The Car Crash

Missing

Demian POV

The day of the funeral hit Demian like a brick. Roman was back to being how he had been right after the crash... Sullen, emotionless, unresponsive. Of course, Demian would be lying if he said he hadn't expected this, or at least some form of it, but that did nothing to take away the pain.

The moment he'd smelled the alcohol on Thomas's breath, Demian had known it would bring Roman back to that night... He also knew there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. How can you prevent a smell from reaching someone's nose, short of spraying Fabreeze in their face? And, unfortunately, Demian didn't think that would have helped much anyways, even if he had done it... Which he hadn't, obviously.

But that was the day of... This was the day after Remus's funeral. And, for once in a while , Roman wasn't Demian's waking thought.

At first, everything had felt... Right. When he'd woken up, Demian had been blissfully unaware of the car crash for a few moments. He had even forgotten Remus's unfortunate end. Everything just felt right, like it was going to be okay. Roman, would be okay.

Then it had come at him like a semi-truck at full speed. Remus was dead. Roman was unwell. He was... Not fairing much better, honestly. As Demian tenderly felt the flaking scabs on his left cheek, a tear trailed down his right. Not okay. Everything was not okay... Roman, was-

"...Roman?" Demian looked around, momentarily confused. Hi husband seemed to be missing from the bed. Sitting up slightly, he scanned the room. Still no Roman. He got up and walked into the connecting master bathroom.

The door was open and it looked like Roman had messed with the brushes... Demian rolled his eyes. Roman very often said how he found the extravagance of Demain's red and gold brush to be a bit, well... Too extravagant. He much preferred his own darker colored wooden one.

Demian really, if he was honest, didn't much like the color scheme of his hairbrush either, but he refused to get rid of it. It had been last year's Christmas present from Remus and, as silly as it was, Demian couldn't bring himself to part with it.

But that didn't explain why Roman's brush sat exactly where it was supposed to and his was the one that seemed out of place... Weird.

Dismissing it as simply Roman not feeling well enough, as seem the night before, to care which brush he used, Demian left the bathroom and went towards the door to the hallway.

Noticing the closet open, he stopped to close if before seeing its condition. It looked like a tornado had gone through it! Rolling his eyes, again, Demian decided he'd save that for later and just took his bathrobe out of the pile before closing the door and continuing out of the room.

"Roman... Love, where are you?" after slipping on his favorite yellow robe, Demian walked downstairs towards the kitchen, sighing. Roman had done this quiet frequently before they were married. Woke up in the middle of the night, left the room, and went- gods knew where...

Demian had always been positive nothing was happening. Positive that, first of all, Roman was not being unfaithful with him. And second of all, that he was okay. He could always be certain Roman wasn't getting into any trouble.

How, you might ask? Simple. Demian could call Roman at any point in time, and he would be immediately, or as immediately as possible, answered.

As far as Demian was concerned, that was proof enough for him... But now, sitting on the counter (something that the old Roman would've been screeching at him for, had he seen), his husband had received four calls. None answered.

Now, if course, Roman cheating was not Demian's first thought. Not even close... But the consideration still lingered in the back of his mind. Roman had always been nothing short of a flirt, it was just a part of his very complicated personality. But- Demian couldn't deny it made him jealous.