Chapter Text
Virgil bunched the edge of his dark purple duvet in his hands. It was one of the few textures he could stand after a stressful day, aside from his hoodie. He couldn’t help but feel like he should be with the others, but thanks to the wedding he’d been working overtime for weeks, running through every awful conceivable scenario – which Remus’ sudden appearance hadn’t helped with at all – and analysing everything that had happened to lead up to this, thinking about what he could have done so they wouldn’t be in this stressful mess. But with Patton’s insistence, he’d headed up to his room as soon as they returned home from the hellish event. He needed some time to chill in his room with the lights off, all outside noise blocked out by his headphones which blasted his favourite music into his ears. The only light source in the room was his lava lamp, but even the violet aura emanating from it became too much for him, so he closed his eyes as he let his head rest against the headboard.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, curled up in his nest of blankets and pillows, until he felt the unmistakable jolt of someone appearing in his room. His eyes snapped open, a defensive hiss escaping his throat before he even laid eyes on the intruder.
His panic was met only with a chuckle as Janus glanced coyly at him from under the brim of his hat. “Now Virgil…” Janus’ voice was smooth like honey, and would have calmed Virgil did he not know the snake who spoke all too well. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
Virgil sneered. “I wouldn’t call someone who shows up in my room uninvited a ‘guest’.”
Janus raised a hand to nonchalantly, peering at his fingers as if to examine his nails through his yellow gloves. “Can I not drop in to pay a visit to an old friend?”
Virgil scoffed, swinging his legs out of bed and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He glared at Janus through his fringe. “What are you doing here? I know you wouldn’t come to see me without some kind of ulterior motive.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, pushing away thoughts of the days when Janus would saunter into his room without a second thought and they’d while away the hours together.
Janus raised an eyebrow at Virgil with a slight smirk, then turned to carefully make his way through the mess on Virgil’s floor. “Well, I thought since we’ll be working together from now on, it would be a good idea to have a little chat.” He stopped by Virgil’s desk, facing a shelf of CDs as if waiting for a response.
Virgil clenched his teeth, folding his hands in his lap. “What?” He managed to growl after a moment.
“Did you not hear me, Virgil?” Janus ran his fingers over the edge of the desk as he turned around. “Perhaps you’re losing your edge. As I was saying, since Patton and Thomas have accepted me-”
“What?”
Virgil’s voice thundered through the room, rattling his lava lamp and the bottles of nail polish on his desk.
Janus wasn’t fazed, looking at Virgil with the same neutral expression as before, only now his eyes had an amused glint in them. “Accepted, Virgil.” Janus enunciated the word as if Virgil was hearing it for the first time.
“No, no, no,” Virgil stammered, clutching his hair with his hands. “They wouldn’t. They- you’re lying.”
Gentle hands slipped over his own, smooth fabric cool against his skin. Virgil’s breath hitched, but the tension seeped out of his shoulders as Janus carefully prised his fingers away from his scalp.
“I’m not lying,” Janus said softly, his tone genuine for the first time since he’d entered the room. The first time Virgil had heard in years.
“Great.” Virgil muttered, jerking his hands out of Janus’ grasp. “Fucking great.” His voice was a little shaky. As he shuffled back against his headboard, he folded his arms defiantly, but with his hunched shoulders and bent head the action just made him feel small.
Janus looked at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression, then he swiftly turned back to the desk and strolled over there like nothing had happened. “Oh, this is nice,” he murmured after a few seconds.
Virgil’s head snapped up from where he’d been resolutely staring at his duvet, and he saw Janus was holding up a palette of purple eye shadow. It was nice, Roman had given it to him for Christmas and he was never one to do things by half measures. The dark hues perfectly matched Virgil’s style, and although Virgil didn’t know much about make-up he figured the palette his friend had created for him was very good quality. That was part of the reason he had never opened it.
“I didn’t know you had such as range of make-up,” Janus continued, his voice taking on a slight lilt that Virgil recognised as the tone Janus used when he was planning something. “It’s funny, I could have sworn I only ever saw you wearing that attempt at exaggerated eyebags since you moved up here.” He gestured vaguely, indicating the light side of the mindscape.
“Well, you don’t see me very often, do you?” Virgil sneered, his words coming out more bitter than he’d meant them to. In truth, Virgil’s make-up skills had much to be desired – Janus had always taken care of it when he lived with the dark sides, and since he’d moved in with the lights the one style he knew had sufficed. It helped to keep a consistent appearance for videos, anyway.
Janus’ eyes positively gleamed, as if he’d stumbled upon a chest of treasure. Of course, being Deceit he could tell when someone was dodging a question just as easily as when they were lying. “Have you even opened this?”
Virgil glared down at the duvet knotted in his hands. There was no way he could answer that.
A triumphant smile broke out across Janus’ face. “Come on then, over here.” He flicked on the desk light, then pulled Virgil’s chair out from under the desk and lightly patted the seat.
Virgil found he was already rising to his feet, pulled across the room by Janus’ magnetic smile. He still scowled, folding his arms again as he stopped next to the chair.
Janus rolled his eyes, as if Virgil was a particularly disobedient cat. “Of course, just stand there. It’ll be so easy for me to do your make-up if I can barely see what I’m doing.”
“Who says I’ll let you do my make-up?” Virgil jutted his chin, but somehow he felt his heart had already agreed to this without informing him at all.
“What? Afraid of a little eye shadow?” Janus smirked. “As I mentioned earlier, we’ll have to learn to at least occupy the same room without starting a war, if we want to ensure Thomas can function properly – surely Patton had relayed to you how valuable team-building exercises can be. And besides, I’m sure Roman would be delighted to see you finally using the palette he worked so hard on.”
The last comment broke Virgil’s resolve. The palette had been sitting on his desk untouched for months. He didn’t think he’d ever use it, not wanting to put Roman’s effort to waste by doing a botched job of applying it himself. But it would go to waste just as much if he left it there collecting dust. And he had to admit, he was quite looking forward to seeing the smile on his best friend’s face when Roman saw him wearing it. Curse that prince and his habit of embossing his name in obnoxiously swirly writing on everything he created. He was the only reason, Virgil told himself, that he ended up sitting down on the chair, grumbling something about it being a pretty unconventional ‘team-building’ exercise.
Janus removed his gloves, laying them carefully on the desk. “Can’t get these dirty.”
Though Janus’ hand was twisted away from him, he noticed that scales had spread from his wrist, where Virgil had last seen them, to cover the back of Janus’ left hand. That’s explained the new gloves, at least.
“Right then.” Janus’ voice suddenly sounded business-like as he waved his hand and summoned a bottle which would probably be the last thing Virgil recognised during this activity. “First thing, moisturiser.”
Virgil suppressed a shiver as Janus applied it to his face, rubbing gentle circles on his cheeks. He hadn’t been this close to Janus in months, maybe years. When was the last time he’d touched him with his own bare skin? Before Virgil left the dark sides, surely.
“Your lips are chapped,” Janus observed quietly as he picked up some lip balm from Virgil’s desk, which Virgil had honestly forgot existed, and began to apply it. “You need to remember to use this,” he chided lightly.
Virgil let out a breath as Janus placed the lip balm back on the desk and picked up something else, realising he’d forgotten to exhale the entire time Janus had touched his face. He stared at the grains in the chipped edge of his desk, wanting to focus on anything but Janus’ face and the way his scales glinted in the lamplight, or how his tongue stuck out just a little when he concentrated. Janus was still so attractive, it was entirely unfair, and he seemed to have gotten even hotter in their time apart. They had broken up years ago, the last thing Virgil needed was a reminder of the way he’d felt back then.
But as Janus smeared foundation or concealer or possibly primer evenly over his face, Virgil began to remember the old times. Sleepovers with Janus and the others when they were teenagers, lounging on beanbags as a movie they’d seen about twenty times played in the background, drowned out by idle chatter and laughter as Janus curled against Virgil’s side. Make-up had been a staple of those nights – Janus had always been adept at it and had delighted in giving his friends makeovers. There was always a theme – sometimes fairies or princes, whatever Janus happened to be interested in at the time, and every look he attempted ended up wonderful.
And of course, the more extravagant and spooky makeovers for the sole purpose of terrifying the light sides. They would hide and jump out at the unsuspecting goody-two-shoes’, or chase after them with their ghoulish make-up. Virgil had always been particularly fond of the cobwebs Janus would paint on his face, complete with little painted spiders which never failed to scare Patton or sometimes even Roman. Those people being his best friends now didn’t put a downer on the memory – it had all been in good fun, and if Virgil was feeling particularly mischievous he would occasionally attempt to recreate the events. Although, the laughter it elicited from his friends was far more satisfying than their screams – Monster’s Inc. was right about that.
Virgil wasn’t sure if it was entirely necessary for Janus to hold his chin while he applied make-up; Janus had always told him it was to keep Virgil’s face steady, and Virgil did admittedly have a habit of wriggling if he was sat still for more than a minute, but Virgil had always assumed that Janus just wanted an excuse to caress him. Which was understandable while they’d been together, but as Janus delicately cupped his chin while he began to apply the eye shadow, Virgil began to think he might have come to the wrong conclusion. Janus’ fingers were like icicles, but the cold was refreshing rather than unpleasant. Both of them were naturally quite cold – Janus particularly – which had resulted in a lot of cuddling between the two of them over the years, and general cuddle piles among the dark sides. All to maintain body heat of course, none of them were sentimental enough to say they actually enjoyed being snuggled close to their friends.
And, as much as Virgil had tried to push the feelings away, sitting in front of Janus while he brushed eye shadow over his face just like in the old days, Virgil realised he had missed that closeness.
Just as Virgil was beginning to consider leaning into the touch of Janus’ hand on his face, Janus pulled away to examine the palette again. He bit his lip in consideration, which did something to Virgil’s heart that was entirely unwanted, and chose a glittery silver shade. When he began to apply it with a particularly fluffy brush, Virgil squirmed, an involuntary giggle pushing forth from his throat.
“Hold still, Virge-” Janus scolded, his voice broken up by his own light laugh. And oh, had Virgil missed that sound. Smooth and elegant, almost a giggle. Nothing like the deep chortle Janus let out when he heard a joke, or the arrogant snicker that was distinctly reserved for Janus laughing at someone. This laugh, light and carefree, had mostly been heard when the two of then were alone, and Virgil did something Janus found particularly endearing. Virgil had adored the way Janus’ nose scrunched up a little, and his eyes sparkled; it was still enough to make his heart flutter. “I’m almost done,” Janus said, and Virgil was suddenly aware that he had probably been staring for a few seconds.
He quickly glanced away from Janus again, hoping the foundation did a good job of hiding the blush that crept onto his cheeks. He somehow managed to survive as Janus applied a lip pencil and a layer of gloss over it, and was almost relieved when Janus pulled away from him and picked up a handheld mirror. Almost.
Janus turned the mirror to Virgil’s face, and as Virgil glanced up at him he saw the way Janus’ forehead creased with nerves. When Virgil looked in the mirror, his breath caught. The make-up looked absolutely spectacular. Deep indigo faded out to lavender around his eyes, gentle clouds coating his cheeks just underneath where his simple black eye shadow usually came down to. The edges of the clouds sparkled, and they looked as if they were interspersed with stars, but what caught Virgil’s eye was the lightning which trailed down from them.
“What do you think, Stormcloud?” Janus asked, his voice soft and fond.
“This is…” Amazing. Incredible. Magnificent. Virgil caught himself before a tirade of compliments could leave his mouth. Instead, he smirked slightly. “I’m impressed, you actually managed to make me look decent.”
Janus frowned at the self-deprecating comment. “Give yourself a little credit, even without make-up you, um… you look alright.” While his tone had started of casual, by the end of the sentence his voice was a little shaky. As Janus turned away to put the mirror down, Virgil was sure he could see a little blush rising.
Then, several things happened at once.
Virgil stood up at the same moment as Janus turned around, and suddenly they were nose to nose, barely an inch between their faces. Neither of them moved, and Virgil could feel Janus’ breath tickling his upper lip.
He wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in first, but it didn’t matter because after a moment Janus’ lips were on his and he was melting into the embrace. He ran a hand through Janus’ hair – soft, so soft, he’d missed this so much – knocking his bowler hat off and not caring at all about the clattering sound it made as it knocked into something. Janus kissed him back fiercely, as if making up for every second they’d spent apart; his hands wandered over Virgil’s neck and back, eventually tangling in his messy hair. When his tongue pressed against Virgil’s lips, Virgil opened his mouth with a gasp. This was perfect, so absolutely undeniably incomparably perfect. Exhilaration shot through Virgil’s body, and he held Janus tighter with every second. Their bodies were pressed flush against each other, but he still wasn’t close enough. He was dimly aware of the small crash when he pushed Janus against the desk, but he was too focused on the curves of Janus’ body. He tentatively fiddled with the hem of Janus’ shirt, and when Janus leaned back to reveal a strip of skin there and made a pleased grunt, Virgil slid his hand under. The skin under his shirt was warmer than the hands which were still knotted in Virgil’s hair. As Virgil ran his fingers over the sensitive area where soft skin met the scales that trailed down his side, Janus let out a gasp, tilting his head back for only a second before returning to kissing Virgil.
Janus grazed his teeth on Virgil’s bottom lip, and Virgil moaned as he slowly dragged them along it; that only made Janus press harder, his solitary fang nicking Virgil’s lip. “Virgil…” Janus whispered, his voice low and reverent.
Virgil shuddered, gripping Janus’ waist tighter. “Janus…” he murmured against Janus’ lips. He couldn’t get enough of this, enough of Janus. As Janus began to press kisses to his jawline – so tender and soft and loving – Virgil sighed contentedly. All he wanted was to live and breathe Janus, to get lost in his embrace, he loved-
Virgil suddenly shoved Janus’ shoulders, pulling back and gasping for air. His breathing was ragged and his head was spinning; he didn’t know if those were from lack of oxygen or elation at being with Janus again.
Janus looked at him with wide eyes, hands gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping him standing. His expression was so open and vulnerable and hurt, Virgil couldn’t bear to look. “Virgil? Are you okay?” Janus asked, his voice soft and concerned. Because of course Janus cared. Janus, who always made sure Virgil drank enough water and took breaks, and held him while he cried. Janus, who had yelled that he never wanted to see him again when Virgil told him he was moving to the light side…
“I can’t- I can’t do this,” Virgil muttered. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, tried to ignore the wound in his heart from years ago being ripped open again.
Janus took a hesitant step forward, his voice shaking. “Virgil…”
“Don’t.” Virgil’s voice was harsh to his own ears. “Just get out of here.”
Janus was silent for a long moment, and while Virgil’s eyes were trained on the floor he was sure he heard a small sniff. Before he could respond, Janus turned his back on him and spoke curtly. “Fine,” Janus said, his voice a little too strained and high-pitched for Virgil to think it was at all fine. He picked up the hat, and placed it unceremoniously back onto his head. “If that’s what you want.”
With one last glance at Virgil, his expression as cold as the day Virgil had left, and his lip wobbling only slightly, he sunk out.
Only then did tears begin to spill down Virgil’s face. As his shaking knees gave out, he sunk down onto the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. He pulled at his hair more ferociously than before as the first sobs racked his body.
He loved Janus.
After all this time, after everything that had happened, he still loved him.
It was absurd and painful and downright terrifying. That his feelings had remained unchanged for so long, that he could love before he could even think about forgiving. There were so many feelings crashing around inside him like tsunamis, and all he could do was curl in on himself and cry his heart out. Because he knew what he wanted, all he wanted, all he had ever wanted and needed. Janus. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t have what he wanted because there were still too many wounds that could be reopened, too many harsh words left unsettled, too much, too much too much-
And the worst part was, he knew he’d hurt Janus. By pushing him away so soon after rekindling the spark that had always lingered between the two of them. And hurting Janus felt like driving a knife through his own chest. But there was nothing he could do to take back what he’d said, because it was true – he couldn’t do this.
Not now, not yet.
His sobs began to calm to quavering snivels, and he wiped the tears from his eyes. His hands came away stained purple with the make-up Janus had applied so carefully. That sent a fresh trickle of tears down his face, but they no longer obscured his vision. He could see the mess in the room.
Bottles of nail varnish had been knocked onto the floor, and he knew he’d be getting eye shadow stains out of the carpets for weeks from the palettes which had fallen upside down. Luckily, the palette gifted to him by Roman had survived, though Virgil was tempted to sweep it off the desk and smash the thing to pieces.
But he’d already made such a mess of everything.
Weakly, he shuffled over to the desk, and picked up the palette. The eye shadow was a little smudged; sparkling dust settled over the inside of the case. Sighing, Virgil closed the lid, feeling the click as it snapped shut. If only it was so easy to shut off his feelings.
He traced the writing on the front – Roman’s signature was ridiculously eccentric, as was everything he did. Over-the-top and excessive and fucking romantic. Virgil had never understood his friend’s obsession with romance, but right now he didn’t see how anyone could even tolerate the concept.
Love only lead to heartbreak.
Cradling the gift from his best friend to his chest, Virgil perched on the edge of his bed, and cursed his own treacherous heart for tearing itself apart.