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Remus stares, a storm raging against his world, Dee’s hand in his as they stand in the living room.
“Umm, say that again—?” Remus asks, not because he hadn’t heard it, but because he didn’t know how to understand it. He knows. Remus knows exactly what happened up there with the Light Sides. And, as much as he knows, he doesn't want to.
Janus smiles, slippery and elusive as he is. Remus’s grip on his hand tightens, past where Janus would’ve told him to stop, past where he would’ve told him that it hurts. Janus doesn’t bat an eye.
Remus stares at his mouth, waiting on the words to fall like an ax at his neck a second time. Janus’s lips were pretty, a soft pink, everything about Janus was always pretty, and Remus imagines piercing through the skin with his teeth until they bled, just as easily as he could imagine kissing them until they both ran out of breath and laughed at each other.
“I said,” Janus says, hand coming up to cup his face as he brushes a hand over his cheek. Remus raises his eyes to meet his gaze, and he knows that Janus knows exactly how distracting he’s being, but Janus wants him to focus. So he tries his best to focus, even though Remus's mind spins, dips violently into thoughts of blood. Don't be nervous, don't be nervous, pay attention to what he's saying, damnit-- “You have a problem, darling. The light sides are never going to accept you as you are.”
“I don’t want them to accept me,” Remus says, like Janus doesn't know this.
"That's problematic for us now, isn't it?" Janus says, as if he'd been waiting to say it.
Remus rips away from Janus, to stand a good foot away. Enough that his spinning mind now focuses on Janus’s glinting scales and his own vomit begging to claw its way up his throat. “I don’t need them! I don’t need anyone!”
“Not even me?”
They stare at each other, as if there isn't a yawning chasm opening up between them.
“…what?”
“I mean,” Janus says, as if nothing in the world could affect him, not even the words shredding Remus to paper mache in front of his eyes. “I’ve revealed my name to them.”
“So?” Remus’s anger is explosive, and it’s not until he swings his morning star into the couch that he even realizes its weight in his hands.
“So,” Janus continues, the same tone, the same gaze. Remus raises his morning star. It's an instinct, it's a curse. His morning star now levels between him and Janus, and all of Remus just screams THIS IS WRONG. THIS SHOULDN'T BE HAPPENING. “I’ll be leaving you behind.”
Remus slams the morning star forward, but Dee only has to raise his hand, the weapon turning to nothing in the air as Remus stumbles forward, still following the force of his swing.
Janus steps aside to avoid Remus, placing a steadying hand on his back.
“Really, Remus, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”
“You’re leaving, just like Vee did!”
That, at that, Janus’s expression moves, lips tugging to a frown, and it enrages Remus. Virgil matters more than Remus does, is it? He knows it’s not true, he knows, but with Janus about to leave, he’s not sure what he knows.
“You can’t be comparing me to Virgil. We’re nothing alike.”
Remus twists his hand into Dee’s caplet and yanks, and they both stumble back, hitting the table. Janus hisses as he falls, Remus falling with him and they land awkwardly, Janus grunting when he lands on the floor.
His hat gets knocked off and Remus stares at his Deceit. Because he was his, and now he was going to disappear.
Janus’s hand snakes up, grabbing his collar, and Remus blinks as he was thrown off, landing on the floor, winded as he recovers from the knee to his stomach.
“Sorry…” Remus mutters, light shining in his eyes as Janus sits up.
Deceit’s eyes snap to meet his, before he lets out a short sigh.
“Sometimes, I suppose we’re allowed to make no sense to each other,” Janus says, reaching for his hat.
Remus watches him, hanging onto his words.
In the end, Janus leaves.