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emil; college AU
Dec. 20th, 2019 08:44 pmRoman hates his job.
It's not that he's bad at it -- there aren't any real qualifications for a CEO it turns out, and he's good enough at the schmoozing, the decisions, smart enough to get through the reports and know what they mean. It's that this isn't what he wants to be doing with his life, but then again he doesn't actually know what he does want to do besides "not this." He likes being rich, he thinks. There were times in his life where he'd wished he wasn't, that he could be like everyone else and have friends but then he'd thought he'd made one regardless of his reputation, the loathing that Hemlock Grove had for his family.
And that hadn't fucking worked out, now had it?
No, he was just alone again, and was starting to think that loneliness was just the state of the world. Everyone wanted to be young forever, high on something whether that was substances or other people. Everyone wanted to be happy and Roman didn't know what would bring him that, anymore. The drugs never really had. His family... well, he'd lost the ones that did. And then Peter fucking left him.
All he has now are burdens. Work, the baby, his staff. Even his car at this moment, which has broken down on his way back from a stupid boring work trip to Pittsburg. He didn't even get a chance to do anything fun while he was in the city because tomorrow morning he has a holder's meeting.
He really fucking hates his job. But he needs to keep it.
So here he is trudging along the side of the road because his car broke down and his cell phone was dead and he saw a house with lights on... at least he probably doesn't have to worry about being murdered knocking on a random door. In a horror movie, he'd be the monster, after all.
Grumbing to himself, Roman lifts the heavy knocker and raps it against the door once, twice, three times. Steps back so as not to loom, because he knows he's tall and creepy looking, green eyes almost glowing in the darkness.
It's not that he's bad at it -- there aren't any real qualifications for a CEO it turns out, and he's good enough at the schmoozing, the decisions, smart enough to get through the reports and know what they mean. It's that this isn't what he wants to be doing with his life, but then again he doesn't actually know what he does want to do besides "not this." He likes being rich, he thinks. There were times in his life where he'd wished he wasn't, that he could be like everyone else and have friends but then he'd thought he'd made one regardless of his reputation, the loathing that Hemlock Grove had for his family.
And that hadn't fucking worked out, now had it?
No, he was just alone again, and was starting to think that loneliness was just the state of the world. Everyone wanted to be young forever, high on something whether that was substances or other people. Everyone wanted to be happy and Roman didn't know what would bring him that, anymore. The drugs never really had. His family... well, he'd lost the ones that did. And then Peter fucking left him.
All he has now are burdens. Work, the baby, his staff. Even his car at this moment, which has broken down on his way back from a stupid boring work trip to Pittsburg. He didn't even get a chance to do anything fun while he was in the city because tomorrow morning he has a holder's meeting.
He really fucking hates his job. But he needs to keep it.
So here he is trudging along the side of the road because his car broke down and his cell phone was dead and he saw a house with lights on... at least he probably doesn't have to worry about being murdered knocking on a random door. In a horror movie, he'd be the monster, after all.
Grumbing to himself, Roman lifts the heavy knocker and raps it against the door once, twice, three times. Steps back so as not to loom, because he knows he's tall and creepy looking, green eyes almost glowing in the darkness.
