/dream bit? Do you want more like that?