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“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to get out of this fucking hellhole.” Virgil scowled, lounging back on the worn couch.
“Where would you go? Thomas isn’t ready to hear about us, and it’s not like the core sides want us there.” Janus frowned, something in his chest twisting when he heard Virgil’s dejected sigh.
“He might be ready. For you, not me. It’ll be- it’ll be entertainment. But-”
“Really?” Virgil cut in, and the hope on his face was almost enough to make Janus’s apprehension melt away.
“They won’t like it though. They might… hurt you, or something.”
“Oh…”
“I’m going.” his face was set, and Janus knew he couldn’t change his decision.
“Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Virgil rolled his eyes, flashing a smile to Janus.
“I won’t.”
“Jan, you should join us up there. They’re amazing.” Virgil said, after a Q&A for Thomas’s YouTube channel.
“J, they’re really cool. They actually listen to me sometimes!” Virgil said, after hissing at Logan in a debate. Hissing the way Janus had taught him.
“Dee.” Virgil confronted him after becoming a cartoon villain for less than a minute.
“Yes?” Janus answered, heart heavy as he waited for Virgil’s next sentence.
“Can you move my room? Closer to them?” And Janus knew something like this was coming, but it still hurt. A lot.
Feeling like something was constricting around his chest, Janus nodded.
“Well yeah, Thomas’s friends make me feel more at ease... But Thomas lying would make me just as uneasy. And anyone who doesn't understand that should just shut up!”
Virgil was gone.
Janus had always enjoyed myths, the tales woven throughout history with complex morals and symbolism. He’d even chosen his own name from a Roman god, loving how it held a greater meaning than just the name of a portion of one man’s mind.
But now, he noticed that his life was turning into a particularly ironic mirror of the tale of Icarus.
His son. The side he’d raised as his own, the side whom he’d kill for to see the bright purple eyeshadow again, the side whom he loved.
The side who had left him on his wax wings that Janus had helped him make. The side that had flown away, and the old Virgil who was dead now, replaced by a side that hated Janus.
And now, Janus was alone. Mourning the shattered pieces of a relationship he hadn’t noticed withering until it was much too late.
And he cried out in grief as he watched Virgil sing songs and have family movie nights and horribly fail in the kitchen but still have fun as they tried to salvage over-salted cookies.
Virgil flew too high, and now he was gone.