Chapter Text
There wasn't much that could be said but that, for better or worse, Janus had been right.
Despite Virgil's nerves and his misgivings, he hadn't balked when given the chance to admit his feelings for Logan openly. And, in spite of Logan's protests about needing time to deliberate on his decision, it certainly hadn't taken him very long to decide, in the end. Everything had come together very naturally after that. And it had been wonderful to see it happen. Now that so many obstacles had been dealt with—now that the wedding was past, now that Virgil's original fears of Janus being forced to leave for Logan's kingdom had been assuaged, now that the tensions that had so badly complicated things between them had been addressed—it had been wonderful to see just how much joy simply having each other had brought them...
It had been. It had been wonderful.
And yet...there were times when Janus found himself thinking about that defensiveness that Logan had felt in the face of his confrontation on their wedding night. Times when he thought about the impression that his husband had built of him, based on the state of tensions between Virgil and himself. Times when he thought about that gut-wrenching feeling he had felt any time he thought about his mistakes and feared that there might be no way of mending the things he had broken...
Times when he wondered if, perhaps, that impression might have been deserved. Times when he wondered if he had even deserved to have been forgiven. Because...
Because here he was, now. Here he was, having been given everything he had thought that he wanted: Virgil was happy, and they were friends again. Logan seemed happy, and he and Janus now finally had all the time in the world to become something more than acquaintances. And Virgil and Logan had each other, free from the guilt that might have kept them apart. Janus had gone out of his way to see it happen that way. He was meant to be happy with them, wasn't he?
At the very least, he should have managed to be happy for them...
And yet, every now and then—not always, but certainly far more often than he would like—when he saw them together there was...this ugly little twist in his gut. Or the slightest, unpleasant twinge in his chest. Moments when his throat would tighten or his eyes sting when he watched them enjoy the happiness he himself had pushed them to pursue together. And there were, perhaps, many things that might be said about Janus's self-awareness, or lack thereof, but he could at least be given the credit to recognize that what he was feeling was jealousy...though he would certainly have been happier if he hadn't.
And now there was nothing left but to live the rest of his life in the knowledge that he had dug his own grave. Nothing but watching two of the people most dear to him—one who had been there for most of his life, the other swiftly becoming a newly indispensable part of it—enjoy a happiness with one another that left him just outside of its reach.
Which wasn't to say that he had given up hope immediately—he wasn't quite that pathetic. Janus had, of course, tried to find other ways of handling his affliction than simply giving in to the uselessness of despair.
Over the course of the past several months—as their relationship had developed and he had slowly grown to realize the state of misery to which he had consigned himself—Janus had tried seeking distractions where he could. He had tried throwing himself at anything, really, that might have managed to occupy his thoughts, to blunt the pain. He had devoted time and effort to various projects—there was a new theater now being built in the capital, and a couple of libraries that were being renovated under his instruction. He had undertaken new avenues of study—he had not, prior to his marriage, given much thought to pursuing learning at the university himself, but it was so hard to converse with Logan without feeling inadequate, and that at last had pushed him. He had attempted to learn an instrument, which had been a monumental disaster. And he had even made his attempts at courting a lover of his own...
(The less said about that absolute tragedy to his sanity, the better.)
Ultimately, all of this had only served to make him busier, but not happier. Which admittedly gave him less time to stew in his own misery, but it certainly hadn't been productive in terms of finding a better solution to the underlying problem. He had heard it said that the only remedy for heartbreak was time, and while Janus hadn't reached the point where he would have said that his heart had been broken there was certainly a depth to the bruises that left him doubting he would recover quickly.
One day, surely, he would manage to move on, but for now the wait for healing felt unbearable.
Janus's options were few, and with distraction proven ineffective the most viable of them remaining, unfortunately, was avoidance. For the most part, Janus was determined to keep it as a last resort—after all, he and Virgil had only just repaired the distance that had grown between them. Though he had forgiven Virgil, that hurt was still fresh, and Janus just couldn't find it in himself to turn around and knowingly do the same. Not to mention the other problems that would almost certainly arise if he tried. In theory, Janus might have been able to find ways to avoid seeing Virgil—and therefore seeing Virgil and Logan together—but he could only attempt to avoid his husband for so long before his efforts would eventually be noticed. And it would invite far too much unwanted talk once it was. And while attempting to avoid Virgil on his own would have been feasible, it would almost certainly give him reason to doubt that Janus's forgiveness had ever been genuine.
And to doubt many other things as well, once allowed to dwell on it, Janus thought, because Virgil was nothing if not a creature of doubts...
Despite his rejection of avoidance as a tactic, Janus couldn't say that he hadn't...withdrawn, somewhat. Subtly, unfortunately noticeably, a distance had crept in there that was emotional rather than literal. It had been easier to manage in the beginning, when it had been simple enough to explain away with his first few excuses, but it had become somewhat more unmistakable once those excuses had begun to form a pattern. Saying that he was allowing Logan and Virgil the space to develop their relationship without him looming over it like an unwanted chaperon had become an easy to reach for favorite, and it wasn't even entirely a lie. After all, he had certainly enjoyed being there to watch their relationship bloom at the start, but now that Janus was seeing the fruit of it ripen beyond his reach, it hardly seemed so sweet. But it wouldn't have been fair to spoil things for them just because he was left with a sour taste in his mouth.
Of course, there was never a chance of his being able to hide his discomfort forever. But knowing that he had slipped—knowing that they had noticed—put him not one step closer to knowing what he should have done about it.
The one thing Janus refused to do was tell them the truth. He wouldn't allow his jealousy to disrupt things, even if it did eventually come down to removing himself from both of their lives—as much as his marriage to Logan would even make that possible.
And yet, despite the size of the palace and his own best efforts to give the two the space they deserved, Janus often found them exactly where he least expected to. He had already begun to treat the main library as practically off-limits, as that was typically where Logan went for solitude when he hadn't simply locked himself within his study, but he frequently ran into his husband and Virgil sharing a moment in the smaller one near the solarium on more than one occasion. The solarium itself had also, lamentably, become lost territory, ceded to the enjoyment of the loving couple. Janus had taken, instead, to long walks in the gardens on the palace grounds after that, though eventually he had begun to run into the two lovebirds there as well…
Ultimately, Janus had decided that this approach was futile. And, if he was bound to fail anyway, then at the very least he could reclaim his warm afternoons spent reading in the solarium, regardless of whatever company he might be forced to endure there...
(Because while a good book and a bottle of wine certainly weren't going to take his mind off of his troubles for very long, they were still by far one of the most effective and pleasant ways that he had of painlessly passing the time.)
Which...was where he had been headed when he managed to overhear a bit of conversation taking place in the library nearby.
"Go ahead," he had heard Virgil say. "I'm listening."
And he had heard Logan sigh—somewhat uncharacteristic in his exaggeration of it, which was what had initially caused Janus to stop and listen when normally he might have chosen to flee, curious as to what could inspire that kind of a response from the usually, pointedly, stoic man.
"I'm afraid I must regretfully inform you," Logan answered solemnly, "that I seem to have fallen in love with my husband."
Which of course, immediately set a stone in Janus's gut. On the one hand, a part of him was pleased—excited, elated—by the thought that Logan might truly feel for him that way. Another was prepared for the punchline—after all, it wasn't uncommon, with the subtle rarity of Logan's humor, to miss when he was joking. And yet another was dreading what he would be forced to confront if those words were true—because if there was even a chance that Logan was considering breaking things off with Virgil to pursue those feelings then...well, Janus would have to refuse him. Even if it tore his heart out...
But all of this was clearly putting himself ahead of things, because Virgil's response was a snort.
"My condolences," Virgil said.
Which might have been enough for Janus to convince himself that Logan had been joking, after all, if he had been serious, Virgil would have had so much more to say about it, wouldn't he? Except...
Except Virgil did apparently have more to say.
"He's such an idiot," Virgil said, though, somehow, not without affection.
"That...hardly seems fair," Logan said. "Or appropriate."
Though as defenses went, it certainly wasn't a spirited one. And Janus could guess that Virgil made some response, though clearly a non-verbal one, perhaps an eyebrow raise or something more dramatic, as after a pause and another sigh Logan added:
"Alright, I suppose he is a bit... Well. That still's still not the word that I would use."
"Only because you don't know him well enough yet to insult him properly," Virgil said.
Which earned him a brief laugh.
"Perhaps," Logan said.
And, in all of their rather unflatteringly familiar discussion of him, Janus had almost managed to forget the initial bombshell that had drawn him into listening to their exchange in the first place.
"What do you plan to do about it?" Virgil asked him.
"What do you think that I should do about it?" was Logan's reply.
There was a rather long pause, and then, following it, a long, tired exhale.
"You should tell him," Virgil said firmly. "You have to tell him. God knows he's never going to pick up on it if you don't..."
"You could-"
"No, I- It's fine," Virgil said. "It's far too late for that. If the chance was ever there, I'm pretty sure I missed it."
"You say that, and yet, it is clear that he cares for you deeply."
"I know that he does," Virgil said. "And...he's a good friend, when he doesn't get himself tied up in his own head-"
"You do have that in common," Logan observed.
Though his words seemed to mostly go ignored as Virgil continued over him.
"But we both know that's not-"
His words cut off abruptly. Janus couldn't imagine why, but Logan seemed to have some idea of the cause that he did not.
"I'm sorry," Logan said softly, a few moments later. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I don't have to-"
"No," Virgil said. "Please. If...you think you could find happiness with him then, please tell him."
"I wouldn't be 'finding my happiness'," Logan insisted. "I'm already happy. I may want more, but I don't need more."
"Well, you should have your chance to get it anyway," Virgil said. "You didn't waste your last chance to confess your love for him throwing a stupid tantrum-"
And he truly was dense, because it wasn't until that exact moment that the pieces of their conversation finally came together. Now, the picture they made stared Janus accusingly in the eye and dared him not to blink. In fact, the realization was so startling that the bottle he was carrying slipped suddenly through numb fingers, falling to the floor with a crash. And Janus knew that the smart thing probably would have been to continue on, before he could be spotted—if nothing else, he had an easy excuse to run off and call for a servant to come clean up his stupid mess. Instead he found himself trapped, standing there frozen, stunned and stupid, as his husband and his oldest friend both rushed to investigate the noise.
Two pairs of eyes now were watching him, one with undisguised concern, the other in sheer, white-faced panic, no doubt still hearing the echo of his own words ringing loudly in his ears. And yet, for once in all the years of their friendship, Janus doubted that Virgil's panic in that moment held a candle to his own, because right now, staring back at them, he found himself looking, also, into the face of what must have been the most monumental fuck-up he had ever made in his life...
For the longest time, no one spoke, and the silence was broken first by the arrival of guards to the scene of the commotion. That, at least, managed to shake Logan out of it, as he was thankfully able to find the words necessary to dismiss their concerns for his and Janus's safety. Once the guards were appeased, Logan had them summon a servant to deal with the glass and that was when Virgil, apparently, found his own cue in pulling Janus into the library.
Neither of them spoke, once inside. At last Logan returned to them, restoring the silent tableau of only moments before.
They were waiting, it seemed, for Janus to take his turn at being a functional participant of this whole mess, but at this point Janus was starting to doubt he ever properly had been.
"It's been brought to my attention," Janus managed eventually, once the rapid heartbeat of his earlier panic finally began to slow, "that I may, in fact, actually be an idiot."
And it wasn't as if he was unaware that the situation was a serious one, but he still thought he could have expected a laugh out of Virgil. Instead, his friend still watched him closely, as if he were some unfamiliar beast that he was expecting to pounce.
"Your noted pattern of trying to defuse tension with questionable humor aside," Logan said, "I believe that there is...quite a lot that we need to talk about."
It may not have been an "attempt at questionable humor" on Logan's part, but his words, the directness of them, still forced Janus to let out a snort.
"I can't imagine what you might be talking about..." Janus joked shakily. "I mean, it's not as if-"
But the energy behind the attempted quip died out almost as quickly as it had arisen, leaving him staring at Virgil who still, silently, stared back at him as if he were waiting for Janus to deliver some sort of sentence for his punishment.
(Though, if he actually understood the words he had overheard properly, Janus couldn't imagine a worse punishment than giving Virgil what he apparently, somehow, foolishly wanted.)
"Did you mean it?" Janus asked, shaken and unable to help himself. "Did you- Do you-"
Virgil hesitated, visibly reluctant and half looking like he wanted to flee.
"I mean- Y-yeah?"
And Janus didn't mark it exactly, but he thought that there must have been a moment when he wavered, because what he did notice next was Logan, at his side, guiding him to sit down onto a settee. Then again, perhaps it wasn't a moment of unsteadiness on Janus's part that had motivated him so much as his very obvious frustration, for Logan then motioned for Virgil to take the seat beside him, a stern expression on his face. And whatever other feelings or fears that Virgil was fighting with in this moment, even they weren't enough for him to argue.
"The two of you are going to talk about this," Logan insisted plainly. "As much as I admire the both of you, I am growing quite tired of this...mutual avoidance and tendency to dance around your emotions."
And Janus may have been unsteady, but it would take a lot more than having his world turned on its head to stop him from making a retort.
"Bold words for a man who just admitted to having fallen for me as if he were confessing to a capital crime," he said.
Logan stood up a little straighter, adjusting his spectacles in the way he always did when unmistakably bothered about something, but at least he didn't dare to deny it.
"Yes, well," he managed. "As I said, there is...quite a lot to discuss."
"I didn't want to make anything awkward," Virgil said suddenly at his side. "I know you never really...talked about love, or even marriage before your parents forced your hand. So I just- I didn't want to make it anything you had to worry about."
"By 'it' I assume you mean..." Janus prodded carefully, still trying to find his footing in this whole mess.
"I...I've had feelings for you," Virgil said. "I have for...a real long time."
He wasn't looking at Janus when he said it, mind, but at least now the words were said.
"I see."
"And I, too, wouldn't want to make you feel...pressured into anything you don't want," Logan said. "I understood from the beginning what the purpose of our marriage was, and I both was and am relieved to have found friendship within it. My own feelings aside, you owe me nothing more than what you have already agreed to give."
And it was at that point that Janus lost the last of his composure, covering his face with his hands...
"I am going to scream," Janus said, slowly, the words muffled by his hands.
(And Janus had many regrets, but among them was the wish that he could have seen their reaction, but alas, it was an imperfect world that they all lived in.)
He did not, in fact, scream, though it was a very close battle. When he finally did look up at the both of them, it was to two expressions of disarmed panic that, while not identical, were very closely related. Logan seemed half convinced that the situation was about to spiral, but Virgil's panic was more subdued, because he probably recognized the moment for what it was...
It was far from the first time he had seen Janus reach his absolute limit with his own and everyone else's stupidity.
"I never even let myself think about it," Janus said, fumbling for words. "I never let myself think about love or a marriage outside of...duty. I never told you, Virgil, but my parents let me know that a marriage for the kingdom was a possibility a long time ago. A long time ago. I've...had a lot of time to make my peace with that. And...I thought that was mature of me, that I never let it be a problem. I-"
He faltered for only a moment before forcing himself to look at Virgil.
"I don't think I even realized that I could want something like that until I actually saw what it looked like," Janus said. "And by then...well. I was fully convinced I'd given up my chance to ever have it."
"Wait-" Virgil said suddenly. "Do you mean you-"
His words cut off as Janus reached out to take his hand—to take both of their hands.
"What I mean," Janus said, looking between the two of them, "is that all three of us clearly do have...quite a lot we need to talk about."
From the way both hands tightened on his own, from the tears beginning to gleam in Virgil's eyes and the soft expression he saw in Logan's, Janus had his hopes that none of them would leave that conversation disappointed.