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I’m your backup plan.
Truthfully, it isn’t a very encouraging phrase, if you take it at face value. Who wants to be a backup plan? Literally no one. People want to be The Plan, the Only Plan, the roadmap to the rest of someone else’s life—no one has ever been happy being labelled a backup plan.
Until Rome, anyway. He’s pretty pleased to be labelled Raffy’s backup plan, if he’s being so honest. Because coming from Raffy, that means something. Taking that Sharpie and crossing out the word ‘not’ had been monumental, actually, as far as Rome is concerned. That, along with the way Raffy had kissed him felt like something. It wasn’t exactly soft, but not hard either; Raffy hadn’t been taking anything from Rome, on the contrary—Raffy had given him everything he’d been wanting.
Rome had been waiting for a kiss like that, one that shook the very foundations of the earth beneath his feet. Their other kisses—and everything else they've done—had been mindblowing, obviously, but that had been the first anything that hadn’t left Rome feeling like an item in a transaction afterwards. Even the night he'd taken Raffy in the woods, he'd left feeling... used. Even though he was the instigator. Something about seeing Raffy so quick to try and catch Arnold and Dean in something messy had left a bad taste in Rome's mouth about their entire hookup.
But he doesn't want to think about that. No, he'd rather think about the way Raffy had melted into him as they’d kissed, the way Raffy had leaned into and over Rome, pressing him into the table. The way the kiss felt like the ending of one thing and the beginning of another. Rome smiles up at the dark ceiling of his room and kicks his feet under the covers.
Finally, they’re getting somewhere. He had almost caved, actually, after the second quick kiss. He’d almost asked Raffy right then and there to be exclusive, even if they waited a bit to use the term 'boyfriend.' There’s something about Raffy’s mouth on his that makes Rome a little kiss drunk, but he’d held strong. He had made his mind up that he was going to wait for Raffy to ask him. Raffy said he wanted to chase Rome, to woo him—fine. Rome is good at waiting.
(He’s not, he’s terrible at it, but he’ll do it for Raffy. He’d do a lot of things he’s terrible at for Raffy.)
Rome feels like a teenager with a crush, the way his heart speeds up and butterflies erupt in this stomach at the mere thought of being Raffy’s boyfriend. Rome is a fantastic boyfriend, he knows this for a fact. He has it on good authority from every single one of his girlfriends and his freshman year boyfriend that he rocks at being in a couple. Raffy won’t even know what hit him once they start dating.
Sighing, Rome squeezes his eyes shut. It’s well past midnight now, and he needs to be up early in the morning, but every time he starts drifting, Raffy’s face pops into his mind. His wide, imploring eyes and hopeful smile—god, Rome is so gone on him, it’s stupid.
“Boyfriends,” he squeals to the open air of his bedroom, no one to hear him but his sound equipment. He pulls the covers over his face, grinning until his cheeks hurt.
When he eventually falls asleep, he dreams of big, brown eyes and a warm hand in his that he’d know anywhere.