August 15th: Marriage | Sea Bathing/Beach | Crossover
Title: I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do
Ship: Sideshipping | Anzu/Shizuka
Series: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,191
Tags: Past/Referenced Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending
It was a little too late to have cold feet about it.
Not too late for a divorce, Shizuka reasoned, even though she and Anzu had only been officially married for all of what… two hours? The cake still had its knife in it in case anyone wanted to go for seconds after the bridal dance.
Marriage was a big, bureaucratic thing. It also seemed like something well way off into a murky future tomorrow that would never actually become today but lo and behold. The bell now tolled for her and her lover, letting half the countryside know that she had become Mazaki Shizuka.
The thought filled her with bubbles for a while. Cheery, exciting bubbles of a happier future which was so faraway, it could never happen. Now it just filled her with bile. She felt like she could puke it all up and over her sparkly white shoes bought especially new for the occasion. She could taste everything at the back of her throat, the wedding cake, the main meal, yesterday’s breakfast, whilst she stared at the champagne slowly going flat in her glass.
“Are you okay?” Anzu asked. “Not feeling nervous for our big dance, are you?”
“Oh, um, only a little.” Shizuka lied through her teeth.
Anzu reached across the head table and placed her hand at the edge of it. She tapped the pristine tablecloth and coaxed Shizuka to place her hand atop of Anzu’s. That’s better. Anzu held her hand, stroked her skin. A tingle went down Shizuka’s spine as she listened to Anzu’s kind words that proceeded.
“We’ve practised so much, you’ve done so well. We’re gonna stun.” Anzu encouraged her, entirely oblivious to the problems causing the obvious raincloud of Shizuka’s head.
“Yayyy.” Shizuka weakly replied.
That was true. Anzu’s words did spark joy - or at least the idea of it. Shizuka smiled sheepishly as she recalled all the effort that had gone into the wedding. The fraught discussions of if it should go ahead at all because of what Shizuka had witnessed as a child during her own parents’ marriage. It lingered but it didn’t lose her completely.
She knew the sacrament and milestone meant the world of Anzu who was so full of so many dreams and Shizuka wanted to be one of them. So, she said yes with a heart in the right place and full of hope. The mania that followed was stressful but it was fun, too. She felt like the centre of not only Anzu’s world as her bride to be but the whole world’s.
Shopkeepers bent over backwards for them as potential patrons since weddings meant an even bigger pricetag could be attached to their goods and services. The window shopping and actual shopping for an engagement ring. Cake testing and florist visiting. Dress shopping was the best and the worst, not a moment was spared in the pursuit of perfectly tailored glamour.
The result was that this was not a wedding that had happened overnight with little foresight or forward planning. It had been in the works for two years.
Yet now, for all that preparation, Shizuka wanted to leave Anzu at the altar. Or she should have. She was regretting not doing that now but it would be a waste to spoil a good dress and a banquet and how much money it cost to hire venues and such.
The sound of squeaky shoes on linoleum alerted Shizuka to the end of her reverie. Anzu looked up and over her shoulder, welcoming Katsuya back to the head table.
“Hey girls, I mean, ladies,” he said as he held onto the back of Shizuka’s chair to say hi, “I just got done talking with the DJ, you two’s dance is queued up if you want to get ready. Powder your noses or something first.”
“Thanks, Katsuya.” Anzu said and she glanced at Shizuka. “Do you need anything first?”
“Er, nope, I’m good!” Shizuka chirped.
Anzu gave her a big smile, the corners of her eyes crinkled with laugh lines and excitement. Shizuka’s stomach plummeted to the floor and she was taken by the hand, pulled along by Anzu to the centre of the stage. The lights around the dancefloor dimmed as they made their way to the middle of it. Their guests - only their nearest and dearest - whooped and hollered.
A wedding was a series of exciting events - the vows, the kiss, the cutting of the cake, and then of course the dance - but as the final one, this one had the most pressure on it to get right. Or wrong and be made a joke of for years to come. Shizuka hoped that it wouldn’t be the latter.
She had the world’s best broadway dancer to guide her. She also had eight weeks of practice behind her with the world’s best broadway dancer and her favourite choreographer as well. In theory, she should be fine. Even with what felt like thousands of eyes on her, Shizuka took position with Anzu in front of her.
Anzu’s hands were calm and steady amid the nerves. She was so effortless when it came to her passions, her talents. She worked hard and the rest, she just trusted in that hard work, that it wouldn’t be in vain but Shizuka wasn’t quite so free.
“You ready?” Anzu asked, her voice a whisper.
“As I’ll ever be.” Shizuka murmured. She so badly wanted to be sick.
She had woken up this morning feeling like a princess. On top of the world. Now she felt like the pauper, or more accurately, the pauper who should have been inside of a pauper’s grave. She should have rolled over and pretended today was written off, that nothing of import was scheduled to happen.
Their music started. Shizuka hazarded a smile. Those opening notes were so comforting and familiar. Even if they heralded the beginning of the choreography, there were so many things to remember and opportunities to make a mistake but this was their song. Or one of them, at least. It was light and silvery and reminded Shizuka of her and Anzu’s first night together in New York. It was Christmas and they went sleighing through the snow. Oh, it was magical.
Holding onto that memory, with Anzu holding her hand through every motion, Shizuka allowed herself to re-enter her very own wedding. She was spun and twirled, dipped to and fro. Anzu took the “masculine” lead so she could show off her more masterful talents at dancing. She had the whole crowd proud with her moves.
Anzu looked so gorgeous as she danced a modernised version of the waltz. She was in her element, sparkling beneath her makeup and well coiffed hair. Her footwork was swift and delicate, the tule of her dress bounced in tune with the music and her movements. It was very clearly the happiest moment of her life.
And for both herself and for Anzu, Shizuka couldn’t be happier and yet.
She was still detached from it. Eaten away by her worries, merely going through the motions as though she were the doll inside of a ballerine’s jewellery box, turning on a screw. Not that she minded. The dance was simultaneously an eternity and not long enough as the music began to fade out. She had done it. She had survived dancing with Anzu to conclude the official matters of their wedding.
It was a weight off. Literally. Shizuka’s shoulders no longer felt quite so sloped as Anzu changed how she held her wife around her waist.
They paused long enough to take a vow. Katsuya’s voice was boisterous over all, he couldn’t be happier for his sister and his now sister-in-law. It embarrassed Shizuka.
“Thank you muchly.” Anzu announced. “Please, feel free to enjoy more food, the music, let’s party until dawn!” She split into laughter.
But Shizuka wasn’t.
And that popped up on Anzu’s radar. Shizuka didn’t know if that was an “oh no” moment or a “finally” moment. Either way she felt guilty as Anzu readjusted herself. The music changed to more upbeat party songs to coax people onto the dancefloor.
“Hey, um, is everything okay?” Anzu asked quietly.
She took Shizuka by her hands again, propping them up on Anzu’s shoulders and Shizuka let it happen. The distance between them, with Shizuka’s elbows locked, made them look like middle schoolers leaving a ruler’s worth between them. It was kind of silly. Especially as, together, they bopped along to a Top 40 favourite from twenty years ago. Shizuka stared at her feet though as they did so as she mulled over Anzu’s question. Anzu waiting patiently, not pressing it as they were in public and if Shizuka was close to a melt down, neither would want that as they were the centre of attention.
“Well, um, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Shizuka mumbled half way through the song.
They drew in closer to one another. They were more romantically chest to chest whilst remaining appropriate for a wedding. Shizuka absorbed Anzu’s bodily warmth, deeply breathed in her pretty perfume and sighed.
“I want a divorce.” Shizuka announced.
Anzu snorted in disbelief, “What?”
“Well, um, I’m… I’m worried. What if this isn’t such a good idea?” Shizuka rambled. “Like, this whole. Getting married thing.”
Anzu’s expression softened. She had been ready to cop this as a joke but she could sense from Shizuka’s melancholy that this was really eating her up. Shizuka appreciated the shift as well. She licked her lips and was mindful of the heavy rhythm of how her heart was pounding in her chest.
“I just remember being so scared of my father as a child.” Shizuka mumbled. “He was awful to me, to Katsuya-nii, and of course to our mother. He drank all our money away, pushed us around. I have no good memories of my parents’ marriage. I know I was so young and sickly but it was quite formative.”
“Oh, Shizuka…” Anzu breathed, dripping with sympathy.
She cuddled Shizuka closer. She rubbed Shizuka’s back and it made her arms twitch. They still danced. They slowed down, their footwork was clumsy and they were out of time with the music. To their friends and family, it looked like they were slow dancing. Not having a heart-to-heart as they whispered amongst themselves.
“What if you start doing that?” Shizuka murmured, her brows furrowed. “What if you lose your job and blame me?”
“I would never.” Anzu replied.
“Do you really think I’m so awful?” Anzu asked, head tilted, trying not to be offended.
“No, not at all!” Shizuka protested. “I think you're wonderful, the best woman in the world and I’m very fortunate to have you but…” Shizuka’s voice trailed off. Her tone of voice was frantic until it fizzled out. She took a breath. “Or, worse still, what if it's me? What if I wake up and start being horrible to you?”
“Oh, Shizuka, you would never.” Anzu gasped, more offended at the idea of Shizuka turning abusive than her.
“How do you know?” Shizuka argued, eyes watering. “What if I start drinking and start pushing you around?”
“You wo-” Anzu stopped herself in her tracks and Shizuka cringed but looked up at her, studying her. Anzu took a deep breath and she nuzzled against Shizuka’s face.
Shizuka requited the affection. Anzu’s face was soft but chalky with foundation and other makeup.
“You're right.” Anzu told her.
“Huh?” Shizuka blinked.
Anzu pulled back and shrugged, “I don’t know what will happen in the future. I don’t know what I’ll be like nor what you’ll be like. Anything can and will happens, I could get hit by a truck tomorrow-”
“Don’t say that!” Shizuka interrupted.
“That’s rich,” Anzu laughed, “but you get the point, right?”
“Right…” Shizuka chewed on her reply.
“Marriage is hard.” Anzu started again, reiterating. “We’ll probably fight, we’ll probably have really boring days and really busy days. We’ll have good ones and bad ones but we’ll make it work, I promise.”
Shizuka smiled a small smile. The butterflies in her stomach were back but it felt oddly good. Not great but it was fuzzy and hopeful which was good enough for her to deem it, well, good.
“Thanks, Anzu,” Shizuka replied, “that… That I can believe. That we can do it, we can put the hard work in.”
“I’m glad,” Anzu murmured and she leaned in, “but if there are days which are excruciating, which make you want to throw in the towel, there are steps we can take before we get to a point where… where we hurt ourselves or each other, you hear?”
“I do.” Shizuka replied.
She tilted her head up and she kissed Anzu on the lips.
Her lipstick was glossy. Her breath had the tingle of champagne. Shizuka committed it all to memory and took Anzu’s words here more to heart than their actual vows that had been rehearsed many a time in the bathroom mirror. She kissed back and surrendered herself to the idea that perhaps marriage can be a dream of hers as well.
Propaganda: HEAR ME OUT. Miho has blue-ish white long hair. Kisara has blue-ish white long hair. Yugioh DM is NOTORIOUS for having long-dead characters have mysterious modern day dopplegangers (that’s the whole plot!!!) so why not like this? Miho is a gold digger who’s on the lookout for her perfect prince. Kaiba fills that role perfectly: young, rich, successful, handsome— what’s not to love? She latches onto him and they are both confronted with the fact that they’re both terrible people actually, and somewhere in there, real feelings sprout and they have to struggle to navigate it
Propaganda: I love their friendship so much & wish we got to see more of it in the show. The episode where they go out together is super sweet, and it’s probably my fave wlw ship in dm. Sadly it’s shonen so none of the girls spend much time together onscreen but I think it’d be funny if Shizuka went for Anzu instead of Honda or Ryuji because love wins.
Now, let’s keep things civil. This is a silly poll where we can share why we love our overlooked ships. There’s no need to be nasty to prove your point. Bashers will be banished to the Shadow Realm.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Words: 3,082
Warnings: Night Brain™ (Self-Depreciating Thoughts), Insomnia
Characters: Virgil, Janus
Ships: Anxceit, but it's ambiguous
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Self-Care Snek Janus, there was only one bed! actually not the trope but that is still true, placed in like probably a mid-point of enemies to lovers
Virgil rolled over and glanced at the digital display of the clock, sick of staring at the ceiling. 2:42 am lit up the room in a daunting red glow in a painful affront to all of his efforts to sleep tonight. He ate dinner on time. He turned down all the lights with the sun. He tried to meditate (with questionable success; he wondered when the last time he cleaned the carpet was and if he had bills due more than he was mindful of the moment) and went to bed early in a dark, cool room. Virgil did everything right, and he was still here, having a staring contest with his alarm clock.
It was basically inevitable, and all the effort was meaningless. If it was that easy, then why hadn’t it ever worked before? Adding or changing some steps to the ritual wouldn’t change a lifetime of being eaten alive slowly by insomnia. Everything was futile, and Virgil just needed to accept that things were always out of his control and that no good ever comes his way. More cruel proof that all his efforts were always in vain, and he’d never achieve the few precious hopes and dreams that Virgil quietly kept for himself. Like the fervent wish that Janus’s caring advice would finally let him steal some sleep from the sandman that betrayed every night. The equivalence of sheer force of will and the prayers of a friend somehow changing a mountain into the sea. A stupid thought on every level.
Fuck. Virgil rubbed his face bitterly, clenching up all his muscles in frustration. Night brain was getting to him. There were good things in the world, even if Virgil couldn’t see them in the dim light of the alarm clock. His dreams aren’t dead because 10 pm bedtimes just aren’t on the table for him right now. He still needed to figure out the insomnia problem, though. No matter how hard he researched solutions, he remained lost on how to make them work for him. He just had to wade through the muck of his horrible, bogged down brain to figure out what he needed to do.
He might have to cancel tomorrow's plans, as much as he hated to do that to Janus. With how intensely their relationship fluctuated, setting them back further by flaking on him felt like shooting himself in both feet. But if he was in someone else’s position, he’d like the heads-up if someone may change the plans or cancel. Virgil twisted to sit up on the edge of his bed and reached for his phone, tapping it out of airplane mode and tugging it off the charger to warn him before he forgot. He texted Janus to let him know he would stay an exhausted mess tomorrow, and that Janus was nice to try, even if it didn’t work. As much as he’d love to just call him a name and throw his phone against the wall, that wasn’t fucking working for him, and he needed to be nicer like Janus was trying to.
Even if the ideas didn’t work and the ever-encroaching devil’s hour was pissing him off, he honestly appreciated Janus’s suggestions. Virgil was used to being told that he wasn’t trying hard enough, or that he should just solve it with coffee like everyone else. At least it wasn’t a lack of effort on Virgil’s part, if even all of Janus’s suggestions didn’t help him sleep. There was some odd comfort in that. He genuinely would have loved to get back to Janus with the proud beam of someone who got eight hours of sleep. Well, if he figured something else out, maybe he could still fall asleep before 4 am and keep hanging on by a thread like he often is.
Virgil started up the streaming video app to pick something low-key and boring enough to kill his last few awake brain cells. Even if it didn’t get him to sleep, it would be nice just to distract the damn night brain for a little while before he ends up on that ‘failure’ tangent again over the insomnia… or even just something to focus on since his tired brain kept wandering down haunted paths. But before Virgil could pick a video to drown out his thoughts, he received a text alert. Janus responded to the warning Virgil sent, even though Janus should have been asleep right now and not answering. Virgil glanced at the clock again, the unholy hour leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
‘Who cares?’ was the text he received from Janus. Virgil frowned and pursed his lips at that response. Didn’t Janus care when he suggested all that stuff to try? Or was this all some very elaborate and confusing prank? Was it a joke? He was too tired to figure this out. He thought it was an earnest attempt to help. Maybe it was just more lines and lies, though. It was hard to tell with Janus.
‘You cared yesterday,’ Virgil texted back. Janus was the one who basically demanded he go to bed early when Virgil mentioned how little sleep he’d been getting. Janus even brought up the subject by pointing out how tired Virgil looked in an insult. It’s not like Virgil was just dropping hints at the guy in hopes of help. It was Janus who sent him a list of things to try unprompted.
‘I have every right not to care as the person you woke up at nearly three in the morning,’ Janus responded to the text. Virgil bristled as read the words on the darkened screen, his brain conjuring up the harsh, catty tone that Janus used to talk shit about someone. Damnit, he didn’t mean to wake up Janus. He was just giving Janus a heads-up as he remembered to do so. He didn’t think he would have remembered later because of the original issue. Insomnia. How fucking cyclical.
‘It’s your fault for not using sleep mode, stupid,’ Virgil sent back defensively, but he knew he should have just texted later or not brought it up at all. He should have just hid the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping. Then Janus would still be asleep and Virgil wouldn’t be panicking in the middle of the night about messing up his relationship with Janus, which was often tenuous at best. Virgil had been trying, but considering that was also a word that Janus used to describe Virgil, it probably wasn’t doing that well. He would ruin this relationship like he did with all the others. Oh, goddamnit, there goes night brain again.
‘I would have been fine if you fell asleep on time and hadn’t texted me at 2:44 am,’ Janus texted, and Virgil’s brain just was making Janus sound angrier. It didn’t help that it echoed the sentiment that night brain was touting as a personal failure. Virgil pouted and flopped back on the bed, holding the phone above his head to text back. Janus wasn’t wrong, and Virgil kind of threw Janus’s consideration back in his face by failing to fall asleep and messaging him about it. Ugh. Night brain aside, he really didn’t need to bother Janus with this. He’s dealt with it alone almost his whole life.
‘Sorry,’ Virgil apologized sheepishly and rubbed his face. He knew he could catastrophize about relationships. He knew the later it got, the more harsh his brain could be, too. It didn’t make Virgil feel any better about any of that interaction. It all seemed so bad, and he just needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t know how. He was so fucking tired all the time. Being tired makes you struggle with judgment and sense. Ergo, Virgil was always stupid. Maybe even Janus was stupid by extension for willingly spending time with the chronically sleepless Virgil, who even knew anymore. He only knew he needed to stop bothering Janus and try to sleep. The glowing clock’s non-stop march forward told him this wasn’t the time and reminded him he should just have been asleep to avoid all this shit.
Janus hadn’t responded to his apology, so Virgil switched back to the video app. He would try to make it up to Janus tomorrow somehow. Maybe he could get them both espresso or something like that. There really wasn’t any way to solve sleep deprivation, though, and he owed Janus more than he could physically even pay. Virgil knew how deep that debt could eat at your heart and soul more than anyone else. Janus didn’t have to forgive him, but Virgil still had to at least try to be better about not waking up friends in the middle of the night, even if it was an accident. Next time, he can just write himself a sticky note. It would be a good habit to build just to cope with the brain fog of chronic insomnia.
Virgil found some videos reviewing bad books, and those were relatively interesting without getting invested enough in the content to turn on his brain, so he watched a few reviews. It didn’t seem to be to any avail, though, other than mildly quieting the night brain from going on mean tangents. He did wonder how the hell said books ever got published and felt bad for the readers, but considering the contents of the books, that was probably a normal reaction and not a late-night horror fun house ringing throughout his skull. Virgil checked the clock on his phone screen compulsively, and the time made him grimace. He wasn’t any more drowsy than he was before, so that failed. The human capacity to be exhausted without being sleepy is offensive to think about. Time to drown out his brain in random content again, then.
He scanned for a different genre of videos that he could doze to with half-open eyes, but only ended up jumping at a loud thudding, the knock at his front door carried through his apartment causing a phone to land on his face in surprise. Virgil scrambled to grab the phone he dropped, looking around his room for something to defend himself with. No matter where his eyes jumped, he found nothing he could use to even bludgeon anyone with. Not that it would help against something like a gun. Maybe he was just going to die tonight.
The tiny ounce of sense that Virgil could have called his own was smothered to death by the haze of fear overtaking his brain as his breath came in sharply. ‘If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ve been axe murdered by a late-night visitor. Tell your snake I love her,’ he messaged off his epitaph to Janus, sitting up on the bed.
He wasn’t sure if he should ignore it or see who it was. What if it was an emergency? What if someone needed help? What if it was the police? Should he even open it, then? Would it be worse if he pretended he wasn’t home? Would someone try to rob him if they thought his apartment was empty? What if it was someone out to hurt him? What if it was a trap? Were they going to be mad at how long it’s taking Virgil to answer? Maybe if he doesn’t answer it, he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. What if they break in, anyway? What if—
‘Open the door,’ Janus texted him, shaking Virgil from freaking out about the sudden visitor’s intentions. What? Was Janus joking, or trying to get him offed?
‘Are you trying to get me serial-killed for waking you up?’ Virgil replied, and he intended it as a joke, but it was also the exact thing he was terrified of occurring. Nothing good happens this late at night. There was no way that the statistics for opening a door this late at night favoured him for survival.
‘It’s cold out here. Open the damn door,’ Janus sent another text, and Virgil jumped up from the bed right away and rushed to the front door, absolutely blindsided by the implications. Even the chance, even the tiny possibility. If it was Janus, he would open the door. That shook all his fears about the situation from the etch-a-sketch of his brain into harmlessly scattered grains of concern, leaving him breathless and bewildered.
Virgil flung open the door, and there was Janus in all of his pyjama-clad glory, looking fatigued, chilly, and perturbed. Janus pushed Virgil aside and stepped in, and Virgil locked up behind him in pure confusion, though he felt himself grinning like an idiot despite himself. Janus was here! Did Virgil fall asleep after all, and he was currently in a rare pleasant dream? Janus’s nightwear was certainly the stuff of dreams, it was hard to believe he even owned such classy sleepwear.
“What are you doing here?” Virgil asked quietly (as if to not startle himself awake, or perhaps because Janus looked half-asleep himself. He couldn’t speak for his own motivations, he could barely even speak) while Janus yawned, covering his mouth as his jaw unhinged. A little tear beaded on Janus’s eye that he blinked away, looking at Virgil directly with an intense expression as soon as he closed his mouth.
Janus didn’t reply and simply grabbed Virgil’s hand to drag him back into the bedroom. Virgil could only follow along with (dream?) Janus’s whims, feeling dumbfounded as Janus pulled Virgil along. Then Janus unceremoniously shoved him into the bed, Virgil’s knees buckling at the edge and catching himself on his hands to continue to stare up at Janus in shock. Janus only raised an eyebrow, leaning his weight on one foot as he glowered at Virgil’s lost face.
“Get in,” Janus demanded, flipping his hand at Virgil to shoo him into the bedsheets. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, but crawled in and sandwiched himself between the blankets, anyway. He didn’t know what Janus was getting at, but it was better to just listen than deal with Janus’s tired wrath. Janus kicked off his shoes and climbed in bed next to him with another small yawn, tugging Virgil in and holding him to his chest under the covers. Virgil’s face heated as Janus forcefully nestled Virgil closely against himself and shifted to get comfortable in Virgil’s bed.
“What—” Virgil tried to start, his voice muffled against Janus’s firm chest.
“Sh. Just lie still and breathe deeply, and I will get you to sleep whether you like it or not,” Janus explained flatly, holding Virgil close and squeezing with mild pressure, the soft interaction melting away Virgil’s concerns in favour of focusing on the feel of Janus’s slender fingers without the gloves against his skin. Virgil wasn’t surprised his hands were cold. There was something soothing about that, even. It was almost as if the gentle chill of Janus’s hands quenched the leftover dread that burned through his mind unbidden and gave him space to breathe.
Virgil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. Janus warmed up from the night's chill beneath the sheets and Virgil’s remnant adrenal heat, making this moment more comfortable than Virgil could have dreamed. Virgil hadn’t shared his bed in a long time, and he thought he didn’t miss it, but it seemed at least a small, traitorous part of him clearly still did from the unwelcome relief that slowly filled his body. He doesn't like how much Janus just being here changed how he felt, even though it satisfied him beyond words. The warmth between them, the soft covers, the considerate cuddle, and Janus’s gentle heart beat and steady rise and fall of his chest all coaxed him down as he breathed slowly and stayed still as asked. Virgil’s thoughts had trouble wandering with Janus right there. His brain was too busy fluctuating on Janus’s very existence, as well as the fact that he showed up out of nowhere to snuggle Virgil to sleep. He had to be already dreaming, right?
Janus rolled over and rearranged Virgil into being the little spoon, arms wrapping around Virgil and sliding his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. A few soft, warm breaths sent dancing across Virgil’s skin before Janus dropped his head to the pillows behind Virgil, Janus's breath now lightly jostling the hairs of Virgil’s bed head. Janus reached around to have Virgil hold on to a spare pillow and tucked him properly into the covers before snuggling tight, the even spread of pressure across Virgil’s back reminding him that Janus was here even though Virgil could no longer see him. Virgil couldn’t believe this moment was real, and he didn’t want to stop to consider it and ruin the moment. He wanted to be here in Janus’s arms, not even letting the fear of waking stay in his forethought for long.
The moments of soft breathing calmed the last of the fear in Virgil’s heart, loosening the knot in his stomach and the tightness in his throat. Virgil felt relaxation wash over him in places he didn’t know could even loosen, unwinding him down to the core. Janus’s arms slackened slightly, and Virgil could feel him slip off to sleep behind him, dragging Virgil down farther along with him. The dreamlike quality of the moment grew, the lines of reality becoming blurry, and the light of the alarm clock faded into an unreadable glow instead of a harsh reminder of the waking reality.
The request was so simple it was offensive that it worked, but the mantra and the soft embrace warded off all thoughts. Just breathe deep and lie still. That’s all he had to do. Janus was here. He’d know if Virgil gave up, so he had to keep going. And he wasn’t alone. He didn’t screw up with Janus, and he was safe. It didn’t matter if it was a dream or not, because both options were so wonderful, he would stay in either forever.
Time unwound and lost all meaning together in the soft sheets. He didn’t count the breaths. The clock’s horrible march forward, lost to the details, quickly blurring out. There was only Janus’s breath and his, entwining together in the dark room. The last dregs of Virgil’s waking mind faded to nothing, and there was nothing but warmth in the last moments of Virgil’s awareness as he drifted off to sleep.
