Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a normal morning. 

Janus woke up to the sound of something shattering, which meant he had overslept. He preferred to get up at dawn so he could enjoy the few moments of peace before Remus woke up. Today he would just have to hope he could get to the kitchen in one piece. 

With great reluctance, he pushed his blankets off and got out of bed, immediately switching his pajamas out for his normal outfit. The cape and gloves didn’t really provide any warmth, but it eased the constant chill nonetheless. He plucked his hat from the nightstand and made sure he looked presentable in his mirror. As always, the scales stuck out like an ugly burn that was best left ignored.

Opening his door revealed a surprisingly normal hallway, and walking out into it didn’t trigger some sort of beheading device. Janus breathed out a sigh of relief, making his way to the kitchen with less trepidation. 

That’s odd. He knew better than to let his guard down when it came to Remus.

Yet even after telling himself that, he felt perfectly at ease.

Janus was perplexed, but he shook it off. He was having an off day, that was all. A strong cup of coffee should get his head cleared. 

Remus was going through the cupboards, smashing every breakable thing he found. He whirled around to stare at Janus—by contorting his spine in a way Janus didn’t want to consider for too long—with a mug in his hands. The last mug. Janus narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to threaten him, but the mug joined the other remains on the floor before he could talk. 

There went any hope of a salvageable morning. Janus was going to strangle him. 

“You’re particularly infuriating this morning,” he hissed. “Bad dreams?

Remus beamed. “The worst!”

Janus groaned. Looking around, their resident stormcloud was nowhere to be found, which was hardly surprising. He never left his room when Remus was making so much noise. Pity. Misery loved company, and all that.

Remus suddenly popped up in front of him, far too close to his face. “Hey Double-Dee, guess what?” 

Janus scowled and none-too-kindly shoved Remus away from him. The duke fell onto the broken glass; Janus winced, while Remus just grinned, waving his (now bloodied) hands around excitedly. 

“I got full creative control!”

“....What.”

“Is your hearing going? Is it ‘cause of all those explosions? I told you to get away from them.”

“Okay, first of all, you told me that after setting them off right next to me, Remus—”

“Whatever.”

“—And second of all, how can you possibly have complete creative control?”

Remus shrugged, completely unconcerned. “Dunno, I tried checking up on my dear brother, but I think all of them are having another weird existential debate. Not my problem!” He chirped. If Janus ignored the way he was playing with shards of glass, he almost looked like a little kid again. 

“Okayyyy,” Janus said slowly. “So the light sides are having their weekly dilemma, that doesn’t explain why Virgil isn’t pitching a fit right now. You know how he gets about your stronger ideas.”

Remus froze.

Well, that wasn’t a good sign. “What is it?” He was expecting his voice to come out pathetically worried, but it was strangely calm. Why wasn’t he worried?

“...I haven’t seen Vee,” Remus mumbled, looking dazed. 

Janus raised an eyebrow. “So? He doesn’t like noise, and he rarely gets up before noon anyways. How is that concerning?”

“No, no...I should’ve seen him at some point by now…he always gets pissy about this, he should’ve…” Remus was visibly spiraling, arms twitching and lip starting to bleed from where his sharp teeth were cutting into his mouth. 

Janus made a soft sound to get Remus’ attention before he slowly leaned down and waved away the glass on the floor as well as Remus’ small injuries. The duke looked even more lost without the pain, and it was one of the few things that could break Deceit’s heart. “I’ll go check on him, alright?” he murmured, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder to help ground him. “I’m sure he’s perfectly alright. Probably just playing his loud music to drown you out.”

Remus didn’t lose the cloudiness in his eyes, but his body slumped. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Janus repeated, patting his shoulder once before getting up.

It was only slightly less unwise to leave Remus alone right now than it would be to run the chance of ignoring Virgil during an episode. And admittedly, Janus had an uneasy feeling about their stormcloud’s absence, though he couldn’t quite figure out why.

Virgil’s door looked the same as always, at least, a relief that was short lived because the door was locked. They rarely locked their doors unless they were fighting. Had Remus upset him somehow?

A bit annoyed now, Janus simply appeared in Anxiety’s room. 

“Virgil?” He called out. The room remained cold, dark, and worryingly empty. Janus unintentionally shivered. He didn’t particularly like staying in here very long. 

There was no response.

Janus crossed his arms. “Virgil, stop hiding. I’m here to check on you.” Silence. “Remus is worried about you.” Silence. “Oh for God’s sake, Virgil, just show me you’re not dead!”

“Not yet. Sorry to disappoint.”

Janus turned to face the figure on the stairs, his glare immediately softening into a questioning look. Wait...what did he just say? 

“The concern is sweet n’ all, but I’m kinda in the middle of something, so—”

“What are you doing?” Janus interrupted. His gut told him to panic panic panic, and he couldn’t exactly ignore it in this room.

Virgil glowered at him. “None of your business. It won’t take long, just go back to your coffee or whatever.”

The room was so much darker than usual. Colder. Some of Virgil’s stuff was missing, making the room feel foreign. Janus had a very strong suspicion, but for once he wanted nothing more than to be wrong. “Virgil,” he whispered. Virgil tensed up, looking at him like he would start yelling. Did he think that? “What...are you doing.” Tell me I’m being stupid. Tell me I’m overreacting. Tell me you were just busy redecorating. 

Virgil’s gaze lowered to his feet. Janus could see his hands curling into fists.

“Virgil.”

“....I’m ducking out,” he grumbled, scuffing his shoes on the floor. 

No. No, no no no —

“No.”

Virgil’s head jerked up, shock painted across his face. A second later it was hastily covered up by annoyance. “No?” he repeated, sneering.

Janus clenched his jaw, the hopelessness fading. “No,” he affirmed, staring Virgil down as sternly as he could. As kindly as he could. It seemed Virgil didn’t appreciate the gesture, since his eyes lit up with anger. It was....oddly relieving. Janus could deal with angry outbursts. He could not deal with emptiness. 

“You can’t stop me,” Virgil spat. A distant part of Janus’ brain compared the sight to an angry little raccoon.

Then the more lucid part of Janus’ brain caught up. He snorted, though there was no humor in it. He knew he should be terrified, maybe even crying, but right now all he could feel was anger. “Oh, Virgil.” he laughed bitterly, taking a few steps towards the anxious side. “You act like you don’t know me.”

His heart hurt, seeing Virgil lean away from him, but not enough to overpower the voice in his head screaming you need to save him. He could see vulnerability shining behind the cracks in the walls Virgil was so desperately trying to build between them.

He softened, just slightly. If anything, it only made Virgil look more terrified. “Darling,” he murmured, walking closer. “I can. And I will.”

Virgil’s breathing sounded ragged. “No, you can’t. You won’t .”

There was the anger again. “You expect me to stand by while you kill yourself?” He snapped, pointedly ignoring the way Virgil winced. The reality of the situation was so far out of his reach. Truths were not his forte, and he decided that was for the best.  

“Just leave me alone!” 

“No! Why are you doing this?”

“BECAUSE I’M USELESS!” Virgil yelled, and only now did Janus notice the tears running down his face. He always hated crying. He said he spent too much time on his eyeshadow to ruin it. “BECAUSE NOBODY—“ Virgil’s voice cracked. 

“....Nobody….?” Janus prompted, carefully getting closer. His stormcloud didn’t lash out, so he reached out and pulled him into a hug. 

Virgil seemed to give up all at once, his whole body going limp and his head falling into Deceit’s chest. “Nobody wants me. Nobody likes me.” Virgil’s voice came out broken. Resigned. Janus tightened his embrace, trying to keep his heart rate normal so Virgil wouldn’t notice. 

“That’s not true,” he whispered hoarsely into Virgil’s hair. All he got in response was a weak laugh. He pulled away slightly, summoning a second pair of arms to cradle Virgil’s face while the other held him. “Virgil, it’s not . Remus and I love you. Do you have any idea how devastated we’d be if you…” he trailed off, unable to even say the words. 

Virgil tensed up for a second before slumping over again. “You’d be fine without me. You’d get over it.”

Janus stiffened. “No,” he hissed into Virgil’s ear. His grip was probably bruising, but he feared that if he let go, even a little, Virgil would slip away and disappear. Virgil would kill himself because he thought he was unwanted. Unnecessary . The thought alone was so absurd that Janus wanted to laugh. Instead he just felt numb. 

He felt furious.

He felt like he might start crying.

In the end, he simply sat there, running a hand through Virgil’s hair; it was soothing for both of them. “Thomas needs you,” he heard himself say. “If you can’t believe me right now when I say you’re loved, at least believe me when I say you’re needed.”

“Thomas hates me. And…I think maybe he’s right to. I thought I was protecting him, but all I seem to do is hurt him. Maybe I’m not necessary. Maybe I’d help him most by leaving.”

“Then he is a fool,” Janus spat. “They all are. You are necessary, Virgil, do you hear me? If you were gone, the others would let us walk into oncoming traffic by the next morning.” A muffled snort from Virgil—Janus counted it as a victory. “He needs you, even if he is too obtuse to admit it. They need you, even if they are too ignorant to accept it. We need you.”

Virgil’s grip on his shirt went slack, his head shaking back and forth in disagreement  without any words to accompany it. This close, Janus could feel his back shaking with the effort it took to repress coughs. He traced patterns on Virgil’s hoodie, nonsensical things that would give him something else to focus on.

“You’re upset,” Virgil eventually mumbled. Janus couldn’t read the tone of his voice.

“Not at you, stormcloud,” he soothed. “I’m not upset with you.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I be, dear? It’s not your fault you feel this way.” Janus inhaled sharply, a horrible epiphany hitting him like a brick. Finally, the tears started. “...It’s ours, isn’t it? We’ve failed you if you think those things are true. And for that, I’m upset at myself...and I’m so very sorry .”

By now he was clutching Virgil to his chest so tightly that his stormcloud had trouble twisting himself out of the embrace. Janus resisted for a second out of some overwhelming, instinctual fear, but he eventually released him with great reluctance. He made sure he still had two hands on his shoulders. If he had no contact at all, he might have fallen apart right there. 

“It’s not your fault.” Virgil was trying to glare menacingly up at him. To Janus, it looked more like a pout. The corners of his mouth twitched up, which made Virgil narrow his eyes. “It’s not! You and Remus didn’t—” he took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. “You and Ree didn’t do anything. I promise.”

“Well, if it wasn’t us then who could have possibly...” he trailed off. 

Oh.

Oh.

God, Janus knew he never should have let Virgil play house with them. He wouldn’t make such a stupid mistake again. 

“Dude, I can’t breathe,” Virgil complained, trying to push him away. Janus looked at the foot of space between them (which was already too much for his liking, thank you very much) and raised an eyebrow at his stormcloud.

“I’m barely touching you, dear.”

Virgil scoffed, but Janus could tell he was too exhausted to put any force behind it. Sure enough, when Janus stood up and softly coaxed him into laying in bed, he barely even said anything. He was always a bit out of it after a panic attack.

Which worked out splendidly, because Janus really didn’t need him to get in his way while he sorted everything out. 

He looked down at Virgil, who looked troubled even in sleep, and then he left the room. He was sure to lock it behind him—the type that only he could get through.

Chapter Text

The second Janus was out of the room, he felt all the adrenaline drain from his body, leaving behind only grief and anger and despair. It didn’t take long for a side to fade completely if they decided to duck out—if Janus hadn’t happened to go check on him because Remus happened to wake him up...

He felt ill. Unwilling to waste time on his own feelings, he shoved the thoughts down and forced himself to keep walking.

Remus was sitting on the couch now, eerily still, staring at the dark TV screen as if something captivating was playing. Sighing, Janus walked into the room with heavy footsteps so Remus would be sure to hear him. 

Remus’ head jerked up fast enough to snap a normal person’s neck. His green eyes were lit up with a hope that died as soon as he took one look at Janus’ miserable form. “Where’s Vee?” he asked. It was uncharacteristically quiet and horrifically vulnerable, and Janus didn’t like it one bit. 

“He’s in his room,” he replied as calmly as he could. It would be ideal if he could spare Remus from the truth, make up a little story to soothe his worries, but Remus was staring at him with an intensity that screamed I need to know right now and somehow Remus knew all of his tells when he got like this. Sighing, Janus took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as when he’d done it to Virgil a few minutes ago. “He…” the words caught in his throat. He screwed his eyes shut like a coward so he wouldn’t have to see Remus’ face. “He tried to duck out.”

Even with his eyes closed, Janus could practically see Remus’ reaction; shock and terror were rolling off of him in waves, and his breath caught in his throat a few times before stopping altogether. Still too cowardly to look up, Janus blindly reached out until he found the ridiculous frilly fabric on the duke’s shoulder. 

“He’s in his room,” he repeated, as if that would reassure them both. Thankfully, he heard Remus finally inhale. “He’s in his room, he’s sleeping, and he’s safe. I locked the door. They can’t get to him ever again.”

Remus stiffened. “They?”

Ah, right. This was a delicate matter, since Remus would want to go on a murderous rampage the second he realized what happened. Janus wasn’t against that, but he needed Remus to stay here to watch Virgil while he sorted things out, and he doubted homicidal energy would be ideal for Virgil’s current mental state. 

“I’m going to preemptively ask you to stay in Virgil’s room and keep him safe, Remus.” He finally opened his eyes, taking in the painful storm of emotions crossing Remus’ face. Remus clenched his jaw. Janus knew he was nearly as smart as Logic behind all that childish insanity. They stared each other down for a few minutes until Remus reluctantly nodded. “Good, thank you. He can’t be left alone right now.”

“Was it Roman?”

Janus sighed again. “I have no idea, I just know it was them .” He spat the word out like poison, which it damn well was in his humble opinion. “I’m going up there now to figure out exactly what happened. Which is why you need to stay here and—”

“And keep him safe, I know,” Remus huffed. “I can listen sometimes. I’m not letting anyone come near him ever again.”

Janus noted the fury burning in Remus’ eyes and smiled appreciatively. “Very good.”

He lead Remus back to Virgil’s room in tense silence. When they got to the door, Janus turned to him, opening his mouth to reinforce how serious this situation was. Remus wasn’t the fool everyone else took him for, no, but it never hurt to take precautions.

Remus knew what that look meant and Janus was a bit surprised to see he was insulted. Eliciting such an emotion from Remus was a near impossible task. “It’s Vee,” he said, scowling. “I’m not letting any of those assholes come near him ever again. Don’t make me include you in that too, ‘cuz I will!” 

It took Janus a few seconds too long to realize he was just blinking at Remus like an idiot instead of saying anything. “Yes, yes of course. I’m sorry,” he placated. Strangely enough, he realized he genuinely was.

Remus just rolled his eyes and made a ‘hurry up’ motion with his hands. The Duke disappeared without any fanfare as soon as Janus waved a hand to unlock the room. 

Now onto the rest of them.

Predictably, the three light sides were lounging around as if it was a perfectly normal day, as if nothing was wrong at all. Virgil had tried to end it all for himself while these clods were having a nice family breakfast, huh? It truly was a shame that they were all necessary for optimal functioning, otherwise nothing would be stopping Janus from tearing them to shreds. 

Being in the light side always made his skin crawl—it was akin to the feeling he got when Virgil showed him pictures of ‘liminal spaces’, which the conspiracy theorist believed to be some sort of glimpse into purgatory. Janus had tried explaining the phenomena, but Virgil was never a very rational conversation partner. A smile twitched onto Janus’ face despite himself. 

Then Morality entered the main room and his face shuttered closed. Right. He was here for a reason. Focus. 

“Roman, is that— Oh! Deceit! Hi!” Even though the fool was shuffling his feet nervously as he spoke, somehow the dopey grin on his face wasn’t entirely fabricated. “What’re you, uh, doing here? Not that you’re not welcome or an—”

“I’m here strictly for necessity,” Deceit cut in with a terse smile, not masking the annoyance from his voice. Virgil had said Morality was stupidly kind. It was amusing to imagine, especially imagining such unwarranted affection being thrown at Anxiety, but right now it was simply grating on already frayed nerves. 

“Did something happen?” Morality asked, worry shining behind his glasses. Janus grimaced. Okay, maybe Morality wasn’t part of the problem. Janus doubted he was capable of such cruelty anyways, but seeing the immediate concern was damning evidence. Or whatever the opposite of damning evidence is. Absolving evidence?

Dear lord, FOCUS. This is for Virgil.

Right, yes, of course.

Deceit sneered, taking a purposefully intimidating step towards the father figment. When Morality took a step back in turn, he bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, did something happen? Gee, I wonder…” He hummed, mockingly tapping his chin as if in contemplation. “Oh, that’s right! Perhaps you noticed the sudden absence in the mindscape?”

“Sudden absence…?”

“Yes, Morality, do keep up,” Deceit snapped. 

“Hey, leave him alone you vile fiend! Begone!” Ah, there was the somehow-even-worse Creativity, leaping in front of Morality. A noble gesture if there had been any immediate threat, but as it was, the prince just looked idiotic.

“How nice of you to join us. Perhaps you have been a bit more keen than Morality, hm?”

“Stop speaking in riddles!”

Deceit would swear he could feel his blood boiling. How on earth had Virgil put up with this for all those videos? “Apologies,” he replied smoothly. “I hadn’t realized my manner of speaking was too advanced for your comprehension. Let me dumb it down.”

He took another step forward. Amusingly, the prince took a sharp step backwards, and almost knocked Morality over by doing so. 

“There’s been something missing from the mindscape for a little while now. I was only curious if you ‘light’ sides had caught on yet.” 

Morality gasped. “Oh no! Did something get stolen?”

Janus turned to face him with piercing eyes. No, he certainly wasn’t at fault for Virgil’s beliefs...but Janus still wasn’t inclined to offer any mercy. “Nearly. Luckily, I retrieved it before it could be lost.”

Creativity groaned loudly. “Why do you have to talk so spooky and ominous? Just say why you’re here, snake! We don’t have all day!”

A new voice piped up, alerting them to the newcomer. The final light side. “Is Anxiety...alright?” The question was stated plainly, belying the concern hidden within the words. 

Janus heard laughter, and a few seconds later he realized it could only be his laughter. It was empty, and chilling. “Is Anxiety alright,” he repeated incredulously, rolling the words over his tongue. “Is Anxiety alright! That’s a very good question, Logic. And it’s not one that’s occurred to any of you before, is it?”

He noticed Morality was shaking. “D-Did something happen to the kiddo? Is he okay?”

“I would also like to know,” Logic said, walking to stand next to Morality. “You did not answer my question, and that is...an unideal response.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Unideal?” He parroted mockingly.

Logic narrowed his eyes. “Insufficient,” he corrected. “Is Anxiety alright?”

“Oh Anxiety’s just fine now. None of you need to worry your pretty little heads about him ever again.” It was a threat thinly veiled as condolence, and even these idiots picked up on it. 

Logic clenched his hands into fists, as did the prince. Deceit smirked. He was itching for any excuse to lash out at them.

But then Morality went and burst into tears.

“Oh God, is he—is he—” The father figment choked on his words, sniffling too much to talk clearly. The prince moved to reassure him. Janus just cringed away.

“No. No thanks to you three,” he added with open venom.

Creativity jolted away from Morality, looking at Deceit with wide, furious eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, villain?” The prince asked, danger humming just underneath the surface of his voice.

“I’m not speaking in riddles, Whimsy. It means exactly what you think it means. But since the three of you have proven to be unthinkably stupid, I suppose I should spell it out. Just to make sure.” He stepped closer, once, then twice. None of them even moved back this time, watching him with open horror. It brought warmth to his heart. “Our darling Anxiety ducked out in the early hours of this morning. After I awoke, I noticed and brought him back, but it had likely been hours by that point already. His weak state was the only reason he didn’t fight me kicking and screaming.” Another step closer. “He insisted he was unwanted, unneeded, unlovable. He insisted it had nothing to do with us mean old ‘dark’ sides. Process of elimination…” He stopped in front of Logic, savoring the way the stoic side struggled to keep the grief from his face. “Who else has been talking to Anxiety recently? Oh, right...the darling ‘light’ sides.”

“No,” Morality whispered in horror. It was so soft that Janus doubted Morality knew he’d said it out loud.

Still, he took pleasure in responding. “Yes.”

Morality sunk out halfway before being yanked back up, like he’d hit a trampoline. Janus smirked, pleased to see his work in effect. They truly wouldn’t be getting to him again.

“I-I can’t get in…” Morality whimpered, looking at his interlocked hands as if they were the only thing that could comfort him. “Why can’t I get in? Why…”

“Is he…?” Logic asked Deceit, voice tight with restrained emotion. 

Janus offered up a bitter smile. “Anxiety is home now. He will be fine. And you three will never see him again.”

Morality opened his mouth to say something, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, but he was cut off by obnoxious laughter. The prince was openly grinning, oblivious to the looks he was getting from his friends. “Well, that’s a relief!” He cheered, abruptly walking away into the kitchen. “And cause for celebration! Should we break out the sparkling grape juice, padre?”

Logic hissed something under his breath and then sunk out without another word. Morality gaped at the kitchen doorway, mouth opening and closing several times with no sound coming out. 

Definitely Roman, then. Remus would be delighted by the news. 

“Padre?” Creativity peeked his head back out of the doorway, an elated smile still stuck on his stupid face. “C’mon, he’s fine, you heard Deceit! No harm done, and we got him out of our hair! Now let’s bake some celebratory cake or somethin—”

“Roman!” Morality shouted, making them both jump. Thankfully neither of them were looking at him, so Janus was able to collect himself without too much embarrassment. Who knew Morality had a backbone?

Clearly not the prince, considering he looked like he’d been slapped. Out of the corner of his eye, Deceit noted that Morality winced in what was probably regret, but didn’t back down.

“Roman, he’s still one of us! You can’t possibly not feel bad that we….” The words caught in the father figment’s throat. Even from here, Deceit could see more tears building in his eyes just by thinking them. 

“Hey, hey, we didn’t make him duck out—”

“Quack.” Morality interrupted miserably. 

Dear lord. Janus needed to get this over with so he wouldn’t have to spend another moment in such insufferable company. “Au contraire, Whimsy,” he purred, grinning at the glare he received from the prince. “You very much are the reason Anxiety almost let himself fade into the subconscious.” When he turned to Morality, the man was already sobbing again. It did little to curb the fury burning inside him. “And as for what you said, padre: he was never one of you, and now he never will be. You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?”

Morality’s head lifted to meet his eyes, though Deceit doubted he could actually see anything through his tears. Still, whatever he thought he saw was enough to make him finally break down completely, sinking out with a pained cry. 

Creativity was still in the kitchen doorway looking like a dead fish. Deceit was incredibly tempted to pick apart every single one of his insecurities (because honestly, the prince made it far too easy to do so), but in the end he decided Remus deserved all the honors. An early birthday gift, Janus mused. 

The prince opened his mouth to say something else, so Janus made quick work of going back home. The light sides were of no use to him now.

Chapter Text

The first thing Virgil noticed when he woke up was the headache. It felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to his skull (and unfortunately, Remus had done similar enough things to him in past fights that he felt justified in that comparison). Groaning as loud and long as he could, he dragged the blankets further up over himself and hid in them, hoping that the darkness would ease the pain. It didn’t.

A shifting noise from the other side of his room made him jolt up in bed instinctively, which he paid for a few seconds later. Hissing through his teeth, Virgil forced himself to see through the radiating pain. Remus. 

Virgil groaned as dramatically as the first time. “What’re you doin’ here, Ree?” He slurred, wincing at how crappy his voice sounded. “I have a killer fucking headache, so if you came here to bug me, I’m really not up for it right now.”

Remus just...stared at him. Virgil was able to make out the shape of the duke sitting cross-legged on his desk (asshole), but the shadows were still dark enough that Remus’ green eyes seemed to glow. Needless to say, it was fucking creepy.

“Okay, dude, say something. You’re kinda freaking me out.”

Instead of doing that, Remus hopped off the desk and plopped himself down on the bed in front of Virgil. One trembling hand grabbed at Virgil’s arm like it might disappear if he moved too fast, and then, after a few moments, it tightened. Even though Virgil’s heart sped up, he kept his mouth shut about it. 

“Ree?” He called softly, tilting his head to try to make eye contact. Only half of Remus was looking back at him, Virgil could tell; the other half was somewhere out of Virgil’s reach. 

“You ducked out.”

Virgil felt all the air get sucked out of his room right then and there. Was he suffocating? He must be suffocating.

He had ducked out. He’d ducked out to spare everyone else the trouble, so why was he here, in his room, with Remus? 

You expect me to stand by while you kill yourself?

Janus. Virgil felt his fists curl, bunching up the sheets beneath him. That absolute dick! He couldn’t even let Virgil have this one thing? He was trying to do something good for once, goddamnit!

Do you have any idea how devastated we’d be?

His hands loosened their death grip. Distantly, he was aware of Remus’ eyes drilling a hole through the side of his head. Devastated...Janus hadn’t been upset with him. If he thought hard enough, Virgil could remember being guided to bed with sweet reassurances and gentle touches. 

We’ve failed you…

Guilt dropped in Virgil’s stomach, a heavy painful thing made of barbed wire. 

“Ree,” he croaked, his own desperate hand reaching out and latching onto Remus’. “Ree...Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Remus pulled him into a tight hug, and only then did Virgil realize he’d started crying. There was a brief moment where Virgil worried about his eyeshadow before he remembered he’d already messed it up earlier with Janus. His second time crying in one day, and after he ducked out too. That explained the headache. 

It was hard to breathe, Remus’ arms squeezing him so tightly that Virgil got nervous that he’d break a rib. Or five. But in the end, it was more safe than painful, so he hugged Remus back and let his head fall onto his chest. He felt Remus rest his chin on top of his head a few seconds later, a puff of warm breath down his neck making him crinkle his nose.

“Remus?”

The duke’s body twitched. “Yeah, Virgie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Virgil tried to pull away so he could look at him, but Remus held on tight. Sighing, Virgil let himself go limp again. “It's not,” he insisted. “It’s not okay—”

“No, it’s not.” Remus conceded bitterly. “It’s not okay that you tried to off yourself. And without even a suicide note? I mean come on, man, that’s cold.”

Without meaning to, Virgil laughed into Remus’ awful scratchy sash. Sometimes Remus’ dumb jokes got him no matter how much Virgil wished they didn’t, or how inappropriate for the situation it was. Especially when it was inappropriate for the situation, actually. “My bad, I’ll be sure to write one next time, just for you.”

Any tension that had left Remus’ body was back tenfold, his body curling around Virgil and his arms wrapping around him so tightly that it hurt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, though Virgil wasn’t sure if that was his anxiety spiking or Remus unintentionally crushing his lungs. Either way, not good.

“Sorry, thought we were doing badly-timed jokes,” he choked out. Thank fucking god, Remus finally realized he might be killing his friend and loosened the embrace enough for Virgil to breathe. 

“I thought we were too! But I’ve just decided right now that nobody’s allowed to joke about this ever ever ever again, not even if a big fat pig gets torn up in a jet turbine—”

“Ugh!” Virgil protested, shoving Remus away. That time, the Duke let him go, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Can’t you stop for like, five seconds? I’m in distress.”

“Oh, you are? You don’t seem very in distress to me.”

“Don’t gatekeep my emotional issues, dickface.”

“Oh, oh, I love this game! Shithead!”

Reluctantly, Virgil snickered. “Unfashionable lunatic.”

“Aw Virgie, that one just hurt!”

“If you two are quite done,” Janus’ voice interrupted from the doorway, obviously amused despite the apparent annoyance at them, “I would like to talk about...different matters.”

All the fragile light-heartedness that had settled over them was gone in an instant. Looking over at Janus, Virgil felt a new wave of fear rush over him. A wave twenty feet tall, getting bigger and bigger until there’s no light, no air—

“Virgil,” Janus murmured. He was right next to them now, crouching down to be eye level with Virgil. When had he moved? Virgil could feel his hoodie sleeve getting pushed up a little bit and almost bit someone, but then there were cool fingers on his wrist, grounding him. 

Remus had shifted a little bit away so Janus could sit with them on the bed. Both were staring. At him. Virgil gulped. No, Dee wasn’t mad at him in the heat of the moment, but what about now? What if he convinced Ree to be mad too? He wasn’t sure what he would do if they hated him too. 

You know what you’d do, dumbass, a voice in his head rolls its eyes.

They wouldn’t let you duck out, they’re not gonna hate you even if they get mad, another argues. 

You don’t know that. They could leave us at any second!

“Virgil?”

Snapped out of whatever the hell that was, Virgil grimaced at Janus’ concern. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t even deserve to be here. 

“Hey, Dee,” he responded weakly, trying for a smile. Even just curling his mouth up a little bit was fucking exhausting. 

Janus was unmoved by it, that was for sure. “Darling, how’s your head?”

“Um...bad?”

“Headache, or bad thoughts?” Janus inquired, reaching up and brushing Virgil’s bangs out of the way; Virgil absolutely refused to lean into the touch like some child, but, well...if he didn’t move away from it either, he could just argue he was too tired. 

“Yeah.”

Remus snickered and jumped off the bed back onto his desk. Virgil scowled at him, knowing Remus wouldn’t listen if he told him to get off. 

Janus gently grabbed Virgil’s chin and moved his head to face him again. “Virgil, we need to talk about this,” he murmured, his stupid snake face all solemn and pitying. Virgil sneered and flinched out of his grasp, shuffling back on his bed to put some space between them. 

“No we don’t.”

“Dear—”

“Rem, c’mon, back me up here.”

Remus had a disturbingly serious expression on his face, no trace of humor. “Nah, Double Dee’s right. We gotta know what’s goin’ on up there so we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, Ree,” Virgil scoffed.

“No, we can’t,” Janus cut in, startling Virgil enough to make eye contact again. The snake gave him a sad smile. Soft looks weren’t common between the three of them, and Virgil found himself fidgeting under the one Janus was throwing at him. “It’s not that simple, we know that. But it is a problem we can help you with. We can help ease the power it has over you.”

Virgil couldn’t find words to reply with. Remus easily ended the silence without even noticing there was one in the first place. “Hey, that’s it! Dee, use your powers!”

Both of the sides on the bed froze. Remus tilted his head at them, brows furrowed in confusion. Virgil didn’t know if he wanted to hit him or Janus right now.

“Remus, I am not going to use that on Virgil without his permission. It’s an extreme invasion of trust.”

“But Jannie, if you just tell him not to think that anymore, he won’t! Problem solved!”

Definitely Remus. The bastard was pouting, and he was still sitting on Virgil’s fucking desk like a fucking asshole. 

Janus shook his head disapprovingly, mouth set in a thin line. “Yes, it could work, but it’s up to Virgil.”

They both paused and looked over at him again. Virgil squirmed.

He remembered when they were younger, how they’d discovered Dee’s ‘cool new power’: it had been an especially bad intrusive thoughts day, fire and blood everywhere, the usual, but then Rem had just started listening when Dee instructed him through grounding exercises. It was sure as hell weird to all three of them, and after a bit of experimenting, they’d realized it was Dee. Remus had been the most delighted by it, and Dee had calmly entertained his curiosity until the Duke passed out from the stress of the day. Only then did he turn to Virgil, who had been in a mute sort of shock, with watery mismatched eyes.

(“I don’t want to be a monster, Vee,” Dee had whispered, hands shaking. He hadn’t started wearing those stupid gloves yet. “The scales weren’t bad enough? I have mind control powers?”

“Yeah okay, I know that sounds pretty supervillain-ish, but—”

“Supervillain, exactly. That’s what this is. They…are they right, Vee? Am I bad? ”

Virgil had pulled him in for a hug. It was awkward and stiff, but a hug nonetheless. “No, they’re just stupid. You’re not bad. You’re my best friend, you would never hurt me or Rem.”

Dee refused to reciprocate. “You were scared of me,” he said accusingly. “I know you were, don’t lie to me.”

“I was,” Virgil admitted, holding on tighter when Dee tried to push him away. “And then I got over it. Because you’re scared too, and I protect you. And because I trust you. I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person, dummy.”

Dee hadn’t said anything then, just clung to Virgil’s hoodie and trembled.)

After that, Dee had only ever used it to ease the nightmares when they got really bad, or to curb their self-destructive tendencies. They owed him a lot. And he always, always, made sure they were okay with it first, to an almost annoying degree.

Looking at Dee now, all Virgil saw was the same sorrow he saw on that kid terrified of becoming what he was feared for. Virgil closed his eyes. Janus wasn’t gonna hurt him. Janus wouldn’t abuse that power. Logically, Virgil knew this solution made the most sense, fixing his stupid problem just like that. God knew Virgil already felt bad making Jan and Rem go through this in the first place, nevermind the thought of dragging them down for the rest of their lives. 

But even thinking logically, even looking into Dee’s eyes, Virgil felt sick. He wished he didn’t. He wished he could stop being selfish and just let his family take the easy way out of this mess. He wished he wasn’t so goddamn weak.

He nearly jumped when a hand landed on his knee. Following the yellow glove led up to a painfully kind face. “I won’t, Virgil,” Janus soothed, rubbing small circles into his leg. “Promise.”

Virgil bit down on the skin inside his cheek. He couldn’t meet Janus’ soft gaze. “But...I mean—”

“You think it’s selfish somehow?”

Startled, Virgil looked at him with wide eyes. Janus chuckled.

“I’m the embodiment of selfishness, I would know if you were being selfish. You rarely ever are, Virgil. Which, now that I’m thinking of it, is something we should probably work on.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting himself fall backwards onto his pillows. “Fat chance.”

From here, he could see Janus’ small sad smile grow into something more like a smirk. “Such little faith in my skill,” he teased. There was just the slightest hint of a hiss in his voice, making Virgil snicker. Even after years of trying to figure it out, Dee never really knew how to get rid of it entirely. It infuriated him, meaning it amused Virgil to no end. 

“Um, hello!” Remus shouted, waving his arms around as if they weren’t three feet away from each other. One of Virgil’s paper bats hanging from the ceiling almost got smacked, but, luckily for Remus’ safety, nothing actually fell. “Losers, look at me! Hey!”

“What is it, Remus?” Janus reluctantly replied. The hand on his leg started drawing patterns again. Virgil doubted Janus even knew he was doing it. 

Remus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You blew off my genius idea!” A pause, not short enough for Virgil’s sanity. “Haha, blew. You totally blew me, Deedee!”

Janus managed to give Remus a bland smile. “Yes, thank you for that, Remus. I’m so glad you’re here to meaningfully contribute to this conversation.”

Remus beamed, straightening up so suddenly that Virgil could hear a couple bones pop. He fucking hated when Remus did shit like that. Thank god he’d already laid down, otherwise he might’ve thrown up all over his own bed. 

“Always happy to please, sir!” Remus barked out, chest puffed out and one hand lifted in a salute. Janus looked like he was debating whether to be irritated or not, finally settling on ignoring Remus entirely.

“I suppose we don’t need to talk about it at this very moment, Virgil.” At Virgil’s loud sigh of relief, Janus’ voice hardened. “But we are going to talk about it. All of it. Eventually.”

Virgil shifted so he could glare at Dee, a furious look that was easily returned. God knows how long they were stuck in that stalemate, though at some point Remus started butchering ‘Part Of Your World’ so it must’ve been long enough to bore him. Knowing how much more tolerant Janus was of Remus’ bullshit and not wanting to suffer any more than he already had, Virgil gave in first.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbled, purposefully turning away so he wouldn’t have to see Jan’s stupid smug smirk.

Sadly, the smugness was dripping from his voice too. “Excellent, I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” Virgil flipped him off, and Jan tsked down at him. “Manners. Now, lunch?”

“Fuck yeah!” Remus cheered, already skipping across the room. “God, I’m fucking starving, I thought I might have to start eating my arm! Arms don’t have a ton of meat, I’d have to lick the bones clean, you know. Shame on you, Dee, not feeding your poor, hungry, children. Hey, you know what I’m in the mood for? I’d love…” Remus kept babbling even as the words became less clear the farther he went. Virgil just wished the lunatic had held off on the part about arm-eating until he was out of earshot. 

“I’m not getting out of bed,” Virgil said before Dee could open his mouth. 

“You need to eat.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Virgil.”

“Janus.”

Janus sighed. Virgil bet if he looked up, Dee would be pinching the skin between his eyebrows. That’s how he always reacted to any minor inconvenience, like it had given him the worst migraine of his life. 

Normally, Virgil wouldn’t take pity on him. They were family, but that had never meant they went easy on each other— if anything, they antagonized each other more than the light sides. That was how they had always lived, and they all silently agreed that the constant bickering was more comfortable. It was their own way of showing affection when none of them were very in-touch with their feelings. 

Virgil had also failed to off himself, and even though his memory was always super hazy after a panic attack, the image of Janus’ terrified face vengefully burned through his mind. Jan thought he was the master of deception, but Virgil was the embodiment of stress. He could feel Janus’ fear coming off of him in waves.

So Virgil took pity on him. Just this once.

“Fine.” Refusing to look over at the snake, Virgil begrudgingly got off the bed, wincing when he tried to stretch. His back was fucked. That was Dee’s fault though, ‘cause he kept telling Virgil to fix his posture, and of course Virgil would never fix his posture now. 

“Sore?”

“No,” he flat out lied, mouth twitching up at Janus’ overdramatic sigh. 

It took an embarrassingly long time to dig through all the clothes piled up on the floor until he finally found his favorite hoodie. Janus must’ve taken pity on him too, because he didn’t say anything about it. Virgil didn’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed by it. 

By the time they got to the kitchen, Remus had emptied literally every cabinet and was making his way through the fridge. Janus immediately stormed forward and smacked him across the head, ranting about something or another while he held Remus away with one hand and tried to put everything back with all the others. Virgil leaned against the doorframe, watching on happily. They were fucking disasters. Then again, he was too, wasn’t he? What a good match the three of them were, a house full of terrible coping mechanisms. 

He loved them. He knew they loved him too, they always had and always would because that’s how family works, but his stupid brain wouldn’t listen. It was frustrating enough for him to deal with, he couldn’t imagine how frustrated they were. Maybe he’d try to make breakfast tomorrow or something to thank them for not kicking him out on his ass. 

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his gut, much stronger than anything he’d felt before. Sure, he had to pop up for the videos every once in a while, but none of them ever... wanted him there. Why the hell were they asking for him? Too shocked to respond, there was a second harsh tug that had him gasping for air, hunching over as if that would protect him. 

The hand on his shoulder made him flinch back. It held on tight, and when he forced himself to look up he realized it was just Remus, probably trying to offer comfort. The world did feel like it was spinning, so Virgil forced himself to relax under the touch and follow Remus’ calculated breaths. 

“W-Why the fuck…” Virgil wheezed out, clenching his jaw as another summons tried to pull him away. He wasn’t really sure where he was going with that thought. He was kinda just panicking out loud, hoping one of them would have the answers. 

Why the fuck were the light sides asking him to be there?

Why the fuck was it so strong? Actually, now that he thought about it, it was way too strong for him to still be standing in his own kitchen. Why the fuck wasn’t it dragging him to the light side already? Sides couldn’t just fight against a summons like that, not one so strong. And he wasn’t even fucking fighting it, it just wasn’t working on him. Christ, Virgil felt like he was being gutted. (Again, he unfortunately had the experience to back that comparison up.)

“I don’t know, stormcloud,” Janus’ way-too-calm voice chimed in from somewhere next to him, another hand resting gently on his other shoulder. And oh, that was definitely a lie. Dee didn’t have any tells, but Virgil knew the bastard well enough.

The others must’ve finally given up (why did that thought sting? Don’t be such a baby, he scolded himself), so Virgil managed to catch his breath enough to stand up straight. He shook Dee’s hand off his shoulder and turned to glare at the snake. “Liar.”

Janus just raised an eyebrow at him. It made his blood boil. 

“Well? You wanna share with the class?” He spat, curling his shaky hands into white-knuckled fists. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, and Virgil wasn’t sure whether it was panic or fury anymore. All he knew was it would wear off soon, and as soon as it did, that bone-deep exhaustion would come back. Better make use of the spine while he still had it. 

“Vee.” Remus tugged him a bit closer to himself. Farther away from Janus. Virgil didn’t shake him off, but he didn’t stop sneering at Janus either. The snake’s poker face was cracking, and Virgil bit at the chance to break it to pieces. 

Janus knew how he felt about being lied to like that. He knew better.

“Just leave it alone,” Remus tried, and, no, that couldn’t be right, because Remus almost sounded pleading. Remus didn’t plead. He had a vendetta against ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’. 

That was definitely panic making his heart race. Virgil could barely remember who he was supposed to be angry at. Himself? Probably himself. He was the usual culprit. 

Remus blocked him in against the wall, effectively making himself the only thing Virgil could see, and started leading him through some breathing exercises. He only stepped back once Virgil could breathe normally again. Looking around, Virgil realized Janus had snuck out at some point. His eyes narrowed and he moved to go find the shady bitch, but Remus’ hand squeezed his shoulder. Like a warning. 

“Seriously, Vee. Just fucking’ leave it,” Remus repeated. That was definitely pleading in his voice. At Virgil’s incredulous look, he groaned and looked away. “Look, in Dee’s defense—”

“That’s a terrible start to any sentence.”

“—shut up emo, I’m talking. In Dee’s defense, it was their fault you decided to go AWOL, so really they deserved a lot worse—”

“No, no, pause,” Virgil interrupted, struggling to figure out what had happened in the short time he was unconscious. “Explain.”

“Okay so, Jannie went up there to see what the deal was, no stop making that face, we know it was them. And like, I dunno what he did up there exactly, but I’d bet my sexiest thigh-highs that it’s something to do with Roman. No, shush, I’m explaining. Anyways, he locked the door between here and upstairs so they can’t bug us again. I guess it means I can’t go stab Roman whenever I feel like it now, but hey, I guess we all have to make sacrifices sometimes.”

Virgil took a deep breath. And then another one. And then five more, just to be sure he wouldn’t kill both of them and regret it later. “Okay,” he said, unsure what emotion he was feeling at that point. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I mean, no, not okay, but like...I don’t know. I’ve still got a fucking headache, stop talking.”

“Hopefully these will help,” Janus murmured, suddenly right next to them. Virgil didn’t notice the pill bottle until it was carefully placed into one of his hands. He wasn’t sure when he’d relaxed them from fists. His palm had bright red crescent moons on it, matching the little pills in the bottle. 

As soon as the bottle was in his hand, Dee stepped back. Out of arm’s reach. Good, Virgil thought bitterly. He wasn’t even sure if he was mad at Janus—everything in his head was too messy and loud to make sense of any of it—but he was happy to act like it anyway. 

He didn’t bother saying thanks, just tipped a few pills out without looking at the label and popped them into his mouth. Dee grimaced, still silent in his disapproval. Virgil decided he definitely resented the pity right then. The pity, the lying, the top-toeing around him like he was made of glass. He hated all of it. Everything was too fucking much. He kinda wanted to yell at both of them, but he knew this was all his fault, and that they didn’t deserve that at all. 

“I’m not hungry anymore,” he mumbled, not really sure if he was even intentionally talking out loud. He decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was sleep. “I’m gonna...gonna go nap. Don’t bother me for a few hours.”

As he stumbled away, he could’ve sworn Remus’ voice got worried, and then Janus started talking about common therapy methods. Definitely half-asleep, then. Whatever. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d started hearing things just ‘cause he was a bit tired. They didn’t stop him, and he was face-first on his bed before he knew it, and that was all that mattered. 

Nothing else. Nope. There was nothing wrong and nothing needed to be talked about and nothing needed to be worried about. Virgil just needed a nap, and then maybe his head would finally go quiet. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not. 

I hope I suffocate before I wake up, was the last muggy thought he had, and then he was out like a light.

Chapter Text

Janus was familiar with nervousness; being the self-designated protector of the other two entailed quite a lot of worrying over their wellbeing, and living with the embodiment of anxiety proved to exacerbate it even more. God knew how many nights he’d spent at their bedsides, keeping watch for any sign of nightmares or self-destructive behavior. They rolled their eyes and made jibes and acted like it was the most irritating thing in their lives, but he knew they needed it. Anxiety and Intrusive Thoughts were inherently erratic and volatile traits, so Deceit had to act as their rock to keep them grounded. He was the level-headed one. The pillar holding the structure up. The guardian. 

That being said, he’d never felt so damn useless before.

He and Remus had already gone over every detail of the situation in excruciating detail (and yes, leaving Roman for Remus to deal with was definitely the right move. Janus had known the Duke his whole life, and he could safely say the man had never looked as bloodthirsty as he did when Janus recalled his conversation with the light sides). Janus had methodically listed off everything he’d ever learned about how to deal with mental health crises, and Remus had nodded along to it with glazed-over eyes. After they reached a stilted agreement to avoid being too confrontational to Virgil, their conversation quickly dwindled down into silence, both of them more occupied by watching Virgil’s door.

Janus wasn’t sure if letting Virgil go right back to sleep was the right choice. On the one hand, he truly did seem exhausted, and demanding too much of him all at once would prove counterproductive anyways. On the other, Janus had failed to feed him (and the summonings had looked excruciating, not that Deceit would allow himself to think about that for long) which could mean his body was too weak to reap any benefit from sleep. For all he knew, Virgil was in no physical state to take those pills.

Before he even processed that thought fully, he was on his feet—in the next second, a hand was wrapped around his wrist. Janus shook off the odd daze that had overtaken him, blinking down at Remus questioningly.

“Leave it,” Remus said firmly, staring down Virgil’s door like it might burst into flame at any moment. To Remus, that was likely a very reasonable concern to have.

Janus slowly sat back down. It was awful feeling helpless to even your own thoughts and reactions. No wonder dear Virgil is so moody all the time, he mused.

Remus grew antsy due to his lack of response, the grip on his wrist tightening to a painful degree. He ended up filling the silence like he always did. “Sleep is the good shit for when you’re sick, right? I remember you always used ta’ drug us up when we got all leaky, and then wham-a-blam, good as new!” An imperceptible twitch ran through him. “So if he just sleeps, he’ll be okay! I say we leave him be, keep giving him those magic pills until he stops…until he stops.”

In one smooth movement, Janus escaped Remus’ grip so that he could hold his hand instead. “First of all,” he started, equal parts annoyed and coaxing, “I did not drug you, don’t be so dramatic. Second of all, were you not paying attention at all earlier?” Remus instantly shook his head. Janus generously ignored him. “Virgil isn’t dealing with the common cold, he’s dealing with something in his head. It’s far more complicated than just ‘sleeping it off’. In fact, in many cases, excessive sleep is a bad sign. If anything, we need to go wake him.”

Remus scrunched up his face. “But he looks so fuckin’ tired. Did’ya see those eye-bags? He’s turning into that death anime guy who sits like a frog!”

Janus paused for a few beats, trying to give him a chance to clarify, but the duke just stared back uncomprehendingly. 

“Right.” Janus deadpanned. Reluctantly, he added: “You may have a point. Catching up on sleep could be good for him.” 

With a victorious smile on his face, Remus wriggled up to Janus until he was practically pushing him into the couch. “Soooooo,” he mock-whispered, “while Virgin’s taking his beauty nap, what are we gonna be doing?” 

From the glint in Remus’ eyes, Janus knew he was hoping the answer was ‘maim Roman’. Unfortunately for him, Janus had other plans. “Not yet, Remus.” The duke’s face immediately fell into a dark scowl, so Janus was quick to explain. “The other two didn’t seem too happy with him; considering his fragile ego, perhaps it will be more amusing to watch him crumble under their scorn. Better yet, they may grow distant and leave him fumbling for attention. Either way, it would make him more vulnerable by the time you get to him. Doesn’t that sound like a fun experiment?”

Predictably, Remus lit up at the idea of torture, even if it was tamer than his usual tastes. “Hoohoohoo, now you’re getting saucy~ You know how to get a gal going!”

Janus smirked. He was glad to see his manipulation skills were still sharp. “Excellent. Now, with that out of the way, how would you like to do some good old-fashioned scheming while we wait?”

Remus’ eyes gleamed as he shot forward into Janus’ personal space. “Stab me in the ass and call me Barbara, you don’t even hafta ask!”

When a few hours had passed, Janus started worrying over Virgil still not having eaten yet. Ultimately it came down to risk versus benefit; since sleep surely couldn’t hurt and there was no eerie calmness indicating Virgil had done something stupid, Janus saw no reason to wake him quite yet. Perhaps another hour, then he’d check in.

Besides, he had plans to finalize. Remus had been surprisingly helpful in the short amount of time Janus had managed to keep his attention, now it was Janus’ turn to refine the ideas the duke had given him.

Anxiety had unfortunately become such a fan favorite that his sudden disappearance would not only be noticed, it would be disliked. There had to be a good reason for the change that didn’t imply bad storytelling or a lack of care for one’s audience; Thomas needed this series to succeed so he could make a living off of it, and as long as he didn’t do it at the cost of his own health, Janus needed to support him to the best of his ability. His ability being manipulation and lying. 

Putting Virgil back into the sights of a firing squad wasn’t an option, which left Janus to get inventive. The obvious first step would be to impersonate Anxiety himself. The light sides didn’t know Virgil well enough to call him out on it, so there was little danger of being revealed. “Anxiety” could be especially cruel in the next episode, or disappear back into the shadows because he realized he didn’t need to be evil anymore, or some other ridiculous thing along those lines that would either turn the audience against him or satisfy his current arc. That would hopefully minimize the complaints. 

However, Virgil’s presence had balanced out the light sides in a way that drew many viewers in, so it would need to be replicated somehow lest they lose half their fanbase (the relentless optimism of the other three would bore anyone after a while). Janus was far too wary of showing himself—his job was meant to be unseen, he couldn’t afford the luxury of attention—which left Remus to be Virgil’s stand-in. The duke would certainly provide a… new energy, and would have a similar ’edgy vibe’ that people liked. With the growing love of maniacal and colorful characters, Remus may even be an improvement. Not that he would ever say that to either of them.

Janus had understandable reservations with step two. Remus was still…

“Hey, Double-Dick, I have a surprise for you!” Was the only warning before Remus came to a screeching halt in front of him, dropped a severed eyeball into Janus’ cup of coffee, and did enthusiastic jazz hands. “Get it? Surpr-EYES?”

…Remus.

Janus waved the cup out of existence tiredly. What a waste of good coffee. “Delightful. Thank you, Remus.”

Remus fake-gasped. “Del-EYE-tful? You’re so good at this! Oh, oh, I’ve got one! I have erect-EYE-l dysfunc—“

Janus tuned him out until Remus finally got bored of being ignored and stomped away like a child. This was exactly the problem. Remus was too much, in too many ways, whereas Thomas’ channel was meant to stay wholesome and good. A tedious and pointless endeavor, in Deceit’s opinion, one that he was forced to accept now that their brand required it.

No Virgil and no Remus. That left an introduction to Deceit, or the crushing financial loss of audience disappointment. Janus wasn’t sure which would be worse.

He allowed himself one deep sigh before he summoned a new cup and stood up to make more, but before he even reached the coffee machine, he felt a sharp pull in his gut. Janus paused, considered, then frowned down at his stomach. Indigestion? Thinking back, he’d never gotten around to actually eating something yet today. How stupid of him. He should make some toast instead—

Except it happened again, sharper that time. And again a minute later. It certainly didn’t feel like hunger pains; in fact, it didn’t feel like pain so much as it just felt strange. 

Could it be…? But why on earth would any of the light sides be summoning him? He thought he’d made it very clear he wanted nothing more to do with any of them. Clearly, they hadn’t gotten the memo. Janus tried to grit his teeth through pull after pull after pull, until he finally decided it would be easier to bite the bullet. Furiously, he vanished his empty cup and followed the summons.

Surprisingly, he appeared in what seemed to be Logic’s room. Various infographics and star charts covered the walls, and one corner was set aside for a lab that would make Remus weep. The man himself stood awkwardly in the middle of the room with a clipboard in his hands, eyes flickering around the room. When he noticed Deceit glowering at him from beside a bookshelf, Logic squared his shoulders and straightened his tie.

“Deceit.”

“Logic,” Deceit returned coolly. “As much as I love our little talks, I have a feeling that’s not why I’m here.”

Logic furrowed his brows. “We’ve never spoken alone before. And you are here because I recited numerous egregious falsehoods. Do you not know how your own trait works?”

Deceit elected to ignore that because he could tell Logic said it in sincerity, but also because he had a question of his own. “‘Egregious’?” He was dying to know what Logic would consider so. 

“Yes, something that is outstandingly bad or shocking. In this case, utterances such as—” He glanced down at his clipboard. “—Columbus discovered America, jam has no nutritional value, and Pluto is still a planet.”

Oh, Virgil had been so upset about that last one; he’d ranted for days after the news, going on and on about something to do with vengeance from the god of death. Janus had to push down a smile at the memory. “Fascinating,” he lied. “But I was asking why you summoned me, Logic.”

“Ah.” Logic fixed his glasses even though they weren’t out of place. Poor thing almost looked embarrassed. “I wanted to speak with you about Anxiety.”

Obviously. Deceit rolled his eyes. “He’s so popular lately, I can’t blame you. But if you’re about to ask me whether Anxiety staying with us full-time again will harm Thomas, I’ll have you know we’ve done just fine with this arrangement in the past.”

“I am aware Anxiety’s location doesn’t impact his effectiveness,” Logic replied like the mere notion offended him. “I wanted to—” The side abruptly cut himself off. Deceit could see the gears turning in his brain. After a few moments, he shook his head and changed course. “Can you ensure that Anxiety does not duck out again?”

The question caught Janus off guard, though it really shouldn’t have. Logic was always somehow even blunter than Deceit expected him to be. “Yes,” he responded as confidently as he could. The real answer was ‘no’ because nobody could ensure someone else won’t do something, but that was a truth Deceit refused to accept. He could and he would. 

Virgil would never be able to do so much harm to himself ever again. Janus would ensure that, no matter what.

Logic nodded once, decisively. “Good. It was disastrous.” There was clearly more he wanted to say, but he seemed reluctant to spit it out. After a long few minutes of Deceit impatiently tapping his shoe, he decided that was the end of the conversation and it was his time to go back home. Almost as if he heard his thoughts, Logic sprang back to life, finally spilling the words he’d been holding back. “Is Anxiety doing alright?”

Janus squinted at him. Sized him up. It was easy to make excuses for why Logic of all people would ask such a thing, but the side’s hesitancy was telling in and of itself. That didn’t mean Deceit had to trust it. “He’s doing swimmingly. Why?”

Now Logic squinted at him. “Are you lying?”

“Me?” Deceit pouted. “I would never. ”

“Listen,” Logic sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up so he could rub the bridge of his nose. “I understand the cause of your mistrust, but if Anxiety is suffering, I…would appreciate it if you told me.” 

Deceit leaned in. “Why?” He repeated, allowing just a bit of frustration through.

“Because I do not want him to be suffering,” Logic said through his teeth. “Many of his ideas are overdramatized and his actions excessive, but I do find him more tolerable than the other two. We…had a debate. It was enjoyable.”

Privately, Janus floundered. Out of the three of them, he had never expected Logic to be the one to get attached to Anxiety. And it was undeniably attachment he was witnessing; despite the tactlessness of the words themselves, Janus had never seen Logic care about anyone’s health other than Thomas, so this must be quite a big deal for him. He felt like the entire floor had been pulled out from under him and he was struggling to hold onto something.

Externally, Deceit hummed in consideration to buy himself time. He decided on directness, as a reward for the other’s. “He is not doing well, but we will be working on it. Was that all?”

Logic hesitated. Luckily, he got over himself faster this time. “May I see him at some point?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow while he panicked internally once more. His instinct was to shut the request down on principle alone. However, Logic had such a disgusting level of aloof genuinity that it was difficult to say no to him without valid reasons, of which Janus had none. “Depends,” he said slowly, “on how willing you are to go to our territory. Anxiety is never coming up here, as I’m sure I’ve made clear.”

“I disagree with that decision, but you have made it clear and I respect it as long as it does not harm anyone. And yes, I would be willing to go over there.”

Shit. Deceit had run out of objections. “I’ll think about it,” he said noncommittally. “I’ll ask Virgil first, see what he says.” Although he’d said it more as platitude than anything, he found himself considering the offer. If Virgil enjoyed Logic’s company and Logic wouldn’t try to drag him back to the light side, it may be a good thing for Virgil’s recovery. Janus was starting to doubt Logic was even aware of the cruelty towards Virgil, nevermind complicit in it.

Logic inclined his head. “Of course. I will await his response, then.” He tilted his head, a puzzled crease forming between his brows. “Is ‘get well soon’ the proper phrase for this situation?”

Janus actually laughed before he caught himself and tried to cover it up with a cough. Logic just looked more confused. “I’ll pass the message on,” he said with great amusement. “It’s been a delight to speak with you as always. Maybe I’ll be in touch.”

Logic opened his mouth, no doubt to pick apart the problems with every single sentence he just said, but Janus took his leave. Just to be petty, really.

Being back in his own kitchen loosened the tension in his muscles that he hadn’t realized was there. Nothing looked broken and he couldn’t smell smoke, which was a good sign that Remus had kept his destruction contained in his room. Virgil must still be sleeping. Janus took a deep breath. God, he would kill for a few minutes of rest right now, mentally or physically, he didn’t care.

His stomach growled.

Goddamnit. Food. Right, he had forgotten to eat, and neither of the other two had eaten yet either. He would need to make a late lunch. Or was it early dinner now? It didn’t matter.

He took his hat off and ran a gloved hand through his hair. Deep breath. 

As he walked across the house to Virgil’s room, the white noise of a muffled chainsaw from the Duke’s closed door kept him present. He knocked on Virgil’s door repeatedly, harder each time until he could hear loud groaning from inside. 

“I’m making food, I expect you to show up and eat something.” He called out. His only answer was even louder groaning. 

The chainsaw sounds stopped and Remus poked his head out of his door, grinning and covered in something resembling blue slime. “Food? Fucking finally, I was about to carve out my stomach and eat it!”

“Gross!” They both heard Virgil yell from his own room. “Shut up, Rem!”

“Make me, emo!”

“Play nice,” Janus chided out of habit. A stupidly fond smile formed on his lips, but he couldn’t bother hiding it. 

“He’s ruining my appetite!”

“Well your face ruins my appetite!”

“You’re the one with a nasty mustache!”

Janus chuckled as he walked back to the kitchen. Things were aligning after all. He was back in control, and soon that awful feeling of uselessness would vanish. 

Now he just needed to decide whether he should make a proper meal or phone it in and make breakfast for dinner.

Waffles did go better with coffee.