There are different types of silence.

There are comfortable silences, like the married couple who don't need to say anything at dinner. There are uncomfortable silences, like when you're painfully searching for something to say in your mind. There are awkward silences, like when you tried to make a joke but failed miserably. There are painful silences, like after you've been told your loved one is dead.

There are so many types of silences, yet I couldn't think of single one that could be used to describe the silence right now. The silence between Roman and I.

The silence that started when I refused to answer his question about Jesse. The silence that I kept when I nodded that I wanted him to take me to his apartment. And the silence that didn't break the entire car ride there.

Roman placed his hand on my back again, once I stepped out of his car. Just like he had when we left from the party. My mind was still quite a busy place, all the shelves inside were occupied by thoughts of what happened tonight. Yet, somehow, my mind still had space enough to focus on the way his fingers were touching me. Even though, they weren't really touching me, they were touching his own hoodie that I was still wearing.

Roman led me into the lavish building, only nodding towards the doorman in acknowledgement. He led me towards the elevator, stepping aside for me to enter once the doors opened. Once those same doors closed, however, that's when you could really begin to feel the silence again.

You know how in every single romance novel, and every single steamy love movie, they talk about the tension in the elevator? I've always thought that was a load of bullshit. I've never been pulled to someone just because we were in an elevator. Hell, even the last time I was on this elevator with Roman, nothing. Yet, for some reason, as we were forced together in this tiny metal box, I could feel the way he was looking at me.

Like his eyes were leaving their own touch on my skin, I couldn't ignore it any longer. I brought my gaze up, meeting his. He didn't avert his eyes, or shy away from the direct eye contact. Those blue eyes that I remembered so vividly, they didn't move an inch. So, we stared. We looked into each other's eyes as the elevator flew through the air, and I wondered what he was thinking about? What was going through his mind as he looked at me, so intensely that I swear he could see right through me.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can even stop them.

"I'm thinking about you," Roman told me without skipping a beat.

I nodded, feeling a resurgence of those feelings I felt in his apartment yesterday, you know... the ones I got right before I attacked him with my mouth.

"What are you thinking about?" Roman asked me, not breaking eye contact for even a split second.

"I'm thinking about you," I parroted his words, because it was the truth. I was thinking about Roman, and I was actively thinking about him. Yet now, I wasn't only actively thinking about him, I was actively remembering the way his lips felt when they were pressed against mine.

Roman didn't nod like I did, he didn't smile, he didn't chuckle. He simply continued to stare at me, those dangerous eyes asking all of the questions his mouth wasn't saying.

Even when the elevator dinged, and those steel doors opened, we still stared. Our eyes remaining connected like an invisible bridge was suspended between them. Even when the doors started to close on themselves, we still stared. Until Roman's hand extended out, blocking them from closing completely.

Once the moment was broken, the silence returned. It was silent as we walked into the dark apartment, and it was silent as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting as he turned on all of the lights.

"You should sleep," Roman told me, breaking the silence. I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. I was too wide awake, both from the confusion running rampant in my mind, and the weird pit of nerves that had bundled inside my stomach.

Roman led me to his guest room, though I knew where it was. I didn't say anything, however, I just allowed him to walk two steps in front of me. He opened the door like he was an usher leading me to my suite, wordlessly allowing me to step into the immaculately cleaned room.

"Goodnight, Lilac. I hope you have sweet dreams," Roman told me, and he didn't wait for me to answer before he closed the door behind me.

After an hour of tossing between the white blankets, however, my legs tangled between the linen due to the way I had twisted between them, I decided that sleep is simply not in the cards for the foreseeable future. I sat up in the bed, listening for any signs of life coming from the apartment beyond this guest room. When I heard nothing to indicate Roman was still up, I let myself out of the bedroom. The lights were off, indicating that he was asleep, so I walked into the living room. I didn't turn the lights on, because I didn't need them to see. The apartment faintly glowed from the lights of the city, creeping in through the window that was so large it could be considered a wall.

I walked over to the window, leaning against it as I looked down at the still bustling life in the streets. Though it was well into the early morning hours now, there were still people walking on the sidewalks. There were still people driving down the street, and there were still lights on in the buildings next to us. Like a pattern that didn't make sense, once lighted unit to every ten dark ones. I wondered if anyone of those people were up just like me, trying to make sense of the jigsaw puzzle their life had become. Maybe I wasn't the only one who was living in lies and dealing in secrets, but it felt like it. It felt like none of those people could have problems as messily entwined as mine were.

"What are you thinking about, now?" I heard Roman's voice, prompting me to turn around. He was standing only feet away from me, his arms across his chest as he observed me. I wondered how long he had been there, and I wondered how I didn't hear him.

I sighed, trying to put my messy and irrelevant thoughts into words. "I'm thinking about how every single person has their own problems, yet so rarely do we consider that. Every person we pass on the street, they probably have something that keeps them up at night, too."

"What's keeping you up?" Roman asked me, though I knew as much as he knew the answer was quite obvious. Though, he didn't know the extent of it. And he never would.

"The mess that is my life," I said, shaking my head and glancing back of the window. "What's keeping you up?"

"Well, it's hard to sleep when the girl of my dreams is just feet away in my guest room," Roman said casually, but his words were not casual at all. His words caused that nervous pit in my stomach to explode. My eyes snapped back towards him, expecting to see a joking smile on them, he looked serious instead. "And, I know she's hurting and I know there's not much that I can do to help her."

"You helped," I said quickly, "of course you helped. You brought me here."

"I know," Roman told me, "but I don't feel like that's enough."

"Why?" I asked him, tilting my head at his words.

He sighed, shaking his head quickly, as though he was offended at my question. "I see the pain in your eyes, Lilac. You look, I don't know, you look defeated. I think there's more that's going on then you want anyone to know. I think, maybe you won't even admit to yourself how defeated you are. So, I want to help you. I can't really do that though, because I don't know anything. Except, I know your boyfriend is a piece of shit. I know you should leave him."

"Some things are more easily said than done," I grunted, annoyance surging in my blood the same way it always did when Roman vocalized things I thought I had been doing a good job at hiding.

"Why?" Roman pressed, and he walked towards me, closing the feet of distance between us. He stood beside me now, so close our shoulders would touch if we let them.

"Why, what?"

"Why is leaving him harder than it should be?" He clarified, provoking another deep sigh from me.

"There's reasons," I said vaguely. Reasons I could never tell him.

"Reason's other than being scared of him?"

I flicked my eyes towards the ceiling, as Roman was creeping closer and closer to my sore spot.

"I'll take that as a yes," Roman continued, "I can help you Lilac, but you have to tell me what those reasons are."

"I can't," I told him honestly, "I can't tell you anything other than what you already know."

Roman hummed in response, his head bobbing to my words. He was silent for a moment, the both of us looking out of the window. The sun was starting to rise now, the gentle orange beginning to invade the blackness.

"I'm sorry, by the way," Roman told me, surprising me.

"Sorry?" I repeated, looking back towards him to find his eyes already on me. "Sorry for what?"

"Hitting on you so aggressively. You know, I didn't realize what you were going through. I thought Jesse was just an asshole, I didn't know what he was doing to you," Roman's eyes looked so sincere, I could tell he was actually feeling bad about it.

"I just..." Roman started, flattering on his words, "I just have to know one thing, Lilac. Is he putting his hands on you?"

"No," I said quickly, my voice coming out a pitch higher than I intended.

"I want to believe you, but... I don't." Roman told me, "and if I'm right, you need to walk away from him. He'll never change, and I think you already know that."

I rolled my lips together as I absorbed his words, the dread crawling through me at the fact that one of my lies had been washed down the drain. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"And... I don't know Lilac, should I be telling you that you don't deserve that? Because, I think you already know that too. You don't deserve someone who hurts you, you deserve someone who does the opposite. You deserve someone who heals you." Roman finished, taking a breath.

"Heals me?" I asked him, confused at his words. It seemed like a foreign concept to me.

"Someone who makes you feel better, not someone who hurts you," Roman explained.

"I know," I told him, "It's just... I... can't."

Roman's eyes narrowed at my words, "you have to. It might be hard, and it might hurt you to do it, but you can't stay with someone who puts their hands on you. You deserve someone who makes you feel safe and protected."

As his words flashed through mind, I remembered the feeling I had in his car. He made me feel safe, he made me feel protected.

I looked up at him, "you make me feel those things."

Roman's serious expression melted for just a second, a small smile forming on his lips instead. "I make you feel safe?"

"Yes," I answered instantly, placing my hand on his chest. "You do."

"Lilac..."

"What? I'm telling you the truth." I stepped towards him, pressing my body against his.

"Lilac, you said it was a mistake," Roman muttered, though I saw the way his eyes were drifting down to my lips.

"I lied."