Roman... what happened to your little sweetheart?

That's something you often ask yourself, your heart heavy in your chest each time the situation gnaws at you. You were the most supportive boyfriend ever, but the way your lover had turned out made you drown in guilt for having let him pursue this career.

You saw it all first hand, being his bodyguard and his lover. He was famous, and he was enjoying it, craving it, addicted to it. Roman might not have noticed how he changed, what fame and expectation was doing to him. But gods, you did notice—and how.

Drugs, cheating, alcohol and fights were all you'd been enduring for the past few weeks. But still, you stayed. Roman was oblivious to it, but you were literally the only thing keeping him afloat, alive.

Tonight Roman planned to go to yet another massive club in Las Vegas, right after a show he'd just finished. You tried talking him out of it, but your words were meaningless.

The club was damned crowded, cheering, shouting even louder as Roman entered. You kept his hand clutched in yours, your gaze weary for any threats.

Just once, once did you turn your head towards a blinding light when you felt Roman pull his hand away from yours, disappearing into the crowd of people.

Your heart dropped. You searched like a mad man, swearing you could have cried from exhaustion and anger. Finally, you found the damned restroom, immediately catching hints of Roman's obnoxious cologne.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you broke open the one stall that was closed, not caring anymore.

What you came to see stopped your heart from beating.

Roman on the ground, slouched against the toilet, eyes closed with vomit oozing down his chin. Your heart clenched as you noticed the faint trail of tears on his cheeks.

The toilet then caught your gaze, realizing he had tried to vomit but hadn't been able to.

He was overdosing.