No one dared to spit those insults at Eskel openly – not yet. For now, the people of the town contented themselves with shooting him dirty looks, whispering behind his back and turning away when they caught sight of his face.
It was only a matter of time before the whispers would turn into shouts when fear became cruelty.
He had seen it happen often enough to know it was inevitable.
And yet, he had hoped that just this once it could be different. It had been different, when he had met Jaskier. It could be different again.
But these people weren’t Jaskier. They would rather claw Eskel’s eyes out than let him see their smiles or bite off their tongues before they let themselves utter a single kind word to him.
So Eskel kept his head low as he walked through the cobblestone street towards the inn, hoping they would tolerate him, at least for one night, if he didn’t attract too much attention. He ignored the whispers, the stares, the stench of disdain.
He barely flinched when something it him on the shoulder. He had known that sooner or later, stones would fly. He just had hoped it wouldn’t happen that soon.
With a sigh, he hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, making himself seem smaller, like less of a threat as he threw a glance over his shoulder to see if any more stones would be hurled his way.
What he saw instead, made him falter. What had hit him wasn’t a stone. It was a ball wrapped in leather, not dissimilar to the one he used to play with as a child before he had been brought to a place where boys learned how to fight and kill instead of playing.
Eskel crouched down to pick up the ball and take a closer look, but before he could stand back up again, he saw, or rather heard, the one who had thrown it at him.
“You found my ball!” The excited voice of a little girl cut through the disapproving murmurs of the adults like the sun pushing his way through clouds during a thunder storm. “I’m sorry for hitting you, mister.”
“Don’t worry,” Eskel said as softly as he could. “No harm done.”
He held out the toy for the girl who took it with a toothy grin.
“Thank you!”
Something warm and soft spread through Eskel’s chest. It had been too long since anyone had smiled at him, longer yet since he had spoken to a child that wasn’t destined for the cruelty of the trials.
Eskel couldn’t stop himself. For just a moment he forgot himself, too distracted by that soft glimmer of happiness in his chest. One moment of carelessness was all it took.
His lips twitched into a smile.
A snarl. A grimace. A twisting of his face into something hideous and fearsome.
The reaction was almost immediate. The girl blanched and reeled back, before she could even touch the ball.
“You’re the bad man!” She cried. If there had been any passers-by that hadn’t stared at Eskel before, they were now all fixing him with suspicious glares.
Eskel swallowed against the rapidly forming lump in his throat and dropped his smile. Perhaps that had been a mistake too. It was unnatural for people to be able to lose their smiles that quickly. It was inhuman.
“I’m not,” Eskel said soothingly. “I am not going to hurt you.”
“My ma told me that you’re bad!” The girl accused and pointed a finger at him before taking it back quickly and holding her hand against her chest in the same way people protected their hands when they were afraid a feral dog would bite them. “She said to stay away from the man with the ugly scars. She said you will take me away and eat me.”
Eskel flinched.
“I’m not –“
“I think it would be better if you left,” a low voice interrupted him.
When Eskel looked up from where he was still crouched, he saw three men walking towards him with stormy expressions.
Slowly, so as not to startle them, he put the ball to the ground and gave it a small nudge to roll towards the girl. She jumped back as if her toy was suddenly dangerous.
The men’s frowns deepened. Eskel held up his now empty palms in surrender as he stood back up ever so slowly.
One of the man took a threatening step towards him, his fists already raised and Eskel all but fled.
He tried not to listen to the angry and boasting shouts that followed him. It was in vain.
No matter how much he pretended, he wasn’t like his brothers. Geralt might be able to go on after Blaviken, saying that he didn’t need anyone and Lambert might be able to counter every insult with an even more cutting one of his own, but Eskel wasn’t like them. He was desperate and foolish and still clinging to the hope that he could be someone who wouldn’t be scorned and detested.
Another could-have-been. One that gnawed at him like a stray dog gnawed on a bone, tearing off the small bits and pieces that could still be something wanted.
Eskel had no delusions about how the rest of the day would go. He would find no place to sleep here, no hot meal and no contract that would be paid for. The longer he stayed, the bigger got the chances of pitchforks and kitchen knives being directed at him.
But his legs were so tired. It had been too long since he had eaten a healthy amount and ever since he had to give Scorpion away, he wasn’t able to carry his tent with him anymore.
He just wanted to rest. He just wanted to lay down for a while, knowing that he wouldn’t wake to a mob.
But the chances were slim. The best he could do was hide away in a dark alley to rest, hoping that no one would stumble upon him there.
He let himself lean back against the wall of a house, sliding down until he sat on the dirty floor. What more was some dirt, when his shirt already had holes in it? No one would bother to notice anyway, not when they had his face to stare at in fear.
His insides clenched and not purely because of the memory of the child’s laughter turning into cries at his sight.
He was hungry. So painfully hungry.
His jaw twitched as he rummaged through his bag for something edible, knowing full well that there was nothing to find.
Instead, his fingers found something else. Something, he had bought on a whim and quickly shoved to the bottom of his bag. Something he hadn’t been able to get rid of, even as it meant losing precious space in his bags.
Carefully, so as not to tear it, he pulled out the cheap paper, quill and inkwell he had bought months ago. For a long moment he only stared at them, overcome with the painful urge to smash the inkwell against the wall.
He wasn’t a poet, never would be. He was ugly and frightening and no one could even look at him without seeing all the things he couldn’t be written plainly across his face.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The memory of blue eyes flashed before him. Memories, of a blissful couple of days when it had seemed that maybe he could have, could be, something more. Jaskier had listened to what he had to say about poetry, as if his opinion was no less important than that of any scholar. He had explained the intricacies of word choice to him as if Eskel was worth talking to. As if he wasn’t too oafish, too big and too far removed from everything he could have become.
What had Jaskier told him back then? That poetry was a means to give meaning. That by creating something out of your pain, you refused to let it have power over you.
It wouldn’t work. Eskel knew that. No amount of words could ever distract from the life he hadn’t chosen. But perhaps…perhaps Eskel could make something beautiful.
It was a foolish thought, a desperate dream, but one that lodged itself into his heart, refusing to budge.
Eskel didn’t know how to write beautiful words and craft them into something more. All his knowledge about poetry came from the little he had gathered from reading the old poems. It wasn’t enough.
But it was all he had.
Before he could stop himself, he dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and put it on the paper. He hesitated, watched as the ink flew onto the paper like blood dripping off a sword and created ugly splotches.
Immediately, Eskel pulled the quill off the paper again.
He stared at that spot, that blemish, that failure.
The walls seemed to close in on him, suffocating him, crushing him. Though the sun was still up in the sky, his vision became darker, splotchy. Like the ink on the paper. Like bloodstains on his clothes.
He wasn’t good enough. This wouldn’t work. He hadn’t even written a single word yet and already he had ruined this.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of voices, of doubts, of knowing he would fail.
It was no use. His heart sped up and he felt his breathing becoming shallow. He should be able to control this. A witcher shouldn’t let himself succumb to his own mind.
But Eskel couldn’t do it. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t let his mind drift off for mediation, couldn’t fucking breathe.
With the strength of a hundred men, Eskel managed to scrap together some semblance of calm, just long enough for his mind to stop spiralling for a second and to latch on to one thing only.
Poetry.
Eskel clung to it with all his might, forcing himself to think of lines and verses he had memorised until his mouth moved and formed the words. They were barely more than a whisper, but Eskel had spoken them before, time and time again. His body knew the correct intonation, the right way to inhale enough to have his breath last for the entirety of a line.
The words fell from his lips in a soothing rhythm, the familiarity of them battling against the fear and the strain to remember the lines left no room for any other, unkind, thoughts.
It was only when Eskel’s heart had slowed down enough that the sound of its beating didn’t drown out his whispers, that Eskel realised whose poetry he was reciting.
It was Jaskier’s.
Lines about eyes flashing bright like lightning, comparable to a force of nature that disappeared before one had time to marvel at it but leaving a mark in the life of whoever had gotten the chance to see it.
Lightning. That’s what Jaskier described Eskel as and it was the first word that Eskel put down on the paper once his hands had stopped shaking too badly.
He looked at the word for a long time. It felt strangely right. Like it belonged there. Like Eskel had been meant to put it – a part of himself – out there.
His throat bobbed and his brows twitched at the thought, but before he had time to doubt himself any more, he let the quill scratch over the paper once more, leaving words in its wake. A mixture of Jaskier’s words and the rhythm of the ancient elves.
Lightning across lips cuts bright.
A lowly flash, no more. Leaving flesh forever sore.
Scorching like flame. Scowling for fright.
Marring a mangled man, mutilating a mutant more.
Eskel stared at the words. The poem wasn’t long nor was it particularly good. But it was Eskel’s. Eskel had written something, gave meaning to the meaningless with his quill.
His eyes darted to the splotch at the bottom of the paper, right where the last line ended. Another imperfection.
His brows knitted together and his hand moved again.
It might have been childish - Lambert would have definitely made fun of him for it - but as Eskel drew legs, a head and horns onto the blemish, he found himself almost smiling again.
The almost-smile stayed on his lips, even as he forced himself to stand up once more, carefully putting his writing tools back where they belonged. The paper with his poem he kept in his hand.
He should have just left right away, trying to go unnoticed. That had been his plan as he moved through the alleyways now, but when he passed the notice board at the corner of one street, he paused, staring. A thought formed in his mind, before he even understood why he had stopped.
He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. Perhaps a glimmer of bravery or folly. Perhaps a hint of the man he had wanted to became shone through for a split second.
A man who was loved. A man who made beautiful things and didn’t have to hide away in shame what he had created.
And Eskel had created. He had written a poem. He had become, even if only for one moment, what he had always dreamed he could be one day.
With one swift motion, Eskel pinned his poem to the notice board. Not somewhere half-hidden between notes about nosy neighbours or the price of eggs, but right in the middle where anyone who passed by would be able to see it. The words on the page were spidery and nowhere close to artful, but they screamed I am imperfect, but I am here. I exist despite your spite.
Eskel took a step back, just far enough that he wouldn’t be able to reach the board and tear the poem down again in a fit of doubt. Admiring his own work was vain, but for the first time since Eskel could remember, he had something to admire, something to be proud of.
He must have stood there for too long. Around him, people started gathering, noticing him. One man shoved him. Another yelled at him to get away, that there were no contracts here for the likes of him.
Eskel turned and fled, just as the first stone hit him, right where the girl’s ball had met his shoulder before.
With every shout, every insult, every truth, the mob tore down part of the meaning Eskel had been able to find for himself.
He could only hope that they didn’t realise that the new addition to the notice board came from him. He could only hope that no one would tear off the poem, as they tore at Eskel’s heart with their shouts.
He hoped that maybe, however slim the chance was, someone would find his poem and smile.
It was a foolish hope, born out of pain and despair not unlike the poem itself had been, but it was the only thing keeping him warm that night as he huddled beneath a tree, cold and lonely and dreaming of something he had come so close to having.
Summary: Unable to experience romantic attraction, Remus feels incomplete. Unable to feel sexual attraction, Roman feels less than. Maybe as the King, they decide, they will feel whole again. Their partners and friends, however, know this isn’t the solution and seek to help them realize there’s nothing broken about them before it’s too late.
Other Tags: AroWriMo, Aromantic Remus, Asexual Roman, Spider Virgil, Snake Janus, Orange Side, 7th Side, Additional Sides, No OCs, Short Vid Characters
Author’s Note: This chapter takes place directly after chapter 1.
Warnings: Internalized acephobia, internalized arophobia, minor fighting, mentions of sex
======================
King Creativity. The most powerful of all the Sides, an omnipotent force of Thomas’s mind.
Romulus. An old friend to many Sides, someone who vanished long ago.
Two sides of the same coin.
Virgil knew him as the King. Janus knew him as Romulus. That probably had something to do with the vast difference in their reactions. Virgil hadn’t been around when Romulus was. He’d formed much later but Logan, Patton, Janus, and Remy had told him a bit. Roman and Remus didn’t remember much, Seth had formed right after, and the rest of the Sides hadn’t appeared until the time Virgil had so they soaked up the stories like sponges.
Logan often spoke of his abilities. He could do so much. He gave Thomas so many ideas and could bend the mindpalace with a mere thought. Patton liked to play with him. As children, they had many adventures together. Remy’s stories were more real. Just little tidbits about his quirks and personality, often teasing and fond. And Janus… He was Janus’s friend. Which must be why Janus looked so shocked right now.
Virgil couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. As much as he and Janus hissed and fought, Virgil felt something akin to friendship for him deep down. He would never wish the sheer pain Janus had on his face onto anyone.
Was he happy to see his friend? Relieved to see him whole once more? Or was he horrified his partner was gone? That Remus had done something so drastic without telling him? Was he afraid of the King’s power? Virgil didn’t know. It was hard to read Janus’s face sometimes. Good feelings, bad feelings, it was all there in a big melting pot. Virgil wanted to slap him. When Virgil looked at the King, all he could see was something that had stolen Roman from him. He couldn’t hope to fathom Janus’s thoughts.
And that made him angry.
Not at Janus. At Romulus, the King. And maybe Remus. Roman would never want to merge. He’d bet almost anything that Remus made him. He wouldn’t be surprised. Remus was always jealous of Roman’s role in Thomas’s mind. That he was the more dominant side of creativity. The King was powerful. He’d just taken out the Dragon Witch without breaking a sweat, for fuck’s sake. Remus probably wanted that power. Right? Maybe? Possibly? He knew it was cruel and unfair to pin everything on Remus but he couldn’t bear the thought of Roman willingly leaving him right now.
But when the King sauntered over, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to hate him.
The group hadn’t moved. Remy, Logan, and Janus were all standing around him, shocked and emotional at the sight of Romulus, on what had been a battlefield not a minute ago. None of them moved, somewhere between frozen in shock and wanting to run to the man who’d been their friend so long ago. But as the King neared, it became apparent something was wrong.
“Help me,” the King croaked as he stumbled over. Tears ran down his face, leaving clear tracks through the dirt caked on his skin. His steps were uneven as he stumbled and his weapons fell from his hands. He crouched down but he didn’t try to pick them up, instead just letting himself collapse onto his knees. “Help me.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Remy asked, visibly alarmed as the King reached out weakly for them.
“I think- I don’t think they merged properly,” Logan stuttered out. He stared at the grey-clad man with wide eyes before somewhat regaining his composure enough to explain himself properly. “Roman and Remus have always been able to refuse if they wish. They-”
“They have,” Remy interrupted. His sunglasses had somehow returned to his face but it was clear his eyes were fixed on the King behind them. “Not often but they have. A couple times. Here. In the dreamscape. By accident. And on purpose. They haven’t done it in years. But it was always fine. And Romu- The King never looked like this.”
“It feels wrong!” the King screamed into his hands, seeming to forget the other Sides were there. “It feels so wrong. What’s wrong with me?”
“They must not have been in the right state of mind when they fused,” Logan continued hurriedly. “He seems to be in pain. Perhaps Roman and Remus were distressed when they attempted to fuse? And that caused… this.”
“It hurts,” the King moaned. “The reflection’s gone. It’s not art, it’s not bleeding. It’s just empty. It was empty before but now… I thought I’d be whole! But it just feels worse.”
“What’s he talking about?” Virgil asked, sliding a foot back defensively. “He’s not making any sense.”
The other Sides ignored him. Janus got on his knees and took Romulus outstretched hand before glancing back at the others. Worry shined in his yellow eyes. “We have to help him.”
“I don’t think we can-”
Logan was interrupted when the world cracked.
A massive fissure sliced through the terrain, unnatural rays of light flowing out of it. Smaller cracks appeared in the earth around it, these ones filled with unnatural wails and shrieks. Virgil could feel his spiderlegs begin to sprout from his back as his guard went up. Something was coming.
Tentacles shot out of the holes like trees in a forest and unholy creatures began crawling out of the fissures. The cracks and tentacles cut off Virgil’s line of sight and he lost view of the others. Logan and Remy, he knew, were together and he’d bet Janus and Romulus were close to each other. It was just Virgil who was isolated.
Not for long though. Virgil extended his extra climbs, lifting himself to the air, and waded through the forest of writhing tentacles in search of the other Sides. There weren’t any creatures going after him quite yet but he didn’t doubt they would soon.
“Someone get help!” Virgil yelled into the void as he kicked a tentacle that suddenly lunged for him. “Tell them the dreamspace is attacking!”
=================
“Someone get help! Tell them the dreamspace is attacking!”
Janus heard Virgil’s voice but he couldn’t see him. He couldn’t see much of anything. He wasn’t really sure where Romulus was anymore. He’d been right next to him but then the world began shaking and a wave of anguish barreled into him and he was knocked senseless.
Was this what Romulus was feeling? What Roman and Remus were feeling when they tried to merge? What was making the dreamscape so disordered? If so, Janus couldn’t blame them. It was an overwhelming feeling and he was just experiencing it secondhand. If this was what they were feeling, he was surprised the situation wasn’t worse.
The feeling began to fade, just a little bit. Chances were that the King was just moving away from him, not that he was getting his emotions under control. The world around him was still as entropic as before. Maybe even more so. He could hear the roars and bellows of manticore chimeras crawling out of the ground. The tentacles reached for the sky, growing thick and dense like a forest. Carnage had enveloped the dreamspace.
But Janus was a slippery snake and he knew how to avoid this kind of chaos, well experienced too. He weaved between the trunks of the tentacles and avoided the creatures surfacing from the terrain and made a break for the exit.
The exit to the Sides’ rooms and realms wasn’t a true exit. There was no door or portal to step through. Just a vague ring where Sides could sink out, rise up, or appear freely. The area was currently untouched by the King’s creations and Janus wasted no time throwing himself onto it and sinking out.
His momentum made the transportation awkward. He ended up appearing a couple feet off the living room floor at an odd angle and fell onto Patton’s lap, kicking something out of Toby’s hands in the process.
“Shit!”
“My pokemon!” Toby yelped, scrambling to catch his DS before it hit the ground.
“It’s a turn based rpg, you don’t need to- It’s fine if you drop it,” Seth sighed as Janus rolled off Patton and onto the floor. “You okay, man?”
“Everything is great,” Janus responded, feeling the lie slip out. “Roman and Remus totally haven’t merged and the dreamscape is very calm and peaceful right now. I definitely know if Logan, Remy, and Virgil are okay.”
“Oh that’s good,” Patton said pleasantly. Then he seemed to catch up. “Wait…”
“What the fuck?” OJ said, sitting up from where he was lying on the floor a few feet away from Janus. “That’s… What the fuck? Why?”
“I know,” Janus exclaimed. He got to his feet. “Don’t follow me. We should totally let them all die.”
“Oh no,” Patton whimpered as everyone got to their feet and followed Janus as he sprinted back towards Remy’s room. “I hope everyone’s okay.”
“I doubt they are but we should be able to help if we get there fast enough,” Emile assured him. He broke ahead of the group and opened Remy’s door, ushering everyone inside.
Last time, they hadn’t needed to visit Remy’s room to get to the dreamspace but thankfully Emile seemed to know his way around the sassy Side’s room. If the situation was any less dire, Janus would’ve taken the time to soak in the messy array of coffee cups, scarves, and hoodies. Thomas really needed to work on his self-care habits but they could worry about that later. Creativity was the concern right now.
“Walk through here,” Emile instructed, opening Remy’s closet. Janus didn’t hesitate and stepped in, standing back on the teleportation ring in the dreamspace in a heartbeat.
The other Sides seemed a bit put off by the unusual method of transport but quickly forgot about it when they saw the state the dreamspace was in. The forest of tentacles had expanded into something akin to a lush redwood forest, the tendrils stretching like the tails of cats until they licked the clouds, and the gaps in the terrain had only grown wider. And, now the creatures that lurked within were visible.
Horrendous mash ups of animals were prowling around, some on the ground and some in the air. Their eyes flashed red and green as they yowled. Janus normally didn’t care for the fabrications of dreams but his heart went out for them. Their anguish was reflecting Romulus’s. They had to help him.
“Seth, Patton, don’t find Logan and Remy. Put them in danger. Make sure you stay in harm’s way,” Janus barked, his tongue still doing strange things in his mouth. Was he panicking? Maybe. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this little control over his lies. It was fine though, everyone knew how to decipher his speech when he was like this. “Toby, OJ, Nate, play with the creatures. Let them hurt you. Make them grow. I’m not going to look for Romulus and Emile shouldn’t come with me.”
Everyone seemed to understand his orders except Patton but Seth dragged the fatherly figment after him without resistance. OJ made some snappy remark but Janus was too distracted to hear what it was. Soon, it was only him and Emile.
“Do you know where he could be?” Emile asked, eyeing the horizon warily. The whole dreamscape was disordered. It’s dreamlike, fuzzy quality had somehow grown more intense and faded. Maybe that was what happened during nightmares? Shit, Janus hoped Thomas wasn’t sleeping right now.
“Yes,” Janus answered, looking around for any sign of the King. “I think- Don’t look. There’s Virgil. Down there.”
Emile looked down before realizing it was one of Janus’s twisted sentences. Virgil was using his spiderlegs to climb up one of the tentacles. That one looked dead, dried and unmoving. He was pretty far and pretty high up. Janus didn’t know if their voices could reach him at that altitude. But then Virgil seemed to spot something in the distance and took off, leaping between the tree-like structures.
“Follow him!” Emile exclaimed as he began hurrying after him. Janus could feel his serpentine characteristics grow more prominent as his adrenaline kicked in. Vision sharper and movements more agile, he quickly pulled ahead of the therapist and disappeared deeper into the bizarre jungle.
He only slowed down when Virgil began sliding down one of the tendrils and landed heavily in a clear patch in the frenzy of plants and animals. He froze, not advancing any further, which gave Janus a chance to catch up.
It was a relief not being surrounded by those thick, winding pillars and atrocious creatures but the clearing was unsettling in a different way. Within it stood Romulus. Janus felt a flash of joy upon the sight of him but it was quashed immediately by the dire sense in the air. They were in the eye of the storm and it was clear Romulus was its source.
The King was sitting. He looked so much like Remus right now. Remus wasn’t good with feelings. He was normally very expressive but not always in a positive way. He always made the most destructive creations to let his feelings out. But when it was bad, he’d just curl up. He didn’t think Janus knew but there were so many times Remus would just sit in the shower or ina closet and cry. It was worrying but Remus always came out feeling better, ready to make a brand new slime pit or cut nipple holes on OJ’s shirts.
Janus could imagine Roman coping similarly but he’d never seen it himself. Roman always had more positive creations but they were more uniform than emotive. The things of stories and fantasy, creative in their own right but not the way Remus was. He’d bury his feelings with stories and wild adventures. Maybe he sat like this too, when he was alone and at his worst.
It’d been a long time since Janus had seen Romulus. They’d still been kids, still playful and innocent. Unseparated by the idea of Light, Dark, and Neutral. They’d been a family. Right now, sitting in the one tranquil spot in the middle of a sea of horror and havoc, Romulus looked like that kid again. And that hurt Janus somewhere deep down.
This was his friend but it also… wasn’t. This was some uneven fusion of Remus and Roman, not a true King Creativity. He was his own man but he’d still taken Roman and Remus and it was painful to be reunited with him knowing the brothers were sacrificed to let it happen.
And it was no solace knowing the King was so distressed. No, that made it worse. If Romulus was acting normal, then at least he knew Remus was doing okay. But with the world falling apart more and more by the second, Janus couldn’t help but be afraid. For Thomas’s safety, for Remus and Roman, for Romulus, for his fellow Sides, everything.
Romulus seemed to notice the newcomers and looked up. He seemed to relax a bit at the sight of them. He was still a mess but he looked a bit more like his old self. God, Janus really wished he had the chance to see his friend in all his former glory. Not this… shell of the man he was meant to be. Janus didn’t want Remus and Roman gone but Romulus deserved peace as well.
“Dee,” Romulus whispered and reached out. Janus went to his side in a heartbeat, despite Virgil’s glares, but stayed silent. He wanted to comfort him but he didn’t trust his mouth right now. His presence seemed to be enough though. Romulus smiled, a look of happiness filling his eyes, but his face was still tight and uncomfortable. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. This has never happened before.”
“Logan said you fused wrong,” Virgil told him, coming over. He looked uncertain, like he was meeting a stranger. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Janus didn’t bother dwelling on it.
“I’ve never… that’s never happened before,” Romulus said quietly with a frown. He hiccuped. “Normally… Normally I just feel whole again. My two Sides come together and then I come back. I spend time with Remy and I use my powers then I split again. Which hurts. A lot. But, guys, this hurts even more than splitting. It- It feels like something’s wrong. I just want… I want to separate again. Please, help me.”
Janus had never seen Romulus so… sniveling. He always acted so regal and grand. Strong and confident. Something must really be wrong to make him like this. What had been going through Roman and Remus’s minds when they fused? Janus didn’t even know they could fuse but it sounded like something both of them would hate. What was so bad that they felt like they had to?
“How do you separate normally?” Virgil asked, shifting onto his knees so he was on eye level with the King.
“I don’t know! I think… Normally it wears off?”
“Wears off?”
“I never want to unfuse but I think Roman and Remus do? I split when we all start getting tired. I’ve tried splitting myself but we’ve been apart for so long. I still feel… It feels like I should be together longer but it just feels so bad. I want to unfuse but I can’t.”
Janus glanced at Virgil, sensing that this was more up Virgil’s alley than his. “You know who I am, right? I’m Anxiety. I know how it can feel to be overwhelmed and how hard it is to regain control when I’m like this. But it’s possible. Just breathe with me. Come on, let’s breathe in for four seconds. One… two… three… four… Good, now hold it for eight. One… two…”
Janus coiled up beside Romulus, leaning on him slightly, as he tapped along to Virgil’s counting on the back of Romulus’s hand. The touch could be grounding or overstimulating, Janus didn’t know, but Romulus didn’t protest so he figured it was helping. They ran through the exercise a couple times before Janus could feel some of the distress wash away from Romulus’s body. And soon, he began to split.
======================
Emile was a bit annoyed when Janus abandoned him but he couldn’t hold it against him. He’d be worried if something happened to Remy, though this situation was far more than just the disappearance of a partner. Emile knew he could never really relate to what Janus was feeling at the moment so he wasn’t that mad.
He ended up having to fight off a manticore chimera on his own. Difficult, considering Emile was far from a fighter. Unlike the Dark Sides, he had no unique animal abilities and unlike the Light Sides, he didn’t have the raw power to turn the tides of a battle in his favor. He ended up just running around in circles until his screams attracted another one and the second beast attacked the first. Not the best strategy, Emile knew, but it worked so he couldn’t complain.
He found Janus in a sheltered haven separated from the madness the rest of the dreamspace had fallen into. It was oddly quiet in there, save the low voices of the people within. Janus was there, along with Virgil and a man Emile could only assume to be the King. He’d never met him himself but Remy liked telling stories about him. This man fit his descriptions perfectly.
Well, almost perfectly. He looked kind of crumpled right now. Upset. Lost. Emile’s heart immediately went out for him. He wanted to help, to talk to him and figure out what was wrong so he could make the pain go away. Janus and Virgil seemed to have it handled though. They were guiding him through one of Virgil’s breathing exercises. Virgil and Janus’s extra limbs and scales had receded and the King looked much calmer as well. Already things were looking brighter.
Soon enough, the King had split and Roman and Remus lay in the stained grass.
Roman was coughing. Remus was lying on his back taking deep, heaving breaths. Their grip on the dreamspace slipped and things seemed to calm a bit but they both still looked wild, overwhelmed, and confused. Emile felt like this was a good time to make his presence known.
Both Janus and Virgil spared him a glance when he moved inward but they were focused on comforting their respective partners. Both twins were gasping for air, eyes and noses running. They were holding onto each other, like they weren’t quite ready to be apart yet, but also clung to their partners like lifelines. Neither had noticed Emile yet.
Emile got down as slowly and quietly as he could, coming into the brothers’ line of sight. He offered a weak smile and felt a flash of relief when he saw the recognition in their eyes. He was familiar with fusions, being a fan of Steven Universe and all, but this was real life. Roman and Remus had lost their memories after the first split, he had no reason to think now would be any different.
“Why did you feel like you had to split? Is there something wrong?” Virgil asked as quietly as he could after a few minutes. In his hold, Roman visibly stiffened. Remus looked away, not wanting to answer the question either. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now but…”
“You scared us,” Janus jumped in. Remus wiggled a bit so more of his body was draped over him. “I know you didn’t mean to but I don’t know how we can help you if you don’t talk to us.”
Remus and Roman exchanged a glance. Emile could sense their hesitance. And a number of other emotions. He wasn’t as empathic as Patton but he was still Thomas’s inner therapist and was strongly connected to the mental wellbeing of everyone in the mindscape. He could probably understand what was happening better than anyone.
“You feel inadequate,” Emile spoke up, trying to voice their feelings to the best of his ability. “You felt like something was missing. You thought that feeling would go away if you fused.”
“We thought we’d be whole,” Roman admitted softly, “but we just felt more broken.”
“Logan said something about their feelings affecting the fusion?” Virgil brought up. “Could that be part of it?”
Emile shrugged. “Maybe that was why Romulus was so distressed but it probably didn’t affect the fusion. Roman and Remus are their own fully fledged, complete, rounded Sides now. They’re not meant to do that.”
“If we’re supposed to be complete, then why do we feel so broken?” Remus asked, sounding more hopeless than Emile thought the normally joyous Side was capable of.
“You’re not broken,” Janus soothed. Remus’s face said he felt otherwise. “Why would you think that? Because of the split? That was so long ago.”
“Because we lack what the other has,” Roman spoke up. He stared at the ground, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. “I can- I feel so much love. But Remus doesn’t. Not like me. And he can do… stuff. I can’t. It makes me feel weird. Like it’s wrong.”
“That’s what this is about? Roman, it’s fine if you don’t want to-”
“But I told you, I do want to,” Roman interrupted his boyfriend. “I want to feel… those feelings but I just can’t. And trying makes me feel bad.”
Emile was confused for a moment but Remus was nodding along like he understood. “We feel incomplete. We thought maybe we’d get those feelings if we were one again but we just… didn’t. I don’t understand why. Maybe Logan was right about our feelings affecting the fusion. Maybe we needed to calm down first or something.”
Something clicked in Emile’s mind. “You’re aspec.”
The four Sides titled their heads to look at him. “What?”
Emile smiled. Everything was making sense. “You’re aspec. Aspec, it’s an umbrella term for people on the asexual and aromantic spectrum. You see, there are different kinds of attraction but sometimes people don’t experience one or two or any of them. And that’s okay. It’s natural in humans. It probably has nothing to do with the split. It sounds like Romulus is aroace himself.”
“...What?”
“Say again?”
“Sorry,” Emile said and tried to slow down. “So, you understand attraction, yes? It’s a feeling, a desire. What draws us to others. Sexual attraction is what gives us the desire to perform sexual actions with people and do more physical things with a partner. Romantic attraction is what gives us the desire to pursue a romantic relationship and do things typically associated with the emotional side of a relationship. Most people experience both but some people only experience one or neither. Someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction is asexual, or ace, and someone who doesn’t experience romantic attraction is aromantic, or aro.
“Asexuality is a spectrum. A lot of different experiences fit into the term and some asexuals still like or want to have sex. The same goes for aromanticism. A lot of aspec people are in queer platonic relationships that aren’t romantic or sexual in nature but aren’t necessarily not. Those relationships are still equal to romantic or sexual ones. There are many kinds of love but it’s also okay to be loveless. That doesn’t make us any less human- er, doesn’t make us any less of a Side.”
Emile was not expecting Remus to burst out crying when he finished.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Remus cry. What he’d been doing before was silent, more of a reaction to being overwhelmed than crying. But here he was, sniffling and sobbing his heart out. Janus made a noise of concern but Remus was smiling.
“Thank you,” Remus breathed. Emile had never heard more gratitude in anyone’s voice before. “I felt so wrong for so long. I owned it, obviously, but I still felt so bad all the time. And- and now you’re telling me that it’s okay? That it’s normal not to feel love? I mean, I care about you, Janus, but I don’t think it’s the same way you love me. Is that okay?”
Janus gave him a watery smile and nodded genuinely. “It is, Remus. I’ve told you so many times, you’re more than enough. I’m just happy you can understand that now.”
Roman smiled at his brother, looking happy for him, but there was still something hidden behind his features. “I don’t… I don’t feel that way. I still feel kind of broken. Are you sure this isn’t from the split?”
Emile nodded. “Like I said, you’re your own Side now. And asexuality and aromanticism occur naturally in humans. There isn’t a reason for it other than that’s just how they are. A lot of people on the asexual and aromantic spectrum still feel broken though. There’s a word they use to describe it. Amatonormativity is the expectation that happiness comes from the pursuit and maintaining a monogamous, heterosexual relationship that is both romantic and sexual in nature. Even if you disagree with it, we still feel that pressure and it can take time to accept who you are.”
“I- thank you, Emile. I’m truly grateful,” Roman said before glancing at Virgil. “I think… I think I need some time to figure this out. For me. It has nothing to do with you though. You know I still love you, right?”
Virgil nodded. “Yeah. I know. And there’s no hurry to figure yourself out, Princey. Remember how long it took us to accept we’re gay? We all did it at our own times. This isn’t any different.”
“We should probably find the others,” Emile said, getting to his feet. Roman and Remus jolted, started. They looked around as if they were seeing their surroundings for the first time. They might as well have, being as disoriented from the split as they were. But the others would be worried and they shouldn’t waste time.
“We did this?” Remus whispered before breaking into a grin and springing up to survey the cove cut out from the forest of tentacles and listen for the howls of manticore chimeras. “Nice!”
“What do we tell the others?” Roman said in a more serious tone, rising to his feet but still leaning heavily on Virgil.
“Whatever you want,” Emile told him. He glanced between both Remus and Roman. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Aspecs are as valid as any other member of the lgbt community. You don’t need to come out if you don’t want to or you’re not ready.”
“I want to,” Roman said, “but I’m not ready. Um, Janus, can you come up with some good excuse? That’s at least kind of believable?”
Janus smirked. “What kind of amateur do you take me for? Deceit’s the name and lying’s my game. Those suckers won’t know what hit them.”
Both Remus and Roman laughed, already sounding better. Emile exchanged a glance with Virgil, the other Side looking a lot less worried than he had a few minutes ago. Everything would be okay. Maybe not yet but soon hopefully. Roman and Remus weren’t broken and now they knew that. It may take awhile for them to accept it but until then, they’d have support from whoever they needed it from.
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Author’s Note: The portrayal of the aspec experience in this fic is not 100% spot on. There is a wide variety of experiences and very few are like this. If any of this speaks to you, I encourage you to do further research.
When Bitty and Shitty move in next door to Providence Falconers star Jack Zimmermann, they're at a loss to understand the relationship between Jack and Larissa, with whom he lives. Jack, for his part, doesn't see what Bitty sees in Shitty.
