#spicywrites a place where i can breathe

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/7 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus behavior. This chapter only: "delusional" used as an insult Characters: All Pairings: N/A Additional Tags: Canon divergence, post-AA, retcon (name reveals, outfits, etc), all characters sympathetic, misunderstandings, Virgil is trying his best, Dark Sides are friends dammit, gratuitous references to Cats the Musical Summary: After Virgil is accepted by the Light Sides, he hopes to use his newfound position to bring Janus and Remus up with him. Hurt by his perceived betrayal, they push him away before he even has the chance to try. Virgil does his best to adjust to life without his oldest friends, but misunderstandings abound, and he soon finds himself going behind the Light Sides' backs in attempt to keep them safe from what he fears is a wicked revenge plot orchestrated by Janus.

It was hard to breathe in the basement. The air was heavy, thick with tension, and Virgil’s breaths came in uneven gasps and shallow paroxysms that made his lungs ache. He sat, paralyzed, on the couch with his legs drawn up to his chest, his eyes glued to his phone.

Janus’ snide congratulation still echoed in his head, the way his voice had dripped with jealousy: “Congratulations on your newfound acceptance, Virgil. You earned it.”

Virgil resented the way Janus’ words had implied that his decision to duck out had been nothing more than a successful attempt at manipulating the ‘Light’ Sides, as they called themselves, when they both very well knew that Virgil’s actions had been in earnest. Virgil’s unhappiness with his role had always been a point of contention between them. It wasn’t just about having his voice heard, no matter how hard Janus tried to pretend that was it; Virgil had grown to genuinely care for Roman, Logan, and Patton, and he wanted to spend time with them that didn’t involve antagonizing and scaring them.

Of course, Remus found that nearly intolerable, but he was far more direct than Janus could ever be. He teased Virgil and demanded assurances that Remus was his favorite Creativity and always would be, and Virgil gladly gave him what he wanted. But lately, the teasing had grown more intense and less enjoyable, and Janus’ remarks grew more cutting and bitter with every additional hour that Virgil spent upstairs. He had taken to avoiding the topic altogether in the hopes of somehow skating past the unpleasantness, hoping that Remus and Janus would eventually get used to Virgil’s new habits.

The sound of knocking pierced the silence and kicked Virgil’s pulse into overdrive. He was in motion before he even registered what was happening, vaulting off the couch toward the stairs. His mind caught up with his body just before his hand touched the doorknob and he made a concentrated effort to calm himself down. Three semi-deep breaths. One hand smoothing down his hair. Then he opened the door.

On the other side stood Logan, wearing his usual neutral expression. Earlier in their relationship, Virgil had mistaken it for perpetual boredom, but he knew better now. Logan was always thinking, and spared little energy on social graces.

“Hello, Virgil,” he said, nodding shortly. No trace of eyeshadow lingered on his face, but Virgil couldn’t help the guilt that twisted in his stomach at the memory. Maybe Logan was here to end their friendship.

“Hey, Logan.” Virgil glanced over his shoulder in case Janus or Remus had come to interfere. He saw no sign of either of them, but that only meant that they weren’t going to meddle. It certainly didn’t mean they weren’t listening. “You good?”

Logan paused before answering, thinking back to his flashcards. “Yes, Virgil. I’m gucci.” Virgil clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter and Logan continued, unperturbed, “I’m here to invite you to dinner.”

“Really?” Virgil asked,

“Yes. Is that surprising?”

“Unexpected,” Virgil said, unsure if he was agreeing or disagreeing. “Now?”

“Yes. Unless you have something you need to attend to.”

Virgil spared one last glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t like he was planning on eating with Janus and Remus tonight anyway; Janus was totally-not-sulking and Remus was… Well, Virgil didn’t know the details, but the bangs and the haunted-house shrieks emanating from Remus’ room indicated that he was definitely unavailable. “Now’s fine.”

“Excellent.” Logan smiled at Virgil. “Shall we?”

Virgil nodded and followed Logan into the living room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

While the living room and the kitchen were technically common areas, Virgil hadn’t spent much time in either of them. The basement had a kitchenette, a TV, and a couch, and all its inhabitants vastly preferred that over the idea of a strained ceasefire with the Lights. Of the three of them, only Virgil had been able to let go of his resentment and insert himself into the Lights’ regular meetings on Thomas’ conduct and decisions. Still, he didn’t exactly feel at ease as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

Patton’s joyous salutations and Roman’s begrudging regards were enough to pull Virgil out of his own head. He let Roman pull up a chair for him and nodded hesitantly when Patton offered to serve him.

He heaped an unreasonable amount of tuna casserole on Virgil’s plate and beamed at him. “So, uh Anxiety.” His smile wavered a bit. “We just wanted to apologize again for being so…”

“Put off by your off-putting demeanor,” Roman supplied before he could stop himself. Everyone looked at him and he almost doubled down before catching himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Go on, Patton.”

“Well, for being so harsh,” Patton said. “We didn’t realize how important you were to Thomas’ functioning.”

“I did,” Logan said under his breath. Roman flicked a pea at him.

Patton only had eyes for Virgil. “Um, anyway, we’re sorry. We value you a lot and we’d absolutely love it if you spent more time with us!”

Virgil nodded, thinking about the display of monitors and VHS tapes in his room. Much like the others, his mere presence was usually enough to keep Thomas on track, but sometimes he utilized the cameras to allow him to focus on specific aspects of Thomas’ surroundings to keep an eye out for danger. And sometimes , when he was feeling bored or unheard, he would pop “ Cringe Compilation: 7th Grade Edition” into his VHS player. They all had power focuses that linked inherently to their function, allowing them to magnify it as necessary. But when the Lights felt that Virgil’s function was impeding their own to an unacceptable degree, they would push back, and Virgil’s monitors would go black as all the lights dimmed. It was the same for Janus' and Remus' focuses and it hurt . “So does this mean you’re going to stop repressing me?” Virgil asked. The Lights didn't know the extent of the damage they did, and Virgil was determined not to be the one to break the news.

Patton nodded. “We’ll try to help you work through your feelings instead.”

“Wow.” Virgil’s cheeks ached with a smile he was fighting hard to suppress. Maybe there was hope for Remus and Janus too. “What about Dec--”

“Anyway!” Patton said, pretending he hadn’t heard Virgil speak. “We were thinking about watching a movie after this! We do weekly movie nights. Do you want to join?”

“Oh, um.” Virgil tapped the nail of his middle finger against the pad of his thumb. He wanted to push for acceptance for Janus and Remus, but what if that made Patton and the others angry? What if they kicked him out? Then he would be right back to square one. Maybe if he played it smart , if he was patient and good, then he could help his friends out too. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Yay!” Patton clapped his hands. “We already decided to watch Anastasia tonight, but we should let you pick the next one!”

Logan launched into an explanation of the historical context of Anastasia, punctuated by the occasional interruption from Roman. Virgil was content enough to sit back and listen to the bickering, interjecting every now and again to take Roman down a peg.

--

When it came time to say goodnight, Roman cornered Virgil in front of the basement door wearing an unusually serious expression.

“I need to talk to you.”

Virgil leaned against the wall, taking pains to sound more nonchalant than he felt. “Gee, Princey, I’d have thought you’d be better at love confessions.”

“Oh, spare me,” Roman said, sticking out his tongue. “This is important.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting.”

“Patton wants you to move upstairs.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, taken aback. “ Oh.” He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “I-- Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know Patton won’t,” Roman said, impatient. Virgil hooked his thumbnail under one of his canine teeth and bit down, thinking. He wasn’t sure how to say no without stepping out of line. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to say no. Roman continued, “And I… Well, I--” he ran hand through his hair-- “I see your value now.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Virgil sneered, hoping that Roman would pick up on his teasing.

But to Virgil’s surprise, Roman blushed. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I think you’re pretty alright, Anxiety. I want you to move upstairs, too.”

Virgil took a deep breath, screaming internally all the while. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to leave Janus and Remus, but he didn’t want to turn down Roman’s offer, either. He couldn’t have it both ways. What was the middle ground here? He stared right through Roman, panic wiping his mind blank.

“You do want to, don’t you?” Roman asked. He hated how unsure his voice sounded, even to his own ears. Surely Virgil didn’t enjoy living with that two-faced snake and Remus.

“Of course I do!” Virgil hissed, trying to shout without actually raising his voice.

“Then what’s the problem? Say yes!”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Seems plenty simple to me. We’re extending a hand to you, Anxiety, the least you could do is take it.”

“I need to think about it,” Virgil said. Surely Janus and Remus would understand if he just explained himself. Janus might even approve . It wasn’t as sneaky and duplicitous as Janus’ plans usually were, but Virgil wasn’t Deceit. And he was working with the tools at hand. They had to understand that.

Roman threw his hands up. “Fine. I don’t know what there is to think about, but I suppose overthinking comes naturally to you.” He sighed and shook his head. “I guess that’s it, then. Good night, Anxiety.”

“Night, Roman.” Virgil heaved a sigh of his own and opened the door to the basement. The air was cool and still. Virgil ordinarily found it pleasant, but tonight the chill went bone-deep and made him shudder. He zipped his hoodie as high as it would go and shoved his hands into the pockets. He watched his feet as he descended the stairs and remained so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice Janus and Remus on the couch until Janus cleared his throat.

Both Remus and Janus were glowering. Virgil ducked his head like a guilty teenager, trepidation closing like a fist around his stomach. He knew a trap when he saw one, and the fact that Janus wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it meant that he was well and truly furious.

Virgil sat down in the armchair lateral to the couch and glowered right back. “What?”

“I have to say I’m impressed with you, Virgil,” Janus said in his usual silken drawl, aiming straight for Virgil's heart. “I knew fear was part of your function, but you’ve reached a truly unprecedented level of cowardice.”

Virgil exhaled slowly through his nose. “You don’t mean that.”

“And how can you be so sure? Because friends don’t turn on each other ad libitum?"

“I’m not turning on you!” Virgil insisted. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have a plan?”

“You told Roman you wanted to move upstairs,” Remus said once he’d unclenched his jaw. They all knew Virgil abhorred lying both morally and from a practical perspective; it made him almost too anxious to function. “You’d choose them over us.”

“They’re listening to me now!” Virgil tried to explain. He could forgive Janus his judgement, forgive Remus his anger even now if they would just listen . It was all a misunderstanding. “They even said they’d leave my cameras alone. Maybe I can get them to do the same for you.” Vigil scratched at the fabric of his jeans. “I thought-- Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same, Janus. I know you would.”

“If I could tolerate the presence of those delusional do-gooders in concentrated doses, maybe so,” Janus said. “With one key difference. Even if I could forgive them for what they did to me, I could never forgive them for what they did to you and Remus. Every smile, every last moment of camaraderie would be. an. artifice.”

“We’re supposed to be family, Virgil,” Remus added. “And now you want to leave us for… what, a chance for a roll in the royal hay with Roman? Patton?”

“So what, you want me to be just as petty and miserable as you two for the rest of my life?” Virgil demanded, heat rising in his chest. “Forget it. I’m trying to do something nice for you, the thing you’ve been fighting for since you got branded as ‘Dark’ Sides. If you can’t recognize that, that’s your own fault. I’m going to bed.” He got up and strode out of the room without another word.

“Traitor!” Remus called after him.

Silence fell. The refrigerator started to hum.

“He’s going to get hurt,” Janus muttered, tapping his knuckles against his bottom lip.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #this is my first time cross-posting my writing to tumblr im so nervous hhhh #spicywrites #idk what would be best for people trying to find other chapters in the future ummm maybe a special tag #spicywrites a place where i can breathe #that works #credits: #pics are from unsplash #the virgil cosplayer is my roommate #im his primary online presence so it's rly not worth it to tag his other accounts lmao #you can follow him on tiktok as patchwork.boy if youre into that

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 7

Chapter: 7/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: "Cats is one of the highest-grossing musicals of all time," Logan said. "While there is no objective way to gauge a musical's 'creepiness' vs 'cuteness,' Patton's interpretation does seem to be the more popular one."

"I want to watch Cats!" Remus said.

"It's supposed to be Virgil's turn to pick the movie, Despicable Thee," Roman said, elbowing his brother in the side.

Virgil kicked his legs so he could sit up properly and look Remus in the face. "Cats?"

"Cats the Musical?" Patton asked hopefully.

"No," said Remus, "The other Cats."

Janus hummed his approval at the sarcasm, reaching an arm over Virgil's shoulders so he could ruffle Remus's hair.

"You like Cats ?" Patton asked, staring down the line of bodies on the couch. "But it's so… cute and fluffy."

"No, it's not!" Remus said. "It's about a bunch of creepy nightmare fuel cat people lining up to die in a fire."

"Cats is one of the highest-grossing musicals of all time," Logan said. "While there is no objective way to gauge a musical's 'creepiness' vs 'cuteness,' Patton's interpretation does seem to be the more popular one."

"Show of hands," Janus said just to stir the pot, "who finds Cats creepy?"

Remus' hand shot up, followed shortly by Roman's and Virgil's.

"That's three for 'creepy.' Now, who finds Cats cute?"

Patton raised his hand. "It's just a cute little musical about cats!" he exclaimed when no one else raised their hands alongside him.

"I have no feelings on the matter one way or the other," Logan said.

"What about you, Dee?" Virgil goaded. "You don't have nightmares about Old Deuteronomy waxing philosophical about the moments of happiness?"

"Of course not," Janus said. "Everybody knows Macavity is the scary one."

"Are we gonna watch it or not?" Remus demanded. "Trash fire death cats! Trash fire death cats!"

"They're not death cats!" Patton insisted, hopping up to sort through the shelf holding all their VHS tapes. "Logan, I thought these were supposed to be in alphabetical order."

"They are supposed to be in alphabetical order," Logan said, already turning his accusatory gaze on Roman.

Roman refused to be intimidated. "That's so predictable. I arranged them in a color gradient."

"What color is Cats ?"

"I dunno, black or purple or something."

"I got it," Remus said, watching the scene of impending bickering with disinterest.

A tentacle snaked out from behind the entertainment center and pushed Cats closer to Patton, who tried and failed not to flinch. "Thank you…?" he said, unsure whether to address Remus or the tentacle.

"Stick it in already, Daddy, I'm getting bored."

Blushing furiously, Patton turned on the VHS player, inserted the tape, and fled back to the couch.

Roman, eager to change the subject, declared, "Commercials are boring."

The overture began to play.

It wasn't until The Naming of Cats that one of them spoke up, and to his own surprise, it was Virgil. He had been sitting in uneasy silence, trying to relax so Remus and Janus wouldn't feel the tension in his muscles. The in-unison chanting proved a much better distraction than his own attempts at subtle meditative breathing, and soon a new thought had all his attention. "Are we sure this isn't, you know, sinister?"

"It's not sinister just because the costumes are creepy," Roman said.

"No, but--" Virgil gestured at the legion of chanting cats. "Trash fire death cats," he muttered, half to himself.

"They're-not-death-cats!" Patton insisted all in one breath.

"You keep using the phrase 'death cat' like it means something," Logan said, looking down the couch at Patton, Remus, and Virgil in turns. "But it is a nonsense term. In order to determine if the characters in Cats the Musical are, in fact, 'death cats,' you would need to establish a working definition of the term."

Roman opened his mouth to retort, but went silent at the sound of Remus chanting along with the cats on screen: "-- the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name; his ineffable, effable-- Hey, Roman is an in-F-able thot!"

"Cheap shot," Roman muttered, flicking Remus in the forehead.

Patton put on his best 'stern dad' voice. "Settle down, you two."

The silence lasted for a while, only broken by the odd comment from one of the twins. Patton watched in silent delight; Logan and Janus in a state of polite boredom. But Virgil was deep in thought, frowning at the screen and chewing absently at his thumbnail.

"The Jellicle ball is an orgy, right?" he said without meaning to.

"No!" Patton cried, just as Remus showed all his teeth and said, "Yes."

"Hmm…" said Virgil.

They all quieted down again, but it was short-lived. Virgil had an idea in his head that he couldn't seem to let go of, and while his fixations were nothing compared to Remus', he couldn't help but give voice to it.

"So magic is real… And these cats all worship Old Deuteronomy…"

"You think he has them under some sort of thrall?" Janus asked, catching Virgil's meaning. "To what end?"

"Why," Patton said, fidgeting with his glasses, "are you so determined to make the cats creepy?"

"Sorry, Pat," Virgil said with an apologetic shrug. "This is how I work."

"To what end, Virgil?" Janus prompted him, desperate for something more interesting to lend his attention to than Grizabella's lament.

"I dunno… Maybe he, like, steals their life force."

Roman gasped and threw an arm out, striking Remus in the chest. "That's why they send cats to the Heaviside Layer!"

"Ow," Remus muttered, shoving Roman's arm away.

Roman continued, unbothered, "It's a yearly ritual that lets Old Deuteronomy steal a cat's life force."

"That's totally it," Virgil said, still biting at his thumbnail. "We solved it. We solved Cats."

"There's nothing to solve!" Patton insisted. He gestured helplessly at the screen, where the cats were all happily singing the praises of Bustopher Jones. "They're just buddies who meet up once a year to dance and hang out."

"Death cats!" Remus sang, reveling in the chaos.

"Things can just be nice, you know," Patton said.

Janus swept his bangs out of his face. "I think the brainwashing angle makes it more interesting," he said, purely for the sake of having the last word.

They were silent after that, Virgil and Roman out of a slight sense of shame; Remus and Janus pensive.

Between the three Dark sides, things had never been 'just nice.' Virgil was always looking for the hidden threat, the thorn among the roses. With Janus, nothing was ever 'just' anything; he dealt in obfuscation. And Remus never allowed himself 'nice.'

There were no more interruptions. Virgil surprised himself when he noticed that he had relaxed; no spiraling thoughts threatened to whip up a storm of panic in his brain.

That might come later, in the aftermath of some great conflict, or when he thought too hard about all the little wrongs he had committed tonight.

But for now, he had the comforting familiarity of Cats the Musical. For now, he had his family, whole and harmonious. For now, he could breathe easy and relax. And for now, that was enough.

#sanders sides #this is as close to dlampr as we're gonna get lmao #virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 6

Chapter: 6/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: "Are you any good at crossword puzzles?" Patton asked, failing to read Janus' crossed legs and tucked elbows as anything other than a comfortable way to sit. "No," said Janus, intending for Patton to take that at face value. And at first, Patton did. "Oh," he said, drumming the pencil against the page of the book. He thought for a minute. "Wait, does that mean you are?"

Patton's crossword was especially hard the following morning. He stared at the blank spaces in the booklet, tongue stuck out in concentration.

His mind kept wandering back to breakfast, which had been awkward.

Roman and Remus weren't speaking to each other despite their collaboration the previous evening. They were both wary of witnesses and neither one felt brave enough to engage the other somewhere people might see.

Janus, too, was maintaining an icy silence, much to Virgil's irritation and Patton's surprise. In his limited interactions with Janus, Patton had never known him to be quiet.

Patton shook his head, changed his pen out for a pencil, and scribbled 'feline' in a descending series of squares.

In the end, it had been Logan who had saved them from total silence. Most of his explanation about the inner workings of convection ovens went straight over Patton's head, but he was just grateful that someone had taken up the burden of speaking.

But it was over now. Patton wanted to stop thinking about it. He tapped the eraser of his pencil against the page and read through the clues again. "Six letters," he said slowly, "'what a swindler does.'"

After a brief pause, Janus answered, "Cheats." He watched in some satisfaction as Patton flinched and looked up with wide eyes.

"Thanks," Patton said, penciling it in. A glance around the living room revealed that Janus was the only person there. The others had gone their separate ways when Patton wasn't paying attention.

Janus nodded and turned the page in Notes from the Underground. He really didn't want to be up here in the common area, still sore and mistrustful of the Light Sides. But he cared for Virgil and was determined to not be the only one left behind in the darkness, so he played along as much as his pride would allow. He'd been keeping up his sullen silence mostly to shield himself from Patton's lukewarm attempts at friendship. Words were Janus' weapon, but he saw no need to strike now and ruin everything.

"Are you any good at crossword puzzles?" Patton asked, failing to read Janus' crossed legs and tucked elbows as anything other than a comfortable way to sit.

"No," said Janus, intending for Patton to take that at face value.

And at first, Patton did. "Oh," he said, drumming the pencil against the page of the book. He thought for a minute. "Wait, does that mean you are?"

Janus stared at the beat-up paperback, tormented by the desire to prove himself. Rather than answer and confuse Patton, he set his own book aside and held out his hand. "Give it here "

"Say please," Patton said instinctively. He blushed under Janus' subsequent withering look, and handed over the book of word puzzles with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you cross with me!"

Janus made a face at him before turning his attention to the puzzle that was giving Patton so much trouble. He got a few answers right away and filled them in.

"Look at you go!" Patton said, desperate to ease the tension.

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a dog," Janus said, irritated with the way Patton's approval, patronizing though it was, made warmth radiate through his chest.

Patton pressed his lips together and nodded, wary of putting his foot in his mouth. He watched in silence as Janus scratched in a few more answers, and then his mind began to wander. "I forgot about movie night!"

"Hm?" said Janus.

"I can't believe nobody reminded me! It was Virgil's turn to pick the movie, too."

"Yes, I'm sure he's devastated," Janus murmured. "Which two Zodiac signs are born in August?"

"I don't know," Patton said. Janus began to flip to the back of the book in search of the answer key only to stop short and Patton's noise of protest. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing my page-turning skills," Janus said drily, flipping through another few pages.

"I never check the answer key."

"What do you do?"

"Ask for help."

Janus raised an eyebrow. "And if Logan doesn't know?"

"I… I just leave it unfinished," Patton said, feeling as though he'd said something wrong.

"How are you supposed to get better at crosswords if you never check your answers?" Janus asked.

Patton considered this. "I guess I never really thought about it like that."

"Three down," Janus said, finding the answer. "Leo." Patton watched him flip back to the puzzle and write the answer in, dissatisfied in a way he couldn't properly articulate. Janus chafed under the baleful gaze. "Any particular reason you're staring at me like I just diagnosed your cat with heart failure?"

Once he'd muddled through the simile, Patton sighed. "It feels dishonest."

Janus squinted at Patton, who refused to meet his gaze, and raised the corners of his mouth in a cruel facsimile of a smile. "What?"

Patton was under no illusions that he could keep up with Janus' odd style of communication, and he knew better than to try. He saw no reason to get wrapped up in an argument or to try to find some intellectual justification for his feelings. "Can you write it in with red ink?"

"Oh, and that will make it honest?" Janus changed the pencil into a pen with green ink just to be contrary, and traced over the letters he had already written. "There."

"Thank you!" Patton said, and his smile was so genuine and warm that Janus nearly forgave him for the insult to his function.

#spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 5

Chapter: 5/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Paranoid tendencies, depictions of extreme anxiety Excerpt: Three days of this had Virgil feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

Virgil grew increasingly jumpy as the days passed and danger failed to manifest. He had taken to sleeping in the living room in his clothes in case Janus tried to corner someone. He wrung the details of the encounter out of Roman, who was unusually reticent about the whole ordeal. This did absolutely nothing to calm Virgil's nerves. He kept himself glued to the others whenever they came downstairs, never letting them get more than a few paces away from him.

The sleep deprivation wasn't helping matters either; even without the anxiety-induced insomnia wreaking havoc on his fragile sleep schedule, the couch was just the wrong size for sleeping on and he woke up multiple times during the nights to readjust. Fearing that exhaustion would make him complacent, he supplemented this lack of sleep with copious amounts of caffeine.

Three days of this had him feeling like a walking conspiracy theory. He was absolutely convinced that Janus was going to come striding in, armored in the fury of the scorned, and neatly burn away his friends' self-esteem until nothing remained but a smoldering ruin of the love Virgil had only just grown accustomed to. And he would have nothing but the pain of his own empathy, and Janus would have Remus.

It was early in the morning on what would have been the fourth day of Virgil's self-imposed lookout duty when he finally reached his breaking point. He threw off his blankets and crept to the basement door.

He stood in front of it for a long time just staring at the patterns in the wood. His breath echoed in his head, so loud he was half-convinced it would wake the whole house. He had no plan. He just needed to know.

Virgil opened the door.

He stepped over the threshold and immediately froze on the landing at the sight before him. Shame burned hot in his face. There was nothing sinister to behold, just the innocent sight of Janus and Remus asleep on the couch in their clothes, two GameCube controllers tangled on the floor in front of them. Virgil almost smiled at the memory of long nights spent in front of the TV, spirited wrestling matches and arguments about what counted as cheating.

He gave a wistful sigh and leaned against the banister, fully aware of just how creepy he was being. He wanted nothing more than to cast aside this stupid grudge and curl up under Remus' arm, his head only inches away from Janus' where it rested on Remus' chest.

Virgil knew it was foolish to linger, more foolish still to descend a few steps, and a few more, and a few more until he was sitting on the bottom step. He didn't have a goal in mind; he just wanted to stay in the moment. He could pretend he had just woken up and gently extricated himself from the cuddle pile. He could pretend they had all stayed up late playing Mario Kart and were about to all have coffee together. He could, for one moment of sublime nostalgia, pretend that things were back to normal.

Even if that meant pretending that Roman, Logan, and Patton didn't love him yet.

Virgil couldn't deny that there had been a sense of solidarity in rejection, a connection forged in mutual scorn. And for one fleeting moment, Virgil understood why Janus and Remus had felt so betrayed by him. Even Janus, who dealt almost exclusively in gray areas, was unable or unwilling to see past the false dichotomy of 'dark' and 'light' that had dictated and defined their lives for so very long.

Virgil braced his elbow against his knee and let his chin rest in his palm. He knew he should leave. He intended to leave. Soon.

And then, like shattering glass, the spell broke on its own: Remus opened his eyes.

For one heart-stopping moment, he and Virgil just stared at each other.

Then Virgil shot to his feet. "I was just leaving," he whispered.

Remus held eye contact. He couldn't get up without disturbing Janus, who was still asleep on his shoulder. "What were you doing?" Remus whispered back, too sleepy to be anything but confused.

Despite himself, Virgil's eyes flickered to Janus. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

He really should have known better. Remus pursued chaos with the same reckless determination of a labrador chasing a tennis ball; he was going to sink his teeth into this opportunity no matter who or what he knocked over on the way.

Remus' eyes lit up. Keeping his gaze locked onto Virgil's horrified face, he lifted his elbow and nudged Janus in the ribs. Hard.

In the basement, 'Janus is not a morning person,' was not merely a statement of fact, it was a threat. Janus jerked upright, looking for all the world like a cobra with his capelet hung up on the couch cushions behind his head. He narrowed his eyes at Virgil, and the expression of sleepy irritability was so familiar that Virgil would have laughed if he wasn't too busy panicking.

"Look who dropped in for a visit," Remus prompted, looking every part the triumphant tattletale as he smirked at Virgil.

Janus arranged his capelet over his shoulders and addressed Virgil without looking at him. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, actually." Virgil set his jaw, pointedly ignoring the ghosts of familiarity that still flitted in the periphery of his mind.

"I thought you were leaving," Remus said.

"Yeah, well…" Virgil tried and failed to think of something punchy to say. "I just remembered I'm mad at you."

Janus scoffed. "Right. You're mad at us."

"I am!" Virgil nearly stamped his foot, but managed to hold back. "Look, let's…" He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Let's not do this. Just-- Please don't hurt the others again, okay? I know it's me you're mad at, so please don't drag them into it. And I'll do you the favor of never coming back here." He took one last look around the room and turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Virgil froze with his back turned. He had expected some sort of protest from Remus, but that had been Janus' voice. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Janus slide back into the cool persona he wore around like armor. But for one split second, his face had been so open and Virgil had seen the truth beneath the layers. It was a look of despair so honest and pure that Virgil's chest ached to behold it, and he understood in an instant something he had always known: Janus was afraid.

The coals burning in Virgil's chest went out, with barely a whiff of smoke to indicate that they had ever been there at all. "What, Janus?"

"Um." And with that final hesitation, Janus had control again. "Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. You can't leave so soon."

"Watch me," Virgil said, less as a threat and more as a way to prompt Janus to get to the point.

"We should talk," Janus said, examining his gloved fingertips as though he wasn't still half-asleep and panicking. "Why don't you stay for coffee and we can get this straightened out?"

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he thought it over. He wanted to believe that Janus had a sincere apology prepared, but he knew that would never be the case. Maybe if one of them was on their deathbed, but never before. But more than that, he missed his friends. He so badly wanted an excuse to forgive them, and if there was even a chance that Janus would admit, even obliquely, to any sort of wrongdoing, then Virgil wanted to take it.

"Oh, just say yes," Remus snapped. "We all know you want to."

"Upstairs," Virgil said.

Janus and Remus both made faces of disgust. "Aw, Virgil, are you too good for the dungeon now?" Remus asked. "We even put away all the ticklers, sex knobs, and lacy hoohas just for you."

"Ew." Virgil wrinkled his nose. "Upstairs. Take it or leave it."

"That's hardly fair," Janus started, but Virgil cut him off.

"Take it or leave it," he repeated firmly.

"Fine by me," Remus said, standing up and rocking forward onto his toes.

Janus made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes, so Virgil knew just how demanding he was being. "Oh, very well. Upstairs it is."

Remus didn't drink coffee. Virgil offered him one anyway, which Remus declined.

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

Coffee rituals completed, Virgil and Janus sat down and stared at each other.

"You owe Roman an apology," Virgil said, scowling.

Janus, still a little disoriented and moving slower than he would have liked, played dumb. "Whatever do you mean?"

Remus growled at the mention of Roman, but did not interrupt. Instead, he bounced his legs under the table. He knew that Janus and Virgil were both hurting, though their little dance was agonizing to watch. But that was how they worked, so Remus sat and tried his hardest not to give voice to the hundreds of thoughts racing through his brain.

"I'm not in the mood for games," Virgil said, staring at his coffee. "He told me what you said."

"I'd be perfectly happy to apologize to Roman," Janus said, pausing for dramatic effect, "just as soon as he apologizes to me. And Remus, for that matter."

Remus stuck his tongue out the mention of his name, but kept his thoughts to himself. He just wanted Virgil back, and didn't particularly care what path Janus took as long as they reached their destination.

"Come to think of it," Janus continued, more at ease now that he had a plan of attack, "has he apologized to you ?"

"He doesn't need to," Virgil said, still not looking at Janus. "None of them do. They didn't know how badly they were hurting us."

"You didn't tell them."

"I don't need to!"

"Mm." Janus sat back, fixing Virgil with a critical gaze. "So you expect an apology from me , but not from your new friends? Why the double standard, Virgil? What makes me so different from them?"

"Because!" Virgil clenched his hands into fists under the table. "Because I know they're sorry for how they treated me. They don't have to say it, because they show me every day. And you-- I truly don't think you're even capable of admitting when you've made a mistake."

"Oh, shit," Remus muttered.

Janus was silent, his mind working feverishly to identify the combination of words that would hurt Virgil as deeply as Virgil's words had hurt Janus.

"And I know it's hard for you," Virgil continued, the anger draining out of his voice, "but you could say something. Say it backwards, for all I care."

Janus washed away the venom on his tongue with a mouthful of lukewarm coffee.

"I don't know what you'd have me say." A pause. "Because I did everything right and I don't regret anything I said or did. I certainly don't miss you."

Virgil was quiet for a long moment as he processed that. "My turn, I guess," he said finally. "I… should have communicated better with you guys. And I should have been more respectful of your feelings. I was just so tired of being angry all the time, and I… I guess I was hoping that you guys would follow my lead."

"Do I have to apologize for anything?" Remus asked, kicking his boots up onto the table. "Let's see…" Guilt and remorse weren't typically in his wheelhouse, though he was certainly capable of feeling them. He simply didn't have time for regret, always charging forward to the next possibility. "Oh, I'm sorry I put slugs in your bed!"

Virgil looked at him sideways. "You… didn't… put slugs in my bed," he said slowly. Then again, he hadn't actually seen his bed in several days. "Did you?"

Janus shook his head.

"Oh, that's right!" Remus waved a hand and smiled at Virgil. "I only thought about it."

"Please," Virgil said, "please explain to me the creative merit of putting slugs in my bed."

"He never said it was a creative endeavor," Janus said.

"No, that was a revenge plot," Remus said. "I would never use slugs for self-expression. There's nothing shocking about slugs." He paused, scrunching up his mouth in thought. "Unless you put one up your ass or something." Virgil choked on his coffee, spitting out a mouthful across the table at Janus, who was mostly successful in his attempts to dodge it. Unruffled, Remus continued, "And there are much more shocking things to put up your butt!"

"Slugs, Re," Virgil reminded him between coughs.

"I think," Janus said, imagining a roll of paper towels to hand to Virgil, "there are lots of ways to express oneself via slug." He gave Remus a keen look. "You just have to be creative enough to come up with something."

"Of course you'd say that." Virgil mopped up the spilled coffee, balled up the paper towel, and aimed it at Janus' head.

Remus nodded his agreement, snatching the paper towel ball out of the air as it passed.

Janus let himself be teased. "Oh, please do me the favor of elaborating on that," he said, bowing his head to Virgil in a show of false deference.

"You're pro-slugs," Remus said, just for the sake of throwing a wrench in things.

"He's pro-anti," Virgil corrected.

"A contrarian," Remus agreed.

Janus rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "You're right. I never agree with anyone."

"What do we do now?" Remus asked Virgil in a faux-whisper.

Virgil responded by lunging over the table and knocking Janus' hat off.

"You know how much I love it when you do that," Janus grumbled, bending to pick it up. "You never go after each other like this," he said once he'd resurfaced.

Remus just shrugged at him. "Sorry, Danger Noodle, but Virgil doesn't wear a hat."

"Yes, that's what I meant." Janus sat back and crossed his arms, putting on a show of irritation.

Under the table, Virgil gently kicked his shin. Janus flashed him a closed-mouth smile.

***

4:45 was a disgusting hour to be awake, truly barbaric. Roman rolled out of bed before he could change his mind on the matter and stood up, yawning and running both hands through his hair to try to get it to sit right. Ordinarily, he would never emerge from his room looking anything less than his princely best, but today he had (dare he say it?) bigger things to worry about.

Bigger things such as Virgil's newfound guard dog tendencies. Roman couldn't believe that Logan and Patton hadn't brought it up already, or even seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Roman was the only one who seemed to chafe under Virgil's constant supervision, flinch at the way he haunted the corners of the room whenever anyone ventured downstairs.

And, since apparently no one else was going to do it, Roman took it upon himself to wake his comrades from their slumber and gather them in his room so they could work out a strategy for helping Virgil out of his weird, paranoid phase.

It was not lost on Roman that Virgil's vigil had only started up after Roman's encounter with Janus. He had kept that information to himself, ashamed in a way he couldn't really define and didn't like to think about. He really didn't think Patton and Logan needed to know.

Neither one of them was particularly happy to be summoned at such an early hour, and neither one had their glasses. They both squinted at Roman, who bounced on his toes and looked around the room to make sure everything was perfect.

Roman's bedroom, much like everyone else's, was inherently linked to his function. His room represented ultimate creative freedom, meaning he could change it at will to facilitate whatever creative undertaking he so desired. Since today's was a confrontation, he had first imagined a massive meeting room at the top of some towering skyscraper. But he had second-guessed himself, and in the moments before summoning his friends, had cycled through a tree house, a laboratory, and a stage, before finally turning it into an exact facsimile of the living room. Thinking this might be disorienting, he changed all the decor to red and gold, and finally summoned his friends before he could change his mind again.

"Y'okay, Roman?" Patton mumbled, falling back onto the couch without a second glance and rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles.

Logan, who was much more annoyed at this disturbance, didn't wait for an answer. "Confusional arousal, also known as 'sleep drunkenness' is a condition that results from being woken suddenly--"

"I know, I know!" Roman waved his hands. "Look, I'll just come right out and say it: I'm worried about Anxiety."

"May I inquire why?" Logan asked stiffly. "Or are you going to interrupt again?"

Roman made a face at him. "Have you seriously not noticed that he's always downstairs?"

"Is he?" Patton asked. "I noticed he's been waking up earlier, but…" He paused and shrugged at Roman. "I mean, you sometimes wake up that early."

"That's what I'm telling you!" Roman said. "He's always down there! Even at weird times!"

"How long have you been observing this phenomenon?" Logan asked.

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang.

"Phenomenon," Logan said, closing his eyes. "Not 'Mahna Mahna'."

"Do-doo-be-do-doo," Patton sang again, shimmying his shoulders a little.

Logan opened his eyes and turned to Roman. "How long have you been observing this behavior?"

"I don't know, like three days?" Roman said. "What, do you not believe me?"

"Aw, I'm sure Logan believes you," Patton said, trying to mediate despite the fact that he had no idea what Logan was getting at.

"I do believe you that Anxiety has been in the living room every time you have gone downstairs," Logan said. "What I am trying to determine is if this is a coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence!" Roman snapped. "You don't have to keep undermining me, Logan! If you don't believe me, just say so instead of trying to make me look stupid and… and inadequate."

"Whoa, kiddo!" Patton put up his hands. "Nobody thinks you're inadequate." He paused and waited for Logan to agree. Logan just looked at him, confused, so Patton continued, "Right, Logan?"

"That depends. Are we discussing Roman's creative works or his adherence to the scientific method-- Patton, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Forget it," Roman rolled his eyes. "I might as well just come right out and tell you: Deceit dropped by for a visit a couple nights ago--"

"When?" Logan interrupted.

Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "And he tried to get me to say that Anxiety was bad for, well, for me. For all of us, I think is what he was getting at. Probably so we'd kick Anxiety out and send him straight back to Deceit's creepy clutches. Anyway, I told him to get lost and went right upstairs to tell Anxiety what had happened, and he's been camped out in the living room ever since."

"If I'm doing the math correctly," Logan said, looking at Roman sideways, "that was also the night that Thomas dreamt about a Dionysian org--"

Patton squeaked, but it was Roman who got words out faster, "I think we all remember! Let's not bring it back up."

"My point being, you were distracted or otherwise incapacitated for the rest of the night."

"This isn't about me!" Roman said, "As much as it pains me to admit it. This is about saving Anxiety from…" He hesitated. "Well, from whatever it is he's freaking out about. I say we go down there, sit him down, and work this out once and for all."

"Yay!" Patton said, caught up in the moment.

"Logan, are you in?"

"Would it even matter if I said no?"

"That's the spirit!" Roman strode to the door and pulled it open, sparing a thought to imagine Logan and Patton out of their pajamas and into their normal clothes. "Come, my brethren! To battle!"

"Um, battle?" Patton said, trailing after Roman with much less vigor than Roman would have liked. "How about to breakfast?"

"Can we have French toast?" Roman asked, looking between Patton and Logan while Logan shut the door.

Logan shrugged helplessly. "Sure."

"Very well." Roman beckoned Patton and Logan to follow him and marched down the hall toward the stairs. "Come, my brethren! To breakfast!"

He was quiet on the stairs in case Virgil was asleep; part of him hoped Virgil was asleep so that Logan would see and possibly admit that Roman had been correct in his statement that Virgil was always downstairs.

But to their mutual confusion, voices emanated from the kitchen. Roman paused just short of the doorway, frowning at the sound of his brother's voice.

"You still have to tell us what you think the creative applications of slugs are!" Remus said, oblivious to the audience just out of sight.

"You know he doesn't have any," Virgil said, laughing.

Roman's frown deepened and he glanced behind him to meet the equally confused faces of Logan and Patton.

"You haven't given me any time to think," Janus said. "And I did specify that a creative person could come up with something."

This was the catalyst that got Roman in motion, compelled by the understanding that something was deeply wrong. Forgetting his original goal entirely, he stepped into the kitchen to find Virgil smiling at the two sides Roman had thought he hated most.

Patton and Logan followed Roman into the kitchen. Patton froze, just as baffled as Roman, but Logan only inclined his head on his way to the coffee maker. "Good morning, Anxiety, Deceit." He turned to Remus and frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know how I should address you."

"Call me by your name, Elio," Remus said, widening his eyes.

"Neither one of us is name--"

"Oh, forget it." Remus waved a hand. "Call me Remus, call me Dukey, call me Madonna for all I care."

"Good morning, Remus."

"Logan!" Roman said, his eyes still locked on Virgil. "Don't-- Don't--" He shook his head. "Anxiety, what's going on? Why aren't you scared of them?"

"Why would he be scared of us?" Remus demanded.

Janus watched, his eyes traveling from one face to the next until he found what he was looking for. He didn't have a clue what was going on, and it was obvious that Logan didn't either. Roman and Remus were trying to work it out, which left Patton, who barely factored into the equation, and Virgil. Virgil, who was shifting in his chair looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. Aha.

"Because you're evil!" Roman said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And…" Patton said hesitantly, "You hurt him."

"He doesn't like you!" Roman agreed. "He was glad to be rid of you!"

Virgil grit his teeth but could only watch helplessly as Janus and Remus exchanged a look of mutual understanding and stared expectantly at him.

"Is that what he told you?" Janus purred, ignoring the violent beating of his heart against his ribs. "Were we cruel to you, Anxiety?" He gave Remus an expectant look.

Remus held eye contact. He knew what Janus wanted him to do; a part of him even wanted to do it. As much as Remus was about morbid possibilities, he was also about ugly truths. He had no interest in defying his function, in censoring himself. But the sight of Virgil in his periphery, pale and shaking in his chair like the sole survivor of a head-on car crash, made Remus pause. And, holding eye contact with Janus, he lifted his hand and placed it over his own mouth.

Janus accepted this with a roll of his eyes. If Remus didn't want to put Virgil out of his misery, then Janus certainly wasn't going to be the one to do it. "Well, Anxiety? Answer the question." He curled his mouth into a vicious, humorless smile. "And do be honest, won't you?"

Virgil couldn't breathe. He swallowed convulsively, trying to get himself under control. The tightrope stretched out before him, growing narrower by the second. He kept his weight centered a second longer and stared, pleading, at Janus. "Don't."

"Leave him alone, you fiend!" Roman said, lunging forward and slamming his hand down on the table.

"Hey!" Virgil shot to his feet, chest-to-chest with Roman. The look of confusion in Roman's eyes turned to betrayal at the sight of Virgil facing off against him with his back to the Dark Sides. "Listen," Virgil said in a quavering voice, sinking back down into his chair, "let's just… Everybody calm down; I can explain."

"Take your time," Janus said, irritably. He motioned for Remus to put away his morningstar, which had jumped into his hand the moment Roman had hit the table.

"What is there to explain?" Roman demanded. "Are they holding you hostage, or what?"

The tightrope quivered beneath Virgil's feet. He took a deep breath and jumped. "I lied, okay? I was scared that you guys wouldn't want me anymore if you knew that we…"

Remus peeled his hand away from his mouth. "That we're tighter than Logan's ass!"

"Were friends," Virgil said.

Roman sat down next to Virgil, heart stuttering in his chest. Patton and Logan sat as well, but Roman barely noticed the movement. "You mean you were friends the whole time?"

"No!" Virgil said hurriedly. "Which reminds me." He turned and gave Janus a stern look. "I think Deceit has something he wants to say to you."

"I think Deceit can speak for himself, thank you," Janus said.

"If you're talking about that little late-night rendezvous, you can just forget it," Roman said, puffing out his chest. He didn't need everyone to know just how badly he'd been hurt, and insisting on an apology would do just that.

Janus turned to Virgil, triumphant. "See? There's nothing to apologize for."

"Wait a second," Patton said. "I'm confused." He turned to Virgil. "Why did you let us think that Deceit and the Duke were mean to you?"

"They were a little bit," Virgil said. Janus scoffed and Virgil kicked him under the table but continued explaining, "They didn't like that I was spending so much time with you and…  Well, I was scared that you wouldn't want me, and we were on bad terms when I moved up here, so I thought it would be easier if I just… kept my mouth shut."

"You were fighting?" Patton asked. "Did we cause that?" He was horrified at the thought. He didn't like Deceit and he didn't like the Duke, but the idea of actually hurting them or Virgil made his chest ache.

"You," Janus pointed at him, "have caused more pain than you even know."

"How?" Roman demanded. "We don't even talk to you."

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

"You're not making any sense, Dastardly Whip-stache, although I'd expect nothing else from the likes of you."

Janus raised an eyebrow at Virgil, looking at him pointedly. Virgil sighed. "Okay, okay. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make you feel bad, but… When you try to stop Thomas from listening to us, it's… destructive."

"Destructive how?" Logan asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Try 'psychological torture,'" Janus muttered.

"Oh, please," Roman said, rolling his eyes. "We don't torture you. Like I said, we never even see you!"

Janus sat up straight. "How would you like it, Roman, if every time you tried to write one of your little stories, your pen tore straight through the paper? Or you turned around and the whole thing was shredded?" Not wanting Patton and Logan to feel as though they were absolved of any guilt, Janus looked at them in turn. "How would you feel if you were never able to properly perform your function? If something stopped you every time? If Thomas never heard your voice no matter how loud you tried to scream?"

"That sounds like it would be psychological torture," Logan said drily, unmoved. He only assisted in silencing Janus and Remus when their influence prevented Thomas from healthy functioning, which was rare.

"Do we--" Patton choked out. "Did we-- Virgil?" he beseeched. "Did we do that to you?"

Virgil nodded, knowing full well that there was no sparing Patton's feelings now. "That's part of the reason why we fought," Virgil said. "I forgave you and they--"

"Don't," Remus said.

"I was hoping that you guys accepting me meant we could all learn how to coexist without hurting each other," Virgil said, blushing. "Like, not to sound all bleeding-heart about it."

"So what, when did you guys all magically make up?" Roman demanded, resentment coloring his tone. Virgil's explanation soothed the sting a bit, but jealousy and bitterness still swirled dangerously in his mind.

"Uh, like, ten minutes ago?" Virgil said. "I was trying to get Deceit to apologize to you."

"For what, exactly?" Logan asked, looking at Roman. "You only mentioned that he tried to turn you against Anxiety."

"It's nothing to worry about," Roman said hurriedly.

"I think we need to apologize," Patton said. Everyone looked at him and he shrank back a little before finding his confidence again. "We hurt Virgil and his friends! That was wrong of us."

Janus eyed him, his gaze calculating. "The best apology is changed behavior."

"Oh, well, um." Patton looked down at the table.

"That's what I thought."

"You did it for me," Virgil pleaded. "You thought I was bad for Thomas, but now you know that I can be important too. What's different about them?"

"You can't seriously be expecting us to put up with that ," Roman said, gesturing at Remus, who was making lewd gestures at him across the table.

"C'mon, a month ago you would have said the exact same thing about me," Virgil said.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, but this is too far."

"Aw, and you haven't even heard about my idea for desert ungulate erotica," Remus said, sticking out his lower lip. "I call it the Camel Sutra."

"See?"

"I'm just asking you to take a chance on them like you took a chance on me," Virgil said. "Look, I'm even vouching for them! Nobody vouched for me and you took me in."

"For the record," Logan said, "I have no opposition to this. We are all parts of Thomas and we all have important contributions to make."

"I meeeaaan…" Patton said slowly. Again, everyone turned to look at him. "Anxiety is kind of right."

"Virgil," Virgil blurted before he could change his mind. "My name is Virgil. If we--" He took a deep, shaky breath. "If we're gonna do this, I want you to know my name."

"Do what?" Roman asked, still reeling from Patton's words. "Uh, I mean, thank you, Virgil for being honest with us, but-- Him?" He pointed at Remus.

Remus flipped him off. "You're being a real dick right now, you know? What'd I ever do to you?"

"To Thomas, you mean? You scare him!"

"And who told him we were scary?" Remus demanded, reaching out to sling one arm over Janus' shoulder. They were a little too far apart for the motion to be comfortable. Remus dug his fingers into Janus' shoulder to keep from losing his grip. "You did! You and Daddy Long Dong over there."

"Roman," Patton was perfectly miserable, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders, "I think he's right."

"But they are scary!" Roman insisted. "I don't care if An-- If Virgil turned out to be a good guy--"

"Gee, thanks," Virgil muttered.

"--Deceit and my brother are not good for Thomas."

"And who are you to decide that?" Janus asked, sticking his chin out. "For Thomas' sake let's at least be honest with each other, Roman. You don't care one way or the other whether Remus and I are good for Thomas. You're only thinking about yourself. And I'm so sorry to tell you, but you're outnumbered. So what does that say about you? Virgil is practically on his knees begging you to give us a chance, and here you are denying him because you can't see past your own inherent prejudices."

"Yes, thank you, Deceit. I'll be sure to take that advice to heart," Roman snapped. He turned helplessly to Patton. "Well, Padre, you've always been our guide for right and wrong. I'll defer to you on this even if… Even if I don't like the answer. I trust you."

"Don't put it on him!" Virgil said. "I'm the one-- Don't-- It's not fair to put it all on him."

Patton smiled at Virgil, then at Roman. "It's okay. I think we should give them a chance. At least let them, you know, express themselves."

"Yeah," Roman sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."

"If we can work with Virgil, I don't see any reason we can't work with these two," Patton said. "Even if it does make me feel kinda…"

"Squirmy?" Remus suggested, wriggling in place to emphasize his point.

Patton screwed up his face in disgust before catching himself. "Uh-- Yeah. 'Squirmy' is a good word for it." He trailed off and cleared his throat and for one split second, a chill silence dominated the air.

Then Logan stood. "Was that the heartwarming conclusion?" he asked.

"I don't think there's gonna be a heartwarming conclusion, Lo," Virgil said to him.

"Ah. Well in that case, may I suggest French toast?"

Janus rose, smoothly shrugging Remus' hand off his shoulder. "Well," he started, "I'm sure--"

Virgil cut him off with a guttural noise like he was trying to deter a naughty cat from swiping a glass off a countertop. "Mm!"

Janus turned to him, brow furrowed in faux-concern. "Are you trying to get my attention or are you choking on something?"

"I need to talk to you for a sec," Virgil said, then turned to Remus. "Both of you." He turned to leave and motioned for them to follow him, giving both Patton and Roman lights taps on the shoulder on his way out.

He led them to the basement stairs and paused on the landing. "Listen, I know--" He broke off with a frustrated sigh, not wanting to offend his friends. "I want this to end well, and I know what you guys are like." Janus raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt. Virgil made an apologetic face at him and continued, "Don't push them, okay? Remus, no scare tactics. Janus, you know what the boundaries are. Don't try to find them. Just be cool, and I'll make sure they're cool back."

"I'll behave if Romano-Hermano does," Remus said, bouncing on his toes. "Ugh, fine, and I promise I won't write about his phobias unless I have a reeeaally good idea."

Janus sniffed and swept his hair back. "And I'll be sure to push as hard as I can. You're right, Virgil, it's in my best interest to antagonize Saint Patton and his little sidekick right out of the gate. Thank you for the warning."

Virgil refused to be intimidated, knowing full well that Janus was only pushing back so hard because Virgil had seen right through him. "So," he said expectantly, "French toast?"

"Sure." Janus was already in motion, leaning into Virgil so he could reach the doorknob. "This is going to be fun."

--

"This would be good with cinnamon," Patton said, his voice bright with false cheer, as he hacked at his French toast with needless ferocity.

"Mm-hm," Virgil said, desperate to ease some of the tension that made the maple syrup go sour in his mouth.

"The recipe called for powdered sugar only," Logan said.

Virgil kicked Janus under the table in a desperate bid to get him to break the icy silence he'd been maintaining.

Janus sneered back at him, having no other way to communicate that making small talk about breakfast toppings was beneath him.

It was Remus who extended the first hand. "What about cayenne?" His eyes flickered from one face to the next, nervous and probing, and Virgil's silent 'thank you' went unacknowledged.

Logan twitched in irritation. "The recipe--"

"Oh, forget the recipe, Discount Alton Brown."

"You can't call him that!" Roman said, forgetting himself.

Virgil took a breath to intervene but stopped himself, not wanting Roman to feel ganged up on.

"You called me an 'off-brand nerd processor' earlier this week," Logan said.

"Well, yeah, but…" Roman tapped his fingertips against the table, agitated, "Endearingly funny-mean nicknames are my thing."

"Now they're our thing," Remus said with a wicked grin, although he was sure not to sharpen his teeth this time. "Aww, how sweet. We have something in common."

"I think," Patton interjected, "spicy French toast sounds, eh…" Here, he faltered. "Interesting?"

Virgil looked down at his massacred pile of French toast so no one would see the hesitant smile on his face.

Breakfast ended with no major fights. Virgil managed to coalesce all the tact and charm he was capable of and use it to corral Logan, Roman, and Patton into his bedroom.

He imagined some purple beanbag chairs for all of them and sat down heavily in one, twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. "I'm really sorry I lied to you guys. I understand if you're mad at me or don't want to hear it, but I just-- I was so scared that you would kick me out if I told you the truth. And it's not that I think you would-- Like, I know we're friends, it's just that I'm me."

"Virgil," Roman said, because Patton didn't look like he was going to interrupt. "It's okay. And, well, I'm big enough to admit that I may have been a little overzealous in my attempts to protect you. Although I'm really not sure how you manage to get along with my brother."

"Practice makes perfect," Virgil said, flashing what he hoped was a winning smile.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Roman grumbled.

"Anyway," Virgil said, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, but I get it if not."

"Of course we forgive you!" Patton said. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel like you had to lie to us. You can always be honest with us."

Virgil nodded. "That's all I wanted to say. I don't know where to go from here."

"Your options are limited," Logan said. "However, I suggest that we all go down to the living room and try to encourage Remus and Deceit to do the same. Provided," he paused for a moment, and his gaze flickered to Roman, "everyone feels they can be cordial."

They all nodded in agreement and trundled back down the stairs in a single-file line with Logan at the head.

Remus began to hum a funeral march as they descended. He had made himself comfortable on the couch, his head propped up against one of the armrests and his feet in Janus' lap.

"You're still here?" Virgil asked, surprised. "Sorry, I didn't mean-- I just would think you'd be off writing."

Remus waved a hand. "John Dee-ceit Rockefeller over here is helping me workshop some things."

Janus considered solidarity for a split second before deciding to act natural. "Am I? That's news to me."

Virgil hurried over and sat down on the floor with his back to the couch, eager to mitigate whatever could easily become a complete disaster. Patton sat down beside him in a show of support, leaving Roman and Logan to eye each other over the remaining armchair.

"You don't have to be shy," Remus said, pleased that he was being allowed to dominate the conversation. He thought for a second, picturing the living room sans coffee table and with a bigger couch. Then he yawned.

This triggered a chain reaction. Virgil and Janus, who had been looking at him, also yawned, followed shortly by Patton, then Roman, then Logan.

"Maybe we should go back to bed," Virgil suggested, checking his phone. It was only a little past 7:00.

"I'm staying right here," Remus insisted. "I even made the couch bigger and everything." Knowing what was about to happen, he pulled his feet off Janus' lap.

Sure enough, Janus stood. "Do come get me if you need anything," he said, already in the process of sinking out.

"Translation," Virgil said, "'Disturb me under penalty of death.'"

"I'm going to make coffee," Roman muttered, wary of the potential nightmares that might result from sleeping too close to Remus. "Anyone else want one?"

"No, thank you," said Logan. "I have work to do."

"Robot," Roman muttered as Logan sank out. "Anyone else? Virgil?"

Virgil was too sleepy to consider the potential disaster of leaving Remus, Patton, and Roman alone together. He could barely feel the caffeine in his system. "M'going to bed," he muttered, running one hand down his face. "Possibly for several thousand years."

"No slugs," Remus murmured.

"I'll go with you," Patton said.

Roman darted to the kitchen before they could sink out properly, realizing a moment too late what was going to happen.

He took his time in the kitchen, realizing with a sinking dread that he had accidentally boxed himself in. As much as he wanted to hide in the kitchen or sink out and have his coffee in his room, he knew full well he couldn't allow himself to do that.

Avoiding the living room because Remus was there was a kind of cowardice that Roman simply could not allow in himself. So he made his coffee, exacting a kind of petty joy in the shrill hum of the milk frother. Then he strode right into the living room and sat down next to Remus, who was making no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that he was staring.

The tense silence pressed down on both of them, aching against their ribs. Remus' fingers itched for his morningstar, a thousand fragmented revenge fantasies playing out in front of his open eyes in stunning technicolor. He could never see them through to the end, though. No matter how hard he tried to pin one down, his attention invariably wandered to the climax of another.

Oblivious to this, Roman sat and tried not to squirm. He hated awkward silences, and his desire to fill them verged on compulsion. The trouble was, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. The English language only had so many social niceties built in, and none of them covered reconnecting with one's disowned evil twin.

Remus' fervent, feverish gaze sent a nasty itch down Roman's spine, and it took a great deal of effort not to shudder. It irked Roman, not knowing which of Remus' idiosyncrasies were his own, and which were calculated to be as annoying as possible.

As much as Roman wanted to believe that he couldn't fathom how this distorted shadow of himself could ever be considered useful, the truth was that he could . Roman believed, deep down in the darkest part of himself, that he was half a function. He had vowed a thousand times over that he would work as hard as he needed to in order to make up the difference. He could be good, and if he was good enough then maybe Remus would just disappear.

"Does Deceit ever talk about me?" Roman asked, well aware that Remus had no context for the inquiry.

Remus rolled his eyes. He had half been hoping that Roman would attack him so he had an excuse to fight back. He supposed he should have known better that Roman's first concern would be his reputation. "Oh, yes, all the time. He's in love with you."

"That's not what I meant!" Roman said, blushing. "Does he ever talk about us ?"

"You and me?" Remus asked, genuinely surprised. "No. Why?"

Roman ignored the question. "Has he ever brought me up?"

"I don't know what kind of conversations you think we have down there," Remus said, confused, "but we mostly just have sensual, passionate group sex-- Wait, no, I promised Virgil I wouldn't antagonize you. Um." Roman raised an eyebrow and sat back to watch Remus flounder. "Well, no. It's never come up."

"So you don't think you're half a function?" Roman asked, striving to keep his tone light. He failed, but knew better than to let that show on his face.

"Is that what he said to you?" Remus asked, half-impressed and half-offended. "You really must have pissed him off!"

"Is that pride?" Roman asked, cocking his head. "You're impressed with me for that ?"

Remus ignored this in favor of addressing Roman's earlier point. He didn't lie often, but the topic at hadn't was something he couldn't even be honest with himself about. "No. I don't think I'm half a function. I could be perfectly capable of being Thomas' sole Creativity if I ever got the chance."

"We," said Roman, determined not to cede any ground. "Same. And I certainly wouldn't want any assistance from the likes of you."

They glared at each other, teetering on the edge of a real argument.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who harbored the deeper anger, scars of resentment burned jagged and destructive in his psyche. He clenched his fist around nothing, his promise to Virgil keeping his morningstar out of his grip.

Of the two of them, it was Remus who had the most to lose if this truce went badly.

Half-hating himself for it, he relaxed his hand and said, "Dragons have four limbs."

Roman's brow furrowed in confusion; he searched his brother's face before he remembered the childhood argument and grinned. "No, that would make it a wyvern. Dragons have six limbs."

"That's unrealistic."

"They're fantasy creatures! It doesn't have to be realistic!"

"Wyverns are dumb, anyway," Remus teased, sticking out his tongue.

To their mutual surprise, the bickering escalated, not into a fight, but into a deep and detailed debate over fantasy worldbuilding.

When Virgil woke up and came downstairs, it was to the sight of the living room covered in papers and two Creativities asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 4

Chapter: 4/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: Poor Roman. He made it so easy. Janus leaned in a little, not so much that he was intruding on Roman's personal space, and touched his knuckles to his chin. "Bore me? You're Creativity. What makes you think you could ever be boring?" He cocked his head and looked at Roman with expectation, inviting him to read between the lines. Who told Roman he was boring? Who made him feel like a burden?

The plan went into motion the following evening. Roman kept inconsistent hours and worked in inconsistent locations, and Janus had accordingly predicted long hours spent listening at the basement door for a chance at catching Roman alone. He was already working on a plan to lure Roman down, but it was difficult when his knowledge was barely surface-level. He didn't know in detail what Roman liked. But the wheels of fate turned and Roman bade his friends goodnight and announced that he would be staying up late to work on a project.

"That's lucky," Remus said when Janus informed him of the news.

Janus smiled at him. "Where reason fails, the Devil helps." He fussed with his gloves and straightened his capelet. "It's showtime."

"Beetlejuice is my thing," Remus said as Janus sank out.

He couldn't help the pang of loathing that pierced his heart at the sight of Roman scribbling away in a notebook. Remus had never been afforded the luxury of creative freedom, and it felt so obscene to stand here and watch Roman revel in it.

Willing his face into a more polite expression, Janus sat down by Roman and waited to be acknowledged.

Roman caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, but was too busy writing to spare the processing power it would take to identify his visitor. Whoever it was, they knew better than to interrupt him while he was preoccupied. He finished up his thought, jotted down one final note in the margin, and turned to address his guest. "H--Uh-- Deceit!" He jerked backward in surprise, slamming his notebook shut. "I wasn't expecting you." Despite his best efforts not to stare, his gaze kept falling on Janus' scales, his slit-pupiled snake eye. Roman tried not to shudder.

Janus cursed himself for not anticipating this. He should have sat on Roman's left side. Ah, well. Nothing to do for it now but apply extra charm. "Good evening, Roman," he purred, turning his head a little beyond what was comfortable so Roman could see more of his human side. "Did you know that you bite your lip when you concentrate? It's cute."

"Oh, um." Roman touched his fingertips to his lower lip, equal parts flattered and confused. "Thank you?" The overhead lights caught on Janus' cheekbone, giving him a soft glow. He gazed at Roman with gentle anticipation. Roman looked into the rich brown of his human eye. "I was just working on a story about, um, well… Oh, I won't bore you with the details."

Poor Roman. He made it so easy. Janus leaned in a little, not so much that he was intruding on Roman's personal space, and touched his knuckles to his chin. "Bore me? You're Creativity. What makes you think you could ever be boring?" He cocked his head and looked at Roman with expectation, inviting him to read between the lines. Who told Roman he was boring? Who made him feel like a burden?

"The, uh, the others," Roman stammered, not wanting to talk badly about his friends.

To his surprise, Janus flashed him an almost guilty smile before hiding it behind one gloved hand. "The others don't understand your creative vision, do they? I always wondered how you put up with them trying to shut you down."

"I don't know that they shut me down, exactly," Roman said, making one last effort to be charitable before sliding over the brink. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "But they never seem to want to listen. Logan is always poking holes in my plots and asking boring questions about the worldbuilding, and Patton always spaces out and asks me to repeat myself, like he can't even be bothered to listen to what I'm saying! And he always says the same thing whenever I ask for feedback. It's like, I don't need criticism, but I'd appreciate something a little more in-depth than 'oh, it's fine,' you know?" Janus nodded. Roman took a breath. "And Anxiety. I don't even want to think about what he'd say. He's always trying to shut me down before I even start: 'What if someone has done this before? What if nobody likes it? What if you're not good enough?'"

Janus raised his eyebrows and looked away. Some of that certainly sounded like Virgil, but he had a strong suspicion that most of Roman's insecurities originated from within himself. "I agree, he's not good for you."

"Oh!" Roman ran a hand through his hair and looked away. "I don't- I didn't mean.. "

"You said it yourself," Janus said, preemptive triumph blazing beautiful and cruel in his chest, "he sabotages your function." He pictured Roman alone in his room, hunched over a notebook and scribbling furiously with a pen that would not and could not write. Or better yet, Roman with a functioning pen staring paralyzed at the blank page before him, his own insecurities stilling his hand. "He's bad for you."

"Hold on a second," Roman said, putting up a hand to stop Janus. How did they get here? He'd just been venting, and now suddenly Virgil was to blame for all his problems? He nearly smacked his own forehead when it clicked just who he was talking to. "I didn't mean that!"

"But you said it," Janus said, feigning misunderstanding. "So you lied to me?"

"No, no, that was true."

"Then we're in agreement. Anxiety is bad for you."

Roman shook his head emphatically. "It was true. Anxiety was bad for me. He's changed."

Janus couldn't help himself; he rolled his eyes. "He's Anxiety! It's literally his job to shoot you down."

"I used to think that," Roman said, anger spilling into his cheeks and turning his face red. "But I know better now. Anxiety isn't like you and my brother; he has a place with us and he helps us make Thomas the best possible version of himself. And if you don't understand that, then I don't think I have anything more to say to you. And don't even think about coming anywhere near Anxiety ever again. I won't allow it."

Janus took in a shaky breath, finally letting his hatred, his frustration, his despair show on his face. And he struck, envenomating the weapon Roman had unwittingly handed him: "Very well, Roman. But let me leave you with this: Anxiety has nothing to do with your inability to perform. You're only half a function, and nothing you make will ever stand up as long as you remain afraid of your own potential. You're just as inadequate as you think you are, and it's nobody's fault but your own."

And, still shaking with rage, he sank out.

--

"Shit!" Janus slammed his open palm into the wall and pressed into it, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

There was no reply but the scratching of pen on paper. Janus whipped his head around and the anger drained from him at the sight of Remus scribbling away in a notebook. At least some good had come out of his little confrontation.

"Well, I'm not sure what you did to my brother," Remus said, not looking up, "but he's definitely distracted."

"I may…" Janus said delicately, rubbing the heel of his hand with his opposing thumb, "have failed to account for certain unexpected variables." He sat down next to Remus, careful not to jostle him, and grit his teeth.

"Mm?" Remus said, turning a page.

"Such as your brother being too thick-headed and stubborn to listen when someone's trying to manipulate him." Janus scoffed.

"Mm," said Remus, still writing.

Janus glanced over at him. Just as Roman had been doing earlier, Remus was chewing at his lower lip while he wrote, his brow creased. Janus tapped his fingertips against his own lips. He shouldn't have called Roman 'half a function,' and not just because it implied that Remus was as well. He knew from experience that lashing out only ever made things harder for himself. Now a whole new barrier towered before him and it was nobody's fault but his own. Janus laughed humorlessly, not missing the irony. He would blame Roman, though. It hurt less that way.

"I suppose it's too much to ask," Janus mused out loud, "that things could just be easy for once."

Remus stopped writing, ignoring the pang of regret, and scooted over so he could put his arm around Janus. It was undeniably painful to throw away an opportunity to make his voice heard, but Janus needed him now. He never admitted when he wanted comfort, so Remus had become adept at picking up on unvoiced desires over the years. "Yeah, probably."

"Please do stop writing; that won't make me feel guilty at all."

"I was pretty much done anyway," Remus said. "There's only so much debauchery and vomit you can fit into one story."

It was an obvious lie, but Janus let it go. He leaned into Remus' shoulder despite the way it knocked his hat askew and tried not to think about Virgil. "I don't even miss him," he said, the lie ringing hollow even in his own ears. "We just can't let him start working against us."

"We won't," Remus promised. "He'll come back. We can be his favorites again." After all, they had been friends before. Whatever Roman and the others had done to charm Virgil could be undone. He would remember his friends again. "And besides, we have Plan B for Butthole!"

Janus laughed despite himself and let Remus pull him in closer. "Maybe let's wait to implement that one."

--

Roman couldn't breathe properly; something was wrong with his lungs. Every inhale hitched in his throat and his mouth ached like he was about to cry.

But he dismissed that ridiculous thought with a firm shake of his head. He was the guardian prince, the hero! Heroes never wept for themselves.

He swallowed down the ache and got to his feet so he could find Virgil and let him know what had happened.

If a few wayward tears slipped down Roman's cheeks as he ascended the staircase, he wiped them away without giving them a second thought. The jaunt up the stairs did nothing to help his erratic breathing, and he was almost winded by the time he got to Virgil's door.

He had to knock for a long time before Virgil finally answered. He had been listening to his music as loud as he could tolerate it, and had only noticed Roman's knocking during a transition between songs.

Virgil's sarcastic greeting died on his lips at the sight of Roman panting in the doorway. His lower lip trembled and his eyes were suspiciously shiny, but his voice was steady as ever when he spoke. "Anxiety! I need to speak with you."

"Dude, are you okay?" Virgil asked, letting the walls of his brooding facade fall away in the face of his concern for his friend.

"Never better!" Roman declared. He was determined not to let Virgil see just how deep Janus' words had cut him. "May I come in?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." Virgil stepped aside, trying not to feel too self-conscious about his unmade bed.

Roman didn't comment on it, just followed Virgil's lead and sat down on the floor with his back against the foot of the bed. Despite the persistent ache in his chest, he fought for bravado. "I've just faced off against a fiendish foe!"

Virgil's heart dropped into his stomach. "Oh, yeah?"

"Indeed. I went toe-to-toe with a certain sneaky snake and scared him silly!"

"What did he say to you?" Virgil demanded. Everything slotted into place in an instant, Roman's shaky demeanor and false confidence.

Roman waved a hand, annoyed to notice it was shaking. "Nothing of import. You don't have to worry about me, Anxiety, I can handle myself in these matters."

Virgil supposed he should have seen this coming. "So let me guess. You're worried about me ."

"Of course I'm not worried about you!" Roman said, puffing out his chest. "You have the best protector in the world."

"You?"

"Me!"

"So why did you need to come see me?" Virgil asked. Whatever Janus had said to Roman obviously hadn't altered Roman's opinion of Virgil any.

"Exactly that," Roman said. "That you need not worry. I banished the snake back to the basement where he belongs! And I told him that I would not allow him to see you ever again."

Virgil couldn't stop the look of horror that crossed his face. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to calm his own breathing. "What?"

"I stood up to that fork-tongued fiend and told him to leave you alone forever," Roman said, a little less self-assured this time. He knew better than to expect a wondrous display of gratitude from Virgil, but he had been expecting some sort of thanks.

"That's great," Virgil said weakly. He knew he wasn't selling it, but was too overwhelmed to really care. "Thanks."

Roman nodded. "Well, I suppose l'll, ah. I'll just go, then." He hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to stay until he was faced with the idea of leaving. But Virgil just nodded, his eyes empty, so Roman saw himself out.

Virgil immediately started to chew on his thumbnail, mind racing. He knew should have asked for more details from Roman but panic had a way of demanding attention, choking out rationality. He was thinking clearly now, though. He had failed. Whatever Janus had said had obviously hurt Roman badly, and Virgil hadn't been a good enough friend to try to fix it, and he hadn't been a good enough protector to prevent it. The only thing he could do now was try to stop it from happening again.

Virgil sighed and let his head fall back against the edge of his bed. He was absolutely certain that Janus would be out for blood now.

#spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

[spicycreativity]

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Brief depiction of light dissociation Excerpt: Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV. "Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening. "Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

Virgil peeled another poster off the wall and laid it down on his bare mattress. Without the sticky tack pinning it flat, it rolled itself back up into a tube shape. Quietly singing along to the music blasting from his speakers, Virgil adjusted it and rolled a purple rubber band down to its center. Then he put it with the rest of his posters, in an open-topped cardboard box exactly identical to the ones he’d been imagining up as necessary. The weight of his newly blank walls bore down on him hard and he chewed absentmindedly at his thumbnail before catching himself. He clenched his hands into fists instead and worried at his lower lip as he surveyed what was left of his room.

It would have been faster and easier to ask Roman for an assist. He could have had Virgil’s entire room moved (and renovated) in less time than it took him to wave his hands. And he would wave his hands, and give a self-aggrandizing little speech, and hold it over Virgil’s head until he found something else to congratulate himself for.

So, no, despite their fledgling alliance, despite the direct invitation, Virgil wouldn’t be asking Roman for favors anytime soon. And besides (not that he would ever admit it out loud), there was something undeniably grounding, something real, about doing the work with his hands. He just hoped his empty room would take the hint and follow him upstairs.

As he worked, he became aware of eyes on him. It was a slow dawning, an uncomfortable tingle in his spine that morphed into a full-body itch. Spite kept him from turning to look, focused on packing away the meager contents of his closet. He knew that Janus would come, and he was determined to not care. Let him face the consequences of his actions for once in his life.

From the doorway, Janus watched. He watched Virgil reverently fold imaginary band tees he would never have the courage to wear. He watched Virgil ignore him. He watched Virgil prepare to forsake the only family he had ever known.

The uneasy stalemate grew more tense by the second until they were both buckling under the weight of words unsaid.

It was Janus who broke first. Where the embers of Virgil's anger could smolder endlessly in his chest, Janus' temper reared up at the slightest provocation and struck with its fangs, and would not be satisfied until the threat was gone. "Tell me you didn't actually buy that little 'family' act."

Virgil's knuckles went white around the Paramore shirt he'd been folding. If Janus had come to patch things up, he was making a mess of it. "There's nothing to buy. They're not liars upstairs." He didn’t need to add ‘unlike here ;’ it went both unsaid and mutually understood.

Janus narrowed his eyes and doubled down in his attempt to make Virgil catch his meaning. "It's awfully sweet that you want to think that, but let's not forget that your precious Patton is the whole reason you're down here with the rejects in the first place."

"Yeah? Well, he’s also the main reason I’m heading up now.” Virgil resumed folding up his shirt. There was no sense in letting Janus upset him, not when it was Virgil who had the upper hand. He had made his decision.

"Yes, and I’m sure he and Roman weren't just being nice to spare their own feelings.”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, methodically re-folding the shirt and placing it into the box with the others. "Would it kill you to just be happy for me?" he demanded, turning back to his closet without sparing so much as a glance at Janus. He stared at the few remaining shirts without really seeing them, heart hammering against his ribcage. He had been hoping to slip out quietly and let Janus cool down. Despite last night’s tension, he really hadn't intended to burn any bridges. But since Janus was being so generous with the kerosene…

In the doorway, Janus straightened. He dropped his hands to his sides, staring at Virgil like he'd never seen him before. Something uncomfortably like defeat crawled up his spine. "So you really think this is going to end well for you?" It went against his nature to speak plainly; even now the truth metamorphosed painfully on his tongue, becoming a venom-drenched mockery of itself.

Virgil had never liked the process of drawing the truth out of Janus. It always involved effort on one of their parts, and too often Virgil was the one left untangling the knots when Janus was the one who had tied them. He was just about sick of it. So he left the truth raveled up inside Janus' words and grabbed a shirt at random from his closet. "Yeah. I do."

Janus faltered and went still. Virgil could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the sick sense of satisfaction made him smirk. He really was tired of the eternal chess match that came with talking to Janus and it felt good to score a point for himself.

When Janus felt cornered, he struck. But this ? Virgil hadn't cornered him, he'd boxed him in . There was nothing to strike at. Just blank white walls and the chemical odor of lighter fluid.

For a moment, there was no sound but Virgil's music. Virgil imagined another T-shirt to fold. MCR. Long sleeves. Soft jersey under his hands.

Janus knew perfectly well what Virgil wanted from him. But courage wasn't in his function; neither was vulnerability. He stood still in the doorway. No motion but the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his irises as he watched Virgil tape up his box of T-shirts. It should have been an easy choice: his pride for Virgil's friendship. But the scales pitched and swung and refused to balance, and Janus was silent.

"Tell me why you came here," Virgil dared him, searching for yet another reason to not look Janus in the eye. He settled for imagining a Sharpie so he could label his boxes.

Janus was silent.

"I know you wanted something."

Silent.

"Say it."

Silent.

"Then go."

Silent.

Janus turned on his heel and walked away. Resentment bloomed in his chest. Virgil had gone for a weak spot on purpose, had set Janus up to lose one of two things he held dear. Let him leave, then. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would find out soon enough. And if it didn't, well…

At least Janus had his pride.

Virgil scoffed at the sight of Janus slinking away like a cat, head high and shoulders back.

Virgil had never expected to lose Janus, but he supposed it did make sense that things would end this way: not with the cheap words he threw around like a high-roller's banknotes, but with a chill and deadly silence.

"Whatever," Virgil said to no one. He picked up one of his boxes and headed for the stairs.

Janus was nowhere to be found; Virgil figured he was probably sulking in his room with the lights off, plucking at threads that would never hold knots.

That, or planning some sort of revenge. Virgil tried not to shudder. After all, there wasn't really anything Janus could do to him, not when Virgil had this much conviction in his decision. Janus preyed on insecurities, driving wedges of doubts into the cracks that already existed in the foundations of long-held beliefs. And Virgil had allowed himself no doubts. Not today. Not about this.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Remus on the stairs.

Remus had been making no effort to hide, but, realizing that Virgil was going to pass by without noticing him, sprang forward to block his path. "Boo!"

"Fuck!" Virgil flinched and pulled the box in tighter to his chest. He glared at Remus and took in a few deep breaths, leaning against the bannister while he waited for his head to stop spinning. "What was that for?"

"Take a wild guess, Little Boy Boohoo." Remus slapped the top of the box just hard enough to make the contents shift and rattle, rage boiling in his chest. "Y'know, when you said you got Raptured, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

"Remus, come on." Sadness ached in the back of Virgil's throat. He hadn't wanted this. For all that Janus and Remus had teased him about spending time upstairs, he hadn't expected this kind of anger from either of them, was still reeling from their unabashed hostility. They were friends . Well. They used to be.

"Cum on what?" Remus asked, leaning in. "Your face? Your tits?" Fire blazed in his eyes and he made no effort to quell it; he wanted Virgil scared . It served him right for picking Roman.

Virgil seemed to read his mind. "You know I'm not choosing them over you guys, I just-- I can be friends with all of you. I can help. ”

"No," Remus said, meaning every word of it. "You can't."

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing down his doubts. "But you guys are the ones making me choose. I-- Look, I'm sure if I told them how much you mean to me--"

"They'd start inviting us up for tea and orgies?" Remus bared his teeth. "Face it, Virgil. They want to change us just like they changed you," he bit the air in front of Virgil's face, "into a toothless little lap dog. And the second you stop playing by their rules, it's back in the dungeon with the rest of us wolves. And you know what wolves get: Dark screens and pens out of ink and knots that won't stay tied."

"Maybe I don't like being a wolf," Virgil said, sticking with the metaphor out of habit. It usually made Remus happy to have his ideas acknowledged. "Maybe I'm changing for my own sake."

Remus sneered at him, aiming to wound. "Patton must give really good head."

"Get out of my way," Virgil said, fury burning cold in his lungs. "I'll be back down soon for the rest of my stuff."

Remus stepped aside, but planted his boot on the railing opposite the wall before Virgil could take so much as a single step. Nothing about Remus could be repressed or contained, not his anger, not his glee, not even his sadness. It escaped now, despite his best efforts to get a leash on it. "I just never thought it would be you."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked, studying Remus' wistful face. His heart gave a dangerous lurch. "Actually? I don't care. Move."

Remus let his boot drop with a heavy thud, forcing Virgil to step over it. "You're making a mistaaaake," he called after Virgil, pitching his voice up in a shrill sing-song lilt. A parting gift to the traitor.

Virgil winced, but kept walking. If he was making a mistake, at least it was his mistake to make.

At the top of the stairs, he batted at the doorknob until it turned enough to allow him to fall through the door. He kicked it shut behind him and paused to catch his breath.

Then Roman popped up from the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Hey there, 5 Seconds of Bummer."

"Jesus!" Virgil jumped and fell back against the wall, chest aching.

"Careful, don't let Elder Patton hear you say that. What's with the box?" Roman looked Virgil up and down, examining the coal black eyeshadow and the way he cowered against the wall. Whatever he was doing, he seemed unharmed, if a little freaked out. Not that that was unusual.

"I'm moving," Virgil said, only just managing to hold back a sarcastic ' genius .'

"Really?" Roman's smile was so bright it was almost dazzling. "Say no more!" He straightened, puffing out his chest. "Let's see, where should we put you?" He paused, drawing mental pictures. "By Logan, I think. Right across from yours truly.”

Virgil squinted at him, but he realized Roman’s intent a moment too late. "Oh, I don't--"

"Shh." Roman focused on his desired effect, pictured Virgil's room and all its contents moving upstairs. He would have a bright purple door with a black iron door knob. Oh, and a little 'keep out' sign with a skull on it. And a new bedspread with purple patches, to match his hoodie. And of course, he couldn't forget Virgil's actual possessions (whatever they were) right where they were supposed to be. "There!"

Virgil ducked his head and raised his eyebrows, dropping his hands to his sides now that he had no box to hold up. He almost mourned the loss of it, the comforting weight on his chest. "'There'?" he repeated.

Roman beamed at him. "I moved your room for you!" Virgil opened his mouth, Roman assumed to complain about his precious privacy or whatever, so Roman raised a hand to stop him. "Now, now, no need to thank me." He paused, thinking it over, and regretted his choice of words. "No, wait, do."

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

"Yeah, yeah," Virgil interrupted, already regretting his teasing. "And then they fight."

"Don't tempt me, " Roman said. Then he winced. "Ah, like, friendly fighting! Between bros! Good, old-fashioned, manly sword fighting between two dudes…" He paused to take a breath, faltering, hoping for a rescue that did not come, "who are friends. Friendly sword dudes." He cleared his throat and repeated, "Friendly sword dudes."

Behind him, Virgil smiled. For all his boasting, Roman really was trying to be more pleasant. Maybe Virgil should try to extend a hand as well. Unfortunately, "Sure," was all he could manage.

He followed Roman across the living room and up another set of stairs until they came upon a long corridor lined on either side with doors. "It's like a hotel," Virgil observed.

"Go in already." Roman nudged Virgil with his hip.

Virgil resisted the urge to smack him, reminding himself that Roman wouldn't know he was just playing. Instead, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked down the hallway to his door. "It's purple."

"Oh, good, you're not colorblind."

"Was that a big concern for you?" Virgil didn't wait for a response before pulling the door open and examining his room. Everything seemed fine, from his band posters to his pet spider in its terrarium. Everything aside from the bedspread.

Roman kept glancing between it and Virgil, wiggling in excitement. "Well?"

"Um, yeah." Virgil forced a smile. "It looks nice. Thanks, Princey. I, uh. I like the purple."

"I knew you would!" Roman gave himself a round of applause and pushed past Virgil, throwing himself down on the bed. "Come feel. The purple patches are fleece."

"Okay…" Virgil crossed the room, trying not to look as tense as he felt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and put his hand down on the fleece, mind frustratingly blank. "Yeah, that's soft."

Roman nodded in satisfaction. "So," he said, "how does it feel?"

"...Soft?" Virgil repeated, flicking his eyes to Roman's face for just a moment.

"Not the comforter." Roman sighed. "Your great escape! You're finally free from Bialysnake and Doom."

Virgil tilted his head. "Not your best work," he said, mostly to avoid answering the question.

"Oh, everyone's a critic." Roman examined his nails. "But come on, doesn't it feel better to know you won't have to deal with those freaks anymore? I can't even imagine how you made it this long, and that's saying a lot for me. Thank goodness you let us rescue you."

Virgil forced back the instinctive wave of anger that Roman would talk about his friends that way. They weren ' t friends anymore. And maybe it would feel good to vent a little. "I'm glad to be gone," Virgil said with conviction, imagining Janus and Remus listening at the door. "It's gonna be really nice not having to deal with all the mind games and, and random tangents and… weird communication problems."

"Go, Virgil!" Roman said, a little surprised at Virgil's candor. "That really must have been Hell for you."

Virgil, as a rule, avoided lying. Even white lies made him feel sick and panicky. But for just one incandescent moment, he lost control of his temper and let the bonfire blaze in his chest and the smoke pour out of his mouth. "Yeah." If he said it out loud, maybe he could make himself believe it. Maybe he could crush the remaining ache of betrayal, the longing for his friends. "It was Hell. I'm not going to miss them at all."

Roman gave a low whistle "I'm glad we got you out of there."

"Lucky me." Virgil rubbed his fingertips along a patch of fleece as guilt, cloying and viscous, lapped at the back of his throat.

It was funny, he thought, reflecting on the look of earnest conviction in Roman's eyes. When Janus said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he was getting at something. When Roman said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he believed it. That could be a dangerous combination someday. Maybe it was better like this. Now Virgil was in a better position to keep Roman and the others safe from whatever vengeance Janus and Remus might choose to inflict upon them.

"Hey," said Virgil, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Maybe we should get out of here. Y'know, before you go all--"

"Fright Night?" Roman frowned, bored with the idea. "That's so last episode. Can't you just turn it off?" Almost to himself, he muttered, "A nifty little Roman trick."

"Turn off my anxiety?" Virgil repeated, incredulous.

"No, no, of course not." Roman waved a hand to dismiss the idea. "Just make your room a little less kooky, spooky, and ooky." He snapped his fingers twice.

"No?" said Virgil.

"Let's see." Roman indicated the switch on the wall he had just dreamed up. "Go ahead. Pull the lever, Anxiety!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's not a lever."

"I could make it a lever," Roman said, a touch petulant. "A long one, too, so you can walk into it and jab yourself right in the ribs every time you try to turn the lights on."

"Alright, I get it," Virgil put up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry I talked bad about your anxiety lightswitch." He got to his feet and flipped the switch, all the while staring expectantly at Roman. "Feel anything?"

"Profoundly unchanged." Roman stood up as well and rocked forward onto his toes. "Ah, well. I guess I wasn't in here long enough to tell the difference. Suppose that's why we leave the nerdy science stuff to the Great Logician."

“Where are the others, anyway?” Virgil asked, longing for an escape from one-on-one conversation. His nerves were already starting to fray.

“I don’t know.” Roman leaned against the wall and fidgeted with one of Virgil’s decorative spiderwebs. “Logan’s probably holed up in his room making a spreadsheet of Thomas’ vitamin deficiencies or something equally as boring.”

“And Patton?”

“I don’t know, man, it’s not like I keep them under surveillance.” Roman rolled his eyes, annoyed with the questioning. "I suppose I should summon them up to say hello." He gave Virgil a sidelong glance.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't really care either way, to be honest. But maybe don't bother them if they're busy "

Roman wasn't listening. "Let's see, probably shouldn't do it in your room… To the hallway!" He bounded out the door leaving Virgil to follow him at a shuffle.

It was fine, Virgil had to keep reminding himself. Roman meant well, and maybe his antics would keep Patton from rolling out the welcome wagon. The thought of special treatment made Virgil's toes curl. Just because he didn't want to be insulted all the time didn't mean he needed to be babie d.

Roman's voice cut through the noise in Virgil's head and he planted his hands on his hips. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Virgil gave a fake smile. "I got caught up in the sound of your voice."

"Hm, well." Roman sniffed, playing the part. "My talents are wasted on buzzkill philistines." He paused. "Buzzkill-istines."

Virgil only made a face, so Roman sighed and brought up his arms to summon Patton and Logan, proclaiming as he did so, "Look who I rescued from the dungeon!"

"Hey," said Virgil, bristling, but the chaos was already underway.

"Yay!" Patton threw his arms out wide. "It's Anxiety!"

"You never say 'yay,' when I come around,” Roman complained.

"Hi, Patton," Virgil said, not wanting to be rude.

Logan chimed in, "Roman, it would be incredibly disruptive if Patton said 'yay' every time you entered a shared space--"

"I didn't ask for a read , you pirated nerd processor. I'm just saying a little appreciation would be nice."

"Anxiety is our guest !"

Patton still had his arms out. Virgil caught his eye. "Was that-- Is that for a hug or…?"

"Only if you want one!" Patton said.

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "It's like I'm not even here! You never offer me hugs."

"If you are referring to Patton, he hugged you three times yesterday by my count." Logan paused and pushed up his glasses. "Possibly more times than that, if I wasn't present to witness them."

"Aw, Roman, did you want a hug, too? Group hug?"

"I would prefer not to--"

"No, no, that's quite alright."

"Does anybody want a hug? 'Cause my arms are getting tired."

" I don't," Roman said, obviously pouting.

Virgil pressed his fingertips to his forehead, exasperated. Then he stepped away from Roman and let Patton hug him like he obviously wanted to.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

But it was important to Patton, and his voice was genuine when he said, "Thank you."

"Ugh, enough already!" Roman said, dropping his arms so he could cross them again. "Isn't anyone going to congratulate me for rescuing our dark-and-stormy damsel?"

Virgil seized upon the opportunity to slip out of Patton's arms and step a healthy distance away. "I'm sorry, which part was the rescue? Was it the part where you ambushed me in the living room and took my stuff?"

"Roman, it's not nice to take what doesn't belong to you," Patton said.

"No, Padre. Ugh." Roman groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "I helped him move all his stuff."

"That does explain the new violet variance," Logan said, nodding at Virgil's door.

Roman muttered, "That doesn't make sense; you just wanted an excuse to use alliteration," but it was barely audible under the sound of Patton screeching in delight.

"Uh," said Virgil, wide-eyed. "How long do you think he's gonna go?"

"Three," said Logan, unphased.

"What?"

"Two."

"And one," Roman said.

Patton drew in a deep breath. "Kiddo! You're gonna live with us now?"

"Yep," Virgil said, ducking his head.

"This is so exciting! We have to celebrate!"

"We really don't," Virgil muttered, backing into the wall. The last thing he wanted was--

"A party!" Roman said, driving his fist into his open palm. If he couldn't be the object of adoration, then he could at least be in charge of something.

Virgil sighed, swallowing back a swear. He suddenly longed for the safe familiarity of Janus' gentle taunts and Remus' wild-eyed enthusiasm. He had grown so used to people knowing his limits, to having his needs anticipated and boundaries accounted for.

It crossed his mind to flee, to run back down the stairs into the basement with apologies on his lips. At least his old demons were familiar ones. He knew how to handle it when Remus got too wild or when Janus got sulky and jealous. And the ache, the ache of being so cruel, well, he knew how to ride that out too.

What Virgil did not know how to handle was the rambunctious enthusiasm of three (well, two) optimists who were far too excited about being his friends.

Oh.

Realization and guilt slammed into Virgil's chest, a flying tackle of empathy. All Patton and Roman wanted to do was be his friends, and Virgil had the nerve to be put off by it.

He shook himself and tuned back into the conversation just in time for Roman to address him directly, "And you just have to sit there and look pretty." A beat. "Pretty scary." Patton turned his disapproving gaze on Roman, who was already in the process of trying to extricate his foot from his mouth. "Ah, um, pretty… scarily… pretty . Because it scares us… how pretty you look."

Virgil decided to let that one go as a show of goodwill.  "...Thanks."

"Yep," Roman said, utterly failing to stick the landing. "Anyway, enough talk! We have festivities to attend to!"

He sank out, and Patton after him, until it was just Virgil and Logan in the hall.

"I do not understand him," Logan admitted.

Virgil just shook his head, privately wondering if the same placating behavior that worked on Remus would work on Roman too. "Just go with it, I guess."

Logan nodded. "Before we join the others, I did want to tell you: Please do not hesitate to ask if there's something I can help you with."

"Hesitating is the name of my game," Virgil said, misunderstanding.

Logan adjusted his glasses, hiding his confusion behind his hand. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. I only meant that--"

It clicked for Virgil. "I get it, Logan. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Anxiety. I believe your presence here will be of benefit to us all." Logan sank out, studiously avoiding eye contact.

Virgil sank out after him, suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone with his thoughts.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

"Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening.

"Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

"Just go with it," Virgil repeated, a reminder for the both of them.

"Took you two long enough!" Roman shouted from the kitchen. "Professor Necktie, get in here and help Patton with the measuring cups."

"I got it!" Patton exclaimed. "A third of a cup and a fourth of a cup are pretty much the same thing, right?"

"Oh," said Logan, already in motion. "No."

"What about me?" Virgil asked.

Roman popped his head through the kitchen doorway, nearly knocking into Logan. "I already told you, Sweet Coraline--"

"Da, da, da," Patton chimed in.

"--just sit there and look--"

"Scary."

"Is it Interrupt Roman Day?" Roman threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"No," said Logan, before realizing the question was rhetorical.

"Wait," said Virgil, "So I'm just supposed to sit by myself in the living room while you guys…" He tried to remember what Roman had said before, but he really hadn't been listening.

"While I bake and Patton tries to drink vanilla extract," Logan said.

There was a sound suspiciously like a small plastic bottle hitting a formica countertop. "Uh, Roman, why don't you keep Virgil company?" Patton suggested. "You know what they say about too many cooks. Or… bakers, I guess."

"What do they say?"

"I don't remember! You'll have to chef back with me later."

Virgil winced. Roman shot him a commiserating look. "Fine, I guess we can both sit and look pretty. Comes naturally to me anyway."

"Great," Virgil said.

"Well, Simple Plan, do you want anything to drink while I'm up?"

"'Simple Plan'?" Virgil repeated, confused. "That one wasn't even a real nickname, you just named an emo band."

"Look, I can't be on all the time." Roman made a face. "Do you want a drink or not?"

"Could I have a coffee?"

"Coffee?" Roman stared at him. "It's 2:00 pm!"

"Oh, so there's a wrong answer?"

"Alright, alright. How do you take it?"

"With milk."

Roman nodded. "How much?"

"What?"

"How much milk?"

"I don't know, I don't measure it out," Virgil tried to keep the incredulous look off his face but couldn't quite manage it. "Just, y'know, with milk."

" How much milk, Virgil?"

"I don't know!" Virgil put up his hands. "Until it's a nice beige color."

"How beige?"

"What do you mean 'how beige'? Beige is beige!"

"Alright, fine," Roman huffed. "But you're not allowed to complain if it's wrong."

"Deal," Virgil said, nodding.

Roman turned to go back in the kitchen and Virgil threw himself down on the couch with a huff. Roman got wound up about the weirdest things.

Unlike Virgil, who only got wound up about normal things, like if the person at the door was really the pizza delivery person, or if they were secretly an assassin sent to kill Thomas.

Reasonable fears.

Virgil ran his hands down his face and sighed. Despite his earlier desire to be alone, and despite the reassuring sounds of controlled chaos from the kitchen, doubt crept into the corners of his mind.

He bounced his leg and tried not to look at the door to the basement. The living room and kitchen were technically common areas, even if the so-called 'Dark' sides usually kept clear of them.

Janus or Remus could burst in at any second and ruin everything. Roman, at least, seemed to be under the impression that Virgil had hated every waking moment as a Dark Side. If he ever found out that they had been friends...

Virgil forced himself to take several deep breaths. Everything would be fine. Roman, Logan, and Patton were his friends , and they wouldn't judge him for how he had acted before.

...Unless they did .

"Coffee!" Roman said, barreling into the living room with far too much confidence for someone holding a full coffee mug.

"Jeeze!" Virgil jumped and clutched at his chest, his pulse hammering against his hands. "Stop doing that!"

"Stop entering rooms?" Roman said sarcastically. He sat down next to Virgil on the couch and set a coffee mug on a mismatched saucer down on the coffee table. "There."

"Thanks," Virgil said. He thought about teasing Roman for having made it the wrong shade of beige, but decided against it. They were still getting used to each other and Virgil didn't know how far he could push without hurting Roman's feelings. "What about you?"

Roman held out his hand and he was suddenly holding a champagne flute full of sparkling water. "Don't you worry about me."

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a blithe "oops!" from Patton and a long sigh from Logan.

"How about them?" Virgil asked. "Can I worry about them ?"

Roman waved a hand and sat back. "I guess worrying is your job."

"Yep," said Virgil, glancing again at the basement door.

They fell silent for a moment, but Roman was never one to leave an awkward silence untouched. "So, what do you usually do for fun? Or was it more of a Cinderella situation?"

"You really think I'd take that kind of treatment lying down?" Virgil asked.

"Okay, so, what? Do you practice your eyeshadow for hours on end? Write angsty poetry?"

Virgil sighed, thinking about all the things he couldn't give away. "I mean, I guess I listen to music?"

"That's a great idea!" Roman said, a little too quickly and loudly. He waved his hand at the TV. "Go… Plug your phone into that, make it do the thing."

Virgil got up and began fumbling with the assorted wires at the back of the TV. "Are you sure? It's not exactly party music."

"Well, it's your party." Roman smiled. "You call the shots. And…" He hesitated, embarrassed. "Well, you know. We appreciate you, scary screamo-emo music and all."

After a fair amount of fiddling with the remote and plugging random cords into random sockets, Virgil finally got his phone hooked up to the TV.

"There!" Roman said happily, flashing his teeth again. " Now it's a party!"

Virgil sat back down on the couch and tried to make a pleasant face back. He had hoped that the music would make him feel more at ease, but all it did was bring back painful memories of bass filtering down into the basement, of complaining with Remus and Janus about their upstairs compatriots' taste in music.

Even now, the bass crawled into him and buzzed painfully against his bones, vibrating in his skull. With his heart already racing from the caffeine, the throb in his chest became almost painful. Virgil stared, wide-eyed, at the floor trying to keep his breathing in check. If he could just focus on what Roman was saying…

What was Roman saying? Virgil watched his lips move, but all he could hear was the thrum of the bass. Was this even real?

It took Roman a long moment to realize that Virgil wasn't listening, his attention turned inwards rather than outwards. Realization came with an unpleasant twist of concern in his stomach. Virgil was staring at the floor, his eyeshadow a sickly gray.

All thoughts of irritation and playful pouting fled Roman's mind in an instant. "Uh, hey. You okay?"

Virgil took too long to respond. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He blinked hard, drummed his fingers against his temple. Awareness came back to him, marginally less unpleasant than it had been before. "Do you… do you mind if I turn the music down?" Surely that was no great transgression.

"Sure, be my guest" Roman said, truly ambivalent. He smiled a little and hummed to himself as Virgil fumbled with the remote.

"Hey, kiddos!" Patton stumbled out of the kitchen, Logan's hand firm between his shoulder blades. "Logan says I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore." He smiled, unbothered, and sandwiched himself between Virgil and Roman on the couch. "Is this okay?" he asked Virgil.

"Yeah," said Virgil, unsure if he meant it. He leaned a little into Patton's side and decided it was okay. More than okay. Where it had overwhelmed him before, the gentle warmth of Patton's proximity now grounded him and calmed him down.

Like…

Like Remus did.

Roman, oblivious to Virgil's inner crisis, tossed his head. "Did you try to eat the dough again?"

"No," Logan called from the kitchen. "He tried to make glitter slime with the egg whites."

Virgil and Roman made twin faces of disgust; Patton only laughed and said, "I was egg-slime-ted to try something new!"

"Oh, no," Roman murmured, drawing one hand down his face.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and said, "Was it at least food grade glitter?"

"No," Logan answered, still out of sight. "It was craft glitter."

" What were you making?" Virgil asked, then realized his mistake. "Uh, before the egg slime."

"Cupcakes," Patton said.

"I already told you that," Roman said.

"Sorry, man." Virgil gave Roman a fake smile. "Sometimes when you start talking, all I can hear is refrigerator noise."

"Funky beets," Patton said, nodding.

Virgil stared at him. "You keep beets in the refrigerator?"

Patton wasn't listening. "Ooh! Brocc-n-roll!"

The conversation dissolved into increasingly dubious vegetable puns, which Virgil avoided contributing to. He was more than content to sit back and watch Roman's and Patton's energies bounce off each other as the conversation grew increasingly absurd.

It was moments like these that made Virgil think, maybe things would be okay after all. Change was scary but Virgil had his friends.

Logan emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, uncharacteristically ruffled. Flour left chalky marks on his shirt and tie, and glitter clung to his fingers despite all his efforts at the kitchen sink.

"Hi," Virgil said with a lazy wave. "Please stop them."

"What are they doing?" Logan asked. "I stopped listening when they started making puns." He sat down in the chair that sat perpendicular to the couch and looked expectantly at Virgil.

"Still puns," Virgil said. "Endless puns."

"It's fine," Roman said. "We can be done with puns."

"Only if you ask nicely!" Patton said. They all peered at him expectantly. "You said no more puns," he said, confused. "Should I have made one?"

"No need, Patton," Logan said hurriedly.

"Digging the new look, by the way," Virgil said by way of pointing out that Logan was covered in flour.

Logan squinted at him, puzzled, then looked down at himself. "Ah. One of the many hazards of working in a kitchen." He imagined his clothes clean and nodded in satisfaction at the result.

Unable to help himself, Virgil added, "Other hazards include: Setting your stove on fire, setting your self on fire." He paused, thinking. "Ants."

Patton took his cue to counteract Virgil's anxiety. "But if you don't take the risk, then you don't get the reward!"

"Cupcakes!" Roman said with equal enthusiasm.

The oven timer beeped.

Logan frowned. "It hasn't even been two minutes."

"I got impatient," Roman said, and kept going to try to talk his way out of a lecture on hard work. "And besides, don't we all have better things to do than sit around and wait for cupcakes to bake? Such as eating cupcakes?"

"Roman's right," Patton said.

Logan considered this, pushing up his glasses. "I suppose I could use the extra time to get some work done."

"Wow, Teach, you're leaving us just like that?" Virgil said instead of asking Logan to stay.

"Not before cupcakes he's not," Patton said firmly. "Roman?"

"Say no more." Roman made an extravagant hand gesture, and a tray of cooled, perfectly frosted cupcakes appeared on the coffee table.

"I was going to frost them," Logan said. "And I do have to wonder what the point was of having Patton and I bake in the first place."

"Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Roman waved Logan off. "Anyway, Purple Menace, it's your party. You get the first cupcake."

"Thanks." Virgil grabbed one at random before he could start worrying about if there was a right or wrong answer. "So," he said, forcing himself out of his comfort zone, "since it is my party and all… Do you guys think you might want to spend the rest of the day with me? Only if you want to. It's cool if not."

"Of course we will!" Patton said, only just resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Virgil.

"Yeah," Roman said readily, "sure."

They all looked at Logan, who nodded. "If that's what you want."

Virgil looked down to hide his smile.

--

Virgil kept unusual hours at the best of times, plagued by insomnia and racing thoughts.

Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight was worse. After the day ended and the warmth and comfort of his friends faded away, Virgil found himself alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts that kept straying to Remus and Janus. The reality of their anger at him twisted in his stomach and stoked the fires of rage in his own chest until he was burning with it. Some friends th ey were, turning on him the second he tried to improve his own situation. They knew better than anyone just how much he'd disliked tormenting Thomas and antagonizing the others.

Virgil let out an angry huff and punched the volume button on his headphones. He knew better than to try to go to bed when he was this worked up, so he turned to his tried and true method of drowning out his thoughts: turning up his music until he felt it in his jaw.

It didn't work.

Virgil ripped his headphones off and tossed them away from him, careful even in his anger to not do anything that would cause them to break. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. It was late enough that everyone else was probably asleep. He could go down to the kitchen and eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag without any questioning eyes on him.

He sank out of his room and popped up in the kitchen so focused on his goal that he didn't even notice Patton standing by the sink.

Patton in turn didn't notice Virgil until they both jumped in fright at the sensation of something in their peripherals.

"Oh!" Patton covered his mouth with his hand and took in a deep breath. "You scared me, kiddo!"

Virgil fell against the fridge, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. "Likewise."

Patton looked Virgil over, raising an eyebrow at Virgil's attire. "Late night?"

"Pretty much always. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep," Patton said, glancing at Virgil to check in with him before continuing, "I was kinda worried about you."

Virgil shuffled over so he could nudge Patton with his hip. "C'mon, worrying is my job."

"I know," Patton said fondly. "I just… I want you to know that we care about you, and… Well, I just keep thinking about what you probably had to put up with living with Deceit and the Duke, and I'm a little concerned they might, y'know, try something."

"Oh," said Virgil, as a shot of panic rang his body like a bell.

"But don't worry!" Patton said. "We'll keep you safe!"

"Oh, dear." Janus flashed into view between them and looked at them both in turn. "Safe from what? "

"Um," said Patton, blushing up to his ears. "Heya, Deceit."

Janus dipped his chin and fixed Patton with an amused smirk that he had never practiced in his bathroom mirror. "Morality." He leaned back against the counter and waved a hand. "Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please do tell Anxiety what it is you're going to keep him safe from."

"Ah," said Patton, fidgeting. "Um. It was sort of a private conversation."

"You can trust me." Janus touched his fingertips to his chest, expression open. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"I guess not, no."

"So go ahead." Janus stared Patton down, delighting in his discomfort.

Virgil recovered his wits and only just managed to keep himself from snarling like a dog. "Leave him alone."

"Me?" Janus grinned at Virgil, revealing mismatched canines. "I'm harmless."

A sudden memory flashed through Virgil's mind: He and Janus eavesdropping on their upstairs neighbors. "Wait, were you just waiting by the door for me to show up?"

"No," Janus lied, spitting out the word too quickly. He saw no need whatsoever to let Virgil know that Janus had wanted to check on him and make sure the Lights weren't unduly punishing him for the perceived transgression of having once been 'Dark'. In fact, he'd gone into this with no intention of interacting with Patton at all, but he never could resist the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance.

"Dude." Virgil scoffed, smiling incredulously. "That's so lame."

Janus examined the back of one hand, propping up a facade of cool indifference. "More or less lame than listening to the same My Chemical Romance song 58 times in a row?" Janus teased, sweeping his gaze down Virgil's face. "By your estimate?"

Virgil was about to answer when he noticed Patton staring at him in confusion. He caught hold of his anger again and injected it into his words. "Did you actually want something or did you just come around to try to scare me?"

"This was a common area last time I checked," Janus said, pretending to look around.

Virgil would have liked to have pressed him. For all his scheming and planning, Janus had never mastered the art of the contingency plan. If Virgil taunted him, told him to carry on with his business in the kitchen, Janus would stutter out an excuse, turn tail, and flee.

But there was Patton, watching their rapport with interest and concern, and Virgil couldn't risk handing him any more pieces of the puzzle. Even Patton, who saw the best in everyone, seemed to believe that Janus and Remus had held Virgil hostage all those years. What would he say if he knew the truth?

Virgil took Patton by the hand. "Don't let us stop you, then. Come on, Pat." He sank out, hoping Patton would follow him to his room.

Patton took the hint and rose up by Virgil's door. He looked around uneasily at the spider curtains and the white webbing strung across the walls, but no wave of wild-eyed panic struck his mind. "That's funny."

"Haha," Virgil said, instantly regretting his weak attempt at humor. "Sorry. What's funny?"

"I'm not quite as scared as I was last time," Patton said.

Virgil stared at the purple-plated switch Roman had made earlier. "No way. No way that worked. Ugh, he's going to be insufferable if he finds out." Patton smiled vacantly and nodded. Virgil said , "Don't say anything to Roman, but you should be good to spend time in here with me. I-if you want to."

"Do you want to talk about what just happened?" Patton asked, not moving from the doorway. Even in the absence of blind panic, he could still feel phantom legs crawling across his bare skin if he stared at any one piece of spider decor for too long.

"I don't know," Virgil said, sighing heavily. "Are you okay?"

Patton couldn't help but shudder as he tried to tear his eyes away from Virgil's spider tank. He swallowed down his fear. Virgil needed him. He could be brave if it meant helping Virgil feel better. "Oh, don't worry about me." He forced himself not to think and crossed the room so he could sit next to Virgil on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Virgil said, unable to look Patton in the eye. This was his drama to worry about, not anyone else's. He shouldn't-- couldn't burden Patton with this. Lies danced on the tip of his tongue, so bitter he could almost taste them. He wondered if Janus could sense it, if Janus was laughing at him on the basement stairs. "It's over between us," Virgil said.

"Was it…" Patton hesitated. "I mean, were they… It's just that you're so sweet, and Deceit and the Duke are so scary . And… I mean, Deceit never comes into the kitchen. D'you think he was going to--" Patton broke off with a shudder. " Try something?"

Virgil couldn't even bring himself to protest at the idea that Patton didn't find him scary anymore, awash in nostalgia; half-formed memories of coffee on hazy mornings, reluctant cuddle piles on the couch, bickering for the sake of it, all warming and chilling him at the same time. "Maybe," Virgil said. It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself, just a misdirection. And if it kept Patton safe from Janus' mind games then Virgil would tell a thousand lies, never mind what that said about him. "He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

"And you're okay?" Patton asked, still concerned. "You still seem pretty shaken up." Virgil was pale and his eyeshadow had gone dangerously dark. Patton wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and never let anything bad happen to him again, his chest ached with it.

"I didn't like how Deceit talked to you," Virgil said, and a burst of anger formed out of the fear for one incandescent moment. Janus had been playing a game with Patton, but it wasn't fair when Patton didn't know the rules. Janus would weave threats and insults into his words but never once speak impolitely or out of turn, and push and goad and tease until he found a breaking point. He had pinned Patton's back against the wall in less than a minute and would have kept toying with him just for the game of it had Virgil not stepped in. Virgil had been the victim of this trick before, in much more lighthearted circumstances. Janus would put words in your mouth and then condemn you for them with the holier-than-thou countenance of a tithe-stealing priest. "He's dangerous to talk to. Promise me you'll come get me if he ever catches you alone, okay?"

"Sure, kiddo." Patton didn't fully understand, but if it was important to Virgil, then it was important to him, too. He held up his pinkie. "Pinkie swear."

"Oh," said Virgil, softening. "We don't have to--"

"It's legally binding," Patton said seriously.

Virgil smiled despite himself and hooked pinkies with Patton. "Okay. Pinkie swear."

Patton drew his hand back and smothered a yawn behind it. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just a little be-yawn-d my bedtime. But I'm happy to stay up with you as long as you need!"

Guilt flooded Virgil's mind, choking out rationality and guiding him toward panic. "Oh, jeeze, I'm sorry. I won't keep you up."

“Aw, it’s okay,” Patton said, not missing the way Virgil’s body tensed up and his breathing quickened. “I’ll stay up with you all night if you want me to. We could even make a blanket fort. Just maybe…” He wiggled in place, thinking of spiders again. “Maybe in the living room or the hall.”

"It's okay, Pat." Virgil stifled a yawn of his own, burying his face in the collar of his hoodie. "Think I'm gonna crash soon, anyway." A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

Okay, so he was a lot stressed, but he still didn't need coddling. He wasn't Roman .

"Should I go, then?" Patton asked, glancing at the door. He had seen Virgil's face go sour and adjusted his approach accordingly. It went against his nature, against his function, to leave someone upset without doing everything he could to fix it, but he was perceptive enough to grasp that Virgil wanted space.

Virgil nodded and yawned again, the ugliness draining from his face as though it had never been there at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Virgil." Patton stood, but hovered in the doorway. "Want me to get your light?"

Virgil kicked off his shoes and nodded. "Sure." Virgil hoped that Roman hadn't shuffled his clothing around too much. He wasn't in the mood to hunt for his pajamas in the dark. "See you in the morning?"

Patton nodded, turned off the light, and left.

#virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe