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If sixteen-year-old Virgil could go back in time and tell fifteen-year-old Virgil that, in one year, he would be standing in front of a mirror, red in the face, on the verge of frustrated tears because he still couldn’t figure out how to tie his bowtie for his fancy suit, fifteen year old Virgil probably would’ve looked at him like he was crazy and then opted to stay homeless. But, here he was, twisting his fingers in the silky material and fighting the urge to rip the darn thing in half. Roman had called out for everyone to get in the car some five minutes ago and the anxiety bubbling in his chest wasn’t helping him sort out his tie. It was in mounting hopelessness that Roman’s familiar knock sounded on his door. Actual tears started flowing as he turned to see Roman peeking in at him. His uncle raised his eyebrows in alarmed surprise as he took in his nephew’s appearance. Wordlessly, he came in and took the ends of the tie, carefully tying it. Virgil lifted his chin, eyes looking away from his uncle, still sniffling in embarrassment. Roman finished the job before gently smoothing out the jacket and running a hand through his nephew’s hair.
“There.” He said with a smile, swiping away a few of Virgil’s tears and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Handsome as handsome can be.” Virgil looked away, squirming under the loving gaze.
“Roman!” Mr. D’s voice carried from downstairs, pulling them both back into reality.
“Coming!” Roman hollered back, leading Virgil out with him.
Part of being the nephews of a famous actor and fashion designer and all-around popular adult was that they were constantly on the media’s peripheral, and they had to occasionally attend events and meetings. Janus handled most of it, picking smaller, quieter events and trying hard to make sure they weren’t too long. It was hard having to watch the boys be uncomfortable for so long but having Remus there often kept most people away. The man was like a guard dog, snarling, growling, barking, and drooling all included. He sat next to Logan now (Mr. D wouldn’t let him drive this time) and stuck his head out the window like some unruly mutt. Logan was pressed close to him, fidgeting in his suit jacket, vest, and tie. He looked down at his shiny shoes, noting that a very terrified little boy was staring back at him. He swallowed hard and shifted away from his uncle to hide more effectively against his older brother.
Virgil’s hands sought to comfort instinctually. They wrapped around Logan and held him tightly, almost squeezing the air out of the boy. Logan appreciated the grounding touch, snuggling closer. Roman watched them with a gentle and sympathetic smile. He should be telling them to sit up and not to wrinkle their outfits, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t often that he got to see them so vulnerable in front of him. The way Virgil’s features morphed into concern and a hardened glare spoke volumes as to how wise he was to the ways of the world. Logan’s quietly desperate attempts to get closer told how much he trusted his brother. The two of them were inseparably locked in a world where kindness didn’t come without a cost and death was always a possibility. How the fashionista wished he could take some of that away. He wondered if they would want it, though. Would they happily trade their experiences for naivety? Or would they choose to keep where they were now, even with all the scars they bore?
The thought went unanswered as the vehicle pulled up to the flashing cameras and flailing hands that were the telltale sign of the paparazzi. Janus glanced towards Remus,
“Ready?” He breathed. The crazed man nodded, “Go.”
In a flash, Remus was out of the car, happily tossing old cassette tapes about him like some deranged flower girl. The people who were all so eager to press forward, stumbled back with collective shouts of confusion. Remus thrived in this kind of spotlight. He smiled wickedly and produced a jump rope out of nowhere and began to twirl it expertly. He did flips and handstands, twirls and all sorts of tricks and contortions that left most feeling awestruck, confused, and mildly horrified. Meanwhile, Roman and Janus corralled the boys inside, away from all the hubbub.
Inside was a blessing compared to whatever was going on outside. Quiet classical music floated around the conversations that filled the air. It was bright and glittery inside with all the fancy glasses and the people dressed in their better than best. Virgil huffed in agitation. It was like being in the middle of a swarm of gnats. Everyone was droning on about whatever mundane thing crossed their mind. The amount of gossip that must be circulating the room made him want to vomit. It felt like all the eyes on the room were hyper fixated on him. His purple hair and his rumpled suit must make him stand out. He shrunk back slightly, growing all too aware of his disposition. His back hit something warm and solid and he turned sharply, gasping as his eyes met those of Mr. D. The agent was looking down at him, analyzing him with his calculating stare. Virgil felt his already clammy skin begin to sweat and his breath picked up slightly. Mr. D’s eyebrows rose gently. His hand found its way onto Virgil’s lower back and he guided him to a quieter corner of the room. The teen’s eyes immediately sought Logan, only to find his little brother safely sandwiched between the Prince twins and looking around in wonder at all the pretty and nice things.
“Breath, Virgil.” Janus muttered gently. “In and out, just like we’ve been practicing.”
Had they practiced this? Virgil felt wildly underprepared and extremely under practiced, but his lungs seemed to remember that oxygen only did useful things if it stayed in his body. Slowly, his heartrate settled to an unsettled fast but not nearly as desperate as before. Janus continued to encourage him until he felt that Virgil could, probably, walk ten feet without collapsing. Low standards but this was a major social event and Virgil was practically the poster child of social anxiety. Janus would settle for low, just this once.
Virgil stuck close to the agent. He was nowhere near as popular as Roman so it was less likely that people would come and talk to him. Less likely wasn’t impossible, though, and Virgil found himself drawn into far too many brief conversations to count. Janus was a pro at this. The small talk where everyone exchanged information but said absolutely nothing useful was where he excelled. He was politeness and smiles and all around the gentleman that Virgil had first seen. The teen wondered what these high-end celebrities would think if they’d seen Janus just a few days ago when Remus had gotten into a squabble with Roman. He almost laughed at the memory of Janus, wielding a wooden spoon, scolding the two adults, and making them hold hands for a solid thirty minutes until they caved and made up. That Janus (who Virgil and Logan called ‘Mamma J’ behind his back) was nowhere to be seen tonight, save the subtle glares he occasionally shot to Remus or Roman when he deemed them misbehaving.
“Can you wait here, Virgil? I’ll go get you something to drink.” The words brought Virgil out of his daydreaming and back into the moment. Janus was pointing to the crowded drink table. He’d probably guessed that Virgil wouldn’t want to go where there were so many people. He’d guessed correctly. The teen sheepishly let go of the edge of Janus’ jacket to let him leave. The agent smiled reassuringly before giving him a light pat on the head, “I’ll be right back.” He promised as he stepped away.
The time it to Janus to walk all the way to the drink table was less than thirty seconds. The impromptu conversation he was forced into was a couple of minutes at best. The sidestepping and polite ducking of getting to the drinks was a feat that took mere moments. However, by the time that Janus actually looked up to make his way back to Virgil, several people were already surrounding the poor boy. Janus sighed and steeled himself, walking quickly back towards the lad.
“So, what is he like?” A woman with cascading red curls that were more fake than Janus’ personally was pushing. Virgil took a half step away, shifting his gaze down and away from her,
“He’s Mr. D, why don’t you go talk to him yourself?”
“There’s a laugh!” On of the two men chuckled, “No one knows squat about that man. Not even his name.” A look dawned on the man’s face, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know his name, would you?”
“Sure. It’s Mr. D.” Virgil said, keeping his sentences short and his tone dark.
“No need to be like that, Kid.” The other man lamented, “We’re just curios. Hey, how about this? Fifty bucks for the illustrious Mr. D’s name?” He held out a crumpled bill and something in Virgil snapped,
“What do you think I am?” He growled, “I’m not one of those shifty reporters and I’m certainly not a lowlife to be bribed by the likes of you.” He was about to tell the high and mighty trio to fuck off when a presence loomed up beside him.
“Amanda, Charlie, Frank,” Janus purred in practiced smoothness, “I wasn’t aware you three still got invitations to things like this.” The three looked alarmed and began to stutter sentences. Janus huffed and pressed a glass into Virgil’s hand before leading him away, still ignoring the excuses being called after them.
“Jan…” Virgil strained, his voice was wavering and thin. Janus looked down in sharp alarm before cursing mentally.
“Shhh,” he said as he began to walk the boy quickly to an exit, “You’re alright, you’re okay, just breath, keep walking…”
Virgil’s world was spinning as he was led through the dazzling environment. He couldn’t see clearly, the noises were all blending together, his knees were getting weak, and his chest felt like it was going to explode. Suddenly, the air cleared and he found himself outside. He gasped sharply, taking in the humid smell that Florida had all year long. With another gasp he turned wide onto Janus, who still held his arm with one hand. Overwhelmed by the emotions he was trying so hard to keep in check, Virgil shifted closer to the agent. Janus waisted no time in wrapping the boy in a tight hug.
“You’re alright, you’re alright…” Janus muttered, swaying them both slowly. Virgil let his eyes open, trying to find something to focus his attention on something to ground him further.
They’d come out of a side door, into an alleyway of some sort. There were a few dumpsters further down and a door for the staff to come in and out easily. A faint light hung high above them, flickering with the swarms of moths and mosquitoes that flocked around it. The distant sounds of traffic filled the air and somewhere the sounds of two cats fighting made Virgil start. Mr. D hushed him softly, squeezing him a little tighter. Virgil slumped into the hold, soaking in the safety of the hold. Janus’ hold tightened again, this time less reassuring and more desperate. He pulled Virgil closer to him, taking a step back,
“Listen to me very carefully.” He whispered, his voice filled with calm urgency, “Do whatever I tell you to do, don’t fight, and run if you get the chance.” With these chilling orders, he gripped Virgil’s arm and quickly pulled him, jerking him backwards until his back hit the wall with a painful thud.
“I don’t want any trouble.” Virgil’s eyes widened at the sound of a new voice, he looked up sharply.
A youth, not much older than Virgil himself was standing before them. A dark blue shirt was wound around his mouth, blocking out the lower half of his face. He was dressed in dark clothing, far too many layers to be practical in Florida. Virgil began to shake, twisting his hands into the back of Mr. D’s jacket. The agent leaned back, further pressing Virgil into the wall. The teen’s view was limited, unable to see the knife that was in the delinquent’s hand. Janus would prefer to keep it that way. The agent huffed, not taking his eyes off the armed boy,
“We don’t want any either. I’m assuming you came for money?” The lad nodded,
“Wallets, watches, jewelry, phones, and any other valuables.” Janus nodded,
“Very well.” He began to move his arms slowly, “I’m going to reach into my pocket and get out my wallet. Sweetheart, you do the same.” The name was directed at Virgil, the agent not wanting to expose his name in front of this person. Virgil, for his part was staring hard at the boy in front of them, eyes clouded with concentration.
“Chase?” He asked suddenly. The teen started, wide eyes locking onto his well-dressed peer.
“Storm?!” He finally demanded. He jerked down his mask, revealing his dirty and scarred face. The surprise morphed into anger, “Shit!” He panicked, “You know me, Storm! You know my face!” Janus’ own panic spiked. Virgil too seemed to take note of his mistake.
“You two…know each other?” Janus asked, trying to stall for time. Virgil didn’t answer and Chase ignored the agent completely,
“You just had to go and get yourself all fancied up and mixed up with these people!” He gestured to Janus with the knife. Virgil looked at the teen coldly,
“You’re still out on the streets!” Janus jabbed Virgil with his elbow.
“Chase, was it?” He said quietly, “We’ll give you what you want and then you can go. We won’t report you to the police. You win.” Chase looked at Janus in disbelief.
“You think I’m dumb?” He hissed angrily. “You think this is my first time. No, you know my face, you know my name, I’m not safe anymore.” He twirled the knife in his hands. Janus was aware of Virgil moving a moment too late.
The teen shot forward, years of survival kicking in. He immediately took down the other boy, the two of them rolling on the ground in the most terrifying scuffle that Janus had ever witnessed. He screamed Virgil’s name as he tried to intervene. Virgil was at a disadvantage in his formal clothes. He ended up on the bottom, holding Chase’s arm up and away from him. The other teen suddenly felt himself being hauled off the teen. He twisted his head to see Mr. D, eyes blazing, lifting him by the back of his shirt. With a grunt, the agent tossed the boy to the side, putting himself between Virgil and Chase once more.
“Enough!” He snarled, “You,” he pointed at Chase, “are running out of time. The longer you’re here, the more compromised your situation is. I suggest that you leave now while-!” Janus froze.
His chest was heaving with excitement as he locked eyes on Chase’s hands. They were empty. In horror, he turned to look towards Virgil, half expecting to see the boy bleeding out on the ground. However, the boy was laying there, huffing, and staring at Janus. The knife must’ve fallen, then. He looked around for it when he suddenly heard Chase stumble backwards.
“Shit.” He breathed again before turning and running. Virgil jumped to his feet,
“Chase!” He shouted. With a growl he turned back to Janus, “We need to call the police!”
“All in good time.” Janus breathed. He felt strange. Like he wasn’t quite in the moment. Breathing was hard for some reason. He huffed and turned, watching the world spin for a moment longer than his body moved. “All in good time.” He repeated, placing his hands on his hips as a sharp pain shot up his side. He glanced down. “Fuck.”
That was the first and only time Virgil ever heard Janus swear. It was followed by the agent collapsing to his knees and raising shaking hands to surround the black hilt of the knife that was sticking out of his abdomen. Virgil rushed forward to see what was wrong. Mr. D was already digging out his phone.
“Virgil.” He said, feeling himself beginning to panic, “I need you to go in and find Roman. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“What?!” Virgil shouted, “I’m not leaving you here alone!” Janus reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm, hard.
“Go. Get. Roman.” He growled, shoving the boy away, “Now!” He turned his attention back to his phone, shakily pressing the numbers. Virgil stumbled back, swore, and ran inside.
As soon as the boy was out of sight, Janus dropped the phone. He mindlessly told the operator where he was and what was going on. It felt strange, to be relaying information about himself to an emergency response team. He thought dully about how his family was sure to hear about this. He groaned as the adrenalin finally gave way to pain. Fate either hated him or loved him, timing it to happen at the exact moment Roman came rushing out. The fashionista was at his side in an instant, holding him up. Janus pawed weakly at the actor’s chest,
“Roman,” he whispered, “it hurts.” His whole body writhed in pain, only sending him deeper into distress.
“I know, I know,” Roman repeated, helplessly. What was he supposed to do? The sound of sirens began to fill the space. Janus shook as the shock began to take hold, tears starting to spill down his face,
“Roman!” He screamed, “Roman! Make it stop, please!” Behind them, Virgil was crying, clutching to Remus who was holding both him and Logan close. He was staring at Janus, watching the agent scream out in agony. A single tear slipped down his cheek, getting lost in the mustache.
Paramedics rushed in, all crowding around the actor and the agent. Remus dragged his nephews back, making space for the people to work. Roman wasn’t so easily convinced. Janus continued to sob and cry out his college friend’s name, trying to cling to the Prince who’d swept in and saved him so many years ago. Roman watched with breaking heart as the nameless heroes got the delusional man onto the ambulance. He watched the vehicle rush off and he slowly turned and made his way back over to the rest of his family. They stood there in stunned silence, the boys still crying, Remus looking more somber than he’d looked in years.
“I’ll get the car.” Remus said simply, “Take off your vest.” Roman looked down. A red stain stood out against the pale gold of his decorative vest. He shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around Virgil’s shoulders before discarding the vest. Remus took it and nodded, “Stay here with the boys.”
Virgil was panicking. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them screaming at him that this was his fault. If he’d just listened to Janus! If he hadn’t tried to fight Chase! The drink and the little food he’d managed to stomach before the gala came back up to the surface. A police officer was trying to get a statement from him but stepped back quickly as the boy heaved. Roman rubbed his back gently,
“Let it out, Virgil.” Not that the kid had much of a choice. Roman looked up at the officer, “Would it be possible to do this later?” He pleaded,
“Chase.” Virgil ground out, spitting onto the ground, “His name is Chase. He’s my height, my age, blonde hair, blue green eyes, was wearing black except a blue tshirt he was using as a mask.” He stared at the officer hard, “I knew him years ago. He lived in an alley behind the shops on Washington St.” The officer looked mildly suspicious but let Roman leave with the boys as soon as Remus pulled up with the car.
Janus looked wrong, laying so still. The man was always doing something, going somewhere, yelling at someone, or just being busy in some way. Logan curled up against Remus, assuming the same position he had in the waiting room. They’d waited so long, it felt like years. Virgil was off in the corner with Roman, having a quiet discussion.
“It’s not your fault. I’ll say it as many times as I need to until you believe it.” Roman said, holding the boy tightly against his chest as Virgil sobbed,
“You weren’t there.” He babbled, “You didn’t see how I…”
“It’s not your fault.” Roman whispered again, continuing to repeat the phrase over and over. Even when Virgil got too tired to stand, Roman pulled him down onto the floor with him, holding him close and continuing to reassure him.
When Janus peeled his eyes open, he was extremely confused. He looked around himself and blinked a few times.
“Why are you all sleeping?” He almost shouted. Remus jolted awake, sending Logan to the floor with a thud. The discombobulated boy looked up sleepily before jumping to his feet,
“Uncle Janus!” He cried, “You’re awake!” This woke up Roman and Virgil while Janus continued to look confused.
“Well, duh, that’s what people do.” He squinted at Logan, “You are a lot like a baby bird, you know?” He sighed, “Amo infantem avis*.” He slurred quietly, letting his eyes close. They shot open a moment later, “Where’s Virgil?” He asked. Roman nudged the lad forward,
“Uh, hi, Uncle J…” Virgil choked out before the tears started again, “I’m so sorry.” He wailed, “I’m the reason you got stabbed and I-I-!” Janus was, apparently, hearing none of it because he reached out and gripped Virgil’s arm, tugging him close.
“I’m so glad you’re alright, deliciae meae parum unum**.” He swiped at Virgil’s tears, “Non clamabunt. Ego licuit***.” Virgil continued to sob, and Janus looked to Roman in confusion, “Cur est ipse adhuc clamans****?”
“I don’t speak Latin, D.” Roman confessed with a hint of amusement in his voice, “I have no clue what you’re saying.” Remus leaned forward,
“Even I don’t speak Latin.” Janus frowned and pulled Virgil harder,
“Venit*****.” He patted the bed, “Cito*******.” Virgil complied after a wary look towards Roman. Logan gripped Janus’ other hand as the agent continued to babble in a dead language.
The nurses promised that Janus’ loopy state wouldn’t last for long but, until then, Roman had to break out his college Latin textbooks to try to decipher what the man was saying more than half the time. He was pretty sure he got it wrong for the most part, but he tried his best. Janus himself was much clingier in his drugged-up state. He was always looking for someone to cuddle with or to at least hold his hand. When Patton arrived to help, this only got worse. Janus absolutely refused to let go of the fatherly man, swearing in Latin at anyone who suggested otherwise. Patton only laughed at it, letting Janus have what he needed but also gently reminding the man that he needed to share. It was funny to watch the cold and calculating Mr. D be so needy all the time, but it was a relief when the painkillers weren’t needed anymore. He was discharged and sent to live out his recovery at the Prince mansion. He was still on bedrest for the most part and dealing with a bored Janus wasn’t something anyone was prepared to deal with. Roman came home one day to him and Logan having a full-fledged conversation in Latin.
“Uncle J?” Virgil knocked lightly at Janus’ door,
“Come in!” Virgil pushed his way inside,
“You wanted to see me…what are you doing?” He watched as Janus’ fingers moved skillfully with the needles in his hands,
“I’m knitting Remus a scarf for winter. He requested one that looks like a noose and there isn’t one like that on the market.” Virgil thought for a moment,
“We live in Florida?” He said finally, confusion evident on his face. Janus looked up at him over the rims of his half circle glasses,
“With Remus anything is possible.” Virgil shrugged,
“I guess that’s true.” He relented as he came in and settled on the bed, “What did you wanna tell me?” He said at last. Janus set aside the knitting and removed his glasses, clasping his hands on his lap and looking thoughtfully at the boy,
“Roman says you still think its your fault I got hurt.” Virgil flinched, eyes dropping to his lap,
“Yeah, well, it kind of is. You told me not do fight and that’s exactly what I did.” He stopped as a soft hand cupped his cheek.
“Virgil, what you did was incredibly brave and was born out of years of survival instincts. If you think you can just turn that off, then you are sorely mistaken. You’d have to have superhuman abilities to be able to override your own mind like that.” He paused as a tear from Virgil landed on his bedspread. “Come here, Virgil,” he cooed gently, gathering the teen against his uninjured side, “You may think that what happened with Chase is your fault until the end of your days and there’s nothing I can do about that. I can, however, tell you what I think and give you a piece of advice. I don’t think that anything you did or didn’t do would’ve changed what happened. We were in a bad situation and only a miracle could’ve ended it without someone getting stabbed.” Virgil flinched at the word, “As for the advice.” Janus tilted the boy’s head up, “You cannot change the past, merely prepare for the future.” He tapped the boy’s nose lightly, “So don’t go getting into anymore knife fights, yeah?” Virgil let out a weak chuckle.
“Promise.” He sniffed. Janus smiled softly at him before a new emotion clouded his features. He surged forward and pulled the tearful teen to his chest,
“You have no idea how much you mean to me, Virgil Storm. I couldn’t survive is something happened to you.” Virgil held on just as tightly.
“I…” He tried to speak but the words kept getting caught in his throat.
“Hush,” Janus chided, “Nothing more is going to happen. Somnum. Ego hic cum sugere*******.”