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It was late at night as Roman laid on his bed; the only light in the room coming from the open window. He was staring up at the ceiling, worried and frustrated and tired. He knew better than to worry but he just couldn't help it. It was in his nature, in his upbringing, to care and worry and protect. Not that it made a difference anyway, deep inside he knew that even if he was a different kind of person he was always going to care about him. Dean. His best friend, his brother, his everything.
Roman wasn't sure how any of it began, nor did he have the time to question it. He simply knew that he would do anything for Dean, and that included being worried about the other man. Dean often joked that Roman was like an overprotective mom, but he ultimately knew that he just wanted to do right by Dean, to make him happy, at least Roman hoped so. He hoped Dean was happy, and he liked to think that he knew his best friend enough to know if he wasn’t.
That’s why he was worried at the moment. They weren’t traveling together that much lately, and they hadn’t roomed together in a long while, so Roman didn’t know exactly how Dean was doing. They texted each other regularly, or at least Roman texted Dean to ask him how he was and he would get some vague reply. Not being able to see Dean always put Roman on edge; he knew the other man could hold his ground just fine, but Roman would always worry about Dean, especially if he didn’t see him often.
Some nights he would spend lying awake and worrying about his best friend, it had become a habit of his.