The sound of water hitting metal stirred him out of his sleep. For a moment he managed to ignore the noise, only to find himself wrung from the bosom of slumber by chatter followed by a short burst of laughter. Instantly, his blue eyes popped open as sleep fled from him, making way for a state of now being completely awake. His eyes soon adjusted to the light streaming in from between the cracks in the closed window shades. A tall ceiling stared him in the face with a lone ceiling fan spinning around as it moderately kept the temperature in the room at the lower end of the spectrum. Slowly he rose from the bed, gently pushing the sheets from his body as he did, and placed his bare feet on the hard floor below. The sound of chatter slipped in rather muffled, causing him to notice that where he was now was nowhere near where he had hid himself for nine years. Faint as it was, the sound of Roman's low voice speaking in otherwise indistinguishable audio sent his heart racing with anxiety. Nevertheless, the small smile stemming from the overall comforting feeling of being within earshot of Roman's voice calmed his nerves the longer he sat on the edge of the bed listening to it. In the same breath however, that there was another voice kept him from reaching the summit of joy as it served as a cruel reminder that no matter how many times he fell asleep in Roman's bed, nine years was never going to be a bad dream. This, being here in Roman's home and sleeping in Roman's bed…this was the nightmare.

Faced with sure depression, and feeling the creeping need to grab his unpacked backpack and run for the hills with his all too familiar cowardice as his driving force, he stood up and decided to indulge himself on what he was certain smelt like eggs and pancakes. Without another moment, he pushed himself towards the door, only to find himself once again hesitating upon hearing Roman's laughter. The sweet sound only served to hammer home what was now his bastard reality, and for a moment he found it twice as difficult to so much as dream on anything but running away. Blue eyes closed for a moment allowing the boisterous feelings of anxiety, fear and regret do their routine damage, before opening to the resolution that was his decision to open the door.

The bright light that caved in from the open balcony doors forced his hand ahead of his face to filter out the blazing sun rays. After a short moment, his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the day, granting him the ability to see without the need to squint. The silence of the room brought itself to the forefront of his attention – forcing him to focus on it and not his own hunger. He looked to the table and found the two men seated around it looking back at him with their breaths visibly held. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to turn back and hide away in the room he had just recently been unable to sleep properly in, however when Roman pulled out the empty chair at the table in a gesture of invite, he found it impossible to give in to that cowardly desire.

Having been subject to the layout of the place prior to, instincts forced his blue eyes to look over at the balcony – finding it to be now void of a chair. His mind instantly conjured up the reason behind that current status, and quickly he felt the surge of warmth bubbling through the ventricles of his rapidly beating heart. After pulling out the chair, Roman did nothing more than continue eating his food, while the man seated to his right followed suit. The silent invite was all the motivation he needed to move forward, and he did so with a slight bit of haste beneath his feet.

Once seated at the table, his eyes glanced to Roman watching as the man casually polished off his plate only to just as quickly stand and turn towards the kitchen. A sting of sadness streamlined across his eyes as he immediately placed them down towards the food looking back at him from his plate. As the sound of water gushing over ceramic filled the awfully quiet room, he thought more and more on how wrong he had been to ignore his instincts and not run away when he had the chance to. He could have even when Roman offered up his room. He could have, even when Roman asked that he eat breakfast. He could have while everyone slept through the night. Now, having sat down at the table with a plate of a famous breakfast he never thought he'd see again let alone be allowed to eat, he knew in himself there was no way he could get up now and leave. Not when Roman had put up with his presence thus far.

"Dean, was it?"

The callous voice brought Dean's attention to the man seated ahead of him. The younger brunette – with his streak of blond hair – looked at the curly-haired blonde with his auburn eyes filled with a kind of coldness unbecoming of a summer morning.

"You've got pretty good reflexes, and a good aim." He narrowed his eyes as though analyzing the older man. "Are you a wrestler or something?"

Unsure of what to make of this interaction, Dean stiffly shook his head, before offering up a reply, "No." He stated in his scruffy voice. "I just get into a lot of fights."

"Oh~" The younger man drawled rather sweetly as he chomped down on a piece of syrup-laden pancake. "You know," He spoke while chewing, "I really would have killed you if Ro hadn't stepped in to hold me back." He swallowed the bit of food with emphasis, and finished it off with a long drink of his orange juice. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for attacking you, but it's all Ro's fault. He never told me you were up here." He looked to the man in question with a playful frown on his face. Dean watched as Roman scoffed to the accusation as he packed away the dried dishes, before looking back to the younger man now staring at him with a bright smile. "The name's Seth Rollins."

"Dean Ambrose." Dean smiled back at the young man. "Sorry for, uh" He pointed to the side of his own head, to which Seth mimicked – finding his fingers rubbing over a bandage. "That." He stressed.

"Don't worry about it." Seth spoke with a light-hearted tone. "Scars make the man, right?"

Dean nodded as he chuckled a bit to Seth's carefree demeanor.

"Don't go agreeing with him." Roman spoke as he returned to the table. His attention focused on Seth as he did, as his hand ruffled through the shoulder-length locks of the brunette. "He may not look it, be he likes fighting." He spoke with a gentle smile on his face. "And making me worry."

The tender sight put another spear through the heart of Dean's resolve not to leave. Truly he wanted nothing more than to stay here, but the reality of being subject to Roman and his new partner withered all hopes he had while he sat on a plane, a bus, and in the cab of an old man's pickup truck on his return here. The place he thought was waiting on him when he saw the key still in the old fake rock was actually his own disillusion to what truly was. And what was, was Roman and Seth. Not Roman and Dean.

"Your food's going cold Dean." Roman spoke catching Dean's somber attention. The blonde held his gaze in Roman's eyes only to have that snatched away when the older man looked back to Seth, "You better finish your breakfast now Seth or else you'll be late for school again."

"But I don't wanna go to school~" The younger man whined childishly as he clung to Roman's arm, with puppy eyes looking up at Roman. "I wanna stay here with you~"

To the juvenile antics, Roman smiled sweetly as he once more rubbed the top of the younger man's head – further messing the young man's otherwise well-groomed ponytail. A large lump formed in Dean's throat as he suddenly found it much harder to breathe.

"I'll be here when you get back." Roman spoke in his usual low voice.

"Yeah, but" Seth pouted momentarily, before flinging his gaze over to a heart-wrenched Dean Ambrose. Noticing his reflection in Seth's bright eyes, Dean quickly rid himself of his feelings and put to the table a makeshift expression of nonchalance. "Dean's leaving after breakfast right?" The mask cracked a bit to the question, as Ambrose felt in Seth's words a hint of heavy rhetoric as though the answer had been long since concluded. Seth looked back to a rather stoic looking Roman, "I wanted to talk to him some more."

A heavy silence barged into the living space and sat atop the heads of all three men. Inside, Dean knew the truth of Seth's words because it was a truth he had long since conjured up as a way to protect himself from this harsh reality. When he arrived to this town, he had already concluded that he would leave if the building wasn't here. The building was here in the same spot he had left it in. When he walked to the door and found the key in the rock, he had decided to turn back when he found out that the lock on the door had been changed to keep him out. The door opened regardless. When he waited with his back turned to hear the sound of someone ask why he was here and who he was, he had already come up with his stringent responses, and had already decided to leave right after that. Roman showing up, and speaking to him like nine years never happened made him forget his own verbatim and fall victim to the belief that he could truly be allowed to forget the mistakes he had made because the person he had made them all to had held him close and told him that the key that couldn't open a simple lock, wasn't so useless after all.

"I'll be here when you get back Seth." He smiled a bit as Seth and Roman looked to him – the latter man showcasing a tidbit of shock. "I could show you some more cool fighting moves."

Seth's expression – for only the shortest of seconds – went deathly cold. His bright eyes darkened as his aura turned as black as Roman's hair. Dean felt the chill creep up on him, but before he could latch onto what it was, Seth showcased a bright smile behind the words "I can't wait."

"Dean—" Roman called softly, only to turn his attention back to Seth – who quickly let go of his arm and stood from the table. "Seth" He called garnering the man's attention, "You haven't finished your breakfast."

Seth laughed for a brief second, before grabbing his nearby satchel. "You always overkill my pancakes with syrup Ro." He headed to the door – holding it open as he ran a quick hand through his hair in an effort to straighten it. He looked back at Roman with a large smile, "I'll just stop by Randy's place for a quick bite."

"Hey wait—" Roman barked as he quickly stood to his feet – slightly knocking the table as he did – only to be cut short by a the swift departure of young Seth. The door slamming shut silenced the room once more, and forced Roman to return to his seat.

Dean watched as the older man looked down at Seth's unfinished plate of food. The sight of a barely touched plate seemed to hurt Roman in a way that reflected on his face.

"He's a lively one huh." Dean spoke without prior consent from his brain. "Must be good to be so young."

Roman scoffed as he looked back to Dean. "Yeah." He stared at the blonde with a sliver of coldness bared on the outer layers of his eyes. The stare put down the polite smile that had found its way to Dean's face. "I guess my cooking skills leave less to be desired."

"That's not true Roman." Dean spoke in quick defense of the older man, "Your skills have always been good."

Roman smiled shortly as he glanced down momentarily, "Is that why you've eaten your food?"

Dean looked to his plate finding all the pieces of breakfast to be in the same way they had been when he had stepped out of Roman's bedroom. Instantly he looked back to the older man, before grabbing a hold of his fork and aiming it towards the piece of French toast. Halfway there, the plate moved out of sight. Dean looked ahead and found Roman holding his breakfast as he stood to his feet.

"Roman"

"It's gone cold." He spoke whilst picking up Seth's plate as well. He looked down at Dean – finding the man staring back with a worried expression. The reaction brought a small smile to his face as he thought on the wonderful feeling that coursed through his veins. "Since you're staying, I'll make you another plate. A lot of syrup, just the way you like it."

Dean's expression grew in rapid delight as he sat shell-shocked by Roman's words. He watched as the older man threw the food away and began prepping the kitchen for another batch of his world famous breakfast. The sight brought a happy memory to an otherwise depressing reality. Suddenly, they were both young again. Suddenly he was looking at a short-haired Roman push himself beyond his own limits to put together the breakfast Dean had just asked for. When time shifted past the memories and fell back on the present, Dean spotted the now tiny scar on the back of Roman's hand that had been the result of mishandling a kitchen knife on that school morning now so very long ago. The fact that he was sitting in the same spot he had been when they were teenagers brought a peaceful smile to Dean's face – brightening his overall mindset and quietly securing in his heart the knowledge that somewhere in this place laid the possible chance of picking them up from where they had left off.