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- 19/12/06 -
December was possibly the worst month to be in the Roy household, and Stewy made a point to avoid being there as much as possible, never being one to disturb his own peace. It had been difficult to do such a thing in years passed, that being Kendalls birthday month - and when he said month, he did indeed mean month, any other notable birthdays be damned - but Stewy had had some luck as of late, as Kendall grew older, spending less time at the family home.
This year, however, was not so lucky, as he unwittingly found himself collapsed on one of the many couches in the Roy’s pristine Manhattan townhouse, wasted on Gin and Tonics, listening to Kendall and Rava argue through the wall as he drifted in and out of sleep.
The happy couple had begun dating a year ago, and it seemed that Kendall was going to pop a ring any day now, but perhaps the commited lifestyle didn’t quite fit with New York City’s premiere cokehead lifestyle - he’d be damned if he didn’t try to have it all though. Rava had been Stewy’s friend too once, but now regarded him with cool annoyance, knowing well where he fit in the couple's every conflict. He tried to pretend that he didn’t care - surely he’d outgrown seeking approval from people who only wound up judging him in the end by now.
It was around six AM when Stewy awakened again, staring into inky blackness, hair half messy from laying with his head to the side. Stewy rose from his corpselike state, stumbling around the halls, opening any door he could, trying to remember where the downstairs bathroom was. Opening one particular door led him into a brightly lit kitchen, going from being blinded by darkness to being blinded by the shining black granite countertops and bright white cupboards surrounding him. Once his eyes had adjusted, however, he noticed, on the other side of the kitchen, behind a neat granite island, that the perpetrator of this singular contained glow was rifling through the cupboards on his tiptoes -
“Roman?”
Roman’s little chestnut head turned quickly as he jumped, his body clenching in on itself like a retracting spring.
“Dude, what the fuck? Don’t scare me…” whispered Roman. “Why are you even here? You know dad hates you, right?”
“Oh, what’s that old man gonna do, kill me?” said Stewy, recieving an eyeroll and an unwilling smile from Roman in response. Stewy felt like he had won something.
When he had met Roman when he was fourteen, he hadn’t thought much of him. It was hard to think much of a fourteen year old when you’re eighteen - a kid who had not yet gained the wisdom of being fifteen, sixteen and seventeen - but when he had returned from military school perhaps five years later, Stewy had begun to think of him somewhat. He thought of the way that Roman’s body moved like a cat possessed by a demon, constantly betraying himself, the way that he looked up at him furtively through his thick dark eyelashes, the way that he was so eager to please.
Stewy hadn’t expected that perhaps he also tended to betray his own feelings more than he thought. It had been a year since their hookup in Spain, and Stewy had hoped he’d have forgotten about it by now. There was no shortage of Roman Roy’s - mouthy, skinny brats with pretty eyelashes who were willing to be fingerbanged by Stewy Hosseini - but his mind would always come back to that night, Roman’s sourness turning sweet as his walls tumbled down, only for Stewy.
Roman turned his attention back to what he was doing as Stewy approached.
“Mmm, nutrient rich meal you’ve got there” Stewy said as Roman nibbled a plain milk cracker tentatively. Roman glared up at him.
“Stomachs bad, I dont know, Shut up” Roman retorted, flustered. He took another nibble, avoiding Stewy’s eyes. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
Stewy tilted his head curiously. Despite the throbbing hangover coming on, he knew all too well what Roman was referring to.
“You are going to need to elaborate, I’m afraid” He whispered, feigning uncaring ignorance.
“We were waiting for Kendall for over an hour, Stewart,” Roman spat, still trying to keep his voice soft and quiet. “His fiance was waiting while the two of you were out there doing god knows what.” He looked pitifully back to his half eaten cracker. “My food went cold…”
Roman’s face took to sadness very well. His big, dark, downturned eyes shone as his skin went pink fast. Stewy couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked. He could have started kissing him right there in his drunken haze.
“Aww, poor baby”. Stewy put an arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulled him close. He could feel heat emanating off of Roman’s neck.
“They’re not engaged yet, Ro-Ro” Stewy watched as Roman absentmindedly reached into the bag of crackers again, and leaned his head on Roman’s, his brain feeling like it was being squeezed dry. “Do you wanna get married?”
Roman stilled in his motions. Stewy could see in the dark window reflection that his eyes had widened. Roman always knew what to say, but clearly this had thrown him for a loop. Roman’s girlfriends never lasted - not like Ken’s or Shiv’s boyfriends - something that he and Stewy had in common, and Stewy knew all too well what those reasons were.
Stewy's question was a call into the universe. Maybe he meant it, or maybe it was a joke. Maybe they were both as lonely as each other.
“What? To you?” Roman spluttered. “That's disgusting, leave me now”.
“Maybe,” Stewy said. “Disgusting, indeed” He raised his eyebrows, trying very hard not to bring up their previous tryst, at risk of making Roman fly off to his bedroom while shaking like a chihuahua.
Stewy lifted his hand gently to pat Roman’s hair - it had grown a little bit longer since he had last seen him, and fell into his eyes when he dropped his head, like he was hiding his gaze, looking like he was about to be on the cover of some teen heartthrob magazine. Stewy continued to caress gently as he pulled Roman’s head into his shoulder. Roman, often unlike his siblings, was very open to physical affection. It was moments like these that made Stewy wonder if they could be comfortable like this, if it would just not be so complicated.
Eventually, Stewy let go, yawning as he rubbed Roman’s shoulders.
“On that note, do you by any chance know where the bathroom is?”