“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” (Any ship you feel like?)
I got..just a tad bit carried away with this one.
TW: brief panic attack, injuries, death mention, war mention, protests, torture mention, oppression, a very shitty government, if anything else needs to be listed please let me know!
Summary: Virgil knew Janus all his life, but after being lied to about something big, he didn’t quite know how to feel about him.
Virgil knew Janus, he knew him a lot more than the other was comfortable to admit.
He knew him when they were both children, back when Janus had sunshine in his eyes, and blinding smiles, and adorable giggles, and stupid jokes, and so much hope for the world.
He remembered when they had sleepovers, and he and Janus would make a makeshift fort when everything was quiet and still. It’d get dark for a second, and for a second Virgil would be afraid, but then came flecks of glittering gold that bathed them both in warm light.
“Make them into butterflies,” Virgil would say, eyes wide with wonder.
Janus would grin and twist his hands around until he held butterflies at the palm of his hands, their golden wings fluttering delicately along with the light. And Virgil would grin and laugh quietly, and Janus would giggle and make his illusions fly around him, and that was how the night was spent.
With hushed laughter and the tickles of butterfly wings against their skin, and beginning to blossom in their stomachs.
Virgil knew Janus when they entered middle school. Two poor boys going to a poor school where the classrooms were cramped and dusty, and the books were falling apart, and the food was inedible, and the staff was heartless.
Virgil remembered the boy who stood in front of the younger kids when adults began getting too close for comfort, a fiery look of stubbornness in his eyes as he demanded that the innocent children be left alone. He remembered the passionate spark of anger he held in his eyes, the gentleness he had as he calmed and comforted, he remembered his wild rage as he destroyed whatever shitty piece of equipment he could get his hands on as he cried out for something better, and he remembered the chilled look of defeat as he was beaten and bruised.
But most of all, he remembered when they hid in the bathroom, locked away in the furthest stall, the one that was broken and no one ever used.
Virgil remembered sitting on cold floor, shaking and crying as he tried desperately to just breathe, but he couldn’t, he was suffocating, and he was dying, and he couldn’t breathe.
And then Janus would find him, like he always did. He’d get flat on his stomach and crawl into the stall quietly as he sat beside Virgil, close enough for him to feel his warmth but not to touch.
He remembered Janus holding his hand out and making small streams of gold run against his fingertips, and he would follow it with his eyes as it traveled along his skin. When he calmed enough, he would lean against Janus’ shoulder, sighing quietly as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
“You should stop doing that,” he would always mutter out weakly, “you’ll get in trouble for using magic.”
And Janus would always chuckle and shake his head. “Only if I get caught,” he would say with a smirk, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “and I don’t plan on that anytime soon.”
Then he would wink, and Virgil would roll his eyes and lightly punch his shoulder, ignoring the faint blush that spread across his cheeks.
Virgil knew Janus when they entered high school to be broken down before being distributed across the land to work as cheap labor.
He remembered a boy who’s light began to flicker as his hope was smothered, and whose bright smiles were replaced with small smirks, and whose anger was contained, simmering dangerously beneath deep frowns.
But, most of all, he remembered the day that he had figured out just exactly what Janus was doing
“Janus, what the hell?” he remembered growling out, glaring at the other as he held a printed out news report in his hands.
Janus stared, looking over a picture of a male standing in the ruins of a statue built to honor a “heroic” murderer, flashes of gold flaring around him. “What?”
Virgil scowled and shoved the paper against his chest. “Don’t act fucking stupid, that’s you and you know it.”
Janus frowned and scowled, holding the news report in his hands and squinting down at the picture. “I think I’d remember doing this Virge,” he muttered, “and how would you even be able to tell? He’s wearing a snow mask and a cloak with the hood up, and besides his eyes look different.”
“Cut the crap,” he snarled, “his eyes are golden, he’s surrounded by fucking golden magic bullshit, and who else has golden magic bullshit? Oh right, you!”
“There are plenty of people with magic out there Virgil,” Janus said, rolling his eyes, “one of them probably got tired of being demonized and forced to hide away.”
Virgil was about to yell, to scream out in frustration because he knew damn well it was him, when something caught his eye. A dark green snow mask peeking out from beneath a messily made bed.
He went for it before Janus could stop him, looking beneath the bed to see both the snow mask and the cloak the person in the picture wore.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said as he grabbed them both and waved them in front of Janus’ face, “If you’re gonna lie to me at least hide the evidence better.”
Janus yanked his little disguise out of Virgil’s grasp. “I’ll remember that the next time you barge in here uninvited.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time, because you’re not doing this again.”
Janus hummed as he began folding up the cloak, his back turned to him. “Oh really? And explain to me why not?”
“Because this is so stupid! You’re lucky enough to even be here, don’t you know what’ll happen if you get caught? You’ll be—”
“That’s why I’m doing it,” Janus cut off sharply, glancing over at him with a chilled look in his eyes. “Do you know how it feels like to be taught that you, and people like you, are dangerous savages that need to be tamed and controlled? Do you know how it feels to see innocent people like me being taken away to who knows where, where the best case scenario is being tortured and brainwashed until you’re an obedient little toy that could be used in wars?”
Virgil stayed quiet, his mind scrambling for responses.
“So many people have lossed loved ones Virgil, siblings, children, wives, spouses, grandparents, and grandchildren. And we rejoice in their suffering, we cheer for murderers who spilled the blood of thousands of people like me, we celebrate them. And I’m tired of it.”
“Jan,” Virgil said quietly, desperation creeping up in his tone, “Jan we’re kids.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t hesitate to hurt young children either,” he said with a shrug
Then he turned to look at him, a stubbornly determined expression on his face as his anger continued to simmer and crackle. “I’m doing this Virgil, and you aren’t going to change my mind.”
Virgil chewed at his lower lip, wanting to argue, to knock some sense into him, but he knew that was impossible. “Just….just be careful, please?” he said quietly, his voice wavering.
Janus softened and went to gently hold Virgil’s hands. “I will be, I promise.”
Virgil sighed and went to wrap his arms around him, burying his face against his chest. “You better not get caught.”
Janus laughed as he threaded his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “I won’t.”
Virgil sighed and hugged him tight, tight, tighter, getting lost in the familiar warmth.
Virgil knew Janus when they were both stupid, confused young adults.
He remembered a bitter man with muddied eyes, and a piercing gaze, and sharp silver tipped words. He remembered a man who stayed silent and kept his head down as people yelled, screamed, hit, and hurt. He remembered a man with so much anger and fury festering inside him, until it all came out in bursts of scathing light and demands for change.
He remembered Janus sneaking into his house, exhausted and bloody and bruised and aching.
“Gently,” he hissed out, flinching away from the wash cloth in Virgil’s hands.
“I wouldn’t need to be gentle if you weren’t such an idiot,” he grumbled, “What were you thinking? You should’ve ran off the second you saw police.”
“Running off would only show that I’m scared of them,” he muttered, wincing slightly as Virgil continued to clean up the shallow gash across his back, “which I’m not.”
Both knew he was lying, but Virgil decided not to bring it up.
“You’re lucky they didn’t cut in deep,” Virgil said instead, “you’ve gotta be more careful Jan, one of these days you’re gonna get seriously injured and your illusion disguise is gonna disappear, and you’ll get caught, and that’s the best case scenario.”
“Really? What’s the worst case scenario?”
Virgil paused for a second and frowned. “You die.”
They both went quiet, tense silence engulfing them thickly.
Janus had never thought of dying. Being captured, sure, and he had come to terms with that, had grown used to that fear, and had accepted that possibility.
But dying? Dying was different. Being dead meant no more scheming, no more chance of escape, no more fighting, no more nothing. And now that he thought of it, now that he realized just how big of a possibility it was, he felt something thick and terrible pool into his stomach. Because dying somehow felt so much worse than being caught.
But he didn’t say any of this. Instead he glanced back at Virgil with a small smile, eyes glinting playfully. “Aw, you care about me.”
Virgil stares at him, blinking once, twice, and one more time after that, before rolling his eyes with a fond sort of laugh. “Shut up.”
“Aw Virgey, that’s so sweet of you,” he cooed, “I always knew you were secretly just a big softie.”
He lightly punched his shoulder (it was more like a delicate tap, really) as he laughed. “Oh my god, shut up, you’re so fucking annoying.”
Janus had expected another huff and a louder “shut up!” but instead Virgil softened, and looked up at him with a small, barely there smile. “Yeah,” he said with all the sincerity in the world, “I do.”
He turned to look at Virgil fully, and grabbed onto his hands gently, a flush working its way up his cheeks. “I love you too,” he gave his hands a small squeeze, “and nothing bad is gonna happen to me, okay?”
Virgil sighed and nodded. “Okay, I believe you.”
Janus smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Virgil blushed darkly as butterflies flapped their wings furiously in his stomach.
Virgil knew Janus, and he knew what a liar he was.
“Where are you going?” Virgil had asked that morning, a week after he had told him he’d let other rallying magic users to take over what he had begun.
“I just need to take care of a few errands Virgil,” he had said with a smile, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”
“I’ll grab a bite to eat on the way, I assure you.”
“Fine, I’ll see you later Jan, be careful.”
And then there had been a pause. Janus lingered at the door for a bit longer than necessary, looking over at Virgil and staying silent for a few moments, before nodding. “I will be, I promise.”
When Virgil watched the news later that day he saw that a few protesting magic users were captured.
And Janus was one of them, the illusion of snake eyes and scales still stamped to his skin as he struggled and fought and screamed and cursed.
“You liar!” Virgil had yelled, tears going down his cheeks as tremors racked his body, “You fucking liar!”
Virgil thought he had known Janus back then, but obviously he hadn’t known him as well as he thought.
The next time Virgil saw Janus, violence reigned in the city.
A large group of magic users had escaped from captivity, and they were pissed and ready to take back their right to exist.
People screamed and ran to hide indoors as they flooded the streets with great displays of magic, the immense power pulsating from them in waves of pure magic energy.
And military officials stormed back with just as much energy, gunshots echoing all over the city, blood staining the cement and dead bodies hitting the floor.
Virgil was at his house, watching the news as he anxiously chewed at his nails, when the sound of a window shattering filled his ears. A jolt of fear racked through him as he grabbed a long, thin flower vase, and slowly walked to the sounds.
“Who’s there?!” he demanded, gripping the vase tightly as he held it over his head.
There was a quiet grunt in response, and the crunching of glass beneath shoes. Virgil peered around the corner, eyes narrowed. It was a person, wincing lightly as they carefully removed shards of glass from their pale skin, their red locks of unruly hair falling over their face.
Virgil took a deep breath and rounded the corner, ready to smash the vase over the intruders head, when—
“Wait, wait, wait!” The person cried, holding out their hands in front of himself, “Virgil it’s me!” There was a small golden glow, and slowly their features faded and changed until it was someone completely different standing in front of him.
“Janus?” he asked, and he nearly dropped the vase right there and then.
The other nodded with a small smile. “Yes, it’s me Virge, now lets calm down and put the vase d–”
Virgil scowled and shook his head. “Hell no! Now get the fuck out before I knock you over the head with this!”
Janus raised an eyebrow and straightened himself up as he dusted off his clothes. “Somehow, I thought you’d be happier to see me.”
“Yeah, I’m real happy to see you after you lied directly to my face.”
He frowned, eyebrows quirked as he tilted his head slightly. “What–?”
From outside, a loud boom was heard, both of them flinching, the vase in Virgil’s hands falling and breaking on the floor.
“We don’t have time for this,” Janus hissed, “Vir–”
“I agree, you have to get out of here now before they get you again!”
“Although it’s nice to see that you do still care, I need you to come with me.”
Virgil stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Now I know you’re fucking crazy, get out of–”
“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”
He paused, blinking in surprise. “Well no, I’m not done with my training yet. How did you–”
“Unimportant. You’re pretty knowledgeable in first aid, correct?”
“Excellent, we need you!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I can’t just up and leave and join some rebellion.”
Janus groaned and dragged a hand down his face, taking in a deep breath. “Why not?”
“Because I have a fucking life here! And you can’t just come here out of the blue to recruit me as a medic!”
“And besides, you’re all magic users! Healing abilities is a thing, you know?”
“An incredibly rare thing,” Janus snapped, “we have two in our group of hundreds, and healing is a delicate process that takes time, and it isn’t helpful when a dozen people are bleeding to death!”
Virgil stayed silent, still skeptical, before Janus continued.
“We have other doctors in our group, but not nearly enough, and we need all the help we can get, so please Virgil,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice as he held one of his hands, “I’m begging you.”
And Virgil couldn’t say no to that, even if he tried.
Virgil knew Janus when he was Deceit, one of the masterminds behind what would slowly escalated into a civil war.
He knew a man who was intelligent and cunning, who created the most realistic illusions as he infiltrated enemy territory, who welcomed all the people like him with open arms, who gazed suspiciously at those who called themselves “allies”, who could detect lies with terrifying accuracy, who carefully planned out attacks, who stayed with the injured as he created dazzling shows with his illusions, who tried his best to offer comfort to those who needed it, who put himself in the front lines again and again and again with a fiery determination the other side could never begin to comprehend.
It had been for a few months, and Virgil could see the world changing. It was slow, and small, but change nonetheless.
And, as he looked out at the vast city, he felt content. He could finally take a breath of fresh air without anxiously waiting for the injured people to come streaming in, praying to whatever deity existed that he wouldn’t have someone die in his hands, praying that it wouldn’t be Janus who came to see him with a wound that would be fatal, praying that he wouldn’t lose him, praying that—
Virgil flinched and glanced over at Janus, ready to yell, only to cut himself off when he was met with two eyes of hazel and unblemished skin. “Only if you drop the illusion.”
Janus frowned, his fingertips ghosting over the left side of his face, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to kindly ask you to leave,” he shrugged.
Janus sighed, remaining quiet for a second, before he began to glow softly. The illusion disappeared, revealing my multiple gashes running down the left side of his face, leaving one eye hazy and unfocused. “Happy?”
“Very,” Virgil said with a nod before turning to look back at the city.
Janus stood next to him, making sure his good eye was facing him, and for a while neither of them spoke.
“Virgil…” Janus broke the silence, soft and uncertain. “I was thinking..”
He looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“Just…after everything has properly settled, maybe you and I can, I don’t know, have a little place together?”
Virgil stared at him, and years old butterflies began fluttering in his stomach, beginning to dust away and the cobwebs that had gathered inside. “What?”
“Yeah, you know, somewhere nice and cozy, where it could just be you and, well, me of course,” he said quietly, still facing towards the city as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. “Just like we had dreamed of when we were little.”
A part of Virgil wanted to say yes, but the rest of him still felt uneasy, something heavy settling over his chest and squashing his newly found butterflies. “I can’t Jan.”
Janus turned to look at him, and for the first time ever he looked absolutely and completely heartbroken. “But why not?” And his voice was so quiet and thick, and Virgil felt so horribly guilty.
“Because you made me believe that you died along with that dream before any of this happened.”
“You’re still upset about that?” Janus asked before he could stop himself. They had spoken briefly about a few things, but rifling through emotional baggage and rekindling whatever relationship they used to have would’ve been terribly inappropriate in the middle of a war.
Virgil glared at him, and Janus frowned at him guiltily.
“Virgil,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of his hands, “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you about not going to the protests anymore, or where I went that day, but…I did it because I wanted you to feel at ease.”
Virgil snorted and pulled his hand away. “Yeah, i felt so at ease when I watched them take you away to be fucking tortured.”
“Virgil please, I didn’t mean to put you through any of that anguish, I would never ever do that to you willingly,” he said, and then paused, chewing his lower lip with hesitation, “because…because I love you Virgil.”
And then there was silence, long and sickening s it settled thickly in their lungs, both suddenly finding themselves unable to do anything else other than standing.
It was Janus who found the will to break through it. “Wow,” he said, voice wavering dangerously as he chuckled, “after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”
“You lied to me! About going to a fucking rally where you knew armed forces would be stationed! And not only that, but you also made me believe you weren’t gonna go to those at all anymore! So what? You were just planning to lie to me for years?”
“But nothing! That shit isn’t something you lie about Jan! You have no clue how much I cried for you when you were taken! How much I mourned for you, only for you to come back and suddenly decide I could be a part of all this again!”
Janus looked away and let out a long breath. “Ask me if it was easy for me, Virgil.”
Virgil furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at him. “What?”
“I said ask me if it was easy for me.”
“Of course I wasn’t!” he cut off, turning to look at him again with glossy eyes, “Do you even realize how much I missed you? How scared I was to die and that I’d never get to see you again? How terrible I felt that the last time I had seen you it was to tell a lie?
“And it didn’t stop there, no. I was so god damn scared that I’d be killed each and every time I went out to fight, or acted as a spy, or whatever. Want to know why?”
When he didn’t continue, Virgil uttered out a meek, little, “Why?”
“Because the last thing I ever wanted to do was lose you again!” And then he was crying. Virgil had never seen him cry before. “Because lord knows I’m in love with you, and I have been ever since we were stupid little kids hiding away in makeshift forts during sleepovers.”
Virgil pursed his lips before going up to him and gently cupping his cheeks, wiping away at his tears as his thumbs ran across soft skin and rough scars. “Then let’s fix it.”
Janus looks at him, gently placing a hand on top of his. “What?”
“Let’s fix this all together,” he said gently, “We just won a damn war, I think we can work through this, right?”
Janus smiles at him slightly, and a glimmer of hope he had thought had been lost shone in his eyes. “I think it’s doable.”
They both smiled as butterfly wings tickled at their insides, their golden glow shining bright and hopeful.
