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Avoidant. That was the best word to use to describe Roman. His whole life he has been like that, or at least the parts he could remember. He was angry, harsh, distant, whatever word you wanted to use.
He avoided touch with others as if he were worried about catching the plague. He wouldn't accept help, no matter how much he was told he needed it. He certainly didn't have the time nor the capacity to form too much attachment, not like the kind Tonya wanted from him.
Roman couldn't love her the way she wanted him to.
That's not to say that love wasn't there, but it was different, took on a different shape. It was also Roman’s, nothing he had was fully intact, and mostly that was his own fault, but it was only a result of nothing he ever loved staying intact. Now he had the ability to break things himself. There was consistency in that, control even.
He believed it to be easier to pretend that Tonya looked at him in a different way than what she actually did. Like he wasn't her full world, because Roman simply couldn't handle that. He wasn't like that for anyone, he refused to be. He wasn't her world, he was a dark alleyway — unsafe and something to be avoided.
“Roman.” Tonya began, a warning clear in her tone as she stood in front of his desk. Of course Tonya would never avoid him. She would never back away, never shut the window of opportunity to speak to him, to be near him, to worry about him.
He wasn't someone to be worried about, he believed. He wasn't weak.
“Don't start, Tonya.” His voice was low and his gaze was calculating as he looked up at her for a split second, only to go back to his books. Tonya, however, refused to be deterred.
“Shut up. This isn't good for you and you know it.” She was talking about the constant late nights he seemed to take as of recently. Staying up late and waking up early — and that's if he got any sleep at all. He had the eye bags to prove it, and the pale skin, paler than usual.
“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine.” He gritted out, jaw clenched as he folded his hands on top of the desk, finally looking up from whatever he was studying for their most recent hunt.
“Bullshit.”
How many times have they had conversations just like this one? How many times has she fretted over a man who refused any and all care? How long has it been since Roman actually opened up to her; to anyone for that matter?
“Roman—” she began again.
“Tonya.” His eyes went back to the multitude of books, files, and miscellaneous papers he had scattered around him.
“What is wrong with you?”
“The usual. I'm naturally this insufferable, I suppose.” He shrugged, watching subtly as Tonya sighed.
He wasn't the only one that was tired. He could see the exhaustion that weighed on Tonya’s shoulders like rocks and her chipped nail polish where she hasn't had the time nor energy to repaint them. He saw it in her hair that had grown more messy every time she ran her fingers through the dyed strands.
“I'm worried about you.” She mumbled under her breath, almost like she didn't mean for him to hear it at all, but needed to say it either way.
Unfortunately, Roman did hear it. His hands clenched into fists to suppress how much they began to shake and he had to bite his lips just to keep himself from yelling. He wasn't weak. He didn't need her worry or concern, he didn't ask for it. He wasn't weak.
It was the wrong thing for Tonya to say. Or maybe it was the right thing, and Roman was just the wrong person to hear it. Her worry wouldn't fix him. Her care wouldn't get him to acknowledge his faults and do better for himself. Her presence wouldn't make him show his vulnerability, not when he would always still insist on having none.
“I'm sorry you feel that way.” He huffed.
Now he was saying the wrong thing too, as seen by the way Tonya's eyebrows furrowed.
“Bitch? Don't give me that shit, Roman. It's unfair and I don't deserve it.”
Deep down Roman knew Tonya was right, she didn't deserve it. Tonya deserved better than him. She deserved sunsets and record shop visits and new rings. She didn't deserve whatever Roman brought to the table, not all the blood and distance, certainly not all the teeth that he took when torturing a multitude of beings for information.
She deserves someone who would look at her like she was everything that mattered. She deserves someone who looks at her the way she looks at Roman, the way Roman looks at Castiel, the way Castiel looks at Dean, the way Sam looks at her.
She deserved so much better. Yet Roman was oftentimes selfish, and in a way that might just be selfish, in his own way he still appreciated her company. He still wanted her around, just not romantically. Not in the way he wanted Castiel. He knew it, and she did too.
He wouldn't apologize for his words, but his shoulders did sag as he leaned back in his chair, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his leather glove-covered fingers.
“Yeah.” He said, voice shaking as if he couldn't even bear the weight of a single word.
“Yeah?” She repeated, wanting him to say more when she knew he never would. Tonya knew she couldn't fix Roman, she loved him how he was, with all his faults and avoidant tendencies. She just wanted more. She wanted him to be better, and not even for her, but for himself.
Roman didn't repeat himself, he just shook his hand dismissively and diverted his focus back to whatever it was he was reading for the upteenth time since she entered the room.
Instead of leaving Tonya plopped herself down on one of the chairs opposite to his desk. She could leave, and she should, but she didn't want to. Roman was her closest friend before he was anything else to her, and she was going to stick by him even when he almost wished she wouldn't.
Sometimes Roman did want her to leave, only because that would probably be best for her, but she didn't. Perhaps she never would. For now he decided to accept her company in the moment and let himself be momentarily calmed by her company. She would leave when she wanted to, anyway.
The vast majority of Roman was saddened by the thought of her ever leaving, but he wouldn't admit it. Not now, he most likely never would. He got the feeling that Tonya understood though. She was still here, after all, for now at least.