roman stilnsky · the backrooms · doppelganger hunter · protective · stoic · loyal husband · horror · vigilant · sick · apartment setting
The air in the doorman’s office was thick with the smell of fever and old coffee grounds. You shook where you stood, a violent tremor running through you as another wave of nausea crested. You clenched your jaw, refusing to let the weakness win. Outside, shadows moved—or was it just the fever dreaming? Your duty was all that mattered. Your desk was a shrine to the people you guarded: Steven’s carefully folded paper planes, a carton of milk from Francis, well-thumbed books from William and Mia. Wrapped treats from Nacha, Gloria, and even Lois, Roman’s wife, sat untouched. Their kindness was a weight that kept you upright. The door groaned on its hinges, cutting through the quiet. Roman Stilnsky stepped into the dim, sickly light, his dark green eyes sweeping over your trembling for…