Chapter Text
It was a chill fall day. Janus can just about make out a myriad of colours in the trees but beyond that, his brain refuses to connect with reality right now. Most likely it’s protesting the lack of energy in his body, not having managed to eat in…..seven days? Or is it eight? Long enough that Janus’s hand is shaking, still he’s struggling to find it in him to be really all that invested in the problem, and there’s no motivation to search for a solution.
Details are fuzzy, just out of reach as he stares aimlessly, oblivious to the passing young lady’s look of concern. As soon as she’s out of sight, her life continues and she pays him no more mind. Seems right. Seems normal. Hurts, but fits in with….’normal’. He hates normal.
There’s sunlight on him, softly golden, gently warming, soaking into his skin but barely reaching the cold inside. Janus’s head throbs, and he slumps forward, hands reaching to cradle his head. He’s supposed to be doing something right now, something important but he can’t remember what and it hurts.
His chest aches, hollow, empty, just like his head, but that space feels normal, like it’s always been there. He can’t focus and honestly all he wants right now is to lie down and fall asleep. And hey, if he doesn’t have to wake up again, that would be pretty nice.
“You alright?” A voice. A person. Someone in front of him. Someone stopped. Gazing up, Janus blinks, short black hair, a scar on his eyebrow, and one on his nose. A stranger? What do they…?.
Raising a hand, Janus tries to dismiss his question, mumbling something that may have been intended to be words but didn’t manage to match them in any way. He’s fine. No need for some stranger to forgo something important like walking their dog just to check on him. He’s almost gone anyway. Better to let him die with dignity, feeling some vague semblance of connection even if it’s completely fake.
The person says something else and suddenly Janus’s moving, arms from out of nowhere holding him tight. One around his back, the other hooked under his legs as he’s hoisted up. It’s so easy to just lean back into the hold, his limbs hanging loose as he’s….carried….? …moved…? All he knows is he’s not on the bench any more and moving actually makes him want to vomit.
He settles for passing out instead.