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Virgil jumps when he hears the knock on the door. It's a gentle tap, nothing like what he's used to, but he cringes anyway.
"Co- come in," he calls, trying not to stammer. The door creaks open and Janus pokes his head around it.
"You okay?" Janus asks. His face is full of warmth and sympathy, and Virgil doesn't know what to do with that information.
"Yeah," he mumbles, staring back down at the carpet. He wiggles his toes, luxuriating in the softness beneath his bare feet. He wonders if he'll get in trouble for taking his shoes and socks off, but Janus is just in his socks, so maybe it's okay?
"It'll get better," Janus reassures him. "I kinda remember. It was...it wasn't easy. Sometimes it's still not."
"Really?" Virgil asks, looking up and peeking through his fringe. Janus nods solemnly.
"I think it's part of growing up in a new family," Janus explains. "It's weird. And you always end up thinking, what if this time, I do something that's a little too wrong? What if I get sent back?"
Virgil's mouth sags open at the painfully accurate summary of his thoughts. Janus smiles, a little sadly.
"Remy and Emile would never send you back," Janus says. "But they know they gotta earn that. It's okay."
"Really?" Virgil whispers. Janus nods.
"Really," he affirms. "And Emile will probably wanna put you in therapy."
"Doesn't that mean I'm crazy?" Virgil says fretfully, chewing on his bottom lip. To his surprise, Janus immediately shakes his head.
"Of course not," he says. "I'm in therapy, too. Therapy is just supposed to help you. It's nice to talk to someone who's not gonna tell your parents what's going on. Or your guardians," Janus adds, seeing the look in Virgil's eyes. "Mine told me there's only a couple of things he'd have to tell, and that's if I'm a danger to myself or others, or if I'm being hurt or know someone else who's being hurt. But other than that, my parents don't know what goes on unless I tell them."
"They don't get mad?" Virgil asks. Janus shakes his head.
"Emile's a therapist himself," Janus says. "But he can't treat me or you. It's um-" He scrunches up his face, trying to remember. "Well, I can't remember. But he can't be my dad and my therapist, it's not allowed."
"Oh," Virgil says. He doesn't know how he feels about that. Emile, at least, is familiar.
"He'll help you find a good one," Janus reassures him. "And if you don't like your therapist, you can say that. That's okay."
"Really?" Virgil asks, his eyes wide in surprise. Janus nods firmly.
"If you don't like or trust your therapist, how can they help you?" Janus asks. "Emile gets it. Remy, too."
"Why do you call them by their first names?" Virgil dares to ask.
"I don't always," Janus says. "But I figured you'd understand me better if I said their names." A tiny smile crosses his face, and Virgil is hard put not to smile back.
"W- wanna play?" Virgil offers, wrapping his arms around his middle. He waits for the inevitable rejection, the laughter as Janus mocks him for thinking anyone would ever want to play with the likes of him-
"Sure," Janus agrees easily. "What do you wanna play? Wanna investigate the bottom of your toy chest?" He grins. "You didn't get to see all of them before, I picked out some really good ones."
"Yeah," Virgil says. Then a little stronger- "Yeah, that would- that would be good."
They wander over to the toy chest, ready to plunder its contents, completely unaware of the therapist lurking behind the door, grinning so hard, his cheeks hurt.
Perhaps Virgil can find a place here, after all.