Chapter Text
Janus wasn’t sure how long he slept, but he remembered waking long enough to let Logan treat his injuries. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he reminded him that imaginary wounds couldn’t get infected, the side couldn’t be dissuaded.
Or perhaps he’d been telling him that the wounds would get infected. His disorientation made the boundary between honesty and fabrications murky, and it would take more energy than he currently possessed to pull them apart.
“Why do you bother?” he mumbled once when he roused to find Logan carefully replacing the bandages on his sliced knuckles. He only clenched his jaw and shook his head. If he offered a reply, Janus wasn’t conscious long enough to hear it.
It was rare for sides to truly dream, but his faltering grip on reality distorted the brief glimpses of consciousness and cast doubts as to whether they happened at all. Patton crying sounded real, but when he heard Roman yelling it sounded stilted and disjointed. He opened his eyes once to find Logan reading beside him, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth when he tried to speak. At one point, he even mistook Roman for Virgil and would have sworn he heard him singing. It reverberated strangely on his tempest tongue, but even as a dream it sounded no less sweet.
He slept, and for once he knew everything would be alright when he woke up.
The first time he got up from the couch, he almost gave Patton a heart attack. Staggering into the kitchen, semi-conscious and squinting under the bright lights, he barely noticed the side was there at all. Without sparing a thought for the time or the lecture he would no doubt receive from Logan, he snagged the coffee pot from the machine and an unopened box of cereal from the cupboard before promptly collapsing back onto the couch.
Patton wisely chose not to intervene aside from reminding him the coffee would still be hot. Janus raised the pot in a silent toast before downing most of its contents and curling around it to bask in its lingering heat. The caffeine didn’t stop him from drifting off again, but his mind seemed sharper the next time he came around again, this time to find Virgil perched on the arm of the chair and watching him like a hawk.
He waited, apparently trying to determine if Janus would stay conscious this time before he nodded. “Let things get this bad again, and I’m replacing all your philosophy textbooks with self-help DVDs.”
Under different circumstances, Janus would have called him a hypocrite, but even with the coffee in his system he was too exhausted to come up with a retort. The smile he managed to conjure barely touched the human side of his face, but it lifted the line of his serpentine jaw. The honesty of it made his skin crawl, but it was worth it for the look that crossed Virgil’s face.
It would take time, but Janus could be patient.
Fortunately, the Light sides made no effort to rush his recovery. They adapted their schedules to fit his erratic routine so they could ensure he never, not once, awoke alone. He would be grateful if the immensity of his indebtment to them didn’t threaten to consume him.
“You need to eat something,” Patton said, shoving a plate under Janus’ nose before he could protest. Janus blinked in surprise.
“It’s a bagel.”
Janus blinked again.
“It’s just…everyone likes bagels, right?” Patton looked nervous. Why did Patton look nervous? “Please, you have to eat something.”
Imaginary sustenance to fuel an imagined construction of a form. It wouldn’t help to fill out his hollow cheeks or change the way his shirt hung off his frame. He’d pushed himself far beyond his limit, and now he paid the price for it.
Patton’s wide, pleading eyes bore into his. “We have cream cheese?”
Heaving a sigh, Janus propped himself up enough to take a large, deliberate bite. Imagined or not, it was delicious.
Giving in so easily may have been a mistake, as after that he found plates of food waiting for him almost every time he opened his eyes. Plates strategically placed on the coffee table, trays waiting by his feet, even candy bars stashed under his pillow. Still, somehow he couldn’t bring himself to mind, and he vowed to thank Patton when he could be sure the sentiment wouldn’t come out reversed.
If the others picked up on his reluctance to speak, they politely avoided mentioning it. Even simple truths tripped on his tongue these days, and he’d rather offer no thanks at all than mangle his expression of gratitude. There would be time for that later, he’d make sure of it.
Little by little, his strength began to return to him, but still the sides maintained their vigil at his bedside. Roman seemed determined to work his way through Thomas’ entire Disney collection, and Janus couldn’t find it in him to offer even a token protest. They watched movies he hadn’t seen since Thomas’ childhood, applauding politely at Roman’s perfect recitals of even the most obscure songs in the catalogue.
He feigned reluctance when asked if he wanted to watch the Jungle Book next, and the small deception fuelled him long enough to get through not only the original, but the live action remake as well.
Despite his threats, Virgil was the first one to think to bring him books when the simple act of sitting up no longer exhausted him. To his surprise, instead of simply plucking a handful of heavy tomes from the shelves that lined Janus’ room, he brought his own worn paperbacks. Thrillers and horrors mostly, but the more he read, the more he appreciated how carefully Virgil chose them. Books with moral conundrums and morally grey protagonists to counter classic heroes. People who kept their wits about them, utilising their intelligence to tackle their adversaries. In all of them, secrets and deception went hand in hand with heroics, and Janus couldn’t help but devour them.
When Logan saw a few lying around and volunteered to provide books from his own collection, Janus expected the sort of dense textbooks he often perused in his own time. He definitely didn’t expect the embodiment of logic and learning to return with a mountain of mystery novels.
It was strange to spend so much time among the Light sides without an ulterior motive to drive him. Enjoying their company without twisting their words, no points left to prove or arguments to sway them.
Janus didn’t say much these days. If the Light sides took notice, they had the decency not to pry. There was honesty in silence, he decided. Though it defied his very nature, he found little reason to deceive the other sides.
The first time Logan brought out the chess board, Janus declined his offer to play. He watched, silent and unblinking as he defeated Roman again, and again, and again. For three days he held back, and when at last he stepped up to the challenge his moves were calculated and cautious. Janus took more pieces, but Logan won the game.
When they played again, Janus asked to play white and Logan acquiesced.
(He lost that match too, but the outcome didn’t matter so much as the game itself.)
Over the (days weeks?) course of his recovery, his strength returned to him as a slow trickle. It would be a long time before his exhausted reserves fully recovered, and some secrets could never be concealed again once they’d been exposed to the light of day.
In the end, all of the sides’ collective efforts amounted to a fraction of what Thomas achieved with a simple summons.
He answered it without a conscious thought, a motion as natural to him as breathing. He couldn’t even bring himself to mind the sickening swirl of colour this time because he’d been asked for, and in that moment nothing else in the world mattered.
Until he hit the ground, and reality came crashing back into play.
Logan rose up at his side, following only a split second after Janus vanished. This time, when the side caught his arm and held him steady, Janus replied with thanks instead of a hiss.
“Janus?” Thomas asked with rapidly growing alarm. “Are you alright?”
“I know you meant well inviting him, kiddo, but I’m really not so sure it’s a good idea to have him here for this episode.”
“I agree, you should be resting.” Janus patted Logan’s arm to show he appreciated the gesture but shook his head.
“I’m here now, I might as well hear the reason for it.” His voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears, but the rush of attention made the wave of dizziness and fatigue more than worth it.
Thomas ducked his head in embarrassment. “Well, uh…it’s nothing important, really. If I’d realised you were…”
“He wants to do another Q A,” Virgil interrupted. His tempest tongue still echoed through his words, and the heavy blackness beneath his eyes looked closer to tar dripping down his cheeks than eyeshadow, but for the first time in months Janus saw no sign of extra eyes.
“While I agree that it may be beneficial both for us and for your fans if we were to quote-unquote ‘chill out' after the events of the last episode may be wise, I do not believe it is necessary for all of us to be present for this.”
Janus realised with a pang of gratitude that Logan fully intended to leave with him. Both sides were starved of attention, but he was willing to pass up an opportunity to bask in the spotlight for the sake of keeping Janus company.
He’d be flattered if his mind weren’t racing with possibilities.
“I’ll do it,” Janus said before Thomas could so much as open his mouth to respond.
“Are you sure?” Roman asked sceptically. “Answering questions doesn’t really seem like your…Well…”
One last manipulation. It couldn’t even be called a deception, not really. Thomas just needed the right push—
“Oh, I do have a condition.”
“A…condition?”
“You do want me here, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!”
“Well, my involvement comes with a caveat. More of an entail, really.” Janus drew himself up to his full height, pulling back from Logan even if he benefited from the extra support to hold him steady.
“I’ll answer any questions your fans may pose as honestly as I am able…on the condition that you extend the same opportunity to Remus.”
Silence.
A part of him expected the other sides to look surprised, but even as Patton and Logan exchanged uneasy looks, neither offered even a token protest.
“Janus…” Thomas trailed off, shifting uneasily in place.
“I think it’s a good idea.”
The looks Roman received ranged from awe to outright horror. Even Janus found himself struggling for words, but with his face set in grim determination, he pressed on. “I know the fans weren’t expecting it, but surely some of the group questions could be applied to him as well?”
“I— That’s really not the issue here. Guys, a little help?”
Logan’s lips pressed into a fine line, his gaze flickering between Thomas and Roman. Janus turned to meet his eye, silently pleading with him to understand. His face remained as impassive as ever, but those cold eyes softened when he saw the expression on Janus’ face.
“Your ability to silence and restrain other sides extends to Remus, does it not?”
“It does.”
“Then you have the ability to contain him if he gets out of hand?”
“I do.”
Logan nodded, more to himself than to Janus. “In that case…I see no reason why he can’t be a part of the video.”
Desperation began to creep into Thomas’ voice as he turned to Virgil this time, searching for some shred of support. “You have to see why this sounds like a terrible idea, right?”
Virgil tapped his chin. “You know, I had my doubts, but if Logan thinks it’s a good idea, who am I to argue with the voice of reason?”
“This is insane.”
“Maybe,” Patton admitted, smiling in the face of Thomas’ pleading look. “But I trust Janus.”
Three simple words. I. Trust. Janus. He tried to remember if he’d ever heard them uttered aloud before, without so much as a hint of dishonesty lacing. Pure, genuine faith.
How on Earth did I earn it from Patton of all sides?
Thomas drooped, outnumbered five to one. “I really hope you guys know what you’re doing.”
Janus flashed him a sharp smile. “If you can’t trust in yourself, who can you trust?”
Thomas grimaced. “So, do I just…call him? Normally he just sort of appears up on his own.”
“So did I, but it’s always nice to receive an invitation.”
Thomas waved his arm in a way vaguely reminiscent of Roman’s preferred method of summoning, gesturing to the empty space by the TV and…nothing happened. Roman inched out of frame, staring at the spot with growing anticipation.
“Er, Remus? This is your cue, buddy.”
The side didn’t rise up so much as sprawl out boneless across the expanse of carpet. He swore fluently as he fell, twisting and contorting himself into a blatantly inhuman shape to get a sense of his new location. When his eyes landed on Thomas, he froze.
Neither one so much as blinked, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Remus’ eyes burned a little too bright for Janus’ liking, but he bit his tongue as the pair surveyed one another.
When Thomas began to squirm under the scrutiny, Virgil grew impatient with the standoff and let out a huff. “Get up, trash-man. Thomas’ camera is on a tripod, the viewers can’t see you when you’re contorting yourself into a pretzel on the floor.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Roman asked incredulously.
“You think watching Thomas stare at something off-screen makes for exciting content? When viewers get bored, they leave.”
Roman sighed and extended a hand to his brother. Remus stared in bewilderment, torn between suspicion and fascination.
“Have you finally cracked?” he asked, squinting up at Roman from the floor. “I always knew you would eventually. I was hoping you’d go for something more dramatic, though. Maybe finally putting that katana to good use with a good old fashioned public beheading. Streaking across a stadium works too if you want something a little less red, though I suppose you never were much of a sports fan.”
Roman huffed, but the second he began to pull away, Remus made a desperate grab for his outstretched hand.
The opposite sides of creativity considered one another, though Janus was pleased to find no trace of resentment there. Caution certainly, but no suspicion.
“Well, well, well,” Remus drawled, eyes returning again to fix on Thomas. “Something I said must have struck a chord. So, what are we in for today, hmm? Are we breaking out the knives? Or are we going for something a little more fun?”
“That won’t be necessary, Remus,” Logan said without batting an eye, and for the first time, Remus seemed to notice they had company. He froze when he noticed Janus subtly leaning against the bannister for support.
Overly aware that their viewers would no doubt study this as their first on-screen interaction, Janus looked away first to casually examine the fingers of his gloves.
“I’m afraid it’s nothing quite so interesting,” he said with feigned disinterest. “I’m sure the episode will be strictly age appropriate. We’re here to answer some of the fan questions on twitter. I believe you should be up to the task?”
Remus stared until the silence grew uncomfortable enough to make Thomas fidget.
“Questions?” he repeated, drawing out the word as if still struggling to comprehend its meaning.
“It’s a way for the audience to get to know you better…If you want them to get to know you better,” Thomas muttered, fiddling with his phone to avoid meeting his eye.
Remus blinked, but his face remained blank. Dangerously blank. Janus could see the other sides shooting him nervous glances in his peripheral, but his attention now rested solely on Remus.
“Are the lights still on in there?” Virgil asked casually, but his body language gave him away. Wound up like a spring, prepared for Remus to lunge at them without warning.
And lunge without warning was exactly what Remus did.
Roman yelled in alarm as his brother shot forward in a blur of motion where only seconds before he’d been still as stone. From across the room, Patton screamed. From the stairs, Virgil swore. Beside him Logan scrambled backwards to avoid the living cannonball now hurtling towards them, and Thomas almost fell over the back of the couch in his haste to do the same.
Janus threw his arms out wide, barely resisting the urge to summon the four he kept carefully hidden. Remus barrelled into him headlong, hard enough to knock the air from the lungs and drive him back a step. At once his arms wrapped around Janus’ middle, locking like a vice and squeezing until his ribs creaked.
In an instant Roman’s katana appeared in his hand, but the glare he received in return brought him up short. Instead of fighting back, Janus returned the hug without hesitation, rubbing soothing circles into Remus’ back when he buried his face in his shirt.
He shifted, lifting his head just enough to mutter his thanks without being overheard.
“No need for gratitude,” Janus murmured, unable to hide the fondness in his smile. “I keep my promises, Remus.”
He held on tighter, squeezing until it became almost unbearable, then at once the pressure vanished. Bright eyes stared up at him, so vivid the neon green should be sickening, but in them he found no trace of rage. Alight with joy and appreciation, there could be no mistaking his intentions.
“How delightful!” he announced around a wide-mouthed grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he spun to face the camera. “I suppose I should get back to my mark. You don’t mind sharing the spotlight, do you brother-dear?”
Roman looked back and forth between the pair, still stunned by the sudden change of pace. “I…suppose?”
“It’s…er, nice to see you again, Remus,” Patton said, though his hands still shook from the fright.
“Yes, quite.” Logan straightened his tie, frowning as he studied Janus for any sign of injury. “Now that the pleasantries are behind us, perhaps we could begin? We’ll have enough editing to do as-is.”
“R-Right.” Thomas still clearly wasn’t happy with the situation, eyeing Remus as if he expected him to lunge again at any moment, but the prompt reminded him he had a job to do. Clearing his throat, he unlocked his phone again and began to scroll through the list. “The first question is for Virgil.”
“Oh for the love of— Why does he always get the first question?”
“@shadowsofthedark over on Twitter asked: Do you have any makeup tips? P.S. I love the darker eyeshadow.”
“Wait, you got the makeup question?”
Virgil only smirked. “I guess some of Thomas’ fans have taste.”
Roman all but shrieked in protest and Virgil’s grin widened. “Well your foundation is the best place to start, of course. A few good sleepless nights induced by existential dread should give you some nice, natural shadows to build upon—”
“I would like to remind you that doctors recommend between seven and nine hours of sleep per night in order to stay healthy. Associated side-effects of consistent sleep deprivation include an increased risk of obesity, heart disease, high blood pres—”
“—before you break out the brushes and the darkest eyeshadow palette at your disposal—”
“Wait, are you the one who stole my makeup brushes?”
There was a comfortable familiarity in their teasing and light-hearted bickering. A well-rehearsed routine they fell back into without missing a beat. When he saw an opening, Thomas interjected with a question about Patton’s favourite comfort foods which led to a brief debate about the correct chocolate chip ratios in recipes.
So relaxed and trivial it was almost surreal, and when Janus met Remus’ eye he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so. Not long ago he would have expected Virgil to feel the same, but even with his tempest tongue distorting his words he slipped into the conversation with an ease Janus couldn’t help but envy. Time changed all things, and Virgil was no exception. His time in the Light had softened him, leaving Remus and Janus to stand on the outskirts alone.
Roman preened when at last Thomas found a tweet addressed to him, though it was less of a question and more of a request for inspiration. Janus would have sworn he saw a tear in his eye when he stared off into empty space and delivered a speech about the value of fledgling artists while an imagined musical chorus swelled. No doubt it would look more impressive when the editing was done, but Remus had to jam his entire fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.
Naturally, Janus turned to Logan as they waited for the next question. The last one left to complete the circuit.
“Okay, we’ve got a tweet for Janus from @serpentinesalsa. ‘If he’s answering questions can you ask Janus for his self-care tips? Love you guys’. Aww, that’s sweet.”
He knew logically there would be questions directed at him. Thomas wouldn’t have asked him to participate otherwise, but somehow it still managed to catch him off-guard. His confusion must have shown because Logan’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. Grounding, reassuring, undeserved.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“No it’s…fine,” he said carefully, still baffled by the mundanity of it all. Had they seen the last video? “Taking time to do the things you enjoy is essential, of course, as is taking physical care of your body…though I think Logan would be better placed to give advice on maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and meeting your dietary requirements.”
“And yet, they asked you.” Logan’s tone left little room for argument. Not unkind but fixed and firm.
The question should have been his.
“Staying hydrated is important,” Janus muttered. Who was he to stand here and give advice on self-care anyway? What made him qualified to give strangers life advice when he so recently managed to work himself into the ground?
“Oh, you can do better than that, Jan.”
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Remus who soaked it all in with a wide and toothy grin.
Janus narrowed his eyes.
“And, of course, it’s essential to set boundaries. Remember that it’s okay to tell the people close to you that you need space.”
“Well that doesn’t sound very fun.”
“Or that they’re being particularly annoying.”
“Why, snake-eyes, whatever could you be implying?”
Even exhausted, Janus fell into their well-worn routine without missing a beat. No wrestling with his words or turning his arguments over in his head before he voiced them aloud. No pressure to patch the holes in his logic, no need to manage an image or separate truth from lie from hope from lie that Thomas believed more fiercely than any fact Logan could spout.
Remus’ face cracked into a wide and wicked grin that sent nervous ripples through the other sides.
Still an unpredictable element, he noted as he watched Roman’s fingers curl into a loose fist. Remus, of course, remained oblivious. Or perhaps he chose to be oblivious, rocking back on his heels as if Virgil’s eyes didn’t track every hand gesture. Watching in case his wild gesticulations disguised a subtle conjuring. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d crafted some nightmarish monstrosity under the guise of holding a civilised conversation.
Logan kept his opinions to himself, but his lips pursed in silent disapproval when Remus managed to make his clean-cut answer to the next question sound like an innuendo. Virgil’s sharp wit filled the silences Logan left behind, but for all his bravado, he couldn’t defy his nature for long. He slumped low, hiding in his hoodie the same way a turtle tucked its neck back into its shell at the first sign of danger. When Remus threw out an arm in parody of his brother’s usual theatrics, something black and glittering flashed in the thick shadows beneath his eyes. A momentary slip, but it didn’t escape Janus’ notice.
Roman, for all their history, at least tried to give his brother a chance. It might have worked too, if not for the fact that he still fell for every snipe and goading comment Remus dropped. Patton’s attempts at disrupting their bickering matches only went so far when he still couldn’t work up the courage to get within swiping range of Remus. Not that Janus could fault him for the precaution.
Worst of all was Thomas, always prone to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. The regret could be seen plain as day, splashed across his face, and wound around his clenched jaw. Janus didn’t need Virgil to relay his concerns, not when his eye twitched with every swear he’d have to edit out. With every question Remus managed to turn into a sexual innuendo that would make even his oldest audience members blush, every discussion he managed to side-track into a pointless debate, Thomas’ wariness gave way to frustration.
Janus wondered how long they would have before that frustration rose to outright anger.
“@clairvoyantcrown1 wants to know if you guys have any hobbies?” he bit out, already resigned to the hours of editing it would take to scrape any useable footage out of this mess of a Q A. Remus’ eyes lit up at the implications of such an open question, though a look from Janus silenced him before he could derail the question.
Wait for the right moment. Bide your time.
Patience and strategy weren’t Remus’ strong suits, but fortunately for them both, he trusted Janus enough to bite his tongue. For now, at least.
“Why, acting, of course!” Roman said hastily before his brother could open his mouth to speak.
“I’m not sure that counts as a ‘hobby’ since Thomas relies on it for income.”
“I also write—”
“Scripts. For the videos Thomas relies upon for income.”
Roman glowered. “I learned Spanish. How’s that for a hobby? What do you do you’re your free time, you nit-picking nerd?”
“I have no free time,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses with no small degree of smug self-satisfaction. “After years of practice, I have managed to devise the perfect schedule for maximising efficiency. Even accounting for disruptions such as these.”
“What about chess?” Patton suggested. “You love chess!”
Logan’s eye twitched. “Studies have shown that playing chess has observable benefits on cognitive functioning and memory. I learned chess as an investment in Thomas’ brain development.”
“What about reading? That’s a hobby.”
“Accumulating knowledge is part of my job, and therefore can’t be considered a leisure activity.”
“Oh yeah? And I suppose making Thomas watch Doctor Who reruns is a purely intellectual exercise?”
“If you are so interested in this question, why don’t you answer it yourself?” Logan said through gritted teeth, and Virgil bared his teeth in a grin.
“Easy. I like to consider the terrifying prospect that our every action is predetermined and set in stone. Our path forward and our future already decided by some greater force, and therefore entirely outside of our own control. No way of knowing whether fate has set us on a path of fulfilment, or whether we’re doomed to spiral into obscurity. And when I have the time, I like to consider whether that is more or less terrifying than the idea that we may truly be in control of our own destiny, and therefore completely responsible for any failures which may lay in store for us, with no divine intervention to steer us towards our full potential.”
Thomas stared, his attempts at forming a coherent response dying on his lips and leaving him gaping like a fish.
“As fascinating as existentialism is, I believe contemplating topics which cause Thomas some degree of anxiety also counts as part of your job, and therefore cannot be considered a ‘hobby’.”
“What about you, Janus?” Patton asked before Virgil could fire back the biting retort so clearly poised on his tongue.
“I suppose you would also count scheming as part of my job?” he asked, pretending to adjust his collar while he studied Remus out of the corner of his eye. Keeping quiet opposed his nature, and without an outlet for his restless energy he fidgeted in place. While Roman and Patton seemed to have forgotten about him in the heat of the debate, Virgil remained ever vigilant.
A jittery Remus he could handle, but it wouldn’t be long before his restlessness gave way to agitation. If he could just hold out a little longer while Janus dropped the bait and twisted the conversation just so—
“You would be correct,” Logan agreed, and he let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Well, if you insist. I’m not sure if you could call it a hobby, but I’m prone to cleaning when I’m stressed.”
Thomas looked up from his phone in surprise. “Really?”
“Ask Remus if you don’t believe me.”
At once his expression darkened, but once brought into the spotlight, Remus could be very difficult to ignore.
“Oh it’s true, alright,” he laughed, rocking back on his heels so far he surely should have overbalanced. Instead, he hung in the air at that unnatural angle for a beat longer than gravity should have allowed before rocketing forward again as though swinging on a pendulum. “I should have thought the gloves would give that away!”
“In my defence, it’s a useful habit when you’re so prone to mucking up our quarters.”
“What can I say? With all the action happening in my room there’s bound to be the occasional spill,” he said, waggling his eyebrows in such an exaggerated motion that even Roman rolled his eyes.
“I don’t mind scrubbing out the blood stains, Remus, but if you could please try to keep your little side projects from encroaching on our living space? The last time the garden overflowed I lost a finger to the snapping pansies.”
“The subconscious has a garden?” Logan asked, his irritation forgotten in the wake of this new discovery. Janus suppressed a smile as Remus’ eyes flashed.
Hook, line, and sinker.
“Of course! You didn’t think my brother had a monopoly on plant life, did you?”
“I must confess, the possibility hadn’t occurred.”
“He’s got a point,” Patton agreed. The fabric of his cardigan bunched beneath his fists as he fiddled with the knotted sleeves that draped off his shoulders. “I mean…aren’t flowers more Roman’s thing?”
“Not the way he makes them,” Virgil said with something bordering on nostalgia. “I don’t suppose you still have the spider pla—?”
Patton’s piercing wail drowned out even Virgil’s tempest tongue, sharp enough to reignite the ebbing pain in Janus’ head with a fiery passion. His wince went unnoticed in the flurry of activity, with only Logan remaining unphased by the display. Virgil ducked for the limited cover the bannister provided, hissing at the unexpected assault on his eardrums. On the opposite side of the room, the twins summoned their weapons with almost uniform synchronicity. Despite the circumstances, Janus couldn’t help but appreciate the rare sight of the twins brandishing their respective weapons to form a united front against a common enemy instead of against one another.
“There’s no need to panic, Patton,” Logan said, somehow bearing witness to the unexpected commotion without so much as raising an eyebrow. “I believe Virgil was speaking anecdotally. I do not believe he was suggesting there are actually any spiders present.”
Patton managed to refrain from screaming again but couldn’t suppress the full body shudder at the mere mention of them.
“What the fu—”
“Language, Remus. Thomas still has to edit this at the end of the day,” Janus reminded him, straightening his capelet in an attempt to regain some of his earlier composure.
“—runculosis.”
“Furunculosis?” Roman repeated, absently banishing his katana as his arms dropped back to his sides.
“A rather unpleasant skin condition which causes furuncles, more commonly known as boils, to develop at the site of an infected hair follicle,” Logan recited in textbook monotone.
“You’re not the only one who knows big words, y’know.” Remus kept his Morningstar, though he relaxed his grip and let it fall to his shoulder the way someone might hold a baseball bat. The casual pose made the sharpened spikes no less menacing as they glinted in the stage lights. “What’s up with the banshee-esque begetter?”
Logan shot Remus a rare look of approval. “Patton is arachnophobic. He’s prone to outbursts at even the mention of—”
“Don’t say it!” he pleaded. “I feel like they’re crawling all over me. Are they on me? Roman, can you check?”
“You’re all clear, padre,” Roman assured him, but beside him Remus’ face split into a grin of pure and unbridled delight.
“Is that so?” he practically purred. “Well, in that case I definitely have a few creations you might enjoy. And just in time, too! Plants don’t traditionally reproduce with egg sacks, but after seeing that video of that nest that exploded all over that guy’s kitchen, how could I resist?”
A low, keening sound escaped Patton’s throat, and he squeezed his eyes tight shut in a vain attempt at blocking out the memory of a wave of black specks scuttling across a tiled floor. A nightmare in a kitchen just close enough to Thomas’ that it plagued him for weeks after the fact.
“Your plants reproduce?” Logan’s eyes burning with poorly concealed curiosity. His fingers curled as if it took conscious effort for him to refrain from summoning a pen.
“Like catholic rabbits.”
“Not all of them,” Janus corrected, tentatively stoking the fires. It rarely took much coaxing to get Remus talking about his creations, given the right push. “The trees don’t multiply.”
“Au contraire, mon ami. The bamboo trees spread faster than I can keep up with them.”
“What’s so gross about bamboo?” Thomas asked before he could help himself, and Remus’ dangerous grin grew impossibly wider.
“Is it so impossible to believe I might be able to appreciate something that isn’t repulsive? Bamboo is such a versatile plant, after all.”
“Don’t ask,” Roman muttered, eyes turning skyward as if seeking divine intervention. “Please don’t ask—”
“That sounds fascinating, Remus,” Virgil said, the corner of his lip twitching. “I wonder, what possible uses could you have for bamboo.”
“Well, are you familiar with the history of bamboo as a torture metho—”
“Nope!” Patton yelped, slapping his hands over his ears. “Nuh uh!”
“I’m with Patton on this one. Can we try to keep it PG?” Thomas asked with a hint of desperation. Remus wilted in obvious disappointment.
“Applications aside, there’s still an obvious flaw in your argument. While sometimes tree-like in appearance, bamboo is classified as a form of grass, not a tree.”
“Remus has trees in his garden too,” Janus said, careful not to sound overly eager as he nudged the topic back towards safe territory. “In fact, I would argue some are among his finer creations.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“How long did you spend on the Weeping Willow, again?”
“Oh, Roman has one of those in his garden!”
The twins exchanged looks of surprise at Patton’s pronouncement, but Janus and Virgil knew better than to compare the grand, arching tree in Roman’s domain with the twisted and sore-riddled thing in Remus’.
“I suppose your one cries blood?” Roman asked, as if this were an unnecessary drama compared to his own creation, where the knots in the wood shed tears of crystalline glass.
If Remus detected the subtle bite in his brother’s voice, he gave no indication of it. “Pus, actually.”
“Like a weeping wound,” Logan guessed. “I confess, I do appreciate the wordplay. Is this a common theme in your work?”
“Only if you count the Howling Hyacinths,” he said, clapping his hands together in delight. “Or the Curdling Cactuses.”
“Cacti.”
“Just mind you avoid the strangling vines.”
“Aw, Virgi, you really do know how to hold a grudge.”
Virgil glowered. “It almost killed me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic. Janus had set the damn thing on fire just to make it let go!”
“Language, kiddo!”
Janus couldn’t help but smirk at the scene as caution gave way to morbid curiosity, the questions forgotten as Thomas inched a little closer to centre frame. Remus still threw his arms out at inopportune times, but he couldn’t help but notice that even Patton had stopped flinching at the jerky motions.
“You’re really into this whole thing, huh?” Thomas asked. Had anyone else posed the question, Remus might have responded with an eyeroll. Instead his sharp and eager nod made him resemble a bobblehead.
“What’s not to love? Especially with names like gymnosperm.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s a family of flowerless plants,” Logan informed Roman, his brow creased as if he couldn’t fathom why anyone would find this perplexing. “Its name comes from the Greek words gymnos and sperma which roughly translates to naked seed—”
Remus’ cackle made it easier for Roman to disguise his choked laughter, but even Thomas found it difficult not to snort at Logan’s perplexed expression.
“Was it something I said?” he asked, more than a little irritated.
“Don’t worry about it, Teach,” Virgil said, biting his lip to keep from smiling.
“In that case, may I suggest we get back to the matter at hand? That is, if you still wish to produce a video we might actually monetise at the end of this?”
Privately Janus suspected they may already be beyond that point, but he chose to keep that point to himself as Thomas rushed to unlock his phone.
“Er, right. @Saturday_Tortina wants to know what your dream jobs would be.”
This time, when Remus’ eyes flickered back to Janus, the only guidance he offered was an inviting smile.
Remus couldn’t be described as an easy fit in the group, too many rough edges and too sharp a tongue to compliment Thomas’ fragile brand. And yet, with the tension effectively pierced, his quips earned more snorts of laughter than uncomfortable silences.
Remaining upright became more difficult without the rush of motivation to spur Janus on, the light-hearted bickering now a familiar lullaby after weeks of sleeping on the couch in the Light sides’ living room. When at last Thomas decided he had enough footage, Virgil surprised all of them by leaving his perch on the stairs to offer a steadying hand as Janus ducked out. Keeping him grounded when he stumbled on the landing, a guiding hand to lead him back to the safety of the couch when the room refused to stop spinning.
“Thank you,” he murmured, and he didn’t need to see straight to hear the smirk in Virgil’s voice.
“Anytime, Jan.”
Janus blinked in surprise when, for the first time in weeks, Virgil’s works came out untainted by his tempest tongue.
“I didn’t just mean for helping me, you know.”
“I know.”
“Well,” Roman announced as he rose up behind Virgil, ignoring the dirty look he received in favour of throwing himself down on the couch opposite Janus. “That could have gone worse.”
“Considering his past record, I would describe it as a remarkable success.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, specs.”
Virgil rolled his eyes as the pair once again resorted to squabbling, but Janus knew him well enough to recognise the fondness in his expression.
“Janus!” Patton fretted before his feet even hit solid ground, oblivious to the developing bickering match behind him. “You didn’t push yourself too far, did you?”
“I’m sure I won’t be just fine,” he said, the room already growing fuzzy through his heavy-lidded gaze, but even the exhaustion couldn’t touch his triumph.
It would take a lot more than a single successful video to secure Remus a seat at the table, if he wanted one at all, but he doubted the buzz from this video would die anytime soon.
Half-coiled beneath the small mountain of blankets Patton insisted upon procuring, Janus allowed himself a smile.
“We should visit the Subconscious, sometime,” he announced, drawing Logan and Roman’s argument to an abrupt close. “Together.”
Patton blinked, brow furrowed in a strange mix of confusion and concern. “Are you so sure that’s a good idea?”
Janus’ gaze flickered back to Virgil and studied the look of doubt painted plain as day across his face.
“I’m sure you can all handle it,” he said with a confidence the others clearly didn’t share. “Insectine plant life aside.”
“Spiders are arachnids,” Logan said, but this time Janus knew to expect the responding scream.
Yes, he decided over the sound of Virgil’s hisses and Roman’s elaborate curses. We’ll all be just fine.