Live Without You
For the @dukeceitweek prompt: First
Summary: When Janus first met Remus, he didn’t think he’d end up caring about him more than anything...
Characters: Janus, Remus, Virgil, Patton
Relationships: Romantic Dukeceit, platonic (temporarily romantic) Anxceit, past platonic Kingceit, a little bit of platonic Moceit
Warnings: Discussions of grief, food, angst, kissing, brief mention of intestines
Also posted on my ao3: stormofstarlight
Word count: 9253
Janus refused to speak to either of the new creativities. He didn’t even know what they looked like, and he didn’t care.
Nobody could compare to his friend. His friend who’d been taken from him, split into fragments for daring to be himself. Romulus was gone forever, but Janus specialised in denial. As long as he didn’t see these new… replacements, if he just kept to himself in his own secluded corner of the mindscape, he could pretend this wasn’t real. Romulus was off on an adventure in the Imagination, Romulus was fighting a Dragon Witch, Romulus was anywhere, anywhere that would mean he was still alive.
No matter how many times Patton said it was an accident, that he hadn’t meant to, and even Janus’ own lie-detecting abilities told him that was the truth, he would never forgive him. Romulus had been the only one who’d understood, who’d pushed boundaries, hadn’t been afraid to speak his mind. Hadn’t been restricted by morals as Patton was.
And look where that got him.
Of course, there were others who didn’t like Patton’s insistence on moral perfection, particularly Anxiety. But Anxiety was… well, anxious – too anxious to openly defy Patton, at least at the moment. Janus still had a friend, but his partner in crime was gone.
As the door to his quarters opened, he held his breath, hoping in vain that he’d see a head of spiky hair topped with a golden crown poke through at any moment. The set of rooms he’d created weren’t really his quarters, he supposed; the living room he’d put outside his bedroom was frequented by any Side who needed a break from the strict rules in the general common room, and during mealtimes in the little kitchen-diner he would often be entertaining more than one other Side.
Anxiety spent a lot of time in the living room, usually hunched up on Janus’ couch, so it was a surprise to see him walk briskly through the door, hiding a smile.
“What’s got you so happy?” Janus leaned over the arm of his chair, crossing his legs behind him.
Anxiety giggled, hugging his elbows, though the gesture seemed to be more to do with nervous delight than fear as it often was. “I, um… I met the new Creativity. Well, one of them. He’s very charming, and handsome…” Anxiety sighed softly, fringe flopping in front of his eyes.
Janus’ lips curled into a snarl. “Traitor,” he spat as he stood up from his chair. “I can’t believe you! After what happened to Romulus, you’re fawning over that new- fake Creativity!”
“Wait, Dee. I didn’t mean-”
“Just forget it,” Janus snapped, pushing past Anxiety to leave the room. “I don’t want to speak to you.”
He started running as soon as Anxiety was out of sight, not knowing where he was heading, just knowing he had to get away. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when he ended up in the Imagination. This was Romulus’ domain, and though Janus hadn’t dared to set foot inside since Romulus’ downfall, it felt comforting to be back.
His feet thudded against the ground until he didn’t have the breath to run any further, and he collapsed against the trunk of a tree. Curling into a ball between two of the large roots, he let the tears out. He didn’t know how long he sobbed, only that he was thoroughly exhausted by the time he managed to stop.
Breathing still a little shaky, face still wet with tears, he leaned back against the tree and looked up at the sky.
Only for a boy to drop down from a branch directly in front of him. “Hi!”
Janus yelped in surprise. He hadn’t seen the boy before – this must be one of the Imagination’s characters. Romulus had created a lot of characters over the years, but sometimes they’d just… appear without explanation. He’d explained to Janus once that while most of the other Sides assumed he was completely in control of the Imagination, as Creativity he only had a little input into what it could create – still far more than the rest of the Sides, but most of what the Imagination did was completely out of his control.
“I’m Remus,” the boy said, giggling as Janus recovered from his startled state, but his smile dropped as he looked down at him. “You look sad. What’s up?”
“I’m not sad,” Janus grumbled. A myth echoed in the back of his head, one about twin boys pitted against each other, but he couldn’t quite place the name.
“Tell me, I can help,” Remus said as he sat beside Janus. He seemed earnest, his eyes filled with sincerity – he was a strange sort of character, right down to his outfit of a black tunic, and a sash made of leaves.
“I just… I lost something,” Janus murmured, barely able to bring his voice above a whisper without letting more tears fall. “Something very important to me.”
“Maybe I can help you get it back,” Remus offered.
Janus looked at the ground, a familiar pit of emptiness welling in his stomach. It had been getting bigger since the day he’d found out what happened to Romulus, and he worried that someday the bleakness might swallow him whole. “This isn’t something I can get back.”
They sat in silence for a moment, with only the rustling of wind through the trees around them, but Janus could practically hear Remus thinking.
“Sounds like you need a distraction!” Remus decided, jumping to his feet. “I know! We’ll go on a quest!”
“A quest?” Janus asked incredulously, though he was a little intrigued. Quests weren’t usually his kind of thing, and it must have been years since he’d been on one, but perhaps he could use a distraction. He slowly got to his feet, and Remus immediately grabbed his hand to drag him along. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Remus admitted cheerily. “But I’m Creativity, so I’ll think of something!”
Janus froze, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. Creativity. This was Creativity. The myth – Romulus and Remus. This was one of the impostors who had replaced his friend.
“Is something wrong?” The false Creativity asked, and in the sparkle of his eyes, the arch of his brows, his wild and messy hair, Janus could almost catch a glimpse of his friend.
“Get away from me!” Janus shrieked, wrenching his hand free of Remus’ grip. Before Remus could react, he ran out of the Imagination as fast as he could.
-----
“Wasn’t Janus the Roman god of doorways?”
Janus rolled his eyes. While Anxiety wasn’t technically wrong, his incredulous tone led Janus to believe that his friend didn’t quite have all the information. “Among other things. More significantly, he was the god of beginnings, endings, and duality.” He waved a hand in front of his face, to indicate the slitted snakelike pupil which had appeared a little over a year ago, and his normal brown eye.
Anxiety nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. It’s a cool name, I like it.”
Janus smiled, tugging at his scarf. He’d taken to wearing scarves a lot recently, to hide the scales which had begun to creep up his neck.
“I’m Virgil,” Anxiety blurted, hands clasped so tightly in his lap that his knuckles turned white. He glanced briefly at Janus, but looked back down at the floor quickly.
Janus could understand the nerves. Though he’d grown up with all the Sides, and had chosen his name years ago, only one person had ever known it until now. “A good choice,” he remarked, reaching to cover Virgil’s hands with one of his own. “After the poet, right? From Dante’s Inferno?”
Virgil nodded, slowly unfurling his fists under Janus’ fingers. “Yeah. Also, there’s nothing confirming this, but it might mean like… vigilant. Which is kind of what I have to be.”
Janus squeezed Virgil’s hands before pulling away. “And you do it well,” he said softly, noting the slight blush that rose on Virgil’s cheeks. “But remember, if it ever gets too much…”
“I know,” Virgil said, his lips quirking into a smile. “You’re the self-care guy.”
“That I am.” Janus confirmed. “Speaking of self-care, I think these name reveals call for a celebration. I’ll make a cake!”
“Do we even have the ingredients for that?” Virgil asked.
Janus paused. They didn’t have a lot of ingredients in the Dark Side of the Mindscape. While all of the Sides could summon basic foods – bread, fruit, rice and the like – only Creativity could create anything more than dietary staples. Since the Split, Janus, Anxiety and the others had grown further apart from the self-proclaimed Light Sides, and Janus didn’t have a Creativity on his side to provide anything. “Hm… you’re right. We don’t have the ingredients.”
Virgil’s eyes widened. “Janus, you’re not going to steal from the Light Sides-”
“That’s exactly what you’ll tell people when they ask,” Janus interrupted, already moving towards the door.
“What if you get caught?”
“You’ll just have to trust that I won’t,” Janus said, turning back to brush his fingers against Virgil’s cheek. “Do you trust me, Virgil dear?”
Virgil stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. That expression was becoming familiar to Janus, though he tried to ignore what it might mean. “Of course I do, but-”
“Then I’ll be right back.” Janus tapped the end of his nose and flounced out of the room before Virgil could recover the presence of mind to follow him.
Janus smiled softly to himself as he snuck down the corridor. He’d become a lot closer with Virgil over the past few years. And he’d come to notice that Virgil was… cute. Yes, cute was a good word. Cute could be platonic, could let him easily brush off any other feelings that he associated with Virgil.
His daydreaming was interrupted by a thud behind him, and he whirled around to see Remus. Janus wasn’t sure where he could have fallen from – perhaps he’d been clinging to the ceiling, or had simply appeared several feet above the ground.
“What are you doing here?” Janus asked tiredly. He was half used to this Creativity trailing after him by now, but it was still annoying.
“I think the more poignant question, Deceit Dastardly, is what are you doing here?” Remus asked, scrambling to keep up as Janus pointedly strode away from him. “Sneaking around the corridors, heading towards…” He gasped in faux shock. “The Light Side of the Mindscape! Ooh, looks like you’re going to do something naughty.”
“What I’m doing is none of your business,” Janus snapped, speeding up his pace.
Remus hummed in consideration as he skipped along beside Janus. “You’re probably right. But you see, I want to know. And I’m not gonna leave you alone until you tell me.”
Janus groaned, pulling at the ends of his scarf. “Why are you following me?”
“Because I like you,” Remus shrugged.
Janus’ brisk steps faltered – he certainly hadn’t been expecting that answer.
“You’re interesting,” Remus continued, not seeming to notice Janus’ stumble at all. “The Light Sides are so boring, especially my brother – over there it’s only the cutesy, fluffy kind of creativity. And they don’t want me around, anyway.” His expression fell a little, and he let out a sigh. “I know you don’t either, nobody does, but at least you’re cool to hang out with.”
Janus stopped walking. He hadn’t considered it before, but Remus didn’t have anyone at all. The Split had created Patton’s ideal Creativity, pushing away all the parts he didn’t like… and creating Remus. He was the biproduct of an event which was supposed to destroy him completely. Of course the Light Sides couldn’t stand him, Virgil was too scared of his brashness, and Janus…
Janus could talk to him. He understood what it was like to be shoved aside because he was deemed imperfect, but he couldn’t imagine how bad Remus had it, when his whole existence came from being an imperfection in Patton’s eyes. And Remus had been all alone since he was created, since Janus ran away from him that first time they met.
It might hurt to look into the face of someone who reminded him of the loss of his best friend, but Janus could give Remus a chance.
“If you must know, I’m performing a heist,” Janus said, smiling slightly at the way Remus’ eyes lit up.
“A heist? I can help!” Remus jumped in the air, then he turned to Janus with his hands spread. "Okay so, first we’ll cut a hole in the ceiling and lower you down with rope – ooh, would that work with intestines? They’d probably have to be big strong ones, like elephant intestines. Hey, what do you think elephant intestines look like? The same as human ones or…” Remus rambled on, the heist itself seemingly forgotten in favour of wondering about the biology of various animals.
Okay, maybe he was a little endearing, with his curious grin and excited hand gestures. That only made the pit of guilt in Janus’ stomach more intense – he’d shunned someone who was so innocently curious for years, for something that was in no way his fault.
Although listening to Remus’ stream of chatter was entertaining, Janus held up a hand as they neared the kitchen – the Light Sides would no doubt be nearby, and making too much noise would be sure to get them caught.
Remus glanced at the kitchen door, seeming briefly surprised at where they were, and complied, miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
Despite this, he seemed to have no concern for how much noise the rest of his actions made. Remus threw open the kitchen door – thankfully, nobody was inside – and immediately began rustling through the cupboards.
“Do you need this?” He asked, holding up a bottle of soy sauce.
Janus chuckled, taking the bottle from Remus’ hand and placing it back where he’d found it. “To make a cake? Surprisingly not.”
Janus glanced into the cupboard, but he didn’t see much that could be useful for baking – it mostly seemed to contain spices. This side of the Mindscape had clearly been refurbished since he’d last been allowed here, and he had no idea where anything was stored.
“Ooh, they have a coffee machine!” Remus remarked, far too loudly for Janus’ liking, and he could hear buttons randomly being pressed. “Do you think it works on anything other than coffee? We should test that!”
While Janus opened a few more cupboards to no avail, Remus began clattering through the ones he’d already checked. Janus decided that while Remus was certainly fun to be around, it would be unwise to invite him on any more covert missions.
After several minutes of sifting through haphazardly arranged supplies – Patton must have been the one to arrange the kitchen, as Logan would never leave anything so untidy – Janus stumbled upon a bag of sugar. He reached to take it when he heard footsteps, quickly approaching, from the corridor.
Whirling around, he sent a panicked glance towards Remus. “What do we do?”
As the door handle began to turn, Remus grabbed his wrist, and Janus felt his stomach swoop as the two of them sunk out.
They appeared in an empty corridor, and Janus leant against the wall with a huff, mentally chastising himself for forgetting he could do something as simple as sinking out and had needed Remus to help him. He was not a damsel in distress, no matter how many times Romulus had made him play that role on their adventures. “How am I going to make that cake now?” he sighed.
Remus perked up immediately. “I can summon it for you!”
Janus raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I’m Creativity, of course I can!”
Janus abruptly felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. Because while two Sides had upheld the role of Creativity for a good three years now, he’d never thought of it as anything other than Romulus’ job.
But he pushed the pain down, reminding himself that this wasn’t Remus’ fault and he didn’t deserve for Janus to take it out on him.
“What kind of cake do you want?” Remus asked, already waving his hands in an approximation of a summoning motion. “You could do something boring like a sponge cake I guess, but I could always add a fun twist! What about using an actual sponge and-”
“I’d like to make the cake myself,” Janus butted in quickly. He could already tell that none of Remus’ suggestions would be the least bit appetising. “Could you just summon the ingredients?”
“Sure thing!” Remus agreed, and he summoned each ingredient surprisingly obediently as Janus listed them off.
When he had a pile of ingredients for a red velvet cake in his arms, he smiled graciously. “Thank you, Remus. This is very helpful.”
“You’re welcome!” Remus grinned, but as Janus started down the corridor back toward the Dark Side, he didn’t follow.
Janus turned to him, perplexed. “Aren’t you coming?”
Remus looked equally befuddled, tilting his head to one side. “Do you need more ingredients?”
Janus shook his head, something sad twisting in his stomach at the thought that Remus hadn’t even considered he might be invited to try the cake he’d summoned the ingredients for. “Remus, would you like to join us for some cake?”
Remus’ eyes lit up, and he leapt in the air, continuing to bounce on the balls of his feet as he landed. “I’d love to!”
-----
“We watched The Nightmare Before Christmas last week!” Remus whined, flopping back onto the sofa.
“Well, it’s my favourite film, and I want to watch it again,” Virgil shot back.
Janus rolled his eyes at the two of them. Ever since he’d let Remus hang out with them more often, he and Virgil exchanged sniping banter at every opportunity. He nuzzled into Virgil’s neck, curling his arms tighter around his shoulders. They’d been dating for several months now – Remus had convinced Janus to confess his feelings to Virgil, and Janus had needed a lot of convincing, but he was more than glad Remus had intervened. “Darling, we do watch that a lot. Maybe it would be good to try something different.”
He could feel Virgil wavering; that nickname always worked on him. “Fine. But Janus gets to choose,” Virgil said with a pointed look at Remus. Janus almost couldn’t blame him – Remus certainly had an interesting taste in films, and while Virgil liked horror, most of Remus’ choices left him unable to sleep with the light off for several days.
Janus leaned forward to look through the pile of DVDs. He could ask Remus to summon any he wanted – providing Thomas had seen them before – but he already owned all of his favourites. Only skimming the top of the messy heap, since he didn’t feel like uncoiling himself from Virgil to look through properly, he spotted The Addams Family Values. “Re, could you put Addams Family on?”
“Oh yeah!” Remus enthused, leaping to grab the DVD immediately. “I need to rewatch this, I’ve been meaning to replicate some of the scenes!”
Virgil tensed in Janus’ arms, and Janus carded a hand through his hair. Though Remus had asked Virgil several times to help him with his experiments, it was clear that Virgil wanted no part in anything as dangerous as the things Remus found interesting.
As the theme tune started up, Janus glanced over at the coffee table, and waved a hand to pause the TV. “I left the popcorn in the kitchen,” he remembered.
“I’ll get it!” Remus jumped up before he had chance to move, which Janus was grateful for. He was slightly less thrilled by the excited expression on Remus’ face.
“Don’t add anything to it!” Janus called after him, prompting a disappointed groan to emerge from the kitchen.
Virgil snuggled against Janus’ shoulder, taking a quick glance to make sure Remus was out of the room. “Does he have to be here?”
Janus settled himself to sit up a little straighter. This might turn into something of a serious discussion. “Do you not want him here?” he murmured into Virgil’s hair.
Virgil shrugged, the movement nudging Janus’ arm. “I don’t know. It’s just, some of the things he talks about… and I keep thinking, he’s the product of everything Patton didn’t think was acceptable, so maybe…” He trailed off with a noncommittal noise, his voice small.
“Patton thinks we’re unacceptable,” Janus reminded him. He tried not to sound too cold – Virgil’s fears were nothing Janus hadn’t considered before. “His opinion isn’t the be all and end all of morality – much as he likes to think it is.”
“I know,” Virgil murmured. “I just sometimes worry… what if he’s right? About everything, about me…”
Janus tightened his hold on Virgil, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart, don’t talk about yourself like that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Or with me, or Remus, or anyone in the Mindscape. We’re just… a little different. And that’s a good thing. If we all behaved like the goody-goody Light Sides, we’d never get anything done.”
Virgil chuckled, though it was a little choked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Janus smiled, brushing a hand over Virgil’s fringe. “And listen. I want you to be comfortable, but Remus is my friend. He deserves a chance as much as anyone else, and to be blunt we’re all he has. Could you try to be a little more accepting of him?”
Virgil nodded against Janus’ shoulder. “Yeah, alright.”
“I’ve got the popcorn!” Remus announced, bursting back into the room with an expression far too gleeful for someone who hadn’t just added something obscene to the bowl of snacks.
As Remus placed it down on the table, Janus leaned forward to look, and was surprised to see that only sweets seemed to have been added. M&Ms, skittles, and gummy bears were littered liberally throughout the bowl, with melted chocolate drizzled on top.
“That looks… not disgusting,” Janus commented. “Who are you and what have you done with Remus?”
Remus cackled, taking a messy handful of sweets and popcorn. “I’ve been wanting to make this for ages. So much sugar jam-packed into one bowl- ooh, maybe I should add jam next time. Do you think Logan would kill me for stealing his Crofters?”
“Yes, he would,” Virgil answered immediately, hesitantly picking out a purple skittle and a piece of popcorn.
At Virgil’s reluctance, Janus quickly removed his glove and picked up the least sticky handful he could. He popped it into his mouth without hesitation, and thankfully everything in the bowl was exactly what it looked like.
He nodded to Virgil, who then finally ate the small handful he’d selected.
Virgil being trusting enough to eat something Remus had prepared meant he’d come a long way, and Remus didn’t seem to be actively antagonising him anymore. And, just for a moment, Janus felt like things were working out perfectly.
-----
Janus curled in on himself, trying desperately to take a deep breath and stop his tears from falling. Remus’ arms were wrapped around him, but he barely registered his friend’s presence – he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but the world falling down around him for the past three hours.
“If he wants to strike out on his own, that’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Virgil didn’t want him, didn’t even want anything to do with him. They’d always struggled to see eye to eye in regards to their jobs, with most of Janus’ plans involving deception and causing Virgil a great amount of anxiety. Janus had tried to tone it down a bit, but when Virgil refused to listen to his reasoning everything had blown up in one big fight, and their relationship of two years had ended. He wasn’t sure if Virgil would ever speak to him again.
Remus made some kind of soothing noise, but Janus could barely make it out over the sound of his own sobs.
“The Light Sides won’t accept him. Or maybe they will, I don’t care,” Janus continued. “Either way, we’re all alone now.” Nobody else in the Mindscape, Dark Side or Light Side, seemed to want to be around them.
Remus rested his chin on top of Janus’ head, soothingly stroking his back. “We’re not alone. We’ve got each other.”
A warm smile appeared through Janus’ tears, and he turned his head to rest his forehead against Remus’ flannel shirt. He breathed in the scent of Remus’ cologne, and the lingering smell of a damp forest and unknown chemicals which never seemed to quite leave him. “Yeah, we have.”
“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Remus called from some unseen place higher up the hill.
Janus huffed. He knew he wasn’t as fit as Remus, as he didn’t go charging about on adventures in the Imagination nearly as often, preferring to sit with his feet up reading a good book in his room, but he hadn’t been prepared for exactly how out of practice he was. While Remus had climbed the mountain and raced between the trees that lined it with ease, Janus lagged behind trying to catch his breath, every tree root seeming to be trying its level best to trip him.
He didn’t know why Remus was determined to reach the top of the mountain so quickly, it wasn’t like it would disappear if they took too long – at least, Janus was pretty sure it wouldn’t, but he could never be certain with Remus’ side of the Imagination.
Sighing, Janus hitched up his yellow skirt – today was admittedly not the best day to wear it – and surged onwards through the trees.
When he finally reached the top, Remus was waiting for him. The trees cleared to reveal a jagged cliff edge, which Remus was perched on the edge of, nonchalantly swinging his legs over the abyss. He grinned as he saw Janus, patting the spot beside him.
“We’re right on time, we didn’t miss it!” He said cheerfully as Janus carefully arranged his skirt and sat down.
Janus was about to ask what ‘it’ was, when he glimpsed the drop below him, so sharp it made him feel dizzy just from looking at it. He unthinkingly grasped Remus’ hand, and warm fingers immediately wrapped around his own.
“Don’t look down,” Remus warned helpfully. “There’s nothing interesting there anyway. That’s what we’re here to look at.” He gestured to the sky in front of them, where the sun was setting.
As Janus looked up at it, he gasped. Their spot on top of the cliff gave them a view right out to the horizon, and what a view it was. Janus had never seen so many colours in a sunset – the usual red and orange tones mixed with navy blue and purple and even green. Clouds in all colours of the rainbow swirled around each other, the sky itself wavering between shades like disco lights.
“That’s the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze away.
“I’m glad you like it,” Remus said, his voice softer than usual, almost shy. “I spent ages trying to get the colours right.”
Janus suddenly turned to him, gaping in astonishment. “You made this? Remus, that’s incredible!”
Perhaps it was the lighting, but a blush seemed to spread across Remus’ cheeks. “I- well, the Imagination has some pretty cool sunsets anyway, so I decided to make my own. It’s not a big deal, really.”
“You’re kidding. It really is incredible. Re, you’re so talented, and it takes a lot of dedication to make something as big as that.”
Remus shrugged, glancing back towards the sunset, but Janus caught the bashful smile on his face. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Janus smiled back, watching the kaleidoscope of colours light up Remus’ face, soft gold picking out the lighter tones in his hair, green making his emerald eyes mesmerizingly bright. The sunset itself was nothing, nothing compared to how beautiful Remus was. Janus felt short of breath just looking at him, but in a far more pleasant way than when he’d been climbing the mountain. His heart was thudding and he just wanted to smile forever because Remus was so beautiful, and he might have noticed before, but he’d never acknowledged the feelings. Never let himself stare or be swept away by how utterly gorgeous Remus was.
And Janus was struck by the sudden urge to kiss him. He wouldn’t even have cared if the two of them tumbled off the cliff as he did it – it wasn’t like anything in the Imagination could permanently harm them anyway – he just wanted Remus.
But when Remus looked back at him, eyebrows raised in question, Janus felt his courage melt away. Remus must have noticed him staring, and that thought alone mortified him.
So, he did what he’d always done with feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with – he shoved them down as far as he could, and tried to ignore them. Giving Remus’ hand a squeeze, he looked back out at the sunset.
-----
Ignoring his feelings for Remus proved rather more difficult than he’d anticipated. When he was crushing on Virgil, he’d at least been able to put their friendship first and push any romantic feelings to the back of his mind while they hung out, but whenever Remus was in the room Janus could think of nothing but how he felt about him.
He could barely even focus on Remus’ rambles that he loved to listen to so much, instead only being able to stare and think wistfully of what could be if he had the courage to admit his feelings. But, since Remus was the object of his affections, there was nobody to push him in that direction.
So, he remained stuck in a stalemate with himself.
“Are you even listening?” Remus whined from his position draped across the sofa.
Janus was sat in his favourite armchair, watching Remus chatter on about something or other – he was about seventy per cent sure the subject was a prank that Remus was planning to pull on the Light Sides. “Hm?”
That clearly hadn’t been the best response, because Remus huffed and flopped down to lie flat against the sofa. “You’re not listening.”
“Like you weren’t listening when I asked you to clean the common room last week?” Janus raised an eyebrow. The living area outside his room had, over the years, become known as the Dark Side common room. While it had initially only consisted of a sofa, TV and a few other useful items, there was now a full set of chairs and several bookshelves piled with various things pertaining to the inhabitants interests. The other Dark Sides had even moved their rooms to come off from this room, though Virgil had moved his again shortly after their breakup.
Remus giggled as he raised his head, glancing around at the objects littered about and various stains on the carpet. “Touché.”
Janus sighed, and folded his arms as he leaned forward. “Explain it again, I’ll listen this time.”
Remus tilted his head to the side in consideration. “Nah, I’ll just show you. Come on!” He leapt up from the sofa, and grabbed Janus’ hand to pull him to his feet.
The gesture sent a jolt through Janus’ entire body, stealing his breath as Remus’ warm fingers clasped his own. He longed to pull Remus close, tell him exactly how perfect he was, but a thought nagged at the back of his mind. One that had been bothering him since he first realised his feelings for Remus, even since he first started to feel happy in Remus’ presence. “I actually have something I need to take care of,” he decided, reluctantly pulling his hand away.
Remus’ face fell. “Oh. Um… okay.”
Janus felt a sharp pain lance through his heart at that expression, but he offered Remus a smile. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I just have to do this now.”
When Creativity had split, the Imagination hadn’t taken it well. Janus hadn’t tried to enter at the time, but he’d heard that at one point no tangible objects would form at all, leaving an endless void with only glitching, blurry shapes. It had taken a few weeks to settle down, and had returned to its usual landscape of mountains, plains and every biome imaginable.
The only difference was a rupture through the middle. The dirt in this valley was grey and coarse, the air stagnant. Nothing could be created or even summoned there, and if Roman or Remus stayed there long enough they began to feel ill.
Janus didn’t know why he felt drawn to this place, perhaps because it was the last permanent mark Romulus had left on the world – it was almost like a memorial to him. Whatever the case, since he’d discovered it Janus had always found himself coming here in times of distress.
Although, he wasn’t particularly distressed at the moment. But he had some things he needed to get off his chest.
His footsteps didn’t make a sound as he carefully walked down the slope from Remus’ side of the Imagination, and he stood in the middle of the chasm.
“Hey, Romulus,” Janus began, his voice shaking a little. He bent down to pick up a handful of dirt, scattering it from his hand. “What would you say, if you knew about all this? You’d probably laugh, to be honest. Find it poetic or something.” Janus shrugged, a small, wistful smile creeping onto his face. Romulus had always been one for stories, able to find poetry in anything. “And I guess it is, in a way – that the event that made me more distraught than anything, resulted in the thing that… makes me happier than I’ve ever been.”
“I feel bad,” he continued, beginning to pace around the canyon. “Remus is amazing and wonderful in every way, but… I wouldn’t have him if I hadn’t lost you. I miss you so much, Romulus. You were my best friend, and I don’t want anything to come from your passing that makes me happy at all.”
He paused as he registered a rustling in the bushes. Wiping his eyes, he quickly turned around. It was coming from Roman’s side, so it was probably just a harmless creature, and none of the creations could enter the valley anyway. Janus’ eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of bright blue through the branches, and a figure emerged to make his way into the canyon.
Patton.
“What are you doing here?” Janus snapped. This place was a devastating reminder of the Split; the person who’d caused it had no business being here.
Patton froze, his head snapping towards Janus. Even from this distance, Janus could see his face fall. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, looking at his feet as he hesitantly shuffled forwards.
Janus scoffed, rolling his eyes as Patton approached. “Ah right, that totally answer my question of what you’re doing here in the first place.”
Patton came to a stop several meters in front of him, undecidedly shuffling his feet as if he wanted to move closer. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Janus could barely hear it. “He was my friend too.”
The air suddenly seemed a lot thinner as a wave of something washed over Janus. He remembered how close Patton and Romulus had been at one point, with the same sense of childlike wonder and desire to make others happy – though they’d gone about it in completely different ways, with Romulus being completely and unapologetically himself to find ways of entertaining, while Patton would betray everyone he cared about to meet the moral standards of those around him. Janus realised suddenly that the something was rage, a white-hot sensation that made him want to scream and cry at the same time, because it was so unfair that Patton called Romulus his friend after what he’d done to him.
“I know he probably didn’t think of himself as such,” Patton said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His eyes seemed a little misty behind his glasses. “But I remember when we were kids, and he’d take me on adventures in the Imagination. He taught me how to make flower crowns and daisy chains, and he was so patient and kind.” Patton smiled sadly, and wiped away a smear of wetness that dribbled down his cheek.
“You have no right to talk about him, after what you did,” Janus hissed, taking a warning step towards him.
Patton just nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor again. “I know. I didn’t want to hurt him, you won’t believe me but I really never would have… if I’d known.” He sniffed before continuing. “I wanted us to be perfect. Or, what I thought was perfect at the time. No gory thoughts, no dirty jokes, nothing that people might think was bad. And it worked, until we were teenagers. But then Romulus started thinking up horror stories, he started thinking those jokes were funny, he didn’t seem to care that other people might not like what he created.”
“I tried to talk to him about it, but he just told me to stop being such a stickler. I’d never argued much with anyone before, but he…” Patton paused, moving his lips silently as if testing words out. “I was unfair to him. I kept pushing him when all he wanted was to be free to create. I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I could get rid of the bad thoughts if I just… pushed them away from him. I thought they’d disappear, and he’d be fine. I’d have my friend back. But they didn’t disappear…”
“They became Remus,” Janus cut in.
Patton nodded. “How did you know?”
Janus shrugged, looking down at his hands. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. You had one ‘perfect’ Creativity who you adored, who only made cutesy, family friendly things. And then there was Remus…” Janus felt a soft smile spread across his face at the thought of Remus, despite the situation. “He’s loud and unfiltered and curious about absolutely everything. He loves horror, and I don’t think he’s written a happy ending in his life. He doesn’t try to please anyone else, he just creates for himself and doesn’t care what others think. Those were all the parts of Romulus that you didn’t like, that you pushed away.” Janus’ expression hardened as he took another step towards Patton. “All those little imperfections you wanted to get rid of. You created your own worst nightmare, and you know what? He’s better than you could ever hope to be.”
Patton’s lip trembled, and he looked resigned. “I suppose you’re right, although I’ve never known Remus all that well.”
Janus knew that had been cruel, no matter how true he felt it was. And watching Patton look so helpless, so unsure, something in his heart began to melt. Deep down, he knew that Patton really hadn’t meant to do any of this, that he’d just been a scared kid, and he missed Romulus as much as the rest of them did.
Before he knew what he was doing, he moved towards Patton and placed a hand on his shoulder, reaching for his handkerchief with the other. As gently as he could, he wiped away the tears that were rolling down Patton’s cheeks. “Perhaps you could know him, if you want to,” he murmured. “You’d have a lot to work through, but he’s very forgiving.”
“I would…” Patton took the handkerchief from Janus, and wiped his eyes before taking off his glasses and wiping the lenses. “I would like to know him, I think. I’ve been afraid, I guess, because I don’t know much about him. But that might change when I get to know him. And you certainly seem to care about him.”
“I do, yes,” Janus said immediately, his voice far more serious than even he had been expecting.
Patton cleared his throat, glancing sheepishly away from Janus. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking… the way you talk about him, are you and Remus…”
“We’re not together, no,” Janus answered the unfinished question. He kicked some dirt with one foot, watching the dust float uniformly to the ground. It had been years since he’d had a proper conversation with Patton, but perhaps talking about this could be a start to returning to some sense of normality. “I don’t know… whether I should talk to him about that.”
“Well, why not?” Patton asked. “If you like him, what’s stopping you?”
Janus shrugged, though he knew exactly what the reason was. “It’s just… Romulus. He was my best friend, and I feel like letting myself be happy with someone who only exists because he’s gone might be kind of… immoral?”
Patton seemed to ponder this for a moment, tapping his fingers on his chin and staring off into the distance. Eventually, he sighed, and took one of Janus’ hands in his as he turned back to him. “Listen, kiddo. I can’t tell you how to handle your own morality. Even though we’re all Sides of the same person, we all have our own standards, I’ve learnt that now. But here’s what I think: Romulus would want you to be happy. You know how much he loved love, and if he knew that someone who used to be a part of him made his best friend so happy – and I know you are because I’ve never seen you smile the way you do when you talk about Remus – well, I think he’d be just thrilled.”
Janus clapped his free hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. Patton was right, no matter how much he thought about it he couldn’t imagine Romulus being unhappy with the situation.
Patton suddenly looked frantic, reaching up to wipe Janus’ tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”
Janus shook his head, giving Patton a watery smile. “No, this is… thank you, Patton. I think that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
And it was. While he still felt conflicted, he’d at least give some thought to the matter in a new light.
-----
“Ooh, this is fancy,” Remus exclaimed as he stepped through the doorway.
Janus wasn’t sure why Remus hadn’t been in his room before, considering that he’d lived in the Dark Side for several years now. Perhaps it had something to do with Janus being very particular about his things, and Remus having a habit of causing a mess everywhere he went.
He glanced around his room, trying to figure out what Remus saw in it. Sure, there were a lot of gold furnishings, and furniture that would have been cost an extortionate amount of money in the real world, but he’d never thought of it as fancy. Perhaps he just had expensive taste. “Whatever. Let’s just get what we need and go.”
“Right, pranking time!” Remus clapped his hands together. While they often pulled light-hearted pranks on the Light Sides, the one they’d planned was rather more elaborate, but Janus was sure he had supplies that could make it work somewhere.
He hoped Remus would get distracted while he searched, because while the room appeared neat and tidy on the surface, opening any given cupboard was liable to cause an avalanche of poorly stacked bric-a-brac. Sure enough, Remus began poking around near his stand of spare hats – Janus had started wearing them when scales began to creep into his hairline, causing it to recede on one side – allowing Janus to sift through his chest of drawers in peace.
“I didn’t know you had a gramophone!” Remus called from across the room.
Janus briefly turned around to see him standing by the old thing, waving his hands around it as if he desperately wanted to touch the shiny object but didn’t know if Janus would let him. Despite never having been used, it was well polished – Janus made sure to clean it thoroughly every time he tidied his room. It had been one of the last gifts Romulus had given to him, and though he didn’t have any records to play, it was one of his most treasured possessions.
“Do you have any music for it?” Remus asked, glancing around.
“No, I… I don’t,” Janus said. He was sure Romulus would have given him some music, if he’d been around long enough, but only Creativity could summon items like that.
“I could summon something for you,” Remus offered, and Janus was taken back to a day almost a decade ago, when a wild-eyed boy had dragged him out of the kitchen on their quest for cake ingredients, and a beautiful friendship had begun to form.
“Sure,” Janus decided. He quelled any apprehensive feelings, as he knew Remus’ taste in music could be… discordant, to put it nicely, but he was pleasantly surprised when Remus placed the needle onto the record he’d summoned, and a jazz piece Janus often like to listen to while cleaning began to play.
“I like this one,” Janus commented.
“I know,” Remus said with a smile. Then his eyes lit up. “Let’s dance!” he suggested, clapping his hands together.
“You can dance?” Janus asked incredulously. It wasn’t too hard to believe that Remus could dance, but he’d never shown any inkling of the skill around Janus before.
“Well duh, I’m a showman. I’ve gotta have some variety in my performances.”
Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you dance.”
“That’s because I’ve never had a partner,” Remus said, extending a hand.
Janus stared at him for a moment. The offer was tempting, but… “I don’t know how to dance,” he admitted.
Remus just shrugged. “That’s ok, I’ll show you! Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Janus sighed, and crossed the room to take Remus’ hand. It couldn’t be too difficult to pick up.
Janus’ breath caught in his throat as Remus placed a hand on his waist. His touch was gentle, with no semblance of the reckless abandon with which he approached almost everything else in life. And with the same feather-light, almost reverent touch, he took Janus’ hand in his free one and guided both of their arms into a hold familiar only from the many times Janus had watched dances.
Though Remus left a gap between their chests, Janus could feel the heat radiating from him, longing to step forwards and close the distance between them. His skin felt like it was on fire everywhere Remus touched him, and he was sure that had nothing to do with bodyheat.
“Is this okay?” Remus asked, his voice low.
Janus could only nod dumbly, the scent of Remus’ cologne which had once been familiar and comforting now intoxicating.
As they started to sway, Janus could barely focus on the steps he was making, but Remus managed to guide him carefully and precisely, his fingers squeezing Janus’ waist slightly in commendation every time he got something right. Janus wondered, briefly, if Remus knew what he was doing to him, if he knew that every touch sent Janus’ heart fluttering. But surely if Remus knew about something as important as Janus’ crush on him, he wouldn’t be able to go without talking about it.
The song changed, and Remus moved his hand up to Janus’ shoulder. Janus felt a little disheartened at the change – with Remus’ hand on his waist, he could pretend there was something romantic behind the touch, if only for a moment – but Remus didn’t stay like that for long. He reached to caress Janus’ chin, keeping his body in the same position to guide Janus in the dance. His fingers brushed the locks of hair that curled around Janus’ ear, and Janus unconsciously leaned into the touch. But as Remus touched the scales that covered half of Janus’ face, Janus flinched back.
Nobody liked his scales. Roman was outwardly repulsed by them, and the rest of the Sides avoided looking at his face as more appeared. Virgil hadn’t seemed to mind them, but now he hated everything about Janus. Although, Remus often found things interesting that others found disturbing. Perhaps he wanted to know about the scales. Wasn’t that one of the first things Remus had said to him on the day they became friends, that he was interesting?
“What’s wrong?” Remus asked.
Janus shook his head, forcing a smile. It was fine that Remus must think of him as nothing more than a curiosity. Totally fine. “Nothing, I understand that you’re curious about them.”
Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “Curious?”
“Well, yes,” Janus said, the words tasting like sandpaper in his mouth. “My scales are… unusual to say the least. It’s understandable that you find them interesting.”
“That’s not…” Remus looked utterly confused. Though he stopped swaying the two of them in the dance, he still held Janus close to him. And slowly, giving Janus every chance to pull away, he reached out again and ran his fingers over Janus’ jawline, not hesitating when he moved from the smooth skin to the grooves of his scales. “That’s not what I was thinking about.”
Janus’ breath caught. His heart was thudding so loudly he was sure Remus could hear it, and when he spoke his throat felt dry. “Then, what were you thinking about?”
Remus let out a soft sigh, tilting Janus’ chin to look him in the eyes. And there, Janus saw something much softer than curiosity, something so pure and loving that he could feel his heart melting. “You’re just… beautiful…”
For a moment, Janus was sure he’d misheard, but the earnest look in Remus’ eyes told him as much as his words did. But the open look was nothing like his usual honesty, with thoughts thrown into the wind without a care of who might hear them. Remus was bearing his heart on his sleeve for Janus, and he almost looked terrified – and Janus realised that he must be scared that he wouldn’t feel the same. How Remus could even consider that seemed absurd to Janus, because there was nobody more perfect for Janus than he was, but he needed to show him that. “I…” Janus swallowed, trying to push out the words that lodged in his throat. “Remus, I…”
The truth was simple – he loved Remus more than anything else in the world – but he couldn’t push the words past his lips, didn’t even know if he could put into words how he felt. So, he did the only thing he could – he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Remus’.
The kiss was short, but it sent a wave of exhilaration through Janus’ body. He’d been longing for this for years. When he pulled away, Remus was smiling – a smile softer than Janus had ever seen before.
“That was… wow,” Remus breathed.
A light laugh escaped from Janus’ lips. “Yeah, it was.”
Remus glanced a little shyly at Janus. “Do you want to, um, do that again?”
Janus didn’t hesitate to pull him in again. This kiss was longer and deeper, and Janus began to feel hot in a way that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with how Remus’ hands slid down to his waist and pulled him close so their bodies were flush against each other.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured as they parted for air, brushing his thumb over Remus’ cheekbone.
Remus squeezed his waist, harder than he had when they were dancing, and Janus gasped against his lips. And suddenly Remus was tilting Janus’ head back, keeping him steady with one hand behind his neck.
“Didn’t we have a prank to set up?” Janus asked breathlessly as Remus pressed kisses along his jawline.
“We did,” Remus murmured against his skin, “but now there are things I’d rather be doing.”
Janus wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, relaxing into the embrace. He couldn’t agree more.
-----
Janus leaned back against the headboard, curling Remus’ hair around his fingers as his boyfriend lay in his lap. They’d been together for over a year, and over that time Remus’ room had become familiar to Janus. The curtains were almost permanently closed, apart from when Janus insisted Remus let some light in to help with his sleep schedule; the wallpaper was peeling but Remus said he liked the aesthetic; bottles of various chemicals were scattered about on his desks in a way that Janus had been sure nobody would be able to keep track of, but Remus seemed to know where everything was.
Remus hummed contentedly, briefly opening his eyes to glance up at Janus. “Do you know why I learnt to dance?”
Janus paused for a moment. He’d always assumed that it was purely for showmanship as Remus had said, but his tone implied there was a story behind it. “No, why?”
“Because of you,” Remus said softly.
Janus furrowed his brow. “Me? But I don’t dance.”
“I know you’ve never learnt, but you still dance. I’ve seen you in the kitchen while you’re making dinner, dancing to your jazz music,” Remus sighed, reaching up to take one of Janus’ hands in his own. Janus had started wearing gloves to cover the scales that had appeared on the back of his left hand, but Remus seemed to prefer him without them, so he always took them off to cuddle. “And I thought, it would be nice to dance with you. So I decided to learn.”
Janus squeezed Remus’ hand, feeling something fond welling up in his chest. “That’s… really sweet of you.”
“I know, it’s not like me at all, is it?” Remus laughed.
Janus chuckled as well, but he had to admit that Remus actually was sweet a lot of the time. He didn’t show it in front of others, and even Janus had rarely seen that side of him before they’d started dating, but now he made sure to compliment Janus every day and arrange surprises for anniversaries of every little relationship milestone and all the things that Janus had always thought were sappy but turned out to be wonderful when Remus did them.
“Jan?” Remus asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. His voice was small, far more hesitant than Remus usually did anything.
Janus was instantly alert, but he tried to keep playing with Remus’ hair as calmly as he could. “Yes, my love?”
“What would you do if you could reverse the Split?”
Janus froze. He’d talked to Remus about his life before the Split, so although Remus didn’t remember anything from that time he knew that Romulus had been Janus’ best friend. And he missed Romulus so badly that some days it felt like a physical ache, a hole in his heart that could never truly be filled.
“If I reversed the Split, I’d have Romulus back,” Janus pondered, and he felt Remus tense in his lap. As he looked down at the man in his arms, he tried to picture a world without Remus, and almost couldn’t fathom how such a place had ever existed. “But I’d lose you. And I don’t want to sound sappy, but… I’m not entirely sure if I’d be able to live without you.”
Remus relaxed, and pressed a kiss to the back of Janus’ hand. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I don’t think I’d be able to live without you either.”
