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“When will the mask come off?” Roman asked of his puffy eyed reflection. The reflection only stared back at him; tears traced the pale face.
Roman sighed. He supposed his mask might never come off. He looked into the sunken eyes that encompassed his face. It was better this way. The others did not need his dramatics. He was fine…. Right?
He went over his mental list of mistakes.
He was mean.
He didn’t know when to stop.
He wanted too much with nothing in return.
He was the ugliest prince of them all.
He was useless when it came to ideas. And everything else….
He couldn’t save the others from selfishness.
He was stupid.
He was annoying.
He was just like his brother.
He lied all the time, despite saying that Janus was evil for lying.
He cared more about his reputation then the others.
He slammed his fist on the mirror. The glass cracked underneath his fist. He glared up at the not so handsome prince. he was supposed to save the others and he couldn’t even save himself.
He was supposed to be the knight in shining armor, instead he was the prince of screwing up.
He sunk to the ground sobbing. He would never be like the others.
He wasn’t kind.
He wasn’t smart.
He wasn’t even good at protecting Thomas.
So much for being his hero.
Maybe he could make it up for the rest of them. He got up and shuffled over to his desk. He reached into his desk and pulled out his failed ideas. He placed them into the success pile. They might be failures but logan can fix that later.
He outstretched his hand again to grab a pen out of the drawer. All he had was a red pen. Fitting, in some sort of poetic way. A red pen was meant to correct mistakes, he was a mistake after all.
He found a blank sheet of paper and began to write.
Two hours later he had made an apology for all the sides. He even made one for himself. He made one goodbye letter for all of them. Easier that way, he didn’t want to wastepaper saying the same thing diverse ways.
He was gonna be leaving to live in the imagination for the next few months. Not that he said that in the letters.
He still had a bit of hope that someone would come get him. The goodbye letter just said that he would be gone for a while. No mention on how long.
It was better this way.
The letter didn’t say if he was coming back. In truth he didn’t know if he would come back.
They would be better without him.
He packed enough food and water to last him at least a month, a change of clothes, and the apology to himself. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and walked over to the door to the imagination.
He knew he shouldn’t be sad. He had everything he could want, but he was selfish. Nothing was good enough for him. So, he needed to go out and fight till all his bones broke and he couldn’t walk. He would fight till he couldn’t anymore. He would stay down; he was the dragon holding the prince of screw ups captive. He would stay until one of Remus’s monsters would find him. He might get eaten or taken back. it didn’t matter at this point.
He sighed, no more procrastinating. He pushed open the door staring out into the fields of flowers.
Maybe someone would miss him! Maybe they would stop him!
He pinched himself. This wasn’t some story book. This wasn’t a fairy tale. He wanted answers to all his problems, but in truth he was the problem. He needed to do this.
He took a step forward.
What if he is missing something?!?
He took another step.
What about Virgil? you might never see his face again!?
He winced but took another step.
Patton will cry!
He snorted and took a few more steps farther from his room.
How will they be able to come up with ideas!?
That was nonsense, logan had made it clear he thought Roman’s ideas where shit. Logan would prefer it if Roman let him come up with the ideas. He might even thank him, assuming Roman came back.
He turned and locked the door, now he couldn’t get out. The other sides could get in. it would be suspicious if it was locked both ways. Again, insinuating that the others would come for him.
The lock was just to keep him from backing out.
This was for the others.
His world might be sinking, and he might be the cause. But he would not destroy their lives too.
He stared at the door. He lifted his hand and stroked the wood.
It was about breakfast time. Patton would be making pancakes, Virgil would make coffee, black like his soul, (Roman was sworn to secrecy that Virgil put cream and sugar in the mix.) he imagined Virgil sitting on the counter glaring at the coffee pot, his hair would be aloof. Milk chocolate eyes blinking away the morning bleariness. He imagined logan making eggs and adjusting his constantly falling glasses.
He almost laughed.
They would want to fetch him, sending Virgil to go get him. He thought about Virgil protesting, then finally giving in after Patton’s puppy eyes. Virgil would go up only to find his room empty. He would find the letters.
Would he tell the others?
He would need too; Patton would assume that Virgil had skipped. Or maybe not. Maybe they just pretended to care.
Either way he needed to get away from the door.
He finally turned away facing the rising sun. the sky tinted a light pink and creamy orange.
This is where his redemption lies.
Time for Roman to be the hero he was always pretending to be.
His world was sinking, and he was the caption.
He had to try to save the Prince of screwing up.