Chapter Text
Five years.
Five years since the start of it all, since they actually started interacting with Thomas, and while the special is fun, the interviews fun, he can’t help feeling that…
That he’s failed.
He wanted… wants… Thomas to be a star. And he is, isn’t he? He’s famous, people listen to him, love him, support him, he has a Patreon, that viewers are flocking to, and it’s given them more creative freedom than ever before, bigger budgets, more people working under them, some of his more… grand ideas, are actually feasible now!
And they’re dating, aren’t they? They have a solid romance going with Nicco, not quite past that start of relationship, honey moon phase, the giggling and smiling and blushing that makes butterflies wing through his stomach, that makes Virgil’s eyeshadow go all sparkly and bright.
He’s even getting his own show, how exciting is that?! He gets to take the others on grand adventures, plan out quests and stories, and experience the twists and turns along with all of his friends, never knowing quite where fate will take them!
But then Thomas says ‘callback’, and he tries to make light of it, tries to make it into a joke, tries to pretend that it doesn’t still crack open his chest. Not because they didn’t go, but because everyone found it so incredibly unlikely that Thomas would succeed. That he, was good enough to succeed. So he overreacts and deflects and acts the pompous prince, though his smile feels tight and stretched too thin, and he can already feel the bruise blooming under his shirt.
He hears what Patton says, about everyone being more open with their feelings, and his chest aches. He hears Logan say everyone’s gotten better at speaking, but not listening, and guilt churns his stomach. He hears Virgil list off his regrets, closing his eyes at how many are his own fault. He hears everything Janus says, and his heart cracks, because he thought… he thought they were getting better. He thought that maybe Janus was starting to care, even a little bit as much as he does. The only one he’s prepared for is Remus, and even then… It shouldn’t hurt, as much as it does. But his warning, that something’s coming, sends shivers down his spine. He’s barely recovered at all, something new might well and truly break him, in a way no one seems to understand.
How much has he actually grown?
He’s clearly still too loud, too brash, too rash, too fast to judge. He’s still needy and clingy and far too sensitive, unable to take even the simplest joke made at his expense without snapping back defensively with something twice as bad, that he has to apologize for later, not that anyone actually believes he’s sorry, because he can’t ever keep from fumbling over his words and making it worse. He’s self centered, he’s far too selfish, and self important, far too susceptible to flattery and kind words, nothing more than a tool, that then gets blamed for the actions of the user.
The proof of it is written across his body in bruises of black and blue, in swelling around his ankle, in all the other myriad of injuries he’s constantly gaining these days, as what little is left of his pride and self esteem is beaten into the ground by those he loves most. Not that they’d ever see them. He takes care to hide it. He doesn’t need to give them another reason to call him dramatic.
In all honesty, he fears he’s not only failed to grow, but actually grown more intolerable and inadequate.
A soft knock comes at his door, and he sighs, pushing himself up off the edge of the bed, wincing at the weight on his ankle, pushing back his hair and straightening his clothes, keeping a carefully neutral smile on his face, making sure his glamour is seamlessly in place, as he opens the door and sees Janus, standing there.
“Hello, Janus. Do you… need something?” He asks, slightly confused, as to what he’s doing here. His heart aches, in his chest, and he wants nothing more than to end this conversation as quickly as possible so he can curl up on his bed and feel nothing for as long as he can before the feelings rush in and drown him.
“No.” He doesn’t offer anything more, and his brow crinkles in confusion.
“Oh. Um. May I ask why you’re here, then?” He can’t get a read on Janus, his face remains so carefully neutral, beneath his hat.
“To spend time with you.” He can’t help the scoff, as he turns away, leaving it up to Janus, whether he chooses to enter or leave. He’s surprised, to hear soft footsteps entering tentatively, the door softly shutting, as he sits down at his desk, pulling forwards his binder filled with useless ideas.
“Why do you find that so unbelievable?” He spins the chair around, eyes wet though he doesn’t know why he’s so upset at the question.
“When has anyone, especially you, sought me out, without wanting something from me?” He doesn’t understand the soft look on Janus’s face, and he doesn’t realize he’s flinched back from Janus trying to reach out, until Janus’s face falls.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He turns back to his work, ignoring the pressure building behind his eyes.
“Roman…”
“I know what you think of me, Janus. You don’t have to pretend. You can just ask for whatever it is. At this point I know better than to try and fight back.” He doesn’t think he imagines, the soft sound of hurt that echoes from Janus, but he definitely doesn’t imagine the gentle touch on his shoulders, that has the chair spinning back around, Janus’s eyes searching his face, confusion written across his own.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He slumps back in the chair, shaking off Janus's hands before the touch overloads his senses.
“I'm tired, Janus. I’m tired of being strung along, and used, tired of being jerked around like a marionette and still somehow screwing up the steps. So if we could skip the part where you ply me with flattery and make me start to think you might actually care before ripping the floor out from under me, and just tell me what it is you would have from me, we can save ourselves both a lot of extra wasted time and effort.
So. What do you want, Janus? Why are you here, really?” He watches Janus fumble for words, unusual for the usually smooth side, before his face evens and he closes his eyes, waiting for the request.
“Can we hug?” Is not the question he expected, but who is he, to judge?
“I already told you, you can have whatever you want.” He stands, somewhat awkward as he reaches out for Janus, surprised when instead Janus sweeps him up into his arms, his breath faltering and brain short circuiting.
It’s warm. It’s so warm. He doesn’t even realize he’s slumping into Janus’s hold, his legs giving out from the intensity of the sensation, until they’re suddenly on the floor, all six of Janus’s arms holding him close and tight, as a sob breaks past his lips.
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want this, especially not from Janus, who is just using him, he knows it, he knows Janus is just waiting to turn this into ammunition against him later, he can’t afford to break down like this, not when he wants so badly to trust Janus, so badly wants this to be sincere.
“I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry…” He gasps, trying to break away from Janus, but his weak attempts are prevented as Janus hugs him tighter, preventing him from moving, not that he has the capability for it, at the rush of warmth that steals his breath, has him going noodle limp, as all the strength seems to drain from his body.
“Shhhh, Shhh, my prince.” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed at the overwhelming touch, touch against every inch of his body, even through all the layers of his costume, it’s simply overstimulating.
“d… don’t use this. Please, not this. Anything else, a-anything…”
“I won’t. I swear, I won’t. Gloves off, Roman, I won’t.” It takes a long time, for him to regain his composure, for his tears to dry out, for him to regain control of himself, and draw back with an embarrassed cough, trying to subtly swipe at his eyes, as he pulls himself up to his feet, brushing off his clothes, straightening his sash.
“Sorry. About… all that, not sure what came over me there.” He’s proud, how even his voice comes out. He always has been a better actor than he’s been given credit for.
“Roman-“
“I’m sure you have plenty of important work to be doing. I would hate to keep you longer than I already have. I should be getting back to work, as well.”
“Roman. Stop. Stop… lying.” His shoulders sag slightly, though he keeps up a tight lipped smile.
“That’s more your department, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Janus blurts, and he shakes his head, falling into his desk chair.
“You did. Maybe not the first time you appeared, impersonating Patton, but don’t tell me that you honestly expected me not to be hurt by the position you put me in at the trial. Don’t pretend you didn’t think me a fool and a moron. You know how… sensitive… I can be, and used that to try and get your way. You weaponized what are my most basic needs, then set me up as the villain when I retaliated so that everyone would sympathize with you. Don’t lie to me now, and expect me to believe you.”
He supposes he should be bitter, but he isn’t. Not anymore, at least. Everyone else accepted it all so easily, he’s the only one who struggles with it all, still, and the constant façade of being ok is exhausting.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I… maybe I meant to take you down a peg or two, but I didn’t intend for it to go this far. I didn’t realize that you were already so close to the edge, I thought everyone would immediately step up to protect you, comfort you, coddle you, I didn’t think they’d leave you out to dry like this!” Janus sounds surprisingly outraged on his behalf, and he chuckles dryly, no humor in it.
“I’m too much work. It just took everyone this long to realize it. It’s easier, now, though. Now that I know exactly where I stand, I can temper my expectations. That’s one good thing, that came from all this, I suppose, I’m under no illusion of my own importance.” Janus makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
“That’s not true!”
“Of course it is. No matter how much I’ve quieted down, subdued my excitement, reigned in my outbursts, I have not done enough to limit myself. I heard what everyone said, today, what you, said today. I am too much, and I know it. Everyone knows it.” He's tired, just tired, he just wants to be left alone. Janus curses, and he doesn’t look back, at the slight pop as Janus sinks out, leaving him alone.
It shouldn’t burn as much as it does. He wasn’t really expecting anything else.