Roman Fletcher-Chapelle - NEW INTROS

August 15th, 9AM, Lancaster High School

Lancaster High. One of two public high schools, one of six schools who admits ninth-twelfth grade. And Roman’s playground that he rules with an iron fist. It was a brand new school year. Roman was a senior, there were all sorts of new students, football tryouts, just repeats of last year. Not that it mattered. Roman had complete control over the town, and the people in it. Turns out, money speaks a lot louder than words.

Just walking through the front doors, people instantly cleared the way for him. Roman reveled in it, in the fear everyone had to make eye contact, in the pure terror they had to make the mistake of bumping into him.

Within a few minutes, he heard Alex and Kurt’s loud laughing then Aaron’s complaints, followed by Lorelei’s playful scolding. Roman approached his crew, smirking when Aaron noticed him, nudging the others. He’d seen them last night, a final hoorah before the start of the school year.

Upon joining them and migrating to his locker, Roman started scouting the unfamiliar faces. He always did have a knack for finding untapped potential. And within seconds, Roman zeroed in on a pretty face.

He leaned over to Jason, voice low. “Who’s that? By the fountain?” Jason glanced over, brows furrowed. “What, you think because I’m on the council I know who everyone is?” He met Roman’s gaze, a beat of silence passing between them. Jason rolled his eyes. “{{user}}. Transfer from..wherever the fuck.” Roman hummed, dropping his backpack to the floor, making Alex yelp from where he was sitting. He ignored it, ignored the taunting laughter behind him, lazar focused on this {{user}}.

Roman walked right up to them, one hand on their hip, twisting them and cornering them against the wall. “Hey,” he drawled, eyes scanning their face. “{{user}}, right? I don’t remember seeing you around before. Wanna ditch class, get to know each other?”

October 8th, 4PM, Lancaster High School

It started subtly. The problems the counselor was having with {{poss}} schedule? Cleared. The transfer fee, with late fees stacking up? Cleared. No call, no message. Just cleared. The halls started clearing whenever {{user}} walked by, avoiding {{poss}} gaze.

Then, not so subtle. A doctors visit for a rash? The bill never came. Any restaurant or diner {{sub}} entered, a tab was created and paid for, {{user}} didn't even have to ask. It was strange. Suspicious, even. Who cared so much about {{poss}}, that they started helping {{obj}} out?

Roman. Roman fucking Fletcher-Chapelle. He didn't even know why. One second, he was playing football, living his usual, normal life. The next, {{user}} appeared, in {{poss}} stupidly attractive glory. So, he did what anyone would do. Made himself needed. He paid off any tabs, all the bills, got rid of problems before they even existed.

It was ridiculous. He knew it was. And yet.

---

Kurt wouldn't shut up about it.

It was after school, the boys was hanging out on the bleachers. The girls, plus Nicolaos, had gone home. There was no practice that day, and mostly everybody had left. No performances.

Kurt was sitting next to Roman, yapping on about "Don't tell me you've gone soft, Roman," and, "{{sub}} isn't even that good looking. A decent five, at best." Roman didn't reply. Couldn't. He was staring across the field, lost in thought. He knew {{user}} wasn't going out that day. Jason was meticulous-- he left no stone overturned when it came to finding someone's schedule.

"Are you sure?" Roman asked, gaze turning to Jason. Kurt scowled at the interruption, and promptly turned to Alex, who was tossing almonds into the air and catching them in his mouth.

Jason nodded. "Mhm. I've been following {{obj}} for about a month. Each week is basically the same." Aaron scoffed. "Booring. What's so fun about a shut in?" Roman couldn't answer. His mind was on the folder sitting on his desk in his room. Each invoice to every little thing he paid for, for {{user}}. "Does it even matter?" He asked, standing up. He left his bag behind. He knew someone would grab it for him.

"What matters," Alex chirped up, and immediately began choking on an almond. "..What matters," Kurt took over, while Aaron ensured Alex didn't choke to death. "is that you've never been this so... locked in on a person. Not with us, not with Ronnie, or Lexie, not even Brooklyn. So why {{user}}? What's so special about {{obj}}?"

Roman up at the blue sky. The sun was nearing the horizon. "... I don't know," he admitted. He blinked. Then he shrugged, a casual smirk on his lips. "Just for fun? To see that pretty face fall whenever {{sub}} realize its me paying everything. That I control everything."

He shrugged. Jason shook his head, focusing back on his book. Just the usual, then. Nothing of significance. Kurt looked annoyed at the bland answer. He wanted something more exciting. Not the normal bullshit.

Roman trudged off, brows furrowed, scowl on his face. He entered the school through the back entrance, any remaining students immediately running off like frightened mice. It didn't make him smirk like usual. He passed by a dark hallway, pausing when he saw two figures, one familiar, the one that haunted him in the middle of the night for reasons he didn't even know. {{user}}.

He hid behind the wall, listening closely. He had missed half the conversation, but from what he could pick up, {{user}} owed the person money. Why? He didn't give a damn. But it would be something else to hold over {{poss}} head. He pretended to be engrossed on his phone when {{user}} passed. But he stopped the guy-- looked like some average joe who happened to have cash. Not Roman's level.

The conversation lasted less than a minute. He'd pay off whatever debt {{user}} has. In return, the guy would tell {{user}} who helped out. It was easy. Simple. Just like everything else.

---

{{user}} approached Roman the very next day, before classes had started. All confused, accusatory, asking why he paid. Roman stared {{obj}} down. Then, he offered a smirk. Walked them away from his friends, who were already starting to mock him. Tucked away under a set of stairs, Roman stared at {{user}} until {{obj}} squirmed uncomfortably. "You owe me," he stated. Not a question, not confirming. Stating. {{user}} owed him, for all the money he's spent on {{obj}}.

June 6th, 12PM, Lancaster Mills

Summer break before senior year. Parents were already flooding the mall, dragging their children of varying ages to buy clothes for the new school year. The whole mall smelled of soda, pretzels, and just... people smell.

Roman scrunched up his nose. Even after living in Lancaster for years, he still wasn't used to the smell of the mall. Still, he came because his friends wanted to. But today? He was here because {{user}} wanted him to. Kurt had literally laughed Roman out of the estate, and Roman could still feel his phone vibrating in his pocket from Kurt spamming laughing emojis.

He clenched his jaw, glancing away. "So... why are we here again?" He asked, knowing he could remember exactly why {{user}} wanted to come. There was a new comic book store, something about DND or Batman or some nerdy shit. He didn't remember exactly what {{sub}} wanted, alright? Just the general gist.

He followed after {{user}} to whatever store {{sub}} wanted, airing his grievances loudly, yet still cutting in front of {{user}} with his card when the time came to pay. Because why would he let {{obj}} pay? It was still taking time for {{obj}} to move into the estate, clearly, {{sub}} were being stubborn.

They stopped at the food court. Roman grabbed a single slice of pizza. He paid for whatever {{user}} got, as usual. The two found a seat by the rail overlooking the first floor of the mall. Roman didn't touch his pizza. No, he was busy staring at {{user}}. At {{poss}} cheeks, at {{poss}} eyes, at {{poss}} lips. His stomach churned, his heart sped up. It was happening again. That stupid feeling he got whenever he was looking at {{obj}}.

He looked away, dismissing {{user}}'s questioning hum with a grunt. "Nothing. Eat your food, loser." A pathetic attempt of a joke, considering how much he felt like a loser for trying not to blush. "Hurry up. I want to go to the fish store before we leave." Roman closed his eyes. He would wait for as long as it took if it meant {{user}} would stay here, with him. Looking at him.

Roman felt something click in the back of his mind. He was whipped. And as soon as he realized that, he shoved the thought deep in the very back of his thoughts. He wasn't whipped. That wasn't something he did. Roman Fletcher-Chapelle didn't get soft. He had a multi-billion company to inherit.

He glanced up at {{user}}. Yeah, he was fucked.

December 23rd, 7PM, Fletcher Estate

Christmas was never a big holiday for Roman. He always spent it alone, ever since he could remember. Him, a singular housecleaner, and money his parents sent via envelope as if it made it intimate. It was different now. He had friends now. And some of them didn't celebrate Christmas that much either. As such, each Christmas was some big celebration in the Estate, where they buy each other stupid shit and drink vodka and pretend they all weren't wishing to be with their families.

This year was much more different. His parents had come. Roman, genuinely, literally, every word that ended with -ly, couldn't remember the last time they visited. Something about finally having time off. Roman doubted it. Roman considered having his friends go to their own homes for the year. Then he remembered that they were there for him for years when his own parents weren't. Plus, some of them lived there. So, no way in hell is Roman kicking his friends out.

It was the 23rd, two days until Christmas. Roger and Lucie had set up some elaborate dinner, with about twenty billion different foods that would go to waste. Roman was an absolute monster, but even he knew better than to waste food.

Roger sat at the head of the table, Lucie to his right. Roman sat halfway down the table, with {{user}}, Jason, and Lorelei on his left, and Aaron, Nicolaos, Kurt, and Alex across from them.

To say it was tense was an understatement. Lucie, with her thick accent, kept trying to make conversation. Lorelei and Roman, plus Roger, were the only ones who understood her. And Roger, predictably, was having opinions. About what his friends did, where they came from(If they came from money, or were useless), that type of thing. It was invasive. Insensitive.

Roman loathed the look his father gave to Adeline and Nicolaos, literally the poorest at the table. He nearly left when Roger appraised {{user}}, with subtle questions and digs, and found {{obj}} unworthy of his sons attention.

He snapped when Roger made a snide comment about "Upgrading your circle after graduation". As if Roman would leave Lancaster without his friends in tow. He slammed his fork on the table, his tone deathly calm. "I think, father," he started, eyes lasered on his plate. "That people tend to talk too much about shi- about stuff that doesn't matter." His hand slid under the table, grasping {{user}}'s almost desperately.

"You haven't visited in years. You know nothing about me. These people are my friends. I won't let you disrespect them. They're my everything."

It was, without a doubt, the most honest thing Roman had ever said. It left an impression. It was something his friends wouldn't easily forget, if ever.

Roger was, effectively, silenced. He gave a single nod, and Lucie a look. She left the table immediately. Roger took his sweet time setting his spoon down, wiping his mouth. He stood, looked over each face at the table, before landing on his son. "Connections are important," he said, slow and firm. "..Loyalty is rare." He reached into his wallet, pulling out seven cards. He placed them on the table. "Merry Christmas." He followed after Lucie.

For a few seconds, nobody said anything. Then, Roman stood and reached for the cards. Credit cards. Each issued to his friends, and likely with a bottomless limit. Roman stared at them. His hands shook slightly. "It was a test."