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What else was he wrong about?
What else was he wrong about?
It's the question that's been stuck in his mind like an awful earworm for the past three days.
He gets up. He makes breakfast. He goes to his room. He makes dinner. He eats. Virgil doesn't come down. Roman comes down one night and the others it's just him and Logan. He goes back to his room. He tried to make cookies tonight, vaguely remembering Dec—Janus, he corrects himself (and the name is thick and rich like honey even in his mind), saying that Virgil liked those a whole lot. That apparently had been the wrong move, because his kiddo had looked… mad in a way that he didn't think he could. Roman didn't eat any, of course, but Logan did, thank goodness. At least he doesn't feel as bad gorging himself on half the platter if he knows someone else will eat a few.
Ah, he's doing it again. Avoiding it. Even in his own mind. Sitting on his bed in his room, doing nothing but looking at the pair of yellow gloves he's left folded up on his nightstand just in case D… Janus would want them back.
Really, he gets it. That may be the worst part. He's Morality, for goodness sake! Of course he gets it. It's weird, best-case scenario. But he's… you know. It's not the first time, is it? He invited Virgil over, and not just for dinner.
Except that was completely different, and he knows it. Logan was the first to know his little emo wasn't the big bad he… got made out to be. And even if Roman would deny it to Heaven and back, they'd been making googly eyes to each other since before they even knew Virgil's name. Everyone was ready for it except… Virgil himself, really.
And with Janus, it's the opposite. And nobody will tell him why.
Well, Roman, he gets. He plays along, of course, because he's Happy-Pappy-Patton and they've done multiple bits where the God-fearing side apparently didn't know what adultery was, but he knows Janus was flirting with Roman a whole lot back there. And he doesn't approve of that, and he's going to make him apologize for it, because that was… well, past Deciet. That was manipulative. And Janus is trying to be better. He wants to help.
please let him do good. please. please. amen.
He shakes the thought. The rest is what's frustrating him. Logan has had his moments with Janus, of course, but he had those same kind of moments with Virgil, didn't he? He had hoped that Logan would've liked someone who could keep up with him for a start. But he won't talk to Patton about this. And Patton doesn't know how to ask what makes him different. There's differences between Janus and Virgil, of course, but he thought Logan would be…
He wants to say mature. But he knows that's not fair. He thought Logan would be on his side. And he supposes, in a way, he was. He showed up for dinner, anyway. He wasn't mean to Janus. But there was tension that Patton hated. But how to dissolve it? How do you even begin?
Virgil is another issue. One that puts a pit in his stomach, makes the familiar slither of guilt weigh in his throat, down to his chest. Scars. So many scars. And Patton has no idea where they came from, but every option seems like an awful one. And he knows that's not something he's allowed to ask about. That's the kind of thing that would scare the kid from him, more than Janus being… here-ish. He's insanely hostile for someone who was living with the man, so something must've happened, but he's not close enough with Janus to ask what and Virgil wouldn't dare to tell him.
Nobody will talk to him, and the silence is suffocating.
Of course, there's… his own feelings.
He takes a breath, and slips his hand under his pillow. Even in the dark, it's there. He couldn't ever get rid of it, really. He's a sentimental guy, after all.
In the dull moonlight that streams in through the window, the gleam of silver on the wood rosary makes it look almost gentle. Gentle and sharp. Like Janus.
He sighs.
He's never… It's… He's had moments, sure. Held hands longer than he maybe should've with Logan. Looked at people in Thomas’ life more than he wanted to.
But this is different. This is the taste of wine and the feel of a snake scale against the bottom of his palm, the flush of red against green and the hazy mismatched eyes, the sharp grins and closeness that is so, so much more than he had ever imagined doing. It makes bile rise in his throat a bit, though he's mostly sure that's from the memory of vomiting twice that night before he went to bed. He doesn't drink much, doesn't drink that much. He's got a weak stomach, so sue him.
Weak stomach is right, he thinks, staring at the rosary he holds outstretched before him. What is he doing? What is he inviting into his life? He wants to do this because he wants Janus, wants everyone to be good, wants everyone to be happy and together, but that was—not part of the plan.
He is reminded suddenly of Janus flirting with Roman during the whole court debacle, and that makes his stomach feel queasy again, but no, that was different, too. He can't put the blame on Janus for this one. He opened the door, sure, but Patton walked in and then immediately made himself at home. Janus was flustered. And gosh, that makes his heart flutter in a way that mismatches with the gentle sway of the necklace in front of him.
He is out of his depth. He has always been tiptoeing his head above water, but now he is drowning, and Eve wishes she had his excuse, of the sudden extension of a hand from someone who gets it. Even if it's different. He had to… be a parent, too. He knows he's messed up, and he finds it hard to believe Janus hasn't. Someone to learn how to swim with. Well—he thinks to Virgil again and takes a breath. Float, even. Float would be a good start.
And the other stuff is… a benefit, is all. A dizzying one, in the form of charming man whose ears go a bit red when someone calls his scales pretty, and- and-
And there's the warm slick of a tear down his face. He sighs, sliding the rosary back under his pillow and wiping his eyes with the back of his palm. A quick glance to his alarm clock makes him cringe. It's after two-thirty in the morning.
And he's still not thinking about it.
What else was he wrong about?
He doesn't know how much everyone else remembers. Besides Janus, of course, who is willing to… forgive him.
Because he messed up. Really, really bad.
There are some parts that make him dizzy to think about, surely because of how long ago it happened, something about some secret Janus was keeping, but looking back, they were kids. It was probably him teaching Roman how to cuss or something (and he's still sure of that, thank you, because Logan and Patton certainly didn't teach him!), and if it was all that bad, he should've stayed and helped.
But he left. He left, and he split everyone apart. He's the real reason behind this mess, and it drives him crazy. He wouldn't trade Logan and Roman for the world, but it was… burdening. At least before, Patton and Janus could alternate between cooking and cleaning and watching. They had each other, and then they didn't, but he chose that burden, and Janus didn't. And Janus forgave him like it was nothing. He was so, so, so wrong about Janus.
Like he was wrong about Virgil.
Like a sinking feeling in his gut tells him he's (somehow) wrong about Remus. Well. Okay, he already was. There's no such thing as a bad kid. He figured that out before they even took in Virgil, but he was still scared to let Roman just go to him. Honestly, he's scared of Remus. Which is fair. But still.
What else?
There's something that bugs him. The way that, when they're recording, and Virgil has to see Janus, that look in his eye, the fear and the anger—Roman gets that, sometimes. When Patton yells at him. Sends him to the little time-out room. And he didn't… Never really thought of it. He knows Janus messed up with Virgil, big-time.
What does that say about him?
He's Morality. He's supposed to know this stuff, he's supposed to be good at it. And yeah, Janus isn't one-dimensional, he knows that now, but, still. Could he have done the damage Janus did? There were times, in the beginning, when Janus first made his appearance, when Virgil would outright tremble.
Lord above, please let Roman never look at him like that. He doesn't think he could take it.
His hand goes to his rosary under his pillow, instinctively. Hand wrapping around it like a safety piece. And he… pauses.
What else was he wrong about?
Patton… He swallows, hard.
Patton doesn't really… Believe. In God. Or a God.
It feels wrong to admit, even in his own mind. But he doesn't. Thomas certainly doesn't. It doesn't seem like any of the other sides do, and it's to the point where Remus is probably the closest to believing if not just to… worship the devil, or something.
It's not that he couldn't. If he really tried, he's sure he could. Probably. There are good churches out there, he knows. But it's hard, after being told by so many people that he, Thomas, is going to suffer forever for, for being—
A slap across Thomas’ cheek. “Faggots go to hell, do you fucking hear me?” Another slap when a sob breaks from the boy, looking teary-eyed at his father. Someone had told on him. He had held a boy’s hand. And he's going to burn in hell for it.
He pulls the rosary back out, staring at it. Thomas’ father. The man he had tried to impersonate, for Logan and Roman.
An hour later, Patton is in his corner of the mind. He lays the wood and silver rosary in a closet with some other old junk he tries not to think of (old conversion pamphlet he still has memorized. Guys and Dolls cast list. Boxcutter. Remus’ first lost tooth. The old Playboy magazine he had gotten once, desperately, trying to fix what was critically wrong with him—) and locks it. The key goes into his pocket, where it always is.
He goes back to his room, and looks at the rubber gloves.
He doesn't want to think of it, because it's hard in a new, more painful way, but there's bigger issues than Janus and him doing… whatever that was. He can't hide behind some new issue. He's not dumb. It's time to start changing some things.
He lays on top of the covers and goes to sleep.