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Janus looked up sharply as a dry, cold wind gusted through the mindscape. The chill seeped into him, slipping under his cloak and worming under his skin in a way a normal breeze wouldn’t. He shivered and looked up at the direction it’d come from.
He immediately stood up and walked to his and Remus’s hallway. The click of his shoes on the scratched wood was the only sound in the unnaturally quiet space - anywhere Remus lived was never silent (or was never supposed to be).
The black door on the far end of the hallway was scratched and splattered with different colors, as usual. But this time, it was straining outward on its hinges, creaking, almost... almost like something was pushing on it from the inside.
Janus grabbed the handle and twisted sharply, jumping out of the way and grabbing the edge of his hat as that frozen wind rushed out all at once. The wind roared, leaving an eerie darkness in its wake. He walked cautiously inside, looking around and carefully placing his feet so he didn’t step on anything sharp.
“Remus?” he called, pausing a few feet beyond the light of the hallway. The darkness faced him, pulsing almost like a living thing. He stepped into it.
Remus crouched in the darkness. He felt it - the cold, pressing in on him. The shadows that lurked, swirling around the edges of his vision even in a pitch black room.
A hum sounded in his head, growing from the soft vibration that was always there to a pulse, a pounding, a pain, until the whole world was shaking and falling apart and he couldn’t stop it. He pressed his hands to his ears, closing his eyes against the painfully bright darkness and trying to block out the humming humming humming that was always there, always lurking, always waiting.
There were flashes there, in his head, shards of images that were bright in front of his eyes even when he opened them. He was full of ideas, ideas that were too dark and twisted and hungry for the other sides, ideas that grew until they consumed him and made him dark and twisted and hungry too.
He overflowed with ideas. He didn’t want them. He didn’t want Thomas to get hurt, didn’t want to make everyone hate him, but that was how his brain worked, wasn’t it? He was hardwired to say the perfect things to make all that happen.
There was that wall of repression, and his ideas were the water that roared against the wall. There was a crack, too, all his too many thoughts and words spilling from the dam. The dam that pressed him down until he was a concentrated mess, couldn’t open his mouth without saying everything he didn’t want to.
He was bound to come through eventually, though he was so rarely allowed to interact with anyone that after a while he learned to take savage pleasure in the looks of horror and anger and disgust directed at him. If he got a reaction that meant that he was important. He was there, he wasn’t just a twisted figment of his own imagination that tore everything apart.
But even with that, all that dark delight, the sound of Janus’s voice through the darkness sent a chord of pure terror and relief cracking through the humming.
Janus was here. Janus, who took care of him. Janus, who was here in his room because he sensed that Remus was hurting . Janus, who Remus was going to hurt and tear apart and see the look of disbelief and disappointment and anger on his face until he left and slammed the door and never came back-
“Go away,” came a muffled voice from deeper in the room. Janus exhaled in relief. Even if Remus wasn’t okay, he was able to talk, and that meant that Janus could help.
“Remus, I’d like to come find you,” Janus said, starting to move forward again.
“No!” his voice was sharp, almost panicked.
“Okay, I’m staying here, it’s alright. Can I talk to you?”
“Stay away,” Remus said, quieter now. “But fine.”
“Are the shadows hurting you?”
“No, but the noises hurt my ears. I can hear them, they’re always there...” he trailed off into distressed mumbling.
Janus grimaced in sympathy. He sat down, arranging his cloak around him and shivering slightly. “You can hear my voice, right? Does it hurt you?”
“No.” His voice was, if possible, even more dejected than before. “You don’t hurt me.”
“That’s right. I’m here to help you. Can you focus on my voice to make the noises stop hurting?”
“They won’t go away. But I can hear you.”
“Thank you. Now, can you move? You don’t have to, but I’d like to know if you’re trapped anywhere.” Janus tried to keep his voice mellow, low, as if coaxing out a wild animal.
“I’m not stuck. But it’s all dark, I can’t see. I can’t see you.” The panicked edge was back.
“Don’t worry, Remus, I’m still here, okay? Don’t be scared, I’m right here. I’ll be right here until you can come out.”
A shaky breath, then a huff echoed out of the darkness. “I’m not scared. I’m never scared,” Remus said indignantly.
Janus smiled in relief. If he could muster enough of himself to be offended, he wasn’t too trapped in his own thoughts now. “I know. You’re very brave.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Remus said, even more indignantly.
“I’m not,” Janus said, staring into the dark as if he could pierce it. “You’re the only one who has to live with all of Thomas’s darker thoughts, even if you don’t like them. You had to live without more than one person helping you for your entire life. You’ve survived and lived so well, and I’m so proud of you.”
There was a long pause. Janus held himself back from calling out, and let Remus stay quiet.
Then the darkness parted, and Remus practically hurled himself out into Janus’s lap. He wound his arms around his neck and curled as close as he possible could. Janus laughed in relief and wrapped all his arms around him in return. He was warm now, the entire room was warming.
“Hi,” Remus said in a small voice, not quite looking at him, but holding on tight.
“Hello,” Janus answered, suppressing a broad smile. “Are you alright?”
Remus snuggled down, resting his head on Janus’s shoulder. “I wasn’t. Better now.”
“That’s good.” Janus relaxed, watching the shadows dissipate. “Thank you for coming out of there.”
“You helped. You’re good at helping.”
Remus reached up and covered Janus’s smirk with a hand, trying not to smile himself. “No smug faces, Jan. You’re not getting a thank you.”
Janus’s expression softened as he looked down, golden eye glimmering. “I don’t need one.”