so chapter three it is! this took a couple of attempts to feel like it was anything worthy of posting, and then battleground had me all like NOOOOOOOo. but anywhere, here is where seth's 'betrayal' starts to get explored and where the plot thickens (i think?) just a tad. idk i just really like writing protective roman! this chapter is mostly ambreigns so yeah. music for this chapter is and snakes start to sing by bring me the horizon and paranoid by black sabbath! oh and note; my tumblr has changed to psychrollins so if you'd like to drop me a message thats where i am! anyway ¬ i hope you enjoy and please drop me comment and tell me what you think
Seth ducks out of his room quickly, his bare feet making slight thuds against the cold tiles. He'd been in this place, this hospital of some sort, for about two weeks now. He didn't know the day, or the date for that matter, but he guessed it wasn't really relevant. He'd be out soon, anyway. That's what they'd promised him. The nurses, especially the one who came to give him his meds every day, told him that he was different to all the other patients. Seth just had one thing he needed to do, before he would be set free.
And maybe it's his need for freedom, his need to feel the wind against his skin and grass beneath his feet that's got him sneaking out of his room in the middle of the night with a pair of surgical scissors gripped tightly in his hand. The nurse – Randy, as he'd told Seth to call him – hadn't told him outright that this is what he needs to do, but he'd pretty much got the message when he'd left the surgical scissors on his bed and said that it would be lovely to be rid of a creature like that Ambrose guy.
But maybe it's not all Seth's need for freedom that's got him creeping down the corridor with his head racing and his heart thumping. There's just something inside of him, it's scratching at his bones, pushing and pushing until Seth feels like it's going to burst out of his skin and devour him. And every time, every time he sees Ambrose – funny name that, but that's what Randy refers to him as so, it's all he's got – looking at him, he just wants to tear his skin from his bones.
He feels so angry, like there's fire licking at his feet, threatening to consume him until he looks away, until he gets away from him. It's how Seth talked himself into getting this far – he's in front of Ambrose's room now, he's so close, but the weapon feels heavy in his hands – he hates the guy so much, if he doesn't do this, this thing beneath his skin is surely going to rip him to shreds.
Through the small window in Ambrose's door, Seth can see him asleep in his bed. He looks peaceful, his dirty blonde hair is spewed across the pillow in little, curly wisps and his lips are slightly parted. And though Seth knows he should smile at the sight, should be happy that at least someone is able to sleep in this place, he doesn't. He feels the anger climbing its way up his spine, using each and every vertebra as a separate rung on the ascent into Seth's head.
His mind swarms, there's a tiny voice, something very quiet and sounding very distant shouting at him, but he can't quite make out the words. Seth pushes away the sounds though, pushes away the slight feeling of warm fingers on the back of his neck and reaches for the handle to Ambrose's door.
Seth's movement are slow, so slow that he barely makes a sound as he pushes open the door. He stands next to the bed for a minute, deliberating his next move. Does he just, just stab him in the neck; let the guy bleed to death? Or does he slash him as many times as he can? How should he know how to do this, he's never done it before, has he? At least he doesn't think he has, he can't seem to string together many thoughts besides the ones he has when Ambrose is staring at him.
He puts his knee on the edge of the bed ever so slightly, to get a better angle, and rears his arm back as far as it can go.
Roman doesn't feel like he can breathe properly as the two toned guy rears his arm back, and his body works on instinct when he runs at the guy full force. His shoulder hits him unusually hard and his cry of pain breaks the thickness of the air around them.
He'd seen him pass by his room, looking awfully shifty, and because he couldn't sleep, Roman had followed him. He'd had no idea that this guy, the polite one in the common room, was on such a war path. And as soon as he's stopped outside that particular room – and he'll try to deny that his heart had almost burst out of his chest, because anyone, it could be anyone; just not, not this guy ok? – Roman's whole body had frozen.
Was he really going to try and kill him? Yes, he was, and Roman needed to stop him.
The scissors go flying out of his hands and clatter against the wall. Roman's hands fly to the neck of the guy underneath him as he straddles him. The boy, or man or idiot beneath him tries to struggle free but Roman is far too strong and holds him in place. Roman looks up to the bed and sees – the nurses call him Mr Ambrose, and Roman thinks that suits him rather well, such a handsome gentleman - Ambrose wide eyed with his hands clutched to his cheek, blood seeping between the spaces in between his fingers.
"You ok?" Roman asks, even though he can see he's fine, apart from the gash, he's not dead. Ambrose breathes heavily, looking at the large man strangling a very pretty boy on his floor and nods. He doesn't know why he nods, because he's not ok because what the hell is going on? Roman nods too, before turning his attention back to the person beneath him and looks at him with hard eyes.
"You were going to kill him."
He doesn't get an answer; he gets a punch to the gut.
He also gets pushed to the floor by the overweight night guard. Roman doesn't have time to fight back or struggle, before he can even blink, a swarm of nurses are grabbing onto his arms and legs. Their grips are rock solid and between the six of them, they manage to wrestle him to the ground before the nurse who gives him his meds jabs a needle into his arm.
Roman's eyes are open just long enough to see the same thing happen to Ambrose, while the two toned guy gets helped to his feet. Roman sees red before he can't see anything else.
When Dean cracks an eye open, he finds himself in a cell. His whole body is stiff from sleeping on the floor and his cheek is sore. He groans slightly as he pushes himself into a sitting position, he cracks his back and rolls his shoulder before gently touching his cheek.
Ah, yeah, I remember. The pretty boy had tried to slash him or something. The gash runs from the top of his cheek to the bottom, narrowly missing his lips. The wound is stitched, and he knows it's going to leave a mean looking scar.
"Hey, Ambrose," Dean whips his head around the cell, what the hell? There's nobody in the room, and his eyes can't seem to find a speaker above him either.
"Down here you idiot." Dean's eyes travel to the side of him, where there's a small opening in the wall covered by bars. There's a hand curled around the bars and Dean shuffles so that he's on his stomach and can see through the gaps. On the other side, also in a cell, is the big guy.
"What are you doing in there?" Dean asks, brow furrowed in confusion, the guy saved him right so why is he locked up? On second thoughts, why is he even locked up? He didn't do a damn thing!
"D'know man, didn't think saving a guys ass meant getting yourself locked up. You ok, though?"
"Think so, thanks, though. You didn't have to do anything last night,"
"Nah man, couldn't let you get killed in your sleep. I'm Roman, by the way." The guy – Roman, that's nice and, awfully familiar? – slides his large hand through the bars to shake Dean's hand.
"Roman – and the name feels funny on his tongue, tastes weird, like he's said it a million times before – nice to meet you, I'm Dean," He shakes Roman's hand and smiles as much as he can with the gash on his cheek.
"Dean. So, you got any idea why that two toned freak tried to kill you?" Roman arches an eyebrow and Dean takes a moment to appreciate how striking his eyes are.
"Nope, I mean apart from the fact that I may or may not have checked him out a few times, I haven't interacted him with any way,"
Roman nods and shuffles, obviously getting more comfortable and scratches his head absentmindedly before looking back to Dean.
"There's something not quite right with him. He's like really polite to the nurses, and then he tries to kill someone. I just, you think he'll try again?"
Dean shrugs, though the thought of having to sleep with an eye open doesn't appeal to him.
"Maybe, don't see why he wouldn't. Didn't get the job done the first time, might go for a second."
"Well, I got your back man. I'm just down the corridor." Dean smiles a little, because yeah, that didn't just make his heart flutter a little. He nods to say thank you, and that he understands and he's grateful.
There's a moment of silence between the two that Dean enjoys, before there's the crushing sound of his cell door opening that breaks the small moment of peace. Dean quickly moves away from the grate before the nurses enter his room.
Despite what Roman said when they were in the cells – which Dean finds out that only he and Roman got put in isolation, and two toned (or Rollins as someone had mentioned), the guy who tried to kill him, just got sent back to his room – Dean didn't think that he'd speak to Roman again.
He was wrong though. And as soon as they're allowed in the common room, Roman sits next to him. And it causes a lot of the other patients to actually start talking because it's not every night that there's an attempted murder.
Rollins hasn't tried to attack him again, but Dean's not sure whether it's because he doesn't want to, or the fact that whenever Rollins so much as looks at Dean, Roman's glaring at him so intensely that Rollins has to look away. And yeah, Dean has to admit that he finds Roman's protectiveness a bit of a turn on. He doesn't tell him that though.
Roman's got his hand on Dean's knee and his fingers are tracing slow, lazy circles as they talk about everything and anything when a dark haired girl drops something hard and shiny into Dean's lap. He looks at it for a moment, stunned at the presence of someone other than Roman, before looking at her. She smiles a little before jerking her head backwards. Dean's eyes follow her motion and he notices Rollins alone on one of the couches lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
"We'll talk later." The dark haired girl gives him a firm nod before skipping away, her hair swaying side to side down her back. Dean picks the object up from his lap and instantly knows what it is.
Dean turns himself towards the wall slightly, lifting his knee so that his leg conceals his hands, and gently presses his thumb over the catch. The blade releases itself quickly, and it glints slightly underneath the lights that shine above him. Roman's eyes widen a fraction, but his hand doesn't move from Dean's knee, he just watches as Dean runs a finger along the blade and presses the pad of his index finger to the tip.
When a small drop of blood forms on Dean's finger, he flips the blade closed and shoves it into his pocket.
"Where d'you think she got it from?" Roman asks quietly, grabbing onto Dean's hand before he can wipe the blood away on his jeans. He grips Dean's wrist firmly, but doesn't let his fingers dig into the fleshy part, and inspects the small cut. He applies pressure around the area, causing more blood to come to the surface, and Dean just looks at him before shrugging.
"Not sure, I mean, how would she get it in here?" Dean's momentarily mesmerised as Roman leans down and takes Dean's bloodied finger into his mouth, gently licking the blood from the cut. It takes Dean a lot to stop the moan from leaving his throat. Roman smirks when he lets go of Dean's hand, and Dean tries hard not to whine at the loss of contact.
"You think she knows something? I mean, why else would she give you a weapon, if it weren't for you to defend yourself with?" Roman scoots a little closer to Dean, so that their knees touch and their legs tangle together. He lets his head rest upon the wall and goes back to drawing patterns with his fingers on Dean's knee.
Dean sighs, "I guess so. But why does she care? I mean, it's not going to make her world any different if she wakes up tomorrow morning and I've had my throat cut open." Roman frowns, fingers pressing into Dean's knee just a little bit harder.
"That's not going to happen," Roman growls, eyes growing dark and turning to glare at the two toned Rollins sprawled out on the couch. "Because I'm not going to let it happen. I know you can look after yourself, alright, but just, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
Dean smiles a little and Roman's eyes soften. "You always this protective over people?" Dean pokes at the fingers dancing on his knee cap.
"Only of special people." Dean grins, eyes crinkling and dimples showing, special people.
"His name is Seth, Seth Rollins," The dark haired girl is called AJ, and Dean and Roman finally get to talk to her after lights out.
AJ is apparently the answer to the pretty murderous boy that wants to slash Dean's throat, because she seems to know everything.
"And he's only got it out for Dean, he doesn't care about anyone else." AJ continues quietly. She's sitting cross legged on the floor of Dean's room and the two look down at her from their positions on the bed.
"But why?" Dean raises an eyebrow, what's so bloody awful about him? AJ frowns and lets out a long, quiet breath.
"This is the part that you really have to listen to, and you have to believe me," Roman looks at AJ expectantly, urging her to continue.
"Seth's going after you, because he knows you. Before you got here, you knew each other," Dean's breath catches in his throat - ("I'm scared,") - and his ears ring loud with the words AJ just said. AJ settles her gaze on Roman before smiling sadly, "All three of you knew each other. You came in together."
Last night, AJ had done her regular nightly basement trip, and was trying to find out more about Dean, when she'd stumbled across a file. A file that explained that three friends, Seth, Dean and Roman, were the newest patients and would be under observation. But what caused AJ to read on, was the large stamp on Seth's file that said "Subject X"
"But, how? I don't, I've never, I don't remember them." Roman's voice is quiet and almost afraid of the words coming from his mouth. He looks at Dean, looks at his eyes and his lips and the small earring in his ear and tries so hard to remember him, to see him anywhere but here and he can't, it terrifies him.
"You remember Seth, don't you Dean?" AJ's voice somewhat hopeful, but it causes Dean to snap to attention.
"No. I don't remember him, that's the problem. He's so," Dean flusters, his legs shaking and becoming twitchy as he thinks about that soft voice that he hears every night and the feeling of a scruffy beard tickling his neck.
"He's just so familiar, like I can hear him in the back of my head but I don't have a clue who he is." Dean finally says, letting his head drop in his hands. Roman's hand moves to Dean's knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey, it's ok man."
"Something went wrong, with the two of you," AJ pushes herself from the floor, she knows she's got to get back to her room, the night guard will do his round shortly.
"I don't know everything yet, I haven't got long enough to find out everything, but I will. Whatever I find, I'll tell you. There's something going on Dean, and it goes far deeper than Seth wanting to hurt you because you checked him out a few times. Just, stay safe until I can get more, alright?" AJ lets herself out of Dean's room and Roman watches as the door closes softly behind her.
"I'm sorry," Is what Dean says first, cutting the silence in the room, and Roman frowns at him.
"I'm sorry that I don't remember you."
Roman gently slides his arm around Dean's waist, like he's expecting resistance that he doesn't get, and pulls Dean into him.
"You don't have to be sorry about that, Dean. If anything, I should be sorry. I don't remember you at all. Or Roll- Seth. At least you two have some sort of, inkling about each other, I don't know either of you," Roman confesses, his hand threading into Dean's hair and playing with the ends of a few blonde curls.
"This voice, it's always there. Telling me it's scared, and when he spoke to that nurse the first day I saw him it was like, it was so loud but I couldn't figure it out, and its killing me, he's killing me, Rome. He's trying to kill me." Roman tries not to think about Seth standing over a bleeding Dean, but the image sticks in his mind anyway. He pulls Dean closer and presses a kiss to his head.
"Not gonna let him Dean, not gonna let him."
("I'm scared,")