#aisnotebook

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: what i've become

authors note: the conclusion to the mini story i've been writing within asks. i've combined those two shorts in this one for the sake of cohesion. if you don't want to reread part 1 and part 2, just skip to the second "-------" and that starts part 3.

words: 7k 

song inspo: 'monster' by skillet

warnings: angsttttttt.

Solana had a bad feeling about it from the get-go.

Something she couldn't shake in the weeks leading up to Roman leaving. The same way she couldn't shake something being off with her son. Something Roman noticed too, and it wasn't without effort from both parents to try and talk to him. But, beyond his father's looks, Tama also inherited the difficulty Roman experiences with opening up sometimes. And just as she did with her husband—still does occasionally—she gave him space. Roman gave him space, Solana briefly mentioning to her husband that he should try again when he returned from his latest trip. A trip that included their oldest twins tagging along.

A recent thing over the past year and some change, Roman taking turns bringing their older kids with him, providing him the chance to spend one on one time with them. On his last visit to Italy, he'd taken Tama with him, and they'd had such a nice time. Solana almost wishes they'd have said football be damned and allowed him to go again this round, Lina and Leya catching the next one.

Because in the days Roman's been absent, Solana feels like things have almost gotten worse. tremendously. Tama's irritation has spiked, his fuse shorter than she's ever seen in him. He has Roman's temper, yes. All of her boys do, but Tama has always been the type to only show it when provoked. He only shows just how much he's like his father when he has to. not lately. Lately, it feels like her baby boy lives in the valley of volatility.

He's just so angry.

"Baby?" Her voice is as soft as the two knocks her knuckles rap against his closed door. "Can I come in?"

She expects him to say no. Maybe even ignore her. That hurts the most. The ignoring part, because that's never been her dynamic with her son. None of her kids.

But, instead, she's met with a short, "yeah."

Solana doesn't waste any time, welcoming herself into his space, finding his back toward her. Tama's long hair is pulled into a messy bun atop his head, his focus on the tv and controller in hand.

Solana sits down on the edge of his messy bed, not bothering to comment on it. She's always expressed her desire for the kids to make up their beds, and he knows this, but alas, she's found that picking her battles with her suddenly temperamental fourteen year-old is the best route.

She smiles at him, glancing at the TV. "What are you playing?"

Another short, borderline irritated reply. "Call of Duty."

Solana nods, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. "Of course." She chuckles quietly. "You remember when you tried to teach me how—"

"Mom, I'm busy right now. What do you want?"

Slap. It feels like a slap in the face. An ironic thing considering some sort of physical impact would be preferred over the coldness and frosty reception from her son. Such unfamiliar, hurtful territory. So unlike her son.

"Tamasa...." The smile is gone, her voice weighed down with all the concern of a worried mother. "Baby, I'm worried about you." He scoffs, ripping his headset off, Solana continuing, reaching for his arm. "Please talk to me. what's going o—"

"Nothing," he cuts her off, still not looking at her. Refusing almost. "I already told you that."

She swallows, shaking her head. "And, I don't believe you." Because, she doesn't. Solana knows her family. knows her kids. Knows her son, and this....this isn't her baby boy. "Tamasa—"

He suddenly shoots up from his chair, finally looking at her, brown eyes burning with irritation that doesn't make sense. "Would you just leave me alone?"

Briefly taken back, it doesn't take long for her to stand up, remaining undeterred. "No, I won't, Tama. I’m your mother—" He groans, walking away from her to the other side of the room. Solana right behind him. "Tamasa, I'm talking to you."

"I don't care."

She stops in her tracks, her face dropping. "excuse me?" He continues to ignore her, clearly heading for the door. "Don't walk away from me when I'm speaking to you Tamasa Reigns," she reiterates, voice raised, switching to Spanish as she remains close on his heels, despite his continued disrespect. He scoffs, actually scoffs, ripping open the door. "Tamasa!"

"I said shut up!"

It all happens so fast, too fast, quicker than what she can compute and truly process. the words, his statement, is one thing. something that would normally garner the bulk of her shock and surprise and many other things, but it's easily outweighed by what accompanies said words.

It's the way he quickly turns around, hands lifted and placed against her, forceful, pushing. It's the way he shoves her down onto the ground, Solana stumbling back and on her ass, landing on her palms, her wide eyes never once leaving her son.

Her son who just put his hands on her.

Her son who just put his hands on her.

Her son.

Tamasa never takes his eyes off Solana either, expression similar to the one she wears, revealing and exposing all of the emotions. Shock. Surprise. Fear. The anger has all but melted away in the face of the unthinkable.

A situation made only worse by the appearance of two other faces in the doorway.

"Mom?" Koa is the first one to speak, both of her younger sons rushing over to her. "Mom, are you okay?" his voice is filled with concern, eyes scanning over her. "What happened?"

kai, however, is two steps ahead. standing in front of his twin and her, he asks his older brother, hand formed into a fist. "Did you push her?"

He did. Tamasa pushed her. her sweet baby boy who would cry and whine as a baby and toddler whenever she put him down, who's always given her the best, most wholesome hugs, who's always looked at her like she hung the moon in the sky, pushed her.

Kai growls, rushing towards Tama, pushing him back. "get away from her!"

"No....." Solana murmurs, finally breaking her silence, the reality of what's occurred settling in and pushing back an emotion she hasn't felt towards the opposite sex in years. Fear. She felt afraid. "D—don't—"

But, it's a sentiment expressed too late, because the last thing she sees is the devastated expression of her oldest son before he turns on his heel and rushes out of the room.

—-------

"Is he by you?"

A frantic question from a frantic woman. A woman still living in between the valley of disbelief and concern, a permanent residence for over the past hour and a half. The scene replaying in her head like a form of torture. Unthinkable. Unimaginable. Unbelievable.

He pushed me

Dwayne sighs on the other end. "Yeah, he's here."

At that, Solana's eyes shut, her emotions settling just the slightest. not knowing where her children are has always been one of her greatest fears. Among other things. and tonight, that's exactly what happened. Tamasa not only left the house, but he left the house without his phone, leaving Solana with no way to contact him.

how he managed to leave without security following him, she hasn't a clue, but that's an issue for another day. She has much more important, heavier things to tackle.

"Sol, what the hell happened over there?" Dwayne's question brings her back to the conversation at hand. "Kid has barely said a word and looks like he saw a fucking ghost." For some reason, that makes the weight sitting at the bottom of her stomach sink even deeper. No mother wants to know or see their child upset, and knowing Tamasa must be all over the place and her not being there to help him is crushing. "I know Roman said the boy's been off lately, but this...."

She closes her eyes. He has no idea.

"We, umm—" She sniffles, wiping at her nose as she paces Tamasa's room. "we got into....an argument."

A pause on the other end. "What kind of argument, Solana?"

Right then and there, she knows, knows that there's no use in lying to him. in trying to downplay what occurred. doesn't stop her from trying though. "It's nothing."

"Solana, my nephew is sitting in my guest room just staring at the wall, and you're holding back tears." failing to hold back tears, Solana unable to stop them from cascading down her face. "What happened?"

She doesn't want to. doesn't want to tell him. doesn't want to have to deal with any of this, but she also knows that delaying the inevitable has never helped anyone in life. Especially her.

"Please don't tell Roman," she croaks.

"Solana, I'm getting conc—"

"He pushed me."

A pause. Long. Longer. And, then—

"What?"

And right away, despite her own mixed bag of emotions regarding what occurred, she slips right back into mama mode. "Don't say anything to him. Don't even tell him I told you."

"He pushed you?" Disbelief forms a marriage with anger that seeps through his tone. "Has he lost—"

"Something's going on with him. I know it. I just....." she stops herself, blowing out a breath, hand over her chest, regulating her emotions.

"You have to tell Rom—"

"I know, I will. I just..." Another sniffle. "I had to make sure my baby was okay first." Because what happened doesn't change the fact that her children's safety will always come first, hence why she's been on the phone with several family members trying to track down and see where her eldest son is. "And, Dwayne, I mean it, don't say anything to him."

Another loud sigh. "You know we don't play that shit in this family, Solana."

She knows that very well. "And, so does he." Even if she, for the life of her, can't understand just what made him do it. "Let me....let me talk to Roman first."

"You gon call him now?"

I don't want to. "yeah."

And finally, the question she was both waiting and dreading. "You're okay though, right? Physically, I mean? He didn't hu—"

"No." There's something about him even asking that that upsets her. Her son would never hurt her.

And yet...

"Please just keep him there with you. For....for now." Because Solana still needs to sit down and talk with Koa and Kai, her younger boys who are somewhere in the house blowing off steam from what occurred.

"I will," he promises. "Just let me know when you want me to bring him back home."

"Thank you," she murmurs, voice dipping once more from the heaviness of it all. "And, Dwayne?"

"Yeah?"

A broken gasp. "Tell him I love him."

Because nothing, nothing at all in the entire universe could ever change that. Period.

"I will, Sol," he agrees, offering with all the sincerity, "let me know if you need anything."

She nods. "okay." Disconnecting the call reminds Solana of where she stands, still in her son's room, the tv still on revealing a paused game. The bed still unmade and unkempt, an empty water bottle on the floor beside his desk. She closes her eyes and places her hands over her heart, taking another deep, shaky breath.

That was difficult.

This will be devastating.

Solana lifts up the phone, shaking fingers ready to navigate to Roman's contact when something catches the corner of her eye. something on Tama's dresser, another place and space of unorganized mess.

How she sees it, she hasn't a clue, but she does, and it makes her frown.

Solana places her cell phone in her back pocket and walks over to the dresser, reaching for the manilla envelope with a strange bulge. Shaped like something familiar. Like a bottle.

And, that's exactly what she pulls out. A pill bottle. A large one, too.

But, it's when she pulls out said bottle, reads the label of said bottle that an already dire situation skyrockets from bad to horrific.

Tears brew in her eyes, her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God...." She can't stop reading it, not the description or the other writing, but the name. Something most familiar to her given her profession. Something she knows all about through various teachings and experience in her field. But, something she never would have thought to find in her fourteen year-old son's room.

Trenbolone.

A name that might mean nothing to some but everything to her, because she recognizes it for what it is.

An anabolic-androgenic steroid

Tama is using steroids.

—--------

“Where is he!”

Solana has just rounded the corner, barely made it in the entryway of their home when she’s met with both a concerning, yet expected, sight. Roman stands in front of the door. Dressed in dark joggers, a black hoodie, the darkness under his eyes confirmation of the sleep deprivation he’s no doubt battling after boarding the jet as soon as she called and told him what happened. 

The sound of Lina and Leya talking amongst themselves, giggling, clearly merry and happy, is a stark contrast to Solana who sits on the floor of her son’s room. Leaned up against his bed, her eyes, red and puffy.

She feels anything but merry.

Shuffling on the other end. “Give me a second, baby.” Roman says something to the girls in Italian, Solana muting the phone to sniffle without him hearing. The noise soon dwindles down into almost silence as he devotes his focus solely on her. “What’s wrong?”

Solana unmutes the phone, taking a deep breath. “I—I—”

“Solana.” His deep voice reeks of concern, Solana able to visualize the deep scowl on his face. “What happened?” The concern jumps to level ten as he asks almost anxiously. “Are the kids—”

“They’re fine,” she answers. Not entirely true, but the least she can do is wane his concern about something serious having happened with the kids. “It’s—it’s Tama.”

A pause. “What happened, Solana?”

Her eyes shut. Solana realizes the longer she goes without answering, the more his concern will grow. She has to rip the band-aid off. 

“I tried to talk to him again, and he–he got upset with me.”

“Solana.”

The most heartbreaking words to leave her mouth in some time. “He pushed me, Roman.” And finally, the tears. Solana can't hold back her sobs anymore. Can't act like she's never felt so utterly hopeless and lost regarding her babies.

She feels so helpless.

Silence. Prolonged, continued, hefty silence.

And finally, a steel, cold, borderline stoic. “I’m on my way to the airport”

As relieved as Solana is to see Roman, she can’t deny that her husband looks the way she feels. Tired, confused, concerned and something extra, something evident in the way he walks into their home.

Angry.

It’s an emotion that melts away—temporarily—when he lays eyes on her. An instant shift. “Sol…”

Solana doesn’t waste a second in moving so that she’s in front of him, his arms around her, holding and comforting her. 

Naturally, she melts into him, gripping the material of his shirt as he cradles the back of her head. She sniffles quietly, allowing the embrace to comfort her in a way she’s needed so desperately over the past few hours. Needed him.

Roman just holds her, letting her hold onto him before stepping back just enough to assess her, his eyes scanning over every inch of her, searching. 

“I’m—I’m okay,” she assures. Partially true. Partially untrue. It’s hard, nearly impossible, for her to be even remotely okay considering what’s occurred. 

Her words seem to settle him but only slightly, Roman’s eyes quickly darkening as he eases back into the space that had his jaw tight and his hand flexing.

Anger.

He’s angry.

“Where is he?” He repeats, Solana’s stomach dropping realizing just how upset he is. She knew he would be, expected him to be, but actually experiencing it in the moment is something different.

“Roman—”

“Naw, where the hell are you?” Roman moves past Solana, stalking up the steps, his wife right behind him. “Get the fuck out here now, Tamasa!”

She stops in the middle of the steps, eyes shutting as the gravity of the situation overcomes her once more. Never in a million years did she imagine hearing her husband speak of and to their son in such a tone. It’s painful, hurtful, and devastating in all the ways imaginable. 

She hates every bit of it. 

“You wanna put your fucking hands on your mom and think I won’t fuck you up for it?”

“Roman, please—”

But, he’s not listening, not even truly, mentally present. His focus, emotions, and everything else are too grounded and situated in the bulk of his anger. And, hurt. Because Solana has no doubt he’s just as torn up about this as she is. He just, in true Roman fashion, expresses his with more volatility. 

With anger. 

“Tamasa!” 

Solana winces at the harshness, the way he stomps through the house, headed for the boy's wing. A part of her even more grateful that she made the call to send the younger kids over to Afia’s. Happy Roman agreed to leave Lina and Leya in Italy with Matteo, as he hopped on the jet straight home as soon as she told him what happened.

She didn’t want them to be around for any of this, especially this side of Roman, a side he’s never presented around them unless the occasion called for it. 

And as much as she hates to admit it, if there was an occasion for Roman to tap more into the side of the Tribal Chief, it would be now.

Solana jumps when he kicks down their son’s door.

“Roman!”

“I want it all out of here,” he shouts, hands on his hip, motioning around their eldest son’s bedroom. “Every game, every piece of equipment, everything but his fucking bed is gone!”

“You need to calm down,” she advises, stepping toward him, moving her hands up and down his chest. “Please.”

Roman’s eyes shut at the contact, his jaw flexing and jerking in the way that it does when he’s trying to do just what she’s trying to do.

Calming the fuck down.

“He’s not here,” she finally informs, Roman’s eyes snapping open at the news.

“Where—”

“He’s on his way. Dwayne is bringing him,” she continues, jumping in before he can cut her off. “But, Roman, you need to calm down before he gets here. He doesn’t need this—”

Still, he remains too far embedded in his ire to hear her out. “He needs his ass whooped, Solana. That’s what he needs.”

“And, that’s why I need you to calm down.” Because she understands her husband being upset, knows how fiercely protective he is of her, and rightfully so given what happened. But, all this rage won’t help the situation. It’s only going to make things worse. “Ro….” 

She steps away, past him, to the dresser where she found it. Where she left it, knowing Tama wouldn’t be home until Roman’s jet landed and he was home, so there was no way for their son to grab it again.

And especially to take anymore.

The tears begin brewing once more as she picks up the bottle and turns toward Roman, hand outstretched. “Look.”

He frowns, stepping closer, taking said bottle. Thick brows cave downward as a deep scowl forms on his face. His eyes dart up. “Are these—”

“Yes,” she answers, stomach in every sort of knot imaginable. “Steroids.”

Roman’s jaw tightens. “He’s been taking steroids?"

Solana nods, just hearing it aloud feels so wrong. “Yes.”

Roman scoffs, shaking his head. Disbelief dances between the two of them. “Jesus Christ…how did….how the hell did he even get these?”

She crosses her arms. “You and I both know how easy and accessible these things are to kids these days.” Far too accessible. “I don’t—I don’t know how I missed the signs.” One, in particular. Tama’s sudden irritability and outbursts should have keyed her into something being off. Maybe not steroid use but something.

She's a nurse for crying out loud.

Roman, however, sees the trajectory of the path his wife is on and moves quickly to deviate. “Baby, don’t do that.” He steps forward, pulling her into him, bottle tossed onto the bed. “Don’t blame yourself.”

He knows her well. Too well. “I just wish we would have—”

“I know.” Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be stated. Doesn’t need to be said aloud. Not with everything else that needs to be expressed, but not to her. Roman just needs to make sure his wife is good before he tackles the bigger issue at hand. Tama. 

It’s Tama he needs to talk to. 

—----

Uncle Dwayne doesn’t come in the house, doesn’t accompany Tama into what might be the scariest situation he’s ever walked into. He’s thought about this a lot, laid and twisted in bed thinking about it, fearing it, knowing what’s coming but also not being able to do anything to stop it.

Not that he necessarily would if he could, because deep down he knows what this really is. Consequences. They’re the consequences of his actions.

Actions that led up to this very moment.

He’s slightly disappointed to not be able to see his mother, but also not sure if he’s ready to see her, either.

Truth be told, he doesn’t feel ready for any of it, especially once he finds himself in front of his room. A room that no longer has a door, the large hole in the middle, the way it leans against the wall, very visibly off the hinges, all the story he needs.

It also makes his nerves just three levels higher. Five when he finds his father sitting on the edge of his bed.

Tama doesn't say anything, doesn’t know just what to say, what can be said at this point. 

So, he goes with what’s undeniable and indisputable. 

“Dad—"

“Tamasa.”

Silence. A frosty chill that channels across the room, embedding in the walls and settling in the cracks. A sort of tension that can’t be cut, dismissed, or ignored. The type that dances up the skin and pricks, imbuing itself within the soul. 

“You know that I’ve always worked hard to control my temper in front of you and your siblings. That I’ve never wanted to show you that side of me.” Tama says nothing, continuing to look at his father who sits on the edge of his bed, closed, clasped fists holding up his chin, gaze finally lifting from the floor and settling on his son.

Tama swallows. He’s never heard his dad speak to him with such….coldness. 

Roman gestures to the side of them, the wall lined with countless trophies, ribbons, and other sports-related accolades. “But, it’s taking everything in me not to put your ass through the fucking wall right now.”

Tama doesn’t doubt it. Doesn’t doubt it one bit.

“I asked you what was going on. I tried to talk with you before I left. I’ve been trying to talk to you, and you’ve shut me out. And even with that, I respected your space, because you deserve that.” Roman shakes his head, expression and voice remaining even and sharp. “But, you lost the right to that space the minute you put your hands on your mother.” 

Another sentiment the teenager can’t deny or disagree with. He’s just grateful to be upright and vertical, because Tama knows if there’s one thing his dad has never played around with, it’s his mom. Tama knows for a fact anyone who’s ever disrespected his mother has been dealt with.

In the most brutal of ways.

“So, I’m only going to ask you one time and one time only, what the fuck is going on with you?” A pointed question, the acrid tone making the eldest Reigns boy wince. This side of his father is uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but it’s also well deserved.

Tama knows he deserves this.

“I—”

“Or, better yet—” Roman cuts him off, reaching behind him and tossing something in Tama’s diffraction. Naturally, the teenager catches it. “Why don’t you start with telling me about that?”

Tama looks down, his stomach dropping as his hands tighten around the now empty bottle of pills.

His mouth is suddenly drier, tongue dipping out to run over chapped lips. “Dad—”

“You taking roids now?” Is Roman’s rough, abrasive question. Tama wincing once more. This is brutal. “Answer me when I’m talking to you, boy.”

“It’s not….I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant, Tamasa.” Another harsh cut-off, Roman reiterating once more, “you know better than to bring drugs up in my house. The same way you know better than to even be taking that shit in the first damn place!” 

Tama shakes his head, eyes dropping to the floor, fingers tightening once more over the object in hand. “I—I know.”

“You know?” Roman’s voice is slightly mocking, his eyes flashing with something dark and intense. “Tama—” He stops, Tama watching how his father shifts his gaze from him to the window adjacent to them. The way his eyes close, and he takes a deep breath, gaze returning him with an almost 180. There’s still anger, still frustration, but also something else. 

There’s concern.

“Talk to me, son.” Another audible shift evident in his tone. Softer, almost. Less abrasive and aggressive. Perhaps a bit desperate, even. “Help…help me understand this, cause for the life of me, I can’t. This isn’t like you. This isn’t the son that your mom and I raised.”

Hurtful words, but words that need to be shared. Truth be told, Tama doesn’t entirely recognize himself, either.

And, he shares as such.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, walking to his desk, plopping down in the seat, allowing the bottle to fall onto the floor. “I just—” He leans over, hands on either side of his head. “It became too much.”

A frown settles on Roman’s face. “What became too much?”

Tama swallows, voice tight. “The pressure.” 

Roman sighs, not from frustration or agitation but something else. Something heavy. Something almost sorrowful. “What pressure, Tamasa?”

The words swim around in Tama’s head. A vulnerable truth he’s been too scared to discuss and speak aloud because doing so makes it real. Makes it something he can’t avoid anymore. Something he doesn’t want to say aloud. But, then the thought of his mom’s expression, the fear in her face after he shoved her smacks away that resistance, reminds him that perhaps avoiding it is exactly what brought them to this very point. 

So, despite the trepidation that eats him up on the inside, Tama lifts his head, looking his father dead in the eye. “The pressure to be like you.”

Roman’s shoulders drop. “What?”

Tama continues, pushing and powering through his discomfort. “I’m not like you, dad.” He shakes his head, scowling, deep in thought, submersed in the throes of insecurity. “At school, all I see is Roman Reigns holds the record for this, broke the record for that.” His jaw clenched, hand moving nervously up and down his thigh. “I go to the Warehouse, and all I hear about is how epic a fighter you were, you still are.”

“Tamasa—”

But, Tamasa is too deep in his thoughts, finally freeing them from the suffocating confines of his mind. He’s struggled silently with this for long enough. “You lead the Bloodline and the Cosa Nostra, and everyone either fears or respects you—or both. And, I’m just….I’m just me.” Tama’s voice takes on a hint of disappointment. Of shame. He motions to his body. “Just your can barely put on muscle son, but even worse, one of the first in line to be your heir…. and I….I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” He swallows, finally looking back over at his dad. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Of all the things his son could say, of all the things going on, Roman could have never guessed this is what’s been behind Tama’s strange behavior. Not even the steroids. The reason behind him using the steroids.

Roman wouldn’t consider Tama small whatsoever. Is he as “big” as Roman was at his age? No, but Roman was also a late bloomer, not hitting puberty until he was almost thirteen years old, so Tama being a little behind just makes sense. 

And, he knew that it bothered his son somewhat. Just not this much. 

Not nearly this much.

More than the Tribal Chief could have ever guessed.

Roman’s tone has shifted once more, barely above a whisper. “Son—”

“I just wanted you to be proud of me.” 

And just like that, any trace and hint of anger and frustration is whisked away by a crushing, devastating admission of vulnerability and insecurity. 

“I’m sorry, dad,” he whispers. Roman looks over to see Tama’s gaze back on the ground, the light shining from the window behind reflecting off his face, highlighting the watering of his eyes. “I didn’t mean—I never—I never meant to hurt her—I’m sor—”

Mere seconds are all that pass between the time Roman stands up from Tama’s bed and closes the distance between them. “Come here.” Without word or warning, he pulls his son into him, hugging him, eyes shutting as Tama tenses momentarily only to quickly ease into a sigh of relief and emotion.

“Tamasa, you listen to me, and you listen to me good,” Roman speaks, holding the back of his son's head. “I don’t want you to be like me. I want…I want you to be better than me.” Words from the heart and deepest part of him. “And the truth is you already are better than me, because you’re half your mother, and we both know there’s no better person than her.” An undeniable truth. “I don’t want you feeling like you’re not good enough or big enough or strong enough or anything fucking else. You don’t have to be me or live up to any record or anything else I’ve set. I just want you to be you. I’ve always just wanted all of you kids to just be whoever you are and know that whoever that is, I’ll always support and love. No matter what.”

Truer words have never been spoken, because two things can coexist in the same universe where Roman is upset with his son, disappointed with his son’s actions, but nothing could ever stop him from loving and being overall proud of Tamasa. Is he perfect? Hardly. And, Roman doesn’t want him to be. Doesn’t expect him to be. He just expects and wants him to be—exactly as he’s told him—himself. 

“I’m sorry, dad,” Tama whispers, voice tight, the emotion and profundity of it all settling in, the haze and blinders caused by the steroids dissipating in the face of reality. “I don’t know what came over me—”

Roman already knows what he’s referring to. “It was the steroids.” No doubt about that. No doubt that majority of Tama’s behavior have been caused by the substances he’s been taking in order to feel better about himself, to feel like he’s “bettering” himself, an ironic thing considering what’s occurred. “You gotta stop taking them.”

It’s deeper than that, Solana already scheduling an appointment with his doctor to oversee the proper process of weaning Tama off the pills. And more than that, to run blood work, because no telling what the hell he’s been putting in his system. 

“I will,” Tama sniffles, pulling back and quickly wiping at his eyes. “I–I promise.”

Roman nods, asking. “Where’d you get them?”

“Some guys on the team,” he answers. Roman makes a mental note to talk to the coach and find out who the fuck is on the team spreading fucking drugs like it’s fucking candy.  

“Tama….” Roman lowers his hand to the back of his son's neck. “I meant every word I said. I am proud of you, and I don’t want you feeling like you’re not good enough or need to compete. I just want you to be yourself, to enjoy your childhood. Don’t worry about living up to shit. You should be in competition with nobody but yourself,” Roman releases a low, quiet chuckle. “Let alone an old man like me.”

The smallest smile on Tama’s face, his eyes twinkling with that light Roman hasn’t seen in his son in weeks. “You are really old.”

“Shut up.”

Tama’s smile deepens slightly, gaze dipping and rising back to his father. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you, too, son. Always.” Roman’s gaze darkens, his tone transitioning from almost lighthearted to serious. “But, Tamasa.” A beat. “You ever put your fucking hands on your mother again, and it’s me and you….you understand me?” Roman threatens, reminding his son the natural, respectful order of things. A one and only reminder he’ll ever again in life receive. “She may be your mother, but she’s my wife, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone lay a hand on her. Even you.”

Tama nods. “Yes, sir.” His shoulders drop as Roman lowers his hand back to his side. “Is she….”

��In her art room,” Roman answers, already knowing what his son is asking. “She’s waiting for you.”

Words that Tamasa continues to replay in his head as he makes his way through the house to his mother’s art room. A place of peace and tranquility. A room where he’s spent countless afternoons over the years, sometimes helping, sometimes watching, as she turns a blank slate into something beautiful and special. It’s always been one of his favorite things to do with her, even if he himself has never really been good at such things. She’s never made him feel that way, always been supportive and encouraging. Always been the best. She is the best, and that’s why it tears him up thinking about it. 

Thinking about how he could do that to her. She didn’t deserve it. No one does, but especially her. He only knows a fraction of what she’s been through in life but enough to know the trauma she endured at the hands of men. Men who put their hands on her.

The same thing he’s now done.

It’s the worst fucking feeling in the world. The worst possible imaginable pain knowing the one woman he loves most in this world was hurt at his hands. His mother’s expression of fear, fear toward him, something he’ll never be able to rid himself of as long as he lives. 

Good. He deserves it. He deserves a lot more than that. 

But, it’s when he finally arrives to his mother’s sanctuary, sees her standing in front of an easel, a frown upon her beautiful face, her focus clearly on anything but the canvas before her, that something clicks. Something shifts that has all of the emotions he’s experienced over the past 24 hours—even longer—come to a head. 

Especially when she turns to look at him. Her frown deepens, her shoulders dropping, the last thing he hears being his name, soft and sympathetic, on her lips. “Tama…”

Any resolve crumbles and breaks as Tama closes the distance between them. One minute he’s in the doorway, the next he’s in front of her, on his knees, holding her, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry, mama,” he whispers, holding her a little tighter, like he has to, like it’s the only thing he can do to make this right. A gentle, loving touch to counteract what was anything but. “I’m so—so sorry.” 

For a second, he freezes, realizes that perhaps the way to undo is not to rewrite. That a kind touch does not strip away the scars of unkind. That he’s out of line. That just as he doesn’t deserve to forget what he did, he doesn’t get to try to make things right. A horrifying, debilitating feeling. But, one that is washed away the minute he feels his mom’s arms around him, her mouth pressing the longest, lingering kiss to the top of his head. 

“Oh, Tamasa.” His eyes clench shut. Love. All he hears—all he feels—is love. The type of maternal, unconditional love that only a mother can provide. “I know, baby. I know.” 

“I would never hurt you,” he vows, a promise to never be broken or made to be a lie from this day forward. “I love you—I love you too much. You’re my mom.” He looks up, sniffling as Solana cups his cheeks, offering a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry for—for all of it—for being so mean to you–for—”

“Tamasa.” She lifts a hand to stroke his hair. “I know exactly who you are and who you aren’t. You’re my son, and my son is the kindest, smartest, funniest young man I know. That is who you are, and that person is perfect just the way he is.” Words aimed towards what she won’t specifically say but he knows. The pills. The pills he’d been taking in the hopes of becoming someone he thought he needed to be. Bigger, stronger, everything just more. More like his taller, stronger teammates. 

More like his dad. 

“But, baby, your father and I are so proud of you.” He swallows, struggling to understand how that could still stand. “We always have been, and we always will be.”

“Even—even after—”

At that, Solana’s expression drops, her eyes widening slightly. “Tamasa Reigns, you listen to me. There is nothing—nothing—you could ever say or do to make your dad and I not love you. Nothing.” He hadn’t said it. Not verbalized it. Not allowed himself to say aloud the other fear, something that would have felt impossible before but a reality now.

The possibility of his mistakes being too great for even his mother’s infinite grace. The chance that he’d ended not only losing her trust and respect but her love.

“I love you.” She kisses his forehead, eyes closing, mouth shifting to place another kiss on his temple. “I love you so much. Don’t you ever forget or question that, okay?”

Tamasa nods, leaning in to hug his mom once more. “I love you, too, mama.” 

She holds him, allows that reassurance and love to flow through the both of them. And, they stay like that for a good five minutes—maybe longer—before Solana reaches for his hand, helping him to his feet. “Tamasa….” He looks down at her, Solana bringing her palm back to his cheek. “I meant everything I said, but I also mean this as well.” She swallows, shaking her head. “I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never let another man put his hands on me—”

“Mama—”

“And, I meant that.” He swallows, wanting to interrupt but also knowing better. “So, if you ever in your life make the mistake to do anything like that again, it’s not your dad you need to worry about. It’s me.” He presses his lips together, Solana seeking confirmation of his comprehension. “Do you understand?”

He nods. “Yes ma’am.”

A warning that feels almost unnecessary. Tama would rather be raked over the coals than be in this sort of situation again. To put his parents through this again.

Solana smiles, moving to hold onto his arm. There’s still so much to cover, so much to process, so much to figure out. Roman and Solana already agreed to put Tama back in therapy. He’d done it when he was younger, all the kids, especially when Leya’s OCD was severe enough to where it was impacting all of them. But, once they felt the kids were “okay,” they stopped for the time being. However, given what’s happened, she thinks it’s best for him to restart.

They also discussed talking with him about family therapy. Just the three of them. Making sure they’re doing what they can and need to in order to support him. 

And, though he didn’t say it, Solana has no doubt in her mind that Roman will be working to spend more one-on-one time with their oldest son. Time to talk, to support, to listen, whatever Tamasa needs. Personally, she already thinks he does such a great job doing that already, but clearly, more is needed. 

So, that’s what will happen. 

“Tama.”

The eldest Reigns’ boy turns around to see his father standing in the doorway, leaning, arms crossed. Tama wonders how long he’s been there, how much he heard. All of it, preferably. 

“We need to talk to your brothers when they get home,” Roman informs. “We don’t have to tell them everything, but they need to know what happened isn’t acceptable.”

Tama agrees. He’s always considered himself, as the oldest boy, responsible for leading by example for his younger siblings, especially his brothers. They deserve a conversation. 

And an apology.

He nods, “yes, sir.”

Roman kicks off the door, motioning with his hand. “Come on.”

Tama frowns, asking, “where are we going?”

Roman gives him a pointed look. “You want a damn door, don’t you? Well, now we gotta go fucking buy one.”

The smallest smile, Tama walking over to his dad when he thinks of something. Turning around, hand extended, he asks, hopeful. “Come with us, mom?”

Solana’s eyes water. She sees it. Sees the sweet little boy who always held onto her as a toddler, whined when she put him down for too long, gave her the biggest, best, tightest hugs whenever he had to leave her. 

She sees him. 

Sees her son.

Solana toward him, taking his hand, gently squeezing. “Always, baby. Always."

------

and, here we go. i've been wanting to write something to show more of the close relationship/connection roman has with tama, and this felt like a good storyline to do so. shoutout to my lovely, amazing moot @jayjayem1999 for giving me the idea forever ago about tama feeling the pressure of living in roman's shadow and resorting to supplements.

curious if you agree with how roso handled this situation, especially roman. lemme knowwww.