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“I confess, I’ve never been as good to you as I should’ve.” Janus blinks.
“What’re you talking about?” He asks, his words thick with confusion.
“I’ve never treated you the way you should’ve been treated. I’m so sorry for that, Jan.”
“Remus is this another one of your jokes?” Janus asks, confused by the uncharacteristically serious expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Because if so, I am not amused. I don’t know what you’re going on about.”
He can’t wrap his head around it. Just minutes ago they’d been making pleasant conversation over dinner and now here they sit, an uncomfortable silence looming over them. He wonders, for a moment, if this is Remus’s strange, convoluted attempt to breach the topic of a breakup. The thought of them ending things is something that shakes Janus to his core, and it certainly would be coming out of the blue.
“There’s so much I should have said,” Remus continues, ignoring the question altogether, “So much I should’ve done…” He trails off, his face twisted into a sad, contemplative expression. Janus wonders for a moment if there’s a chance that he knows – no. No, of course not. He's been so careful.
Janus pokes at his dinner with his fork, his appetite having left him.
“Dear,” his eyes are still on his plate as he says this, slow and cautious, “What exactly are you trying to say?” Remus remains silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice booming with newfound determination.
“I’m saying: I’m going to try harder this time. To speak my mind and tell you exactly how I feel. I promise I won't keep anything from you anymore."
Now that’s odd. Janus hasn’t ever been under the impression that Remus has been keeping anything from him. His boyfriend is an open book as far as he’s concerned and someone who rarely shies away from dishonesty. Remus has his moments of repulsiveness where he probably shouldn't say absolutely everything that pops into his head, but truthfully, Janus has always admired Remus’s candidness. He’s unabashedly himself with confidence that most people could only dream of.
Now though, Remus’s words are alarmingly vague. He’s dancing around something, but the tense air of the room tells Janus he shouldn’t prod any further, at least not right now.
Still, when he looks at Remus his boyfriend is wearing a smile so infectiously bright Janus can’t help but join in. Come to think of it, he can’t recall a time that he’s seen Remus look so genuinely happy. He’s seen many manic grins as Remus types up a storm of yet another horror novel, his boyfriend slicing up characters and writing bloody ending after bloody ending. He’s seen twisted smiles and false ones, but a smile that exhibits such glee? Janus hasn’t seen that in quite a while, and it lifts his spirits to see Remus so happy, even if he fails to understand the cause.
He decides that he’ll breach the subject tomorrow and allow Remus to enjoy the relief he must be feeling for admitting...whatever it is he just admitted.
“Then you do that, dearest,” he decides on a nice, non-threatening string of words sure to appease his boyfriend, “You should know you can always be honest with me.”
Remus doesn’t respond to that, but Janus takes the smile on his face to mean that he understands all the same.
The couple go through the rest of the evening as happily as ever. They have a couple of drinks and watch one of Remus’s favorite horror movies, which only seems to elate his mood even more so. Whatever’s going on in that head of his, a question Janus rarely knows the answer to, it seems like things are going to be just fine.
They almost forget all about the conversation altogether, at least Janus does. That is until they lie down in bed together and Remus shuts out the lights. Before Janus can even get out a “Goodnight,” Remus’s hands are around his throat beginning to squeeze.
Janus thrashes, gasping for air that’s impossible to intake, trying to break the hold. He kicks and squirms, but Remus’s grip is unrelenting and it’s only tightening as the seconds crawl on, like a boa constricting its victim.
“I’m speaking my mind now, dearest!” Remus shouts manically, and Janus begins to go light-headed. “I’m acting on my feelings, too! I’m treating you how you deserve to be treated, you cheating son of a bitch! You didn’t think I’d find out you were screwing my brother? You fucking piece of shit! But don’t you worry, your dear Romeo won’t be far off. Once I’m finished with you I plan to cut him into tiny little pieces! Red always was his color, after all!”
Oh, Janus thinks with the last bit of thought he has left. He hadn’t even known Remus had suspected a thing. The absence of his smile, Remus’s writing becoming even more grotesque and violent recently. How could he be so foolish to not read through the lines? Janus prided himself in his ability to lie, but it seems he must’ve lost his touch somewhere along the way.
He thinks of his boyfriend’s writing. This demise is so much more minimalistic than most of the killings he describes. There’s no blood, there’s no gore, just a pair of hands around his jugular and a loss of airflow. Will Roman’s death be as flashy as he describes? Will Remus really cut his twin into “tiny little pieces,” strewing his organs and severed limbs across the lawn and laughing all the while? Will Remus paint himself in the crimson of Roman's blood, his smile unyielding?
Janus tries, in vain, to wiggle free one last time, imagining his face turning blue in the darkness before his consciousness begins to break.
He thinks lastly of how even in all of his demented writing, Janus had never imagined Remus was capable of anything of this level. He’d written of so many atrocities, but Janus had always thought of him as harmless in comparison. A fatal mistake, it would seem. The last sound Janus hears is that of Remus laughing over him, loud and joyful before the darkness envelopes him.
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