Chapter Text
Janus couldn’t help but be intrigued when he tasted chocolate chip cookies.
The taste was so undeniably Patton, which was interesting. The moral side hated lying and tried to avoid it whenever possible. But the taste couldn’t possibly belong to anyone else. Janus smirked, wondering what it was that finally brought the cheerful side over to the dark side.
But it wasn’t really any of his business. So he ignored it, save for savoring the rare taste of chocolate.
Most of the other sides didn’t know that Janus could literally taste their lies. They knew that he had some way of knowing, but none of them except for Remus were aware of how. It was actually pretty amusing, especially since this blatant lack of knowledge bothered Logan to no end.
Everyone’s lies had a distinct taste, except for Janus’s own. His lies were so natural for him that they didn’t taste like anything. His truths, on the other hand… well that wasn’t important.
In any case, he couldn’t help but be grateful when Patton lied. His lies were so sweet in a way that none of the other sides could provide.
Janus grew even more curious when Patton started to lie more consistently. It started with just a few small lies, hints of chocolate floating down the halls. But as the days went on, Patton started to lie even more. Janus was almost overloaded with sweetness.
He had to admit, he liked this change of pace. But as time passed, his curiosity only grew, and eventually he decided that he had to know.
What could possibly be causing Patton to lie so much?
So he decided to investigate. Maybe he should’ve felt bad about spying on the light sides, but, well, he didn’t. So sue him. He was a dark side for a reason.
But as Janus started to piece together the situation, he started to feel kind of bad. Because these lies that Patton was telling… well, they weren’t good for him.
Take, for example, the other day, when Janus had gotten up early to watch Patton making breakfast. Don’t ask how he concealed himself, it’s part of his job as the most manipulative side to be able to. Just know that it wasn’t comfortable.
Janus watched with interest as Patton cooked up some eggs and bacon for the other sides. He wasn’t acting how Janus would’ve expected. Janus would’ve presumed that Patton was a morning person, with a smile on his face no matter the time of day. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see Patton humming to himself cheerfully, or even singing out loud.
But Patton wasn’t like that at all. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t humming or singing. In fact, he looked exhausted.
Janus was loath to admit it, but he felt a pang in his chest at the sight. He couldn’t help but have a soft side for the paternal figure. Sure he was naive, annoyingly innocent, and quite honestly represented the opposite of what Janus stood for, but… he was just so sweet. Almost disgustingly so. Seeing Patton sad was like looking at a kicked puppy. You’d have to be heartless to not feel bad.
But Janus had yet to discover the source of that chocolatey goodness, so he kept watching.
Things got interesting the moment another side entered the room. Unsurprisingly, it was Logan, who was always going on about the importance of maintaining a consistent schedule or whatever.
Personally, Janus thought consistency was overrated.
Regardless, Janus watched as Patton’s demeanor drastically shifted. He stood up straight, or well, as straight as any of them could be, a smile stretched across his face. “Good morning, Logan!” he chirped.
Ah. There it was. The faintest taste of chocolate.
“Hello, Patton,” Logan said curtly. “How are you this morning?”
“Oh, just dandy,” Patton gushed, looking way more excited than anyone had the right to be this early in the morning. It was what Janus had expected from him to begin with.
Which was why it was so concerning when the warm taste of cookies washed over Janus.
Patton was… lying?
Janus’s eyes snapped over to Logan, who clearly didn’t notice Patton’s deception. He nodded, with a simple, “That is good to hear,” before dropping the subject.
Janus frowned. So… All the lies that had slowly been building up from Patton… were about him being happy? And the truth was that he wasn’t? Why would he lie about that? The light sides were so gushy, it was disgusting. They were always pretending they were like a real family, and saying “I love you” to each other and gross stuff like that.
Janus knew better. He knew that you couldn’t always count on the people you thought were family.
But the lights didn’t think that. Patton definitely didn’t think that. So why was he keeping this to himself?
Janus watched as Roman entered next. Patton seemed, if possible, to grow even more excited. “Roman!” he cheered. “Good morning!”
Roman laughed, a rich sound. “Good morning, Padre,” he said fondly. “Glad to see you’re so happy this fine morning.”
Patton beamed in response. “Well why wouldn’t I be? There’s so much to be excited about!”
Lies. Lies, lies, lies.
“Indeed! I can tell today is going to be a great day!” Roman smiled.
“It should be, as long as we follow the efficiency plan I laid out earlier this week,” Logan cut in.
“Don’t worry, Lo,” Patton giggled. “We will.”
“That’s what you said last week,” Logan grumbled.
“Well, today’s a new day, which means a new chance! It’s going to be fantastic!”
Janus gagged. What a bunch of saps.
Plus, the sickeningly sweet taste of chocolate wasn’t helping.
Janus had almost forgotten that there was one more side they were waiting for, until he walked in.
Virgil.
Janus’s heart did something strange inside his chest. Oh, there he was. Janus stared as Virgil joined the other sides at the table, looking for all the world as if he belonged there.
With a slight pang, Janus realized that he did.
Even if Janus hadn’t been the embodiment of lies, he would’ve sworn up and down that that realization didn't hurt as much as it did.
He tore his gaze away from Virgil. That wasn’t why he was here.
He watched as the morning continued in much the same way. Virgil seemed no more aware of Patton’s lies than Logan or Roman had been. By the time breakfast was over, Janus was practically drowning in the taste of chocolate.
After the other sides left the kitchen, Janus carefully removed himself from his hiding spot and made his way over to the darker side of the mindscape to get breakfast of his own.
After all, just because he could taste lies didn’t mean that they filled his stomach. He still needed like, actual food.
He mulled over the situation as he ate a bowl of cereal. A part of him was tempted to just leave it alone. He knew the answer to his question, so there was no reason to get involved any further. It wasn’t any of his business if Patton wanted to repress his negative emotions.
Plus, if Patton kept lying, Janus could keep getting that delicious cookie taste on a regular basis.
Janus tried not to feel guilty about that thought. He was supposed to be bad, right? What was so wrong about benefiting from another’s pain?
Oh wait. That sounded even worse.
He sighed, dropping his spoon into his bowl. He found that he wasn’t all that hungry anymore.
Fine, then. He’d see what he could do.
He cleaned up after himself quietly, before beginning his journey back towards the light side. He paused in the doorway between the two sections of the mindscape, taking a moment to stare at an old stain on the floor. Probably the only one in the entire dark side that hadn’t been caused by Remus.
He shook his head. No use thinking about the past.
Janus stepped into the light side, trudging down the hallway to Patton’s room. He wasn’t looking forward to this, but he had a feeling that he was only going to feel worse the longer he indulged himself in Patton's lies. It was counterintuitive for the embodiment of self-preservation to try and stop the lies of another, but he couldn’t deny that something had changed in him lately. He wasn’t sure what it was, or what had caused it, but whatever it was was making him determined to get Patton to stop being so dumb and just get help.
It was stupid, really. Patton had all those people who cared about him and would drop anything to help him at a moment’s notice, and he just… didn’t take advantage of that? Janus couldn’t wrap his head around that. In a situation like that, Patton telling would benefit him without hurting the others. The net gain was positive, and it didn’t even hurt anyone! It was purely beneficial!
Then again, Patton had always had a skewed perception on these matters. If anyone was going to hide negative emotions, it would be him.
Janus hesitated in front of Patton’s door. Patton was the least likely to get mad at him for appearing without notice, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe he should just turn back before he managed to make Patton hate him. He didn’t want to go through that.
Not again.
But before he could retreat, the door swung open, and Patton startled at the sight of him. Oh well, then. Too late now. Might as well make the most of it.
“Oh,” Patton said, shock painted across his face. “Hello, Janus. Can I do something for you?” he asked uncertainly.
Janus threw on his characteristic sly smirk. “I certainly hope not,” he purred, grabbing Patton’s hand and pushing past him, pulling them both into Patton’s room. Patton squeaked in surprise, but didn’t resist, not that Janus expected him to.
Janus released Patton once they were inside, the door shut behind them, and he made himself comfortable on Patton’s bed. His eyes flitted about, taking in Patton’s room for the first time. It was positively glowing, though the lights were dim enough as to not hurt Janus’s eyes, which was greatly appreciated. The room was hard to describe, but the best word Janus could come up with for it was soft. It was so very soft.
How nice.
Patton stood awkwardly in the center of the room, watching Janus nervously.
“So um… was there something you wanted, or…?”
“Am I not allowed to visit my favorite Morality just to say hi?”
Patton looked guilty at that. “Oh no! I didn’t mean… I just. I mean… you never have before,” he mumbled.
Luckily Janus was an excellent actor, because it took just about all of his acting prowess to not burst into laughter. Instead, he allowed himself a low chuckle. “Relax, darling. I’m not kidding.”
Patton flushed bright red at Janus’s casual comment. “What– what do you want?” he asked firmly, stammering only slightly on his words. “Please just give me a straightforward answer.”
Janus smirked. “Straight-forward? I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said with a wink.
Patton squeaked again, burying his face in his hands. “I appreciate the wordplay, but could you please just get to the point already?”
Janus was taken aback by Patton’s frustrated tone. He was normally so nice. Too nice, if you asked Janus, but well, it is what it is, redundancy aside.
Maybe Patton just didn’t care about being nice to Janus.
But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, there was a sudden shift in Patton’s demeanor. His hands dropped listlessly to his sides, and he shook his head slightly before giving Janus one of his patented (or Patton-ed, to use Patton’s own words) smiles.
“Sorry about that, kiddo,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t know what came over me. What can I do for you?”
Ah. There it was.
A sweet little lie.
Janus closed his eyes, breathing in that heavenly chocolate taste. He couldn’t help but smile as the lie rolled deliciously across his tongue.
“Janus?”
Janus snapped his eyes open. Ah, right. Patton still didn’t know what was going on.
“Well, being the embodiment of lies doesn’t come with certain… benefits. Such as maybe… detecting the lies of others?”
Patton paled.
“I obviously wasn’t drawn in when the number of lies in the mindscape increased. And to find out that the source came from none other than precious little Patton?”
He bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “How… delicious.”
Patton shrunk in on himself a little, eyes flitting away from Janus’s almost predatory gaze. “They’re not lies,” he mumbled.
Janus frowned. “What?”
“They’re not lies,” he repeated. “Your lie detector must be broken. So don’t worry about it. I promise it’s not a big deal.”
Well now. This was interesting.
Patton wasn’t just lying to the other sides about his sadness.
He was lying to himself, too.
Janus hummed in thought. Perhaps this situation was a little more delicate than he had initially realized.
“Sit next to me,” he suggested gently. Patton hesitated for a moment, before reluctantly complying.
“It’s really not worth the trouble,” he said unconvincingly.
“Patton.” Janus stared the other side directly in the eye. “I don’t already know what you’ve been lying about,” he said meaningfully.
Patton started to protest, but Janus cut him off with a pointed look. “My ‘lie detector,’ as you put it, is broken. You haven’t been lying for weeks.”
Patton sighed. “I thought… I thought if I tried really hard, then it would be true,” he whispered, and Janus was alarmed to see a light sheen to his eyes. “I didn’t want to bother the others about it. I was so sure I could handle it by myself. But I guess I haven’t been doing a very good job,” he said, giving Janus a watery smile, “if it was bad enough for you to notice.”
Janus inclined his head in acknowledgement.
“It’s okay, though,” Patton said, staring down at his lap forlornly. “I know I’m not supposed to lie, but in this case it’s for a good reason. The others don’t need to know, and I’ll– I’ll be okay. And if I’m not, well, that’ll be okay too,” he said, looking resigned.
Janus stared at him for a long moment. Patton was painfully sensitive, so he had to pick his next words carefully.
“What in the actual hell, Patton?”
Patton jumped, looking up at Janus with wide eyes. “What?”
“Clarify for me, if you will, what exactly it is you are hiding.”
“Oh. Um…” Patton shifted uncomfortably. “I just get… sad? Sometimes? Like… really sad,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “But I don’t want to bother the others with that, so whenever they ask how I’m doing, I just pretend that I’m okay. It’s better that way.”
Janus nodded sharply. He had been right, then.
“And how do you know that telling them would bother them?”
“Because I always bother them!” Patton burst out. “Even when I’m being normal, I’m just a nuisance. So I definitely don’t want to force them to deal with me like… this.”
Janus narrowed his eyes. “Oh yes, because I’m sure they’ll be thrilled when it all inevitably comes crashing down.” He leaned in, invading Patton’s space to make sure he got his point across. “Because it will come crashing down. One way or another, you will break.”
He was surprised and a little disconcerted when a bitter taste rose in his throat. It wasn’t very strong, and he had only tasted it a few times before, but he knew immediately what it was.
The taste of telling the truth.
The taste brought back equally bitter memories, and Janus willed himself to swallow past it. Now wasn’t the right time to dwell on that.
When would be the right time? Well, hopefully never.
He snapped his attention back to Patton, who was blinking rapidly and leaning away from Janus just slightly.
“No,” he breathed. “I can’t do that. I can’t burden them with this.”
“And why not? It’s clear how much they all despise you.”
Patton seemed to forget who he was talking to, because all he said was, “I know!” before bursting into tears.
“I know they all hate me,” he sobbed, and suddenly he was leaning into Janus, clutching at his jacket desperately. Janus stiffened at the sudden contact.
“Or at the very least, they don’t think I’m important! They always shut me down when I try to talk; at this point I doubt they’d notice if I stopped showing up! It makes me feel so– so– so worthless.”
Janus was at a complete loss for words as the other side sobbed into his chest. He attempted a comforting pat on the back, but immediately felt awkward and gave up.
He tried very hard not to be reminded of another time, with another side. A side he knew well, or had thought he did. A side that he had no problem comforting, a side that he would’ve held for days if it would get him to stop crying.
He didn’t try quite hard enough, apparently.
Patton’s sobs slowly petered out, quieting into gentle hiccups. “You see why I have to lie, right Jan?” he mumbled into Janus’s chest. “I’m not as important as the others. They don’t deserve to have to deal with me.”
And Janus’s heart broke just a little bit more. Because he didn’t taste even a hint of a lie.
Patton truly and utterly believed what he was saying.
“Patton, darling,” he began, hesitantly bringing up a gloved hand to stroke the moral side’s hair. Patton nuzzled into the touch, which Janus took as a sign that he didn’t completely hate it. “You misunderstood me. The others don’t hate you. They care about you very much. And they would hate to see you feeling this way.”
The bitterness in his throat only worsened at the explicit truths, but Janus couldn’t bring himself to care.
Because he had realized now a truly frightening difference between himself and Patton.
Janus used lies as a means of self-preservation. Patton was using them to tear himself apart.
And Janus refused to sit back and watch it happen.
Patton looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “But–”
“No,” Janus insisted. “No buts. It’s the truth. I know all about lies, Patton, and I can promise that this isn’t one.”
He bit back a cough. He needed to stop, it was only going to get worse if he kept this up.
Janus was alarmed to see tears welling up again in Patton’s eyes. “You really mean that?”
Janus nodded. “I do.”
He let out a startled gasp when Patton tackled him in a hug. “Thank you,” he cried, and oh, he was crying again. Janus allowed himself to relax a little bit more this time, comforting Patton the best he could. He was a bit disconcerted when he realized that at some point, he had started to cry too.
That didn’t make any sense. Janus never cried.
But he quickly realized that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Patton’s room was naturally nostalgia-inducing, and it only got worse the more emotional Patton got. Janus doubted even Logan could resist getting emotional in this situation.
But even if it wasn’t his fault, it was still annoying.
As Patton moved to sit up, Janus discreetly wiped at his tears. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
“You’re right,” Patton said, still sniffling a little bit. “I should tell them.” His voice quaked a bit, and Janus could tell he was still nervous about the idea. “You’re sure they don’t hate me?”
Janus smirked a little. “Patton, darling. Would I lie to you?”
Patton opened his mouth to respond, hesitated, then frowned. “Um…”
Janus laughed. “Kidding, of course. Now, if we’re done here…?”
He stood carefully, trying not to betray his shakiness. Patton’s emotions were washing over him in waves, giving him vertigo, and all the truth-telling he’d been doing didn’t help.
He needed to get out before he completely lost his composure.
“Oh, sure,” Patton said. “Thanks again, Janus. I’m never really sure what to think of you, but this… this was really nice.”
Janus nodded thoughtlessly. Right. He should’ve known to expect a few boring platitudes from Patton. Janus just wanted to leave though. He took a step backward, inching toward the door.
“Can I ask you a question before you go though?” Nervous. Patton looked nervous.
Janus was getting nervous that he was about to throw up all over Patton’s pretty room.
But he gave a quick nod.
“Why did you help me?” Patton asked, before immediately looking guilty. “Not that I’m doubting your intentions or anything, I just–”
Janus smiled faintly at the gentle taste of chocolate, but it was bittersweet. For all he knew, he might never get to taste it again.
“I just was a little surprised, is all,” Patton continued, looking incredibly curious.
Janus blamed Patton’s room for what happened next.
He could’ve said anything. There were so many lies that he could’ve given, so many half-truths he could’ve provided. But Patton was staring at him with those wide, innocent eyes, tear tracks still staining his face, and Janus was hit with a heavy wave of nostalgia, a longing for another time. And before he could stop himself, he blurted out the last thing that he expected.
The truth.
“I just don’t like seeing you sad,” he said.
Before quickly sinking out, reappearing in his room, and throwing up into the trash can.
He groaned, spitting into the trash can a few more times in a futile attempt to clear the taste from his mouth. He already knew it wouldn’t work, though. As far as he knew, there was only one way to get rid of that particular taste.
He closed his eyes, actively focusing on sensing out lies. It would’ve been easier to find them if he were actually in the light side of the mindscape, but he didn’t exactly trust himself to be walking around right now. Still, there were many lies to be found, even from his room. It was a little sad, really. Sometimes he wondered if the lights were as close of a family as they liked to pretend to be.
(The most bitter part of him hoped not. He hoped that they were broken beyond repair, dysfunctional beyond anything Janus had ever seen. He hoped that they were too far gone to be saved, that it wasn’t worth it to try to fix them.
The other part of him wished desperately that they were everything he had hoped for.)
Janus sighed in relief as he tasted the familiar lies of the other sides. He greedily ate up all the ones he could reach from here, grateful as the bitterness on his tongue lessened slightly. It would take a few days of eating up lies to get rid of it entirely, he was sure, but that was good enough for now.
He slowly pulled himself off the floor and curled up in his bed. The entire experience had been exhausting, and he felt like he deserved a nap.
Janus loved his ability to detect lies, but it was rather unfortunate that it came with such a serious drawback. It usually wasn’t a problem, unsurprisingly, but Janus was still pretty miffed about it.
The one thing Janus was grateful for was that it didn’t apply to all truths. Just as more important lies from the other sides came with stronger tastes, only particularly important truths would result in such a drastic effect. Simple observations, facts used to back up a claim, or general opinions, for example, were generally harmless.
In fact, his little power seemed to be most clearly attuned to secrets.
Which was fun when it meant learning the gossip of everyone else. Less so when it actively hurt him.
But well, it shouldn’t be a problem anymore. He didn’t plan on doing any truth-telling in the near future. Today had been a one-time thing.
Looking back on it later, Janus realized that that had been the worst lie of them all.