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“Could you say that again?”
Logan turned to look at Roman with a look of impatience, his brows knitted and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I said,” he started, “that your blue-sky thinking is going to result in unrealistic expectations for Thomas.”
They were standing in the middle of Roman’s room where visions of his ideas swirled like figments in the air. Logan had popped in to check on his progress, or so he said, and was evidently displeased with the plans Roman had come up with for Thomas's next creative venture.
Roman stared at Logan, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then, he grimaced. “You can’t just barge in here and criticize my ideas in the middle of brainstorming, Four Eyes. You’re raining on my parade!”
“Objectively scrutinizing your ideas is precisely my job in this creative process.”
“Well, it isn’t welcome right now! Go away!”
Logan closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I don’t mean it in a harmful way. I’m only providing my opinion in order to help you. We need to be more realistic.”
He stepped in front of one floating image depicting Thomas dancing in flashy clothing. “This for example. Thomas is a great dancer...” Roman gave him a look. “...but Kpop? He doesn’t even listen to Kpop. Perhaps it would be much more feasible if he did the choreography of a dance from a musical, such as ‘Time Warp’.”
“Hah, I’d actually love to see that.”
Logan took a seat next to Roman on his bed, offering a small smile. “You have brilliant ideas, Roman. Wild and all-over-the-place at times, but brilliant nonetheless. Of course, I play a major role in making them perfect that you don’t give me enough credit for.” Roman snorted at that. “I look forward to seeing how Thomas will react to them.”
“Alright, alright,” Roman laughed, rolling his eyes. “Any more you’d like to enlighten me with, Teach?”
They spent an hour checking every idea, auditing and changing and adding to them until they ended up with five plausible ones that Roman could hardly wait to pitch to Thomas. And when Logan bid goodbye and sunk out of his room, Roman glanced out his window to look at the stars and sighed.
In the months that followed the April wedding, the chance encounter with Nico Flores at the mall, and the blossoming of a new and exciting relationship, there were adjustments made in the mindscape. Patton ultimately decreed, with the support of Logan who deemed the decision “the most logical thing to do,” a ceasefire between the core sides and The Others. Janus and Remus were then welcomed to the Family, having been accepted by Thomas as parts of himself. Remus came and went as he pleased, but Janus only ever went when Roman and Virgil weren’t around.
At first, Roman hated it. He hated having to be in the same room as his brother and the lying snake. After a while, the hatred was buried by a strange feeling of frustration seeing Patton having pleasant conversations with Janus at the dining nook, or Logan indulging Remus with weird experiments. The frustration then slowly ebbed away, and the pinpricks of yearning filled his chest—particularly towards Janus, who he once had been close to.
Once. Before his pride got the better of him.
Now every passing glance was a suffocating reminder of the mistakes they’ve made, the unsaid apologies, and the faintly burning embers beneath Roman’s heart that he realized never disappeared.
Roman floated into the kitchen, his nose turned up to take in the mouthwatering smell of something baking in the oven. “Padre!” he bellowed. “What’s cooking, good-looking?”
Patton flashed him a beaming grin. “Heya, Roman! Just the bestest treat for the bestest Prince in the mindscape!”
“Ooh!” Roman leaned over on the kitchen counter, watching as Patton bent over to take out the tray from inside the oven.
Patton straightened up, taking an exaggerated sniff of the pan on his hands. “Mmm, fudgy brownies.”
Roman gasped, clutching his chest. “I love brownies!”
“Me too!” Patton giggled. “No other dessert can ever compare!”
Roman stared at Patton as he set the tray down, taking his oven mitts off. With a small smile and a tilt of his head, Roman reached over and grazed a finger over Patton’s cheek to rub off the tiny smudge of chocolate fudge on his cheek.
Roman licked it off his finger, earning a playful shove on his arm from Patton. “Kiddo!” Patton said, shaking his head in bemusement.
The faint tinge of pink that colored Patton’s cheeks never escaped Roman’s mind that afternoon.
There were days when Roman liked to snuggle underneath soft duvets while wearing his Beast onesie in the entertainment room of the mindscape. He had redecorated it a few months ago to have a longer leather recliner sofa and a bigger home theater screen, now that the fam-ILY was growing. He usually invited everyone else for spontaneous movie nights when the schedule allowed, but Roman savored moments when he could watch alone—away from everyone and everything that reminded him of work and the pressure of keeping his princely facade.
He was watching Comet in the dark when he suddenly felt a warm presence appear on his left.
“Wow,” the voice drawled out. “Princey’s watching a non-Disney, sad movie?”
“Listen, I’m not exclusive to a family-friendly brand,” Roman sniffed, red, tear-stained eyes glued to the screen.
“Whoa, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Roman heard Virgil scoot closer, knees drawn to his chest while wearing his recognizable black and white skeleton onesie. “The first time Thomas watched this, you bawled like crazy too,” he enthused.
“It’s heartbreaking!” Roman yelled. “I’ll never get over it!”
Virgil merely laughed and they watched the scene play out. The couple was on the rooftop, the sky turning into a soft shade of blue that mirrored the thin veneer of melancholy and regret that blanketed their dialogue.
“They could have been together,” Roman murmured. There is something else hidden in his words, something he had yet to realize.
“They were only hurting each other,” Virgil replied with a strange softness he reserved for no one.
“But you can’t deny that the love was there,” Roman said. “Up until the end.”
Virgil snorted. “Even if the ending was all a lie? Mere wishful thinking, that they could share such a space together and acknowledge the gentle tethering of each other’s hearts, knowing that they can no longer have what they want—at least in that lifetime.”
“Well, how do you know it’s a lie?”
Virgil hummed. Closing his eyes, he said, “You’re right. I don’t.”
He rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, and Roman said nothing, eyes focused on the screen in front of him.
“Why does it feel so impossible to let you go,” the movie sounded out. “I don't belong in a world where we don't end up together.”
It took these instances and a couple more for Roman to finally figure it all out. It mostly happened when he closed himself off from the others to ruminate over things he’s done or said to contribute to Thomas’s present woes. Other times, it happened when he was just relaxing on his own.
There was a time when Logan had joined him in the library to read their respective books in comfortable silence. Roman had conjured up some pillows, duvets, and mugs of tea (Logan’s request) and they sat side-by-side with their chosen novels.
Roman could see Logan sip carefully on his hot teacup, deeply engrossed in a thick book from a Russian author Roman hadn’t heard of before.
Logan had set his book down and peered at Roman with a quirked brow. “What?”
“Nothing,” Roman said. “Just thought of something.”
“Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing.”
“Just this one line from a poem. ‘Everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists - aromas, light, metals were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.’” Roman scratched his cheek. “Eh, you probably don’t know it.”
Logan snorted. “What, did you read that from a Tumblr post?”
“You think so lowly of me!”
“It’s called a joke.” Logan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “And I do know where that’s from.”
Roman smirked. “Do you really?”
Logan spared him no glance. “‘If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.’”
It was perfect diction. Flawless and filled with emotion. Roman parted his lips to speak but shook his head instead.
“‘But, if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness… if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me… ahh my love, ahh my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,’” Roman recited quietly.
He hoped Logan wouldn’t finish the poem.
To his relief, Logan didn’t.
It wasn’t his voice Roman was hoping for, after all.
Another time, Roman was practicing his sword fighting in the lush garden of the mindscape with Patton seated under a shade, watching him with amusement. Roman always felt pride when Patton would watch him swing his sword but, for some reason that bright afternoon, he felt himself recoil a little. Still, Patton looked back at him with a look of admiration.
Roman stopped, put his sword back inside its scabbard, and walked to where Patton was, dropping his fatigued body down on the chair.
“Why the long face, friendo?” Patton asked.
“Everything’s supposed to be fine now right?” Roman scratched his cheek. “Still, I can’t help but feel like something…isn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like there’s a barrier between me and The Dark Sides still. Janus, especially.” Roman glanced at Patton. “It’s like we can’t be around each other in the same room.”
Patton stared back at him, his smile still wide and unfaltering. “Is there something I can do?”
Roman hummed. “I wonder…”
He never finished that thought.
It took more than a month before Roman decided to lower his pride and invite all the sides to the Imagination. Patton had packed sandwiches, pasta, cookies, and jello inside a picnic basket, while Logan brought a chair and his Kindle Nook. Remus, meanwhile, dragged Virgil around to fight nearby tiny imagined monsters with their slew of weapons, making bets on which one was the superior choice.
Roman watched them all on top of his white horse, smiling to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to Janus, sitting alone under the shade of a tree, drinking a glass of cool Chardonnay.
He dropped down from his steed and walked towards Janus, noting the soft jazz music that played from the old vinyl player next to him. Roman glanced upwards at the branches of the tree and plucked a single red apple—vibrant and glistening under the sunlight. He knelt in front of Janus and offered, “Apple?”
Janus stifled a chortle. “Is the child of god offering the snake an apple?”
Roman tossed it lightly to the air a few times. “Perhaps I’m hoping to tempt you to something.”
“By all means, tempt away.”
Roman stood and held out his free hand towards Janus who took it and pulled himself up. They walk in silence towards a lush garden, where birds and butterflies twittered and fluttered around Roman as though welcoming him back to their home.
Janus glanced around, gazing at the many different flowers in full bloom, perfuming the air with a calming aroma.
“You like it?” Roman asked, smiling at the creatures that flew around him.
“Of course not. It’s hideous.”
Roman snapped his fingers and a root sprouted under the heel of Janus’s foot, and he laughed as Janus yelped and grabbed hold of his right arm.
“Oh, har-har,” Janus hissed in contempt.
“You know,” Roman began as his laughter subsided, "I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Don’t you always?”
“Not recently! Not anymore. Except, well…” Roman trailed off as he bent over a rose bush and, holding out the apple he still held on his hand, let glittering light morph it into a single red flower in full bloom. He smiled softly at his creation.
“Bravo,” Janus said, his lips quirked upwards.
“The snake wouldn’t take the apple.” Roman turned towards Janus. “Perhaps he’d take a rose, instead.”
With his arm outstretched, Roman held the flower between his fingertips, watching as a flurry of emotion flashed across Janus’s straight face. “What?” he teased. “Flustered?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” Janus replied with a subtle strain in his voice. “And who am I to turn down a gift from a Prince?”
Janus gingerly plucked the rose from Roman’s hand and held it close to his face.
“I’m reminded suddenly of this Tumblr post I saw one time—one of those quote-on-picture things?” Roman suddenly mused, kicking a pebble on the ground. “I think it went… ‘if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, in me all that fire is repeated.’ Or something.”
At this, Janus scoffed, shaking his head. “A Tumblr picture quote? You can tell better lies than that, Roman, goodness.”
Roman frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You totally don’t know that poem. You obviously don’t know it by heart.”
There is a silence that followed that statement. Before Janus could even realize it, Roman broke into a smug grin.
“Ah, but you wily snake, how would you have known that when I only told it to Logan?”
Janus froze in place.
“You’re so obvious, Janus. I think you’ve lost your touch.” Roman leaned over to pluck the rose out of Janus’s hand. “I’ve known it since you pretended to be Logan and went to my room while I was ideating.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You kept using idioms.”
Janus shrugged. “Logan might know a few.”
Roman took one step forward. “You also said that brownies were ‘the best dessert’ as Patton. You should know that he loves cookies the most.”
Janus said nothing as Roman jutted out his hip, placing a palm on top of it while he twirled the rose on his other hand. “And Virgil never cuddles with anyone. Also, Logan doesn’t drink tea and he most definitely would not recite love poems with me in the library.”
Janus started to laugh. “Very observant, Prince Roman. Am I going to be punished?”
“Yes!” Roman exclaimed, holding out the rose as though pointing at Janus with it. “You’re going to tell me why you did it. No lies, no tricks. You wouldn’t dare in my kingdom.”
Roman was right. Any false move and he could easily conjure anything that would harm Janus or even stop the passage of time to keep him there for as long as Roman wanted him to, without affecting Thomas and the outside world.
Janus rolled his shoulders, matching Roman’s unwavering stare. “Well, I don’t really have the advantage they do of being able to go near you, do I?”
“What are you talking about? You did, you always have.”
Janus looked away, as though ashamed. “Not in the way I wanted to.”
Roman held his breath. In that garden, rich and vibrant and full of life, Janus stood out like a thorn. He looked like a passing shadow, a bandit waiting to strike, an enigma caught red-handed under the blazing sun. To Roman, there was only one echo of a thought that bubbled inside his stomach and settled unspoken on his half-parted lips.
Ahh, my love, he thought, ahh, my own.
Roman looked down at his rose. “How could you think that I don’t feel the same?” he whispered quietly.
“Hm, you’re right, I can hardly think of reasons.”
“I’ve always known it was you. In every instance, I knew. So you must know that I truly—”
“I know, Roman,” Janus said hastily, tipping his hat down to conceal his crumbling facade of indifference. “Oh, look, there’s a squirrel holding a tiny sword.”
Roman sighed at Janus’s deflection. Even now that they finally found themselves alone, they could barely cross this distance wedged between them. For a moment, he felt resigned to believe that what Janus had told him that night disguised as Virgil was true: that they can no longer share this space with a tender tethering and honest affection. There’s so much left undone. Still so much left to rebuild.
But he felt it. He always had. How “Logan” had called him brilliant. How “Patton’s” cheek warmed upon his gentle touch. The small glimmer of hope in “Virgil’s” voice that, perhaps, two people can be meant to start anew despite all the hurt. The emotion that seeped through “Logan’s” voice in the library. How “Patton” almost practically begged Roman: “Tell me what you need, and I will do it all for you.”
And as he gazed at Janus, he could feel his heart swell and sing with hope. For as long as Janus reached for him, he would meet him halfway — just as the poem said.
“What do you want to do now?” Roman asked.
“Well, that squirrel seems like it’s getting ready for an interesting battle I’m curious to see.” Janus clicked his tongue. “Sad little thing. He totally won’t get crushed.”
“That noble creature may be small, but his will is not to be underestimated!”
“Until he gets eaten.”
“Must you be so dark?”
“It fills me with unbridled joy. Are we really talking about rodents in shining armor?”
“Some would say this is a terrible first date.”
Janus sputtered. “First—what?”
Roman laughed in spite of himself. He held up the rose towards the sun and transformed it once more into something smaller. As the glow faded away, he opened his palm where a golden rose lapel pin sat glistening. Turning towards Janus once again, he tenderly pinned it on his left collar, allowing his hands to linger above Janus’s chest where he could feel the soft grooves of his emblem hidden beneath his dark capelet, guarding his heart where Roman longed to reside.
“Whenever you decide to,” he whispered with unmasked fondness, “visit me again as you are. These isles of mine will await you.”
Janus stared at his hands with incredulity. “You truly believe we could begin again?”
From a distance, they could hear the shouts of manic glee, panicked screams, and thunderous explosions. The sun was starting to set, blanketing them in a sea of warmth. Roman held Janus’ gloved hand as they made their way back in silence, the question unanswered. Perhaps one day, they will come to know.