Loving Rome

How I met you.

I still can't fathom how no one found out yet. To me our relationship was obvious but to others I was just his friend. A young friend of a married man who visits and leaves with him at work every other day and is glued to his side.

Some days I regret what we are doing. The guilt eating me alive like a burning wild fire. But then I see him and then I remember why we're doing it all over again.

Our love wasn't easy, it wasnt pretty. It was broken and torn and put back together by glue but our scars still showed. Our living situations growing up were drastically different. Rome was given his life on a silver platter. You'd think he'd grow up spoiled and conceited. His father beating him almost to death multiple times made sure his outcome would be different.

Rome was silent, secluded to the world. He was dark distributing his darkness without even knowing, without even caring. His upbringing made him into a monster to most but in reality he was just made to believe his life wasn't worth another day and therefore lived it as if it didn't.

I remember the first day I met Rome. I was sitting outside the orphanage black and blue for upsetting some of the older kids again. The grass was so sharp I slipped my fingers across the blades and blood would follow. Too wrapped up in my thoughts I never noticed someone approaching. A dark shadow overcasting me.

And there he was. No older then sixteen but with a face as still and emotionless as a rock and a body intertwined with muscles.

"Is Martha Owins inside?" His voice was gruff and scratchy as if he hasn't used it in awhile.

He was wearing black combat boots, black jeans and a black turtle neck. A silver chain of a cross hung down his chest. His golden dark curls hung down his forehead. He didn't look like he belonged to this part of town. He looked like he belonged with the gods.

"Yes." I simply respond looking down as his footsteps precead into the house.

Minutes later a loud bang then another and another it continues until I count 10 loud bangs. My body remains calm still planted in the grass where I'm picking at the sharp grass. I don't know that I knew what Rome was doing at the house at the time. Maybe apart of me wanted to die that day also. All I know is after a couples minutes of silence I felt his shadow once more loom over me.

"Come." His face is splattered with blood and he extends his hand to me.

Any normal person would have ran maybe cried or passed out. But I was young and broken and I could tell he was as well. Broken people tend to follow broken people so I grasped his hand. His palm was rough but warm. He was much larger then my 10 year old self at the time. With our hands still locked we walked down the street out of my old life. He rescued me that day. Not with the intention of doing so. Instead he was following orders to kill Martha Owens and her husband whom were indebted to Rome's father and hadn't paid their debts. He just happened to find himself someone who reminded him of himself.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked looking up to the golden haired boy.

"Somewhere new." He simply responds.