#anaroceit week

[cheesycheesyches]

Anaroceit Day 3 - Ghosts

@anaroceitweek

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day two - liar liar

@anaroceitweek

prompt: theatre/mistake

relationship: romantic anaroceit

word count: 4.4k

(cw -> disordered eating, punishing oneself, hospitals, fainting, cursing, extreme self-hatred)

---

Roman had a bad habit of equating his worth to his successes. 

And his failures. 

Though his dear boyfriends tried to be supportive, they could never be louder than Roman’s mind, the voices that taunted his ears from the inside. No matter where Roman hid, they would always be there. The only way to get rid of them would be to saw off his own head. 

Wow. That was a macabre thought for 6am. 

But laying awake in the dewy, calm blue hours of the morning was a typical occurrence for Roman. He often found himself unable to sleep very well, though his boyfriends’ sleep habits weren’t much better than his. The only difference was that Janus and Virgil tended to stay awake by choice. 

Melatonin didn’t work anymore. It did at first, but now, no matter how many Roman took, he still found himself unable to sleep. His brain just refused to stop. 

“I get that,” Virgil said one day, when Roman told him about it. “It’s hard to turn your mind off when you just need to get some rest. Wake me up next time that happens, okay? I can help you.” 

Yeah, there was no way Roman was doing that and disrupting the little sleep that Virgil did manage to get. But despite this, he grinned and nodded eagerly. Because he was a disgusting, filthy liar. 

Janus thought that he could always tell when Roman was lying. He prided himself on it vocally, which was something that Janus rarely did. He usually had a more quiet, refined confidence about him. Everything about him was understated and completely in control. He could make people do and feel whatever he wanted, as if people were ripples in water, and Janus was just running his fingers to change the currents. Roman lost track of how many times that Janus flustered him to the point where he felt like a pile of putty in Janus’ expert, gloved hands. But every time he thought about being in Janus’ clutches, the idea of being rendered helpless in Janus’ all-knowing eyes, made Roman’s heart flutter with adoration. 

Yes, Janus thought that he could tell whenever Roman told a lie. Since he could tell just about everything else. But he was wrong. Over the years, Roman had learned how to bypass Janus, as expertly as a snake weaving through a bed of tall grass. It wasn’t like Roman liked lying to his boyfriends. He felt like the scum of the earth when he did it. But there was no other choice. He couldn’t stand to worry them, and Roman knew that if they found out about how cruelly his brain spoke to him, there would be trouble. 

Especially from Virgil. The man was strong, wonderfully strong (though not as strong as himself, Roman liked to think), and he was very protective over his boyfriends. Roman and Janus both knew that Virgil had a tendency to spiral, his anxious thoughts getting the best of him. And that anxiety usually manifested into an overprotective nature similar to an overbearing mother. But Janus and Roman were the perfect boyfriends for Virgil in that regard, both of them being quite desperate for attention, fawning, and doting at any given moment. 

Though all three of them weren’t perfectly functional in every way, they complimented each other beautifully. Roman didn’t know what he would do without Janus and Virgil on either side of him, holding him upright and being there for him when even his own mind wasn’t. 

            Which lead him to tonight. 

“Oh, Roman, your performance tonight was spectacular,” Janus gushed, hugging his boyfriend close the moment Roman stepped out through the stage door. 

Roman accepted the hug numbly, trying to hold back stubborn tears. How could Janus say that when everybody saw what he had done up there? Sure, perhaps it wasn’t an obvious mistake. Forgetting the words to a song for a second is an easy enough mistake to recover from. But Roman wouldn’t let himself forget. Not for the rest of the show, and not even after the curtains closed. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, he just saw the moment replay as if it had only just happened. He had been standing before an audience of 500 people, all eyes on him as he stood under the spotlight, hyper-aware of how it practically baked his skin. The words he had been memorizing every spare second for the past month whizzed through his brain like a hummingbird flitting haphazardly from left to right to left again. Roman knew exactly what he was doing, and there were no excuses. 

But when he’d opened his mouth, the words were moving just a little too fast in his brain. The lights were just a little too bright. Roman felt weak and faint, and as he looked around for Virgil and Janus in the audience, he made eye contact with both of them, frozen where he stood, desperate to just summon the words. He needed them. If he didn’t succeed, then what was all that rehearsal for? If he wasn’t perfect, then why did he even grace the beloved stage with his wretched presence? 

He’d found the words eventually, of course. But the orchestra had to vamp for three measures. That was unheard of. And through his peripheral vision, Roman could sense the stares of his fellow castmates in the wings. Every single one of them knew that he had messed up, and Roman had needed to work so hard just to prove to them that he was worth being in the same room as them. 

Now, all that work was for naught. 

Deep down, Roman knew that it was unlikely that every single member of the cast saw Roman as a parasite who was beneath them. But every harsh joke they made, every narrowed stare and eye roll, made Roman believe that it was true, no matter what the actual situation was. The bad spoke a lot more than the good, in Roman’s opinion. 

Roman could see that Janus was rubbing his back, and he could see Virgil’s lips moving, which insinuated that he was saying something. But his body felt fuzzy, like a blanket was covering it and keeping him from feeling outside movement with precision or accuracy. And his ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton or pushed underwater, as Virgil’s words came out as messy, globbed up syllables. 

But Roman nodded, hoping it was the right thing to do in response to whatever Virgil said. From the way Virgil beamed, Roman could tell that he had somehow, despite the odds, made a good choice, and Janus gently started to guide him out of the theater. 

The cold air blowing outside honestly made Roman feel a little more human again. He could feel Janus’ hand on his back with a more solid sureness, and his brain was finally moving on from the endless flashback he had been enduring for what he assumed to be at least the last few minutes. But unfortunately, with this newfound freedom, his mind decided to move on to another loop. 

You aren’t eating. 

At first, Roman was a little confused. Why wouldn’t he eat? It was the end of a long show, and he was hungry. Besides, he was certain that Virgil and Janus had made him something at the house. They both loved cooking together and sharing their creations with Roman. Why would Roman deprive them of seeing his reaction to what they worked so hard to make for him? 

But even with this reasoning, the demanding voice in his head stayed firm. 

You’re not eating. You were awful out there. You need to make things right before you can have another bite of anything. 

So that was that. 

Roman wasn’t one to argue with himself for long. His gut was forceful, and it did whatever it pleased, no matter what all of Roman had to say about it. So when the three boyfriends got home and Janus offered Roman a steaming hot plate of fried rice, Roman played the tired card, rushing off and gulping down a large bottle of water before either of his boyfriends could hear his stomach growling. 

—

Sleep was impossible in this state. 

Even after popping four melatonin (technically, he was only supposed to take two), Roman found himself lying awake, his body wired and wracked with a strange sort of fear. As if he didn’t know who he really was. As if the person controlling his body’s movements wasn’t really him. It was scary, and this was Roman’s first time skipping a meal in a long time. What if something bad happened? 

His stomach gurgled, over and over, as if taunting him. Telling him he couldn’t do this. He was going to get up and eat and be absolutely pathetic. 

It was that thought, and that thought alone that kept Roman tethered to his bed, tossing and turning, and rendered unable to get a wink of sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, Roman started to feel lightheaded from hunger and exhaustion, but in a way, it sort of felt good. When Roman realized this, he felt sick, despising himself for thinking such a wicked thing. How was destroying his body and his habits good in any capacity? 

It wasn’t good, but Roman walked past the kitchen, not even stopping for a drink of water. It wasn’t good, but Roman walked out of the door to go for his run without looking back. He’d never run hungry before, but that didn’t stop Roman from pushing himself to the limits, pushing through the air with such speed that it started to sting his skin. 

And for a moment, Roman felt like he was flying. Maybe he was. The area around him was hazy, and that was when Roman realized that he’d forgotten to put his contacts on. Oh, well. He didn’t deserve pretty scenery anyway. 

Roman’s stomach twisted as he ran and ran, his muscles trembling with fatigue by the time he made it back to the house. By now, he knew that Janus and Virgil were usually awake, so he had to go about this carefully. 

“Hey, Ro, you sleep well?” Virgil asked, approaching Roman as he came in through the door, pressing an ever-gentle kiss to his collarbone. 

“Yep, I slept great!” 

Roman fucking hated himself when his voice cracked. But miraculously, Virgil didn’t seem suspicious. 

“Jan’s making protein waffles. You’re gonna need a lot of strength for today.” 

Roman nodded. Not only did he have a show tonight, but he also was planning on helping his brother move into his new apartment. 

But when Roman thought of bringing a waffle to his lips, of ingesting it and having it sit in his stomach, he felt disgusting. That would remove all the progress of the previous night. It would make it all for nothing. He had to keep this going and see how long he could hold out. If he couldn’t even last one full day, then was he really worth anything? 

“Sorry, I’d better get going early,” he said, ruffling Virgil’s hair and going into the kitchen to hug Janus. “Remus will want me there bright and early so we can finish unloading before call time. I’ll eat with him.” 

Clearly, miracles were possible, because Janus believed Roman’s bold-faced lie. Remus was probably still asleep right now, and would be for the next two hours. So when Roman pulled his hair up into a bun and slid on his sneakers, guilt clawed at his chest as he thought about his two oblivious boyfriends, not knowing that Roman was only leaving to avoid the food that was being made at the house. 

Roman didn’t even take the car. He ran. His lungs burned, and the flying feeling wasn’t as exciting this time. Now, it felt more scary. It felt like Roman didn’t have any control over his limbs, and being unable to feel the ground beneath him, Roman worried that he might hurt himself. But he pressed on. He had to be strong enough. It was just running. It was nothing bad or impossible. He did this every single morning. 

Remus’ apartment was on the other side of town, so it took half an hour for Roman to run all the way there, even when he refused to rest or take any breaks. By the time Roman made it to the complex, his heart felt like it would explode out of its chest, and his legs felt like they were still running, even when they weren’t moving anymore. Shakily, Roman stumbled over to the nearest bench, sitting down and finally letting himself relax. 

“Ro! Hello?? Roman? Can you hear me?? C’mon, don’t pretend to be asleep just to ignore me, that’s my thing!” 

Roman blinked awake, not even realizing he had fallen asleep until he noticed how he was lying down on the bench, his face and stomach facing upwards. Remus’ gray-green eyes, glinting with mischief, were staring down at him. 

“What’re you up to, Sleeping Beauty?” Remus teased. “Why are you here so early?” 

“I just felt like surprising you?” Roman lied weakly. 

Remus quirked his eyebrow, clearly doubtful, but he didn’t say anything more about it, hauling Roman to his feet and opening the trunk of his rusty old pickup truck. 

“It’s not a lot of boxes, but it’s enough to be a pain in the ass,” Remus reported. “I’m glad you’re here. If I had to move all these all by myself, I’d go insane.” 

Roman could still feel his muscles quivering, but he forced a smile and nodded. It was just a bunch of boxes. How hard could it be? 

The sun was blazing hot, and the sweat dripping down Roman’s body started to cling and stink. Annoyed with himself, Roman realized that he had forgotten to wear deodorant. At least he was in his brother’s company. As sweaty as Roman smelled, it was highly likely that Remus stunk even worse. Every so often, Roman had to pause, put down the box he was holding, and wipe his palms and forehead with his shirt, just to keep himself from losing his grip on any of Remus’ possessions. 

And as Roman took each trip to the apartment lobby, going up the elevator to the ninth floor and then going back down and towards the pickup truck again, each box started to feel heavier and heavier. Roman knew he was decently strong. He could lift both of his boyfriends, and usually, he was the one in charge of moving heavy things around in the house. 

But today, everything was taking more and more effort. Regardless of the horror pooling in Roman’s chest, he kept going. He had to convince Remus that everything was okay, and he had to convince himself that everything was okay. He could survive without food. Lots of people did it. Once Roman couldn’t hold out anymore, he would tap out. But he couldn’t stop playing this twisted game with himself. A test of survival. Only the strongest could win, and Roman intended on winning. 

Finally, the twins were nearing the end of the unloading process. Roman picked up the third-to-last box, and started to walk, sighing with relief as the cold, air-conditioned air hit him. He started to feel strange and fuzzy as he got off the elevator, walking down the plush, carpeted hallway to get to Remus’ apartment. His hands were numb, and he found that he couldn’t control how they held onto the box. And then, the box started sinking. 

Even though the apartment was cool, Roman started to feel very, very hot. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt again, and set down the box, leaning against it and struggling to catch his breath. But as he tried to get up, Roman realized that he couldn’t. Every limb felt like it was being pushed down by a metal blanket, too heavy for him to effectively resist against. And his mind soon grew as numb as his hands as his vision blurred, and it was harder to hear. 

The last noise Roman recalled was the beeping of the elevator climbing up and down floors. And then, he closed his eyes. Just to rest them. 

Just to rest them. 

—

The first noise Roman recalled upon waking up was a sound that made Roman want to curl up under the covers and hide once again. 

It was the unmistakable sound of Virgil sobbing into his hands. 

Blinking, Roman tried to get a feel for where he was. Everything was bright and cold and strange. And white. Strikingly white. 

“Am I dead?” Roman asked himself, and he heard laughter beside him. 

Snapping his head as quickly as he could, Roman found himself face to face with a laughing Janus and a teary-eyed Virgil. Remus was talking to a tall woman wearing a white coat. Roman wondered what they were talking about. 

“You’re not dead, you silly goose,” Janus said affectionately, “But you almost were.  Do you know what’s going on right now, Ro?” 

“How should I?” Roman asked dumbly. “I just woke up. 

Virgil took a deep, shuddering breath, and then, he started to explain. 

“You passed out. Right in the middle of the hallway. Remus freaked out and tried to wake you up, but nothing was working. So he called 911, and, well, I guess we’re all here now. The doctors aren’t sure what happened. One thinks it’s heatstroke, while the other thinks it’s something to do with malnutrition, but-” 

Fear struck through Roman’s heart, making him shudder from top to bottom. 

“It was probably heatstroke,” he interjected abruptly, his words falling on top of each other in their haste. “It was hot outside, and I was dumb. I didn’t bring enough water.” 

“Couldn’t you have gotten some while you were eating with Remus?” Virgil whispered. “Why didn’t you?” 

Because he didn’t eat with Remus. 

Unfortunately, Remus heard this piece of the conversation and wandered over towards the bed Roman was propped up in, the woman in the coat trailing behind. 

“What’s he talking about?” Remus asked with a slight scoff. “We haven’t eaten together since we graduated. You’re always whining about how messy I am.” 

“What?” 

Janus’ eyes widened, and he turned to face Roman with intense ferocity. 

“You didn’t eat with Remus today? Then- why did you say you would?” 

Roman scrambled to come up with an acceptable response. 

“It just slipped my mind! I fell asleep and-” 

“You fell asleep?” Virgil whispered. “But you told me you slept really well last night.” 

“Sometimes- a…a prince needs-...more beauty rest…?” 

The desperation in Roman’s voice was giving him away. Virgil let out a tearful scoff and took a few steps away from the bed. 

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Virgil muttered, his teeth grit. 

“I just don’t understand!” Janus outburst, “Why did you lie to us, Roman? What the hell is this whole story about? You leave at seven in the morning, and you don’t even eat with Remus?” 

“You left at seven?” Remus asked, his eyes widening. “I didn’t get there until noon! I told you I would be there at noon at the earliest. Why did you-” 

Roman hadn’t even realized that he had been asleep on the bench for that long. 

“Another lie!” Janus exclaimed with a bitter laugh. “Another. Lie. Roman, you’d better come clean and do it now. Unless you just want me to assume the worst, which is getting easier and easier to do with each passing second.” 

Something broke inside Roman’s mind like a dam. Janus had set him off. 

“Oh, you want the truth?” Roman asked with a loaded laugh that made Janus shudder. “I’ll tell you the truth.” 

Immediately, Janus intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s, squeezing his lover’s hand gently. Roman’s heart ached for both of them, but he also felt a strange sort of reverie. He didn’t regret a single thing he’d done, except pass out in front of Remus. If he’d only waited until he was out of sight to let his body give out, then maybe he would have been able to hold on for a little longer. Maybe he would have been able to get closer to winning the game, and finally making up for how much of a failure he was. 

“I didn’t want your waffles,” Roman said, his words clipped and almost hostile. “I didn’t want to eat anything. I needed…I needed to prove myself. Last night can never happen again. I need more discipline. I need to be more successful.” 

“But Roman, you fell asleep before you could even have dinner last night,” Janus said. “Why would you go for even longer without eating?” 

“Because I have to!” Roman shouted, starting to laugh. Suddenly, all of this felt very funny. “I have to beat this game! If I do, then I’ll get forgiven! I won’t have to think about what happened last night anymore because I’ll know I’m strong! Come on. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. Pushing yourself to the limit to see how far you can go. Don’t treat me like I’m some sick freak just because I’m stronger than all of you combined!” 

“Roman, you sound insane,” Virgil whispered, his voice wavering. “Did you even have lunch yesterday?” 

“A light brunch,” Roman mumbled. “It was all we had time for before rehearsal.” 

“Great,” Janus said, cutting through the awkward silence that had been created as a result of Roman’s gut-wrenching answer. “You’ve been starving yourself for almost an entire day because- you’re playing a game with yourself? How can you say all this and then expect me not to think you’re going crazy?” 

“All because you messed up a little line in your little play?” Virgil added, his voice still quiet. “Why are you killing yourself because of one mistake?” 

“Because I had no excuse!” Roman cried out. “I worked for weeks on that show. I made sure everything was perfect right down to the letter, and on the one day where it mattered more than anything, I messed up. It was pathetic.” 

“It was not pathetic,” Janus insisted. “It was human. If you’re starving yourself over making such a small mistake onstage, how do you handle it when you fuck up big time?? How long have you been hiding this game from us??” 

“This is my first time with the eating thing,” Roman mumbled, his face burning with indignation. He hated being talked down to like he was a child. “Usually, I take away other things. I go on my run barefoot. I don’t let myself drink water during rehearsal. You don’t get it because you’re perfect, but I need these games. I need to win to feel like I’m worth…something.” 

“If I may interject…” 

The woman in the coat showed Roman her nametag. It read Dr. Andy. Roman wondered if Andy was her first name or her last name, but he thought it best not to ask at this moment. 

“It sounds like you have some obsessive compulsions,” Dr. Andy said softly, her voice carrying not a hint of judgment. “You seem to feel a need to punish yourself whenever you make a mistake. Is that correct?” 

“That’s what I just said,” Roman muttered, rolling his eyes with what he knew was the utmost immaturity. He was too tired to care. 

“Well, yes,” Dr. Andy continued, “And these games, as you describe them, all risk your physical wellbeing. When did you start doing this?” 

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t,” Roman said, keeping his gaze fixed on one of the metal rods below the hospital bed. “My earliest memory was tearing up all my shirts when I get yelled at by my mom for…I don’t even know what for.” 

“She thought you were just throwing a temper tantrum,” Remus whispered. “So did I.” 

“But it wasn’t,” Dr. Andy said. “It was a ritual. You put yourself through these things because of some subconscious superstition buried in your complicated, obscure mind. A lot of people have this problem, more than you know. Not all eating disorders come from body image issues.” 

“Hold on, this isn’t an eating disorder,” Roman interrupted, sitting up in the bed. “I skipped two meals. That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Well, the way you snuck around and lied about all of this suggests that you’ve done this sort of thing before, even if you say you haven’t,” Dr. Andy explained. “Perhaps you blocked it out of your memory in childhood. Or you did it during college without realizing it. These things can build up into something dangerous if you don’t put a stop to it while it’s still growing.” 

“Whatever,” Roman scoffed, “It wasn’t dangerous. I just fell asleep for a few minutes because it was hot out.” 

“Roman…” Remus spoke gravely, which was very atypical of him. “You were asleep for two days.” 

Two days. Two days?? 

“You mean I missed yesterday’s show??” Roman demanded, “Why didn’t you wake me up?? Why didn’t anybody-” 

“You think we didn’t try that?” Janus asked. “This is a medical emergency, Ro. Even if we did manage to wake you up, I would not feel comfortable sending you onstage in this state. Your blood sugar’s low, you’re weak. You know you can’t do this sort of thing in your condition.” 

Roman stopped speaking. He stopped fighting. It was four versus one, and frankly, Roman was too tired to keep retaliating and battling. He just let the words wash over him. 

Worried.

Terrified. 

Therapist. 

Treatment. 

Supplements. 

Monitor. 

Watch. 

Meal Plan. 

Roman wanted to die. Why did Remus have to call 911? Why didn’t he just leave Roman in the hallway?? 

“Roman, baby, please don’t cry,” Virgil whispered. 

“What are you talking about?” Roman asked, bringing a hand to his face. “I’m not-” 

A fat teardrop splashed onto Roman’s fingernail, proving him wrong. 

“Darling…” Janus’ previously stern voice gave way for something much more nurturing as he held Roman in his arms, cradling the man back and forth awkwardly. “We’re going to work on this. All three of us are going to help you, Roman. We don’t want to see you in pain. We don’t want to see you being punished, even if you think you deserve it. We want to help. We all…just want to help. All you have to do is let us.” 

“Okay…” Roman whispered, and as Virgil hugged him from his other side, he finally let himself sob. “Okay.”

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day three - stove's on fire

@anaroceitweek

prompt: cooking/comfort

relationship: romantic anaroceit (a continuation of yesterday's fic!)

word count: 891

(cw -> past disordered eating, cursing, a bit of self-hatred, mention of existentialism)

---

The sound of a hot pan sizzling was starting to feel less like a threat and more like an invitation. 

It had been three weeks since Roman was released from the hospital, and progress was slow. A lot slower than Roman wanted it to be. But Virgil and Janus were being patient, even though Roman was sure that helping him through each meal had to be getting old by now. 

“Roman, can you pass the pepper?” Virgil asked. 

Roman’s therapist suggested that he help prepare the food. If he touched it with his hands while it was being made, it might make him feel less nervous about eating it. It would show his brain that it was completely harmless, and perhaps he would be more tempted to eat. 

Luckily, Virgil wasn’t treating him too fragilly. Ever since the incident, Remus had been acting like Roman was made of glass, like he would shatter into millions of pieces if he didn’t speak with the utmost kindness and gentleness. Considering Remus’ default personality, seeing him act this was way more unnerving than comforting to Roman. But Virgil seemed to get that memo, and he spoke to Roman like nothing had happened at all that day. It was a nice break. 

Janus was a little sweeter and kinder than usual, but he was still very relaxing to be around. One of the main things he did was stick close to Roman, showering with him when he wanted it and giving him all the company he could want. The thoughts weren’t so loud when there were people around to distract Roman. That was something he found out after around a week of being back home. 

Once Roman passed the pepper and Virgil shook a healthy amount into the dish, the room started to smell more spicy. Roman loved it. He was feeling especially like royalty lately, because Virgil and Janus had taken to helping him make all of his favorites: spicy curry, pasta with alfredo sauce, and pretty much every dessert imaginable. In a way, being able to decide every meal made Roman feel like he was regaining control, just in a different, more healthy way. 

“You guys are the best,” Roman said suddenly, overwhelmed by emotion as he hugged Virgil close from behind, kissing the top of his head. 

“That’s a lot for just me putting some pepper into the sauce,” Virgil teased. “But yes, you’re the best too, Roman.” 

“No, I’m being serious,” Roman said. “I’m being totally crazy and a complete control freak, and it’s like you guys don’t even care. You’re just there for me. No matter what. And- making me food I like, and giving me all the company I could ask for- I just don’t think I deserve it sometimes, you know? You guys are too sweet.” 

Virgil stirred thoughtfully for a moment, silent as he sprinkled a pinch of salt into the sauce and turned down the heat. Very slowly, he turned to face Roman, holding up the spoon. 

“Taste this,” he said, “Tell me what you think.” 

Roman blew on the contents of the spoon for a few moments before taking a slow, careful sip. Savory and fatty, the sauce tasted exactly as delicious as he thought it would. Virgil really was gifted. 

“It’s so good,” he said. “Seriously, don’t change a thing. It tastes amazing.” 

Virgil smiled. “It’s just as amazing as you,” he said. 

Roman gasped and laughed in shock, swatting Virgil with his free hand. 

“You devil!” he shouted. “Ruining the moment with your self-love agendas!” 

“Oh, did I hear self-love?” Janus asked, peeking his head into the kitchen. “You know that’s my speciality.” 

“Yeah? Well, Roman currently needs a few pointers.” 

“Hey! I do not!” Roman laughed, continuing to blindly swat at Virgil. “I was just saying- you guys have to admit that I’m being annoying right now.” 

“No we don’t,” Janus said. “And we never will. Out of spite now, more than anything else.” 

“Sometimes it’s okay to be a burden,” Virgil shrugged. “Lord knows we all have been a burden before. Remember my existential phase?” 

“Okay, that was more amusing than anything,” Janus chuckled. “Mr. What If We’re All In A Simulation And Nothing Is Real.” 

“Shut the fuck up, unless you want me to bring up when you got butthurt that Santa didn’t bring you a snake for Christmas,” Virgil shot back, his eyes glinting with amusement and challenge. 

“It was the only thing on my Christmas list!” Janus exclaimed, “The only thing!” 

To shut him up, Virgil dipped the spoon Roman had been holding into the sauce again, blowing on it a few times before shoving it into Janus’ mouth. 

“There,” he said. “It’s almost as salty as you.” 

Janus let out a muffled laugh as he swallowed the sauce and took the spoon out of his mouth, gently bopping Virgil on the nose with it. Roman sighed and took the spoon back, stirring the pot once more before turning off the stove completely. He was so lucky to be with these two dorks, even if they stopped at nothing to one-up each other. Roman couldn’t talk when he was the exact same way. 

Three burdens, existing together and helping each other through it all while eating some delicious curry. Now that sounded like something Roman could get behind.

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day six - four months in the future

@anaroceitweek

prompt: hiding/library

relationship: eventual/implied romantic anaroceit

word count: 2.1k

(cw -> implied bullying, concussions.)

---

Virgil’s lungs were starting to hurt. But he had to keep running. 

How was he supposed to know that refusing to do the football team’s homework one time would lead to him getting jumped every time he was alone? It was just an attempt to gain some freedom, and perhaps a spine, after being trapped in the frustrating cycle of being forced to do the football team’s bidding. Football wasn’t even that impressive, in Virgil’s opinion. Sure, it took a lot of strategy and physical strength, but it didn’t give anybody the right to order other people around. 

They were getting closer now; Virgil could just feel it. He had to stop running and find somewhere to hide before they caught up to him. Rounding the corner, Virgil thought fast, diving into the nearest door and shoving it open, closing it behind him quietly and quickly. 

It was a bit of an awkward thing to do, considering how quiet the area had been before Virgil burst in. The air felt practically still, like nothing in the room was moving except for Virgil. Everything about this place felt hazy, like Virgil was walking through a dream. He couldn’t quite make out the details of anything, and every time he squinted to get a better look at something, it just fuzzed more and more. So for the sake of his vision, Virgil stopped squinting. 

The shelves, piled high with books of all different thicknesses and colors, seemed to go on forever. Virgil vaguely recognized this place as the school library, but something about it felt different. Besides, according to Virgil’s knowledge, the library was on the other side of the school. 

Come to think of it, Virgil didn’t remember seeing this door until today. 

“Virgil, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

Virgil turned to see who had addressed him, but as soon as he saw that red and white football uniform, he crumpled to the group, his legs giving out in shock as he quickly scooted against the door. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay??” Virgil cried out, his words tumbling over each other in fear. “I’ll do your dumb homework, I’ll do everyone’s homework! Just leave me alone-” 

“What…what are you talking about?” 

The boy wearing the uniform was somebody Virgil recognized. Roman Mendoza, the newest member on the football team. He had gained popularity quickly, not just because he had looks that modeled movie stars, but also because he made it onto varsity as a freshman. His features definitely gave away his age, considering that he was a lot smaller and slighter than the other members, and he had a permanent, smiling sheepishness about him that made him seem more like an excited puppy than a ferocious wolf, which was what the other members of the team reminded Virgil of. 

And here, in this strange, mysterious place, the boy seemed even more sweet, as he knelt down before Virgil, his brown eyes round with worry and compassion. Though everybody knew Roman to be arrogant and a bit of a braggart, nobody could deny that he cared a lot about everything around him. Virgil couldn’t count the number of times he had watched Roman, standing off to the side and wringing his hands while the football team terrorized him. Never once had Roman joined in. 

It looked like he wasn’t going to here either. 

“What are you wearing?” Roman asked, tilting his head. “Why did you change?” 

“I didn’t change,” Virgil replied, growing more and more confused, especially when Roman took his hand and kissed it. 

“Don’t worry, my dear, there’s some water in my bag.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose in pure, unbridled lostness. My dear??? What the hell was going on?? 

As if it was second nature, Roman helped Virgil up, walking hand in hand with him to where the tables were at the library. Another boy that Virgil only vaguely recognized was sitting at the table where Roman seemed to be going towards. 

“Janus, could you pass me my water? Virgil needs some,” Roman said. 

The boy named Janus was very short, shorter than Virgil, even, and his eyes were a striking light green, so bright that they almost looked yellow. He had vitiligo across one side of his face that made him look paler than a ghost from that angle. And he was breathtakingly gorgeous. 

And he passed Roman the water bottle. 

“Here you go, love,” he said nonchalantly, flipping the page in his book and not looking up from it. 

Okay, what was the deal with all these pet names? Virgil was starting to feel more and more like he was in a dream. Roman passed him the water bottle and Virgil drank the entire thing without hesitation, not stopping until it was all gone, and by the time he finished, he was feeling a bit less winded. 

“So what happened?” Roman asked. “You’re wearing totally different clothes, and it looked like you were running from…something.” 

“Really? I was running from something?” Virgil scoffed in disbelief. “You don’t say. Maybe asking your little friends will help you figure out who I was running from.” 

“What…are you talking about?” Roman asked. “The team’s not practicing today. The team only practices on Mondays. And- I told them to stop pushing you around. Are they still not listening??” 

Roman continued to ramble, growing a bit more panicked with each word. But Virgil could only focus on one thing that he had said. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking up at Roman with his eyes narrowed. “Today is Monday. If this is the team’s idea of a joke, it’s really fucking stupid. I would know what day of the week it is.” 

“Virgil, it’s not Monday. It’s Thursday.” 

Janus’ voice cut through Roman’s as well as Virgil’s, causing both of them to stare wide-eyed at the sharp-tongued boy. Virgil didn’t know anything about this boy, but he found himself being quiet for him anyway. As if he knew intrinsically that whatever Janus had to say about the situation, it would probably be sensible. 

“Okay, let’s all just calm down. Clearly, there’s a bit of a mix-up here, but we can figure this out,” Janus reasoned. “For now, let’s just focus on getting everyone feeling better. Virgil, you can have some of my water too. You literally look like you just got out of a marathon. Roman, let’s keep watching this show. Virgil, you can watch too, if you like.” 

“Yes!” Roman said excitedly, “Don’t worry Virgil, we didn’t watch too much without you. This is the episode where it’s between Autumn and Bailey!” 

Virgil had no idea who the fuck Autumn and Bailey were, but before he knew it, Roman’s arm was around him, pulling him closer so Virgil could get a better view of his laptop screen. Janus was on the other side of him. This felt strangely familiar, even though Roman had never touched Virgil before in his life. Virgil noticed that he smelled strongly of vanilla, and his smooth skin was a bit sweaty. Maybe football players just always sweat. But strangely, Virgil didn’t find himself feeling grossed out by touching Roman’s sweaty arm. It almost felt…exciting. 

This reality show with brightly dressed 20-something year old women competing for a role on Broadway was more entertaining than Virgil had given it credit for at first. He couldn’t really pick out what any of the women were saying, too focused on Janus and Roman beside him, but there was a screaming match, and that was vaguely fun to watch. 

As Virgil let his guard down and relaxed, he started to grow tired. It made sense. He had been running for a while, and Virgil was the first to admit that he was pretty out of shape. Though it was strange, he let his entire body weight rest upon Roman, and he closed his eyes, deciding to get some sleep. He was still a little put off by Roman, but at this moment, at least, he seemed safe. Even if he was entirely too loud and clingy. 

But maybe Virgil liked his loudness and clinginess. It was endearing. 

Virgil drifted off to sleep, the last thing he heard being a loud crash. And then, nothing. 

—

“He’s waking up! He’s waking up!” 

Virgil rubbed his eyes slowly before opening them, starting to sit up. He was confused, as he was able to hear Janus’ voice. Why was he shouting like that? Virgil had only been sleeping for a few minutes. Then, he realized that he wasn’t in the library at all. 

He was at the school nurse’s office. And Roman wasn’t next to him anymore either. In a very embarrassing position, Virgil had been cuddling a pillow as if it were a person, and his face burned upon realizing this. He sat up completely, and let go of the pillow, looking for Janus. He was wearing something totally different, and his eyes didn’t hold that same air of recognition that they did just a few moments ago. 

“You took a pretty bad fall,” Janus said, walking over to Virgil. “You’re lucky that Roman found you and carried you all the way here.” 

“What…?” Virgil grumbled. “What about the library?” 

“You’re awake!” 

Roman rushed over to the bed and threw his arms around Virgil. Vanilla. Just like earlier. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I’m sorry I didn’t do something sooner, I’m sorry I let this go as far as it did- I just- I didn’t want to-” 

“Calm down, buddy,” Janus said, awkwardly and stiffly patting Roman on the back. “He’s disoriented. Talking some crazy about the library. Take a seat and let him get a grip.” 

“Buddy?” Virgil mumbled. 

Where did buddy come from, after all those pet names, and the cuddling, and the affection? Why were Janus and Roman acting like they didn’t even know each other? 

“What’s your name anyway?” Roman asked, “Come to think of it, what’s both of your names?” 

Oh. They didn’t know each other. 

Virgil blinked rapidly, his heart hurting from how fast it was spinning, and how much thinking he had to do. The library, hazy and dreamlike. Maybe it really was a dream. But if it was, then why was it so detailed? Why did everything feel so real? And how did he know Roman and Janus in the dream without knowing them now, and how was the dream so accurate? What was going on?? 

Roman stared at Virgil with those same big, concerned brown eyes, and Virgil’s heart stuttered for a moment. 

Janus gently placed a small ice pack on Virgil’s head, which Virgil was starting to realize hurt terribly, and the way Janus’ fingers brushed against Virgil’s hair made him blush. 

“I’m Janus,” he said, as if neither of them knew. “Nurse’s aide. She’s at a meeting now, so I’m taking over until she comes back.” 

“I’m Roman,” Roman said back. “I…uh…I was confused about why I was the only one at practice. So I went down the hallway, and that’s when I found- the rest of the team. And you.” 

Virgil realized quickly that he was the “you” that Roman was referring to. 

“I’m Virgil,” he said. “I’m nobody.” 

“That’s not true,” Roman protested quickly. “You’re certainly fast. You were running so quick before they threw that book at you that I thought you were on the track team.” 

“They threw a book at me??” Virgil asked. “I didn’t feel it.” 

“Well, they threw it at you, and you fell down,” Roman recalled awkwardly. “You were passed out. Cold. The team left to start conditioning, but it…didn’t feel right to just leave you there, y’know?” 

“You did the right thing, Roman,” Janus said. “Virgil, you probably have a concussion, considering that you fell on the side of your head. Your ankle is twisted too, but it doesn’t seem to be any sort of fracture or break. We’ll be able to tell better when the nurse comes back.” 

“What do we do in the meantime?” Roman asked. 

“I suppose we wait,” Janus said. “Talk a little.” 

And as Roman and Janus talked, and Virgil joined in as much as he could (though his head was throbbing worse and worse with each passing minute), he decided that maybe he could get to know these two some more. They seemed nice, and if the dream had been accurate about everything else, maybe their personalities matched too. They certainly seemed to now.  It was silly to feel such a way towards people that he technically barely knew, Virgil knew this. But as he watched Roman’s curls bounce, and how Janus curled his lip upwards to smile, showing off his beautiful, sharp teeth, Virgil realized with embarrassment that he was down bad. What an interesting thing to come with a concussion.

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day one - what family is

@anaroceitweek

prompt: forest/magic

relationship: platonic/found family anaroceit

word count: 3.6k

(cw -> whump, physical abuse, kidnapping, selling people (implied), chains, codependent relationships, cursing, bruises, creepy/intimate whumper)

By now, Janus was used to this. All of this. 

He trudged through the forest in a pattern, his feet adjusting to the soft yet spiky underbrush. His face hardened into one expression so his captor couldn’t tell how he was feeling about anything, though anger rose and fell in his chest each time he took a breath. His hands, bound in front of him in fists, the rope coiled around his fingers, and being pulled along, as if he was a dog on a leash, didn’t hurt so much anymore. Now, they just felt numb and tingly from the tightness of the ropes and the force behind each yank pulling him forward. 

Janus had lost count of how many times he had been stolen like this. He wasn’t dumb. He knew he was valuable. Having magical powers tended to add a lot of rarity and demand for a person. Especially powers like Janus’. People liked what Janus could do for them, even if the hallucinations he created weren’t real. He could just cross his fingers together, and show any fantasy that people wanted. Loved ones, memories, images of fame and grandeur. Janus could create anything. Sure, none of it was real. But in the moment, did it really matter? Sometimes, pretending is just as good as having the real thing. 

A tree root jutted up from the undergrowth that Janus didn’t see, his eyes clouded over in thought. His foot caught underneath it, and he came crashing down onto the forest floor, the damp fallen leaves doing little to break his fall as his bound hands curled upwards and knocked the wind out of his chest as he landed. Kicking his feet, Janus scrambled to get upright from his position, but his captor only yanked his hands out from underneath him, starting to pull Janus along once again, dragging Janus along and wrenching his shoulders painfully. 

“We don’t have time for this,” his captor threatened, his voice cold and demanding. “You’re going to be held with my new apprentice. He’ll take real good care of you until we can get a good enough price for you.” 

“You aren’t selling me,” Janus seethed, finally finding his footing and stumbling upwards. “I’m not an object. I’m a person just like you.” 

“Hmm,” his captor responded. “You keep telling yourself that. My apprentice is here under punishment. Poor thing hates the forest and the outdoors. So…feel free to cause as much harm as you’d like. After all, if you manage to escape from him, it’ll only lead to more punishment for him. And he’s got another…product…with him. Who knows? Maybe you two will be friends?” 

One of the sentences the captor hummed carelessly stuck with Janus, and he yanked a little on the ropes to try and stop his captor. It didn’t work. He only got pulled harder along, almost falling forward for the second time. 

“What makes you think I care about your little apprentice?” Janus hissed, his voice laced with venom. “If he’s anything like you, he deserves whatever he has coming.” 

“Oh, darling,” his captor laughed in a disgusting giggle. “He’s nothing like me.” 

There wasn’t anymore time for questions, as Janus was dragged to what looked like an abandoned shack in the middle of the woods. There was no other civilization, no signs pointing to where to go. Even if Janus did manage to escape, it would be a long way back to any city where he could get help. But Janus didn’t care. He’d escaped from worse. 

The door to the shack was opened, and Janus was shoved inside with little care. The inside was even dingier than the outside, the only source of light being the cracks in a boarded up window. From the corner of the room, chains clattered gently. Janus peered over in that direction and saw a man who looked to be around his age, maybe a little older, playing with a small, dirty, torn up stuffed animal. Surely, this man was far too old for such a toy, but he didn’t seem excited or happy. He seemed vacant, closed off. Defeated. 

“Virgil! I’m back!” his captor called out. “And look at this! I brought you a friend! Here, I’ll put him right next to you.” 

Janus seethed as his captor pushed him to the floor and started to attach the chain cuffs to his ankles before untying the ropes around his wrists, and quickly replacing them with the chains after putting mittens on Janus’ hands to prevent any sort of power usage. After all, his fingers had to be linked in order for his powers to work. Now, Janus was rendered useless. 

Looking to his right, Janus tried to get a better look at Virgil, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Virgil’s raven black hair was a matted mess, and he had bruises blooming all over his face and pale, exposed chest. He had been wearing a white t-shirt, but it was tattered and ripped to the point where it was providing him no protection. His eyes were dark and stormy with unspoken emotion, but his body was still. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. Janus felt the overwhelming urge to take Virgil’s hands and comfort him, but obviously he couldn’t in this state. 

“Roman! Get out here!” the captor shouted towards the kitchen. 

Janus listened closely, and to his surprise, he could hear sobbing coming from the other area where the man named Roman apparently seemed to be. His cries sounded young and scared. Janus almost felt pity, but he was also confused. Virgil seemed to be the other prisoner his captor was talking about. So who did that make Roman? 

When Janus realized, his eyes narrowed. The apprentice. 

Why would the apprentice be crying? He didn’t have to be chained up. He had all the power here. He was probably the one who hurt Virgil so badly. Janus hardened in resentment with every sob he heard. This Roman guy didn’t have the right to cry. He could leave at any moment and nobody would stop him. 

“Roman!” the captor shouted again, but his voice adopted a chilling sing-song attitude. “Don’t you wanna come out here and meet your new pet?” 

“No!” Roman shouted, still not revealing himself. “Please don’t make me, I can’t do this again!” 

“Oh, please, you certainly can,” the captor replied, rolling his eyes playfully, as if Roman was an over-dramatic child. “Come and meet him. He’s almost as lovely as you. Come on out, my dear, and if you’re good to me from now on, I’ll give you double rations.” 

That seemed to be what convinced Roman to emerge. And Janus was not expecting what he saw whatsoever. 

A scrawny redheaded boy with dark skin and extremely curly hair came out of the kitchen. He seemed to be an adult, but he was definitely on the younger side. Roman stood tall, even taller than Janus, and definitely taller than Virgil, but he shook like a leaf, which rendered his domineering height unthreatening. If Janus was unchained, he could make mincemeat out of such a person. Especially in this state. 

Roman appeared to be just as battered and injured as Virgil, his body caked in dirt, and his clothes ripped up and ruined. One of his pants legs had been nearly completely ripped off, revealing his bruised and scratched up knee. But more importantly than any of that, Janus’ eyes locked on the most shocking thing about Roman: the chain around his ankle. 

The crying man was just as trapped here as Janus and Virgil were. 

“I trust you’ll take good care of him,” the captor said, approaching Roman and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Roman flinched at the touch, but folded in relief when he realized the action was kind and gentle. 

“I will,” he whispered. “I will, I just- I need- I-” 

“What do you need, pet?” the captor asked, starting to weave his fingers through Roman’s hair. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please let me be beautiful again,” Roman whispered. 

Janus didn’t understand what Roman meant. Sure, he was dirty and was wearing rags, but he was undeniably beautiful. His tangled hair framed his face, his cheeks round and youthful. His eyes were large and downturned, and they were a bright amber that could almost be mistaken for orange. He had a flat nose, and small yet plump lips that were chapped, but still a rosy pink color. 

Either way, his captor laughed at Roman’s request, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking Roman down so the boy was forced onto his knees. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” his captor teased. “You’ll never be beautiful again. Those days are over. You’re mine, and nobody who’s mine is ever. Beautiful. Got that?” 

Roman opened his mouth to speak in protest, but his hair was harshly yanked again, which led to him slowly nodding, a tear sliding down his grimy cheek. 

“Now…I’d better see some new bruises, and you’d better write down any information you learn,” his captor threatened. “It could be so much worse than this.” 

Roman took a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body trembling. His voice came out in a soft, terrified whisper. 

“Yes, sir.” 

The captor left with a laugh that shook Janus to his core, slamming the door behind him. Roman and Virgil flinched at the sound, but Janus remained stoic, his eyes narrowing as he thought long and hard about the entire situation. Roman was a prisoner too. Why? 

“Do you have powers too?” Janus asked Roman, who was still crumbling on the floor and crying. 

Roman didn’t respond. But Virgil did. His voice was quiet, and it sounded like the vocal equivalent of wind breezing through trees. 

“He has none,” Virgil whispered. “But that doesn’t matter. He belongs to Foster just as much as we do.” 

“Ah. Foster. That’s his name,” Janus said, his words clipped. “What’re you here for?” 

“I just got snatched off the street one day. Foster somehow knew everything about me. My address, my name, my powers.” 

“Me too,” Janus realized. “I guess he captured us in the same way. Stalking us, and then just…going for it, I guess. He wants to sell me.” 

“Same here,” Virgil said. “I don’t know what kind of creep would buy a person in this century. But I guess there’s a market for it. Foster seems like an expert on all this, after all. It doesn’t matter anymore, but…I can control clouds. I can move them around, I can make it rain, snow, lightning, whatever I want. It was cool.” 

“You think that’s cool?” Janus joked softly. “I can make people see anything. It’s an illusion, but I can make anything look real. I can make your best friend appear right in front of you. I can make you think you look like Angelina Jolie. It was…kinda fun. To just play pretend with anyone who wanted to.” 

For a moment, silence filled the room. But soon, Roman’s gasps and shuddering grew louder. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Roman whined quietly from where he sat, still on his knees. “Please. I have to do this, I have to make him happy, I have to. I have to.” 

“Roman, buddy, you gotta breathe,” Virgil mumbled, reaching out to put his chained hands on Roman’s thigh. “Breathe. He’s gone.” 

Janus stared at Virgil with incredulous shock. Why was Virgil helping Roman? Why was Virgil helping the person who would keep them stuck here? Was it Stockholm Syndrome? Was Virgil on drugs? 

Roman practically lunged at Virgil, and Janus flinched back, prepared for a fight, but when he didn’t hear any punching or kicking, he looked over at the two, and realized that they were embracing, Roman sobbing into Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Come on,” Virgil whispered. “Let’s do this again. You hit me, I hit you. Let’s do the right shoulder this time. Are you ready?” 

“No, I can’t, I can’t, please, please don’t,” Roman gasped, starting to panic as he shook in Virgil’s arms. “I just want to get out of here!” 

“We both do. Well, we all do now,” Virgil mumbled. “Okay. Let’s take a break. Let’s…get to know the new guy. How’s that sound?” 

“Okay,” Roman agreed, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. I’m sorry, Virgil.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Virgil said, a strange sort of command to him considering his situation. “Fix it.” 

“You’re right,” Roman nodded, with a brotherly sort of sheepishness before turning to Janus. “What’s your name?” 

“Why should I tell you?” Janus asked with hostility. 

“Because I said so,” Virgil hissed, with an edge to his voice that Janus hadn’t detected before. 

A jolt rushed through Janus’ body. Virgil’s strange protectiveness towards Roman was terrifying to be on the receiving end of. 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Janus sighed. “I’m Janus. I already know both of your names because…well…yeah. What do we even do here? Do we just twiddle our thumbs and wait?” 

“Not exactly,” Roman said awkwardly. “Foster comes around for random checks. He wants to make sure that you both are…weakened well enough to be compliant.” 

“He wants Roman to hurt us,” Virgil muttered venomously. “Cruel ass motherfucker can’t even do the dirty work. He has to make his son do it.” 

Janus almost choked on air. 

“What?? You’re Foster’s son??” he demanded. 

“I might as well be,” Roman shrugged. “He saved me. I don’t know what from, but he told me it’s better if I don’t remember. He raised me, and…he’s given me everything. I owe him my life.” 

“And that’s why you’re here,” Janus realized. “You do whatever he asks of you, no questions asked, huh?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Roman asked. “That’s what family is.” 

Janus couldn’t help but scoff. 

“No it’s not! Family isn’t just blindly doing someone’s bidding just because they gave you food and clothing and shelter. Those things are the bare fucking minimum. A family is…people you can trust. People who you help and who help you just because you all want to make each other’s lives better. There’s no owing, no debts. It’s just…a friendly tradeoff. Family is who you feel safe around.” 

Roman shuddered. He certainly didn’t feel safe around Foster. 

“Right,” Virgil whispered, rubbing Roman’s back. “Right.” 

He seemed just as mystified by the idea of family as Roman. Roman seemed to listen to Virgil like he had the answers to everything. What sort of nonsense had Virgil been telling Roman about family before? 

Janus shook his head, figuring that it was unfair to judge Virgil for such a thing. After all, he had no idea how long Virgil had been kidnapped or the treatment he was subjected to. The treatment both of them would be subjected to, now that they were chained up and at the mercy of a puppet. 

But Janus found that as he glared at Roman, desperately trying to muster up some defiance, some hatred, something in those amber eyes, shiny with tears, made every negative feeling dissipate. Janus wanted to make those eyes light up with happiness. He could practically imagine how beautiful Roman looked when he smiled. Was this the same spell that Roman had Virgil under too? 

And when Janus decided to focus his attention on Virgil, he couldn’t help but feel extreme admiration rise through him as he watched Virgil, chained up and stiff with pain, holding Roman as if he were a child under his care. Virgil was so gentle, so careful, even though he had every reason not to be. He had every reason to be bitter and resentful towards Roman, no matter what his situation was. Janus’ face burned with shame as he realized that he almost had been exactly that. Virgil was much stronger than him. 

“Why were you talking about hitting earlier?” Janus asked. “The whole “you hit me and I hit you” thing? What was that about?” 

“Oh.” Virgil squirmed a bit awkwardly. “It’s…how we make it fair. Since I have to look all beat up in order for Roman to not get in trouble, every time he hits me, I hit him back in the same place. Anything Foster can do is a lot worse than what I can do.” 

“That’s…fucking awful,” Janus said after a long moment of bewilderment. “Are you serious? It’s just…a cycle of pain?” 

“Trust me, it’s a lot worse than the alternative,” Roman said. “We’ve tried so many other things. This is the only one that works. Besides…Foster- he likes how I look when I-” 

“When you’re all bruised up?” Janus joked, and when Roman flinched, Janus’ smile dropped. “Holy shit, seriously??” 

“It’s a win-win,” Virgil snapped angrily. “Except Foster gets both wins. He gets to see me too weak to escape, and he gets to see his little pet in pain. What a perfect world he lives in, where he gets everything he wants.” 

“I’m not joining in on that,” Janus said. “That’s insane. This isn’t like a game, this isn’t- I’m not falling for his trap. I’m getting out of here.” 

“No the fuck you’re not,” Virgil glowered. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Do you know what will happen if you escape?” 

“I’ll be free?” Janus said with a short laugh. 

“Sure, whatever, but think about what you’re leaving behind. Foster will see that you escaped, and you know who he’ll turn on?” Virgil asked. “Huh?? Do you??” 

“Virgil, stop.” 

Roman’s voice was demanding. Virgil rolled his eyes, but he slunk back against the wall. 

“You know I hate it when you talk for me,” Roman said. “I’m not a kid. I can handle this just as well as you can.” 

“Clearly, you can’t,” Virgil snapped. “We just saw-” 

“I don’t care about what you just saw,” Roman interrupted. “We protect each other. You don’t just protect me. If anything, I have it better than both of you. At least I know that Foster’s keeping me.” 

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” Janus hissed. 

“So, let’s just…work together, okay?” Roman said. “It’ll get us hurt, but it’ll get us less hurt than any of the other options.” 

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. “There’s one option where nobody gets hurt at all.” 

“Yeah?” Virgil snorted doubtfully. “And what would that be?” 

“If we all escape.” 

Virgil and Roman stared at Janus for a long moment, before making eye contact with each other and starting to weakly laugh. The action seemed to take a lot out of them. They seemed almost out of practice with it. 

“You really think we have a chance of escaping Foster?” Roman asked. “Didn’t you forget we’re in chains? I don’t have a key or anything.” 

“We’ll pick the locks,” Janus said. “It can’t be that hard. These look to all be controlled by the same key. If we could pick one lock, we could pick all the others too. And we’d start by freeing me, because once I can make my illusions, Foster will be helpless against us.” 

“Wait, how do I know you won’t just run off the second we let you go?” Virgil asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Okay, let’s let Roman out instead and see how he does against Foster,” Janus snapped sarcastically in response. 

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?” Virgil muttered. “Okay, look. We’ll let me out first. I won’t be going anywhere without Roman, and my clouds can obscure Foster’s vision just as well as your illusions can. Sounds like a plan?” 

Roman was starting to smile, and Janus had been correct. His smile was gorgeous. 

“I can’t believe this,” he whispered, “Foster is pretty much all I’ve ever known. I want to be myself. I want to be in charge of myself. I want to have my own family. A real one.” 

“Hold on, Roman, you were talking to Foster about something before,” Janus said. “About being beautiful. What were you talking about?” 

Roman inspected his arm. Littered with bruises and caked with dirt. 

“Nobody could ever love somebody who looks like me but Foster,” he said plaintively. “Nobody. I look like a punching bag. They’re all over me. They’re all over my arms, my legs, my chest, my back…my neck. He’s made some of them. And he makes sure that they never fade away.” 

Roman took a long look in the dusty mirror that was hanging on the wall. 

He really was very superficial, wasn’t he? 

“Your vanity’s resolve is almost admirable,” Janus mumbled fondly, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what he does to you. You’re very beautiful.” 

“You’re just like Virgil,” Roman laughed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“No he’s not,” Virgil said. “And I don’t either. Just like you tell me I’m strong, I’m telling you that you’re beautiful. It could take you a hundred years to believe me, but I know that one day you will.” 

“And one day, you will,” Roman said in response to Virgil. “Look at Janus. He looks like he could be a bodybuilder, and Foster still got him. You aren’t weak for landing in his clutches. Just…unlucky. Really, really, really unlucky.” 

“Whatever,” Virgil sighed. “We all have insecurities, blah, blah, blah. We need to focus on getting out of here. This is everyone’s last chance to back out. Are we doing this?” 

Roman nodded immediately. But Janus hesitated. He barely knew these two. Who was to say they wouldn’t just leave Janus behind? But either way, being left behind would probably be just as bad as being here with them. There was nothing to lose from this plan unless they failed. And that was no reason not to do something. 

“Alright,” Janus said finally. “Let’s escape this place.”

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day seven - moodboard

@anaroceitweek

i was thinking about writing a story, but i don't really have time, and i really wanted to do something cool and special for the last day of this amazing week!! so instead of writing, i made a moodboard, and i'm going to explain why i used all the images i did because i think this captures my anaroceit dynamic really well!

no explicit cws, but there is going to be a bit of talk about sexuality/lovemaking.

here we have the lovely moodboard!

i wanted to use the different colored images to show how these three love each other. and there is a pattern here for every single image!

of course, the top three, left to right, are roman, janus, and virgil.

but i didn't add their own color beneath them, instead opting to really show how connected all three of them are to each other by putting the other two's colors beneath each side.

now for explanations!!

roman and virgil's pictures for each other are both text messages, words of affirmation. that's their love language to each other. they tell each other that they're enough, that they're special and worthy and beautiful. because that's what they need from each other, but it's also what they adore giving to each other. roman feels a lot of insecurity that virgil's kind words curb, and when virgil's anxiety gets the best of him, roman is there to reassure him that everything is okay. they're both refreshingly honest with each other because they see no reason not to be.

roman and janus' pictures are both flowers, gifts/gestures. that is their love language to each other. sometimes, words aren't what they want, and they both love to shower each other in objects, especially ones that have sentimental value. i could see them silently passing each other flowers on a quiet sunday, and smiling. it's less the object itself, and more the thought that they know the other put in that sends them both into giggling, kicking their feet, twirling their hair, all the cute little romantic things. but they're also both quite materialistic, and they bond over this shared trait.

virgil and janus' pictures are where things get a little risque. gifts and words are great, but how these two love the most with each other is through physical touch. in my personal headcanon, roman is asexual and uncomfortable with physical touch, so virgil and janus are intimate together. it's sort of their thing, and their bodies speak to each other better than words ever can. virgil has a tendency to trip over his words, and janus has a tendency to lie through his teeth, but when they're cuddling, or hugging, or kissing, or acting intimately, none of that has to hinder them.

though they have very good relationships one-on-one, the real power and beauty, what makes the ENTIRE picture, is where they are the strongest. sure, they have their individual relationships with each other, but the way that every picture fits together just shows how lovely and colorful they are when they are a team of three. they all balance each other out in the best way: roman with his energy, janus with his intelligence, and virgil with his caution. these traits of theirs sometimes get them into trouble, but really, they bring out the best in each other. roman's endless optimism inspires virgil and janus to see things from the bright side. janus' observations and musings remind roman and virgil to slow down and enjoy the beautiful world around them. virgil's quiet protection show roman and janus that they're loved and cared for, and they always will be.

these three fit together so well, and i'm so happy that anaroceit week has happened, and all of these amazing pieces have come about! i'm grateful to have been able to contribute!! see everyone next year! ❤️💛💜

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day five - playlist edition!

@anaroceitweek

so i've been having a lot of writer's block so i decided instead of writing something based on the prompts, i'd create a playlist dedicated to the ship instead!!

it's meant to tell sort of a story, with the general themes of "i don't feel like i'm enough for you but i love you and want to keep you safe and happy. but as i'm loving you, i'm starting to love myself too."