(A/N:) Heyyy its been a hot minute but I'm back with that logince. Here's a fairly angsty/also fluffy human AU. Enjoy.
Third Person P.O.V:
Roman stood on the doorway to a place he'd never been, coming up with a million excuses to run away. His mind was a turbulent of fear, a raging storm of regret, disillusionment hanging heavy. Roman had never been the type to be buckled down by fear; he'd always considered himself so very brave.
He didn't feel that way now.
Now he was frightened, so much he found himself trembling, his heart beating hard and fast. Sweat formed on his brow and he clenched his fist so tight it pained him. Roman felt like he might go out of his mind, shuffling about on the doorstep of someone who for three years had been a silent stranger to him. He was hurting, in such a tremendous pain he knew the only way he could ease the ache of his heart was to do what he'd set out to do. Why then, he pondered, did it have to be so damned difficult?
'You're a coward. A fucking coward.'Roman thought to himself bitterly, just as bitter as he had felt for such a long time. he didn't want to feel this way anymore. He didn't want to lie awake at night staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep, dreaming of what once was. He didn't want to feel so empty anymore, so incomplete. He wanted to be brave again.
It an agonizingly long time before he finally mustered up the courage to rap on the door, shifting in place as he heard movement in the small house. He bit his lip, finding himself trying to fix a few stay hairs and smooth over his coat. He hoped, silently, that his sleeplessness wasn't all too apparent, prayed that he looked presentable. Handsome, even. Roman had never had to pray for such things before. It used to come naturally, confidence he now longed to have again.
Roman felt the air vacate his lungs as the door creaked open all too slowly and the man he had missed ever so much stepped into the sun, looking just as gorgeous as Roman had recalled him being.
At first, there was confusion, a look of misunderstanding as to why someone who wasn't a mailman or door-to-door salesman standing on his doorstep before there was a pure, raw moment of remembrance, his mouth forming a trembling 'o' and eyes shining with nostalgia. The nostalgia was quickly replaced with fear.
"R-Roman...?" Logan's voice croaked out as he adjusted his glasses and then his tie – a tick of Logan's that Roman remembered well.
"Yeah, i-it's me. Hello, pocket-protector. Long time no see." Roman tried to be suave, attempted to seem unfazed by the too long stretch of time it had been since they'd last seen each other, as well as the fact that their last encounter was such a dreadful memory, but he found himself unable, the crack in his voice betraying how nervous he really felt. It hurt, being so exposed, especially after living securely behind a mask of confidence for so long. Who was he kidding, though? Logan had seen past his disguise ages ago; maybe that was what made it that much scarier.
Logan looked just about the same. He had on the same pair of spectacles, his hair was still parted the same way. He still had on a tie, even though he'd been home on a Saturday afternoon, not that he'd ever been one for casual clothing. He had on a blue button-up shirt with brown khakis, though Roman could see that he was wearing a pair of socks with a robot print, an amusing reminder that there had always been some silliness hiding behind the stiffness. Overall, Logan looked much the same as he had, except there was one feature he portrayed that burned through the sheets of ice Roman had thought could protect his now fragile heart, melting them and leaving him raw: Logan looked tragically sad.
"What...what're you doing here? How did you even find out where I resided?" Logan spoke slowly, methodically, too slow Roman decided. The question was off-putting, though understandable. He supposed it just made things that much more real. This would be the beginning of something frightening and he wasn't all that sure he was ready.
