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“Can someone please tell me what the point of this is?”
Virgil gazed around the ballroom surrounding them. The sight was an array of grandeur, gilded in gold and marble. The walls were lined with pillars reaching so high he had to crane his neck, up to crystal chandeliers dotting the ceiling like stars. The opulence made him feel small, like a dark splotch on an otherwise pristine canvas.
“The point, Virgil, is to think of it like…” Janus simpered, tilting his head, “a team building exercise.”
He was leaning on the bannister of the stairs in the back of the empty ballroom, wine glass in gloved hand. Janus, who Virgil thought might’ve arranged this whole thing solely to be as dramatic as possible, had dressed for the occasion. He wore the frilliest white blouse known to man, an ascot, heeled boots, and if he couldn’t get any more pretentious, his ensemble was topped off with a cape instead of his regular capelet. The four of them—Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil—were waiting below for whatever it was Janus put them up to this time. And today it happened to be wasting their time with vague and amorphous topics shrouded in frivolous displays.
“That’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid.”
“Roman doesn’t seem to think so.” Janus gestured towards Roman, whose mouth was agape as his eyes flitted to every corner of the ballroom, drinking in the splendor of it all.
He looks at home here, Virgil thought. As “courtesy” of Janus (his words, not Virgil’s), Roman’s usual princely garb was much more ornate than usual, with golden epaulets and twice the amount of glittery accents. It was gaudy as hell, even for Roman, and yet he wore it like a crown, the obvious insult falling flat. He wasn’t the only one with a lavish attire either. The four of them were all given a classy revamp, chosen personally by the snake himself. Virgil grit his teeth. His purple waistcoat was just a bit too tight, and he couldn’t help but feel like Janus had done that on purpose, if only to make him uncomfortable.
“This is practically a dream come true for him,” said Janus, voice no short of saccharine. “Isn’t that right, Prince Roman?”
Roman hummed distractedly, eyes still glittering in the candlelight.
Virgil groaned. Great. The courtroom was bad enough. He elbowed Roman’s arm, breaking him out of his ecstasy.
“I– Uh, N– Not true!” Roman stammered, laughing awkwardly. “I simply– have an– uh– appreciation for the extravagance. That’s all, nothing more.” He cleared his throat, then narrowed his eyes at Janus like he was seeing his outfit for the first time. “I can’t say the same about the originality though. Michael Crawford much?”
“Regardless,” Logan interjected, grimacing at his too-long tail coat. “I’m inclined to side with Virgil here. This seems rather, ah, pointless. And if I recall, you yourself said that these over-the-top scenarios are–” Logan’s hand flew to his mouth as Janus waved his.
“And If you recall, I said that I have a reason for bringing you here.”
“Which is…?” asked Patton.
Janus sneered, rolling his eyes. “A lesson.”
He then raised his hands, and as he did the ballroom filled. Shadows danced through the halls, some taking the familiar forms and faces of Thomas’s friends, others with unfamiliar ones. Virgil flinched, curling into himself.
There were so many people.
His head was starting to spin. Someone was speaking– Janus. Janus was speaking. He turned away from the crowd, directing his focus to one thing.
Keep it together, he thought. It’s not real.
“–and your goal will be to find me,” Janus concluded as he descended down the stairs, then smiled slyly. “As simple as that.”
He reached the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, and one more thing.” He snapped, and everyone in the mass of dancing and laughing was instantly adorned with a variety of masks. The swirls of silk and color and the presence of too many made Virgil numb. He felt his breaths go shallow, chest growing hotter like it might set alight among the candles. There were so many people and Virgil’s heart didn’t seem to care that none of them were real because it kept beating against the cage of his ribs like a wild animal.
Janus’s additional four glowing yellow hands appeared in front of them, each holding a unique mask. Virgil grabbed his, barely sparing it a glance. Janus was wearing his own too, a white phantom style mask conveniently covering the scaly part of his face.
“Now off you go,” he waved. And with a flourish of his cape, he vanished.
“Jeez, talk about a pain in the ascot,” Roman remarked, but Virgil barely heard him. His eyes searched the miles of marble for Logan or Patton, but they were already gone, swept away by the flock of guests. He couldn’t move.
“Uh– Virgil? Are you…?”
His tie choked him like a noose. He tugged on it, anything to stop the feeling that he was suffocating. But his face only grew hotter, and the stiff fabric of his waistcoat only made it worse, constricting around his chest.
Virgil? Earth to Count Woe-laf?
Someone was breathing hard. Was that him? He couldn’t feel his hands and when he gripped his mask, the edges digging into his palms, it did nothing. The lights were so bright, burning phosphenes in his eyes and he felt like any second now he could collapse.
He had to calm down, he had to breathe. What was that breathing technique he used with Thomas? Five eight seven– no, no, six five eight, no that wasn’t right either, dammit– he just– he had to stop– he just had to breathe, he had to—
“Hey, look at me.” Roman put a hand on his shoulder, the other on Virgil’s cheek as he turned his head towards him. He didn’t have his mask on. “Let’s get out of here.”
Virgil’s mind dissipated into static as Roman looped an arm through his, moving them both away from the crowd. They turned through multiple halls and passed smaller groups of guests into a lounge away from the ballroom. The sound of jeering laughter had muffled, leaving only the two of them and Virgil’s frantic breathing. He collapsed on one of the velvet armchairs, drawing his knees close while holding a cushion against his chest.
Roman peeked out the crack in the door before pulling it closed, and the distant din of the ballroom became a hum. “This way, we can avoid that slimy snake’s stunts.” He sat on the arm of Virgil’s chair. “Are you alright?”
Virgil only stared forward, fingers digging into the cushion as he steadied his breathing. He nodded, swallowing the lump that was building up in his throat. Roman sighed in what sounded like relief.
It was quiet, for a moment; just the two of them sitting in sepia tinted silence as Virgil closed his eyes and fixed his breathing into something normal. But he kept digging his nails into the cushion. He was a tattered thing in an already twisted place, a knife in a wound, a time bomb about to go off. The silence was so loud he feared he might start to actually hear ticking.
“Say something,” Virgil rasped. His voice filled the silence of the lounge oddly, like a puzzle piece in the wrong set. He would rather be quiet most days, and that made it seem all the like he needed to scream just to be heard.
“Hm?” Roman looked at him. “Something?”
“Ugh– just– keep talking.” He dropped his knees, chin now resting against the cushion.
“Oh, that I can do,” Roman said, already grinning. He took a seat on the armchair across from Virgil, resting his chin on both his hands. “So this ball, huh? It is a bit, er, unconventional, but by the gods the venue is magnificent. ”
Virgil curled his lip. “If by ‘unconventional’ you mean ‘deranged’, then yeah, you’re right on the money.”
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad–”
Virgil scoffed. “Not that bad?” A dry laugh escaped him and he clung tighter to the cushion. “You can’t be this dense, Princey. Deceit is insane! There is literally no real point to this!”
Roman frowned, shifting tensely. “Even so, is it so wrong to just… have a bit of fun?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. You’re just saying this because this is like heaven for you.” His voice was growing louder, seeping into the corners of the room. “Deceit practically lays the bait right out in front of you and you always take it.”
“Look, I don’t like him either but what are we supposed to do? Just sit around here and mope?”
“Well I for one, am not going to indulge him.”
“Just because you hate him—”
“Face it, Roman. You don’t get it. You don’t know him like I do.”
Roman exhaled, crossing his arms. “No, I don’t. Is that what you want me to say?”
Virgil only glowered at him. What did he want Roman to say? He wished he could will Roman to just understand , without Virgil having to tear open the wounds again. It’s true, Roman didn’t know Janus like he did. Could he blame him then? The silence in the air swelled, like it might start choking him again. He couldn’t be here anymore. Virgil stood abruptly, tossing the cushion at Roman.
“Thanks for the help, Roman,” he spat. He approached the set of doors to the room and opened them. “Enjoy the sparkling cider.”
–
Logan had to admit, he was excited, which was a bit unusual for him since he was more unfamiliar with the feeling compared to the others. If anything, he was normally frustrated when it involved pointless things like this. But Deceit had created a puzzle, so maybe Logan didn’t mind.
Deceit had explained the rules of his “lesson” fairly clearly: He would be hiding somewhere amongst the ball and their goal was to investigate by interacting with the attendees, eventually leading to his discovery.
As soon as Deceit had disappeared, Logan and Patton had been surrounded and swept away by the mass of partygoers, a discordant haze of dancing and laughing. Something about the faces in the crowd, despite them wearing masks, made his head hurt. This posed a bit of a challenge for him—how was he supposed to question any of the attendees if he could barely look at them? Wearing the mask he’d been given seemed to help, somehow. It was a simple white masquerade mask that covered the bottom half of his face, made to look like a porcelain mask. Elegant, but nothing too excessive. It was adequate, he supposed. He couldn’t exactly say the same for his outfit.
“Logan? Logan, where are you?”
“I’m right here, Patton. To your left.”
“Oh!” Patton turned to him, putting his hands directly on Logan’s face. “I didn’t recognize you with the mask on.”
“Wh– Patton we have the same face. How do you not recognize the top half of your face.”
Patton shrugged. “I have face blindness.”
“No you don’t– I– We have the same face!” Logan groaned, then grabbed Patton’s arm. “Follow me.”
They moved through the crowd, trying to find any indication of another clue. No one seemed to be acting conspicuous enough to raise any suspicion. There must’ve been something else around the ballroom that led them to a clue because everyone seemed too busy laughing or drinking or—
“Logan?” Patton shook him slightly.
Logan ignored him.
“Logaaaan. Logan.” He poked his arm.
Logan rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Patton?”
“Can we dance?”
He paused, then looked at Patton, disbelievingly. “You can’t be serious.”
“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Patton grinned, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Absolutely not.” Logan dismissed. “That would be a waste of time. We have to keep looking.”
Patton frowned. Then his face lit up, and he sighed. “It’s alright Logan. I know you’re just saying no because you don’t know how to dance.”
He paused again, this time even more bewildered. “I know how to dance, Patton. I’m quite literally Thomas’s center of knowledge. If he knows how to dance, I know how to dance.”
Patton made a sound of doubt, “Ehh, I don’t know. It sounds to me like you’re lying.”
Logan scoffed. Of course he knew how to dance. There was no reason as to why he wouldn’t know. As much as Thomas liked to admit he “wasn’t that experienced” in dancing, he still held the knowledge and experience from his many years in theater. There were also of course those times Thomas was dancing alone in his kitchen at 3 am, but Logan wasn’t entirely sure if that counted.
“You’re being ridiculous, Patton.”
“Then why don’t you show me, if you’re so sure,” Patton beamed, offering a hand to Logan. Logan sighed. If there was one thing that bothered him, it was Patton being so adamant about something so blatantly incorrect. “Fine.”
Logan smoothed the lapels of his coat, and took Patton’s hand.
-
So, Roman may have felt a bit guilty. He sat alone in the lounge he had entered with Virgil, eyes fixed on the chair he was just seated in. The quiet air was starting to feel heavy, the remains of Virgil’s words having dissipated. He messed up, didn’t he?
There was a time when Roman didn’t get along with Virgil, and Virgil didn’t get along with him. They had both grown since then, of course, but some habits are rooted so deeply, and acknowledging that felt disrupting, somehow. Virgil, prone to panic as he was, often sought help from either Logan or Patton. Logan’s line of thinking was a sword cutting through any haze of paranoia. Patton, well, Patton was just good at making anyone feel better. And Roman… Roman was unused to change. When Virgil had been sewn into their patchwork of a family, the threads between him and Roman always felt looser. Maybe part of him had believed the others would make up for what he lacked with Virgil. He’d never had to be there for him, because Logan and Patton were already in the front lines.
But when he’d seen Virgil, unraveling and falling apart, he did the first thing he thought of—bring him to safety. That’s what a prince, a friend was supposed to do. And then he’d ruined it.
Roman stood so fast he saw stars. If he sat here any longer it would only make him feel worse. He had to find Virgil. What if he’d ended up in the crowd somehow? And Logan and Patton didn’t find him in time? He left the lounge, winding the sconce-lined hallways to look for him. A few attendees were scattered among the halls, astray from the rest of the party.
Now that he was getting a closer look, there was something… off… about them. He squinted, and each person shifted and changed like smoke. None of them seemed to wear the same face. His eyes roved over any faces he came across and he spotted… Joan? No wait, Talyn? Or was it Valerie? Looking too hard made his head hurt. There was something wrong with this party. Virgil was right.
He highly doubted Virgil would have stuck around something like this, much less gone back to the ballroom. Roman opted to check the empty rooms lining the halls, maybe he was hiding in one of them.
The library was where he found him. Roman opened the door, the scent of old books and dust in the air. Despite all the places to sit, Virgil was curled up in the corner on the floor of the room. A gramophone was softly playing music. Roman couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him.
“You’re okay,” he breathed.
Virgil scowled at him. “Got bored of the party?”
“I didn’t– look I–” Roman stopped and wrung his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. He swallowed. “I was wrong, okay?”
Virgil turned to him, raising his eyebrows in a dry look that said oh really?
“I just– I feel like– I don’t know how to talk to you sometimes,” Roman said carefully, walking towards Virgil. He sank to the floor beside him so that his arm was pressed against his. “I was trying to help, I swear. But I– I just made it worse. I keep making it worse, when I’m with you.”
Virgil said nothing. Roman chewed his lip, then said, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I don’t know you better.
“No,” Virgil dropped his knees, legs flat against the floor. “I was also wrong. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. And I can’t act like everything I get scared of makes sense.” He scrubbed a hand against his face. “I’m sorry too.”
“It’s okay, really,” said Roman. “And if it makes sense to you, then… I’ll find a way to understand it.”
Virgil scoffed a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
Roman smiled fondly. “I’m glad that’s settled then.” Virgil didn’t smile much, but a small one tugged at his lips. Roman cleared his throat. “Because there’s definitely something wrong with the guests.”
“What?” Virgil startled. “What do you mean?”
Roman explained the shifting faces, how none of the guests seemed to be normal—definitely Deceit’s doing. As he did, Virgil looked steadily wary, drawing his knees back up. Roman had seen him curl into himself enough times to realize it was an instinct. “Er– but we can probably let the others handle it. I’m sure Logan will figure something out.”
Virgil nodded slowly, a bit uncertain.
“In the meantime, I have an idea,” Roman abruptly stood, dusting off his pants.
He cleared his throat and extended a hand to Virgil, then said in the most dramatic, princely voice he could muster, “Virgil Sanders, may I please have this dance?”
Virgil froze, face instantly flushed. “What.”
“Come on! Consider this as part of my apology,” Roman grinned.
“Uh– I– I don’t–” Virgil stammered, fidgeting his fingers.
“It’ll help clear your mind, trust me.”
“It’s just– uh I– I don’t know how–” Virgil ducked his head. “I don’t know how to dance.”
Roman grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “I can teach you.”
The gramophone was still playing music, gently streaming through the quiet library. And for a moment, the two of them standing face-to-face, Roman could believe he was doing something right.
“Here,” he said, holding Virgil’s right hand while he placed his own right hand around his torso. “Let the music do the rest.”
Virgil frowned. “What does that even mean ?”
Roman continued. “Relax your shoulders, Scare-amore. You’re dancing, not fighting,”
Virgil dropped his shoulders. Roman stepped closer, “Now follow my lead.” His footsteps led the way like a map, stepping meticulously in the beats of a story. Virgil did his best to follow. He stepped forward when Roman stepped back, stepped left when Roman stepped right. Virgil’s eyes were locked on his feet, clearly making an effort to match Roman’s. And Roman looked at Virgil, the way he winced when he was slightly off, the slightest huff of a laugh when he was satisfied with a move. He was starting to get the hang of it.
Virgil looked up at him, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He tilted his head towards the gramophone. “You think they have Evanescence on that thing?”
Roman immediately broke out into a grin, “What, the classical music not doing it for you?”
Virgil half-shrugged. “I’m just curious.” He tilted his head, then gave a smile that preceded whenever he would say something witty. “Maybe if we move it to the ballroom, we can piss off Deceit.”
At that, Roman burst out laughing, moving his hand away from Virgil’s torso to cover his mouth. “God, can you imagine!” He held his hand up and pretended to inspect his fingers in his best attempt at an impression of Deceit. “Ugh, Virgil, you’re messing up my aesthetic ballroom scenario! I’m trying to teach you a lesson!’”
Then Virgil let go of Roman, both hands against his mouth as he fought to stifle a laugh.
“And then maybe, he won’t try throwing a party again! Maybe just a pity one for–”
“Stop–” Virgil muffled through his hands while grinning furiously.
“–how horribly this one went. Hosting’s just not in the cards for him.”
“Stop.” Virgil’s face went red as he fell on one of the armchairs.
Roman gasped, “Do you think if we all teamed up we could throw him out the window?”
Virgil’s eyes widened as he was hit with another wave of laughter, this time failing to stifle it down. “Roman–”
“It’ll be like the scene with Mother Gothel and we can watch him hit the ground.”
Virgil wiped a tear from his eye, smudging his black eyeshadow. “I’d pay to see that.”
“Why would you pay when we could do it for free?”
Virgil exhaled a quiet laugh, a smile finally sticking. Roman smiled back at him, pleased with himself.
“You feeling better?”
Virgil hummed.
“Good.” Roman smoothed out his epaulets. “How about we get some drinks?”
Virgil looked up, a little startled. “Oh– Uhm. Are there– still people out there or–?”
“You can stay here, I’ll get them for us.”
“O– Oh.” Virgil nodded, quiet relief in his eyes. “Thanks.”
It did take Roman a while to find the ballroom again, but the hum of the party was far too hard to ignore. He looked around the mass of guests for any waiters holding drink trays when he spotted–
Remus?
He weaved his way through the crowd of people until he caught his brother, who was holding up a tray of glasses filled with red wine. Unlike the other waiters, who all wore aprons and waistcoats, Remus was wearing a glittering green dress, thigh slit scandalously high for a Victorian masquerade ball. His heels were at least nine-inches tall and the more Roman looked at his face the more he regretted it. Actually, now that he thought about it, that dress looked really familiar. Wait–
“Remus! Is that my dress?!”
“Well hello to you too, Roman!”
“Did you steal my dress?”
“Nuh uh! Yours was red.”
“Did you steal my dress and change its color?!”
“Now you’ve got it! And yes, I did.”
Roman’s eye twitched. He could practically feel himself seething. But alas, Virgil was waiting for him. He would have to deal with Remus later. “Just give me two glasses before I kill you.”
-
“Hey party people!” Patton rushed up to Roman and Remus, dragging Logan by the arm.
Logan nodded to Roman. “Roman,” then scowled at Remus and said in a much more disappointed and exasperated tone, “Remus. That dress is so ridiculously anachronistic to this setting I might scream if I actually cared.”
“Enough about that,” Roman squinted. “What were you two off doing? And what’s with the masks?”
“We were danc–” Patton started.
Logan cleared his throat, more than he probably needed to. “We were inspecting… the ballroom… for clues and–”
“–and dancing.”
Roman raised an eyebrow.
Logan sighed. “And dancing.”
Roman raised both eyebrows, fighting down a smile as he took a sip from his wine glass.
“And the masks, Roman, are to help with the puzzle. Clearly you were unaware of this as I can see you’re not adorned with yours, or maybe you just like ignoring the obvious.”
Roman looked somewhere between affronted and confused. “Help with the puzzle?”
“The puzzle. That Deceit gave us.”
“I’m gonna be honest, I was not listening to a word he was saying.” Roman raised his hands in surrender. “And why would I want to hide my identity? What’s the point of going to a ball if my presence isn’t known?”
If half of Logan’s face wasn’t obscured, Patton figured he must’ve been gritting his teeth so hard he could break his jaw.
Patton cleared his throat. “And where were you, Roman? Were you with Virgil?” He tried not to sound too worried. He would’ve stayed by Virgil’s side if he hadn’t gotten lost in the crowd. But he figured Roman was with him, and he trusted Roman. Even so, when Logan told him to look for anything that stood out, a small part of him had instead been looking for Virgil in the sea of faces.
“Virgil’s alright, no need to panic at the disco,”
“This is a ball–”
“He didn’t want to be near the crowd so I’m getting drinks for us.”
Patton tensed. “Are you sure… that’s a good idea?”
Roman raised an eyebrow at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well… This scenario is made by Deceit. And– and we don’t know where he is. Don’t you think we should stick with the buddy system?” Patton explained.
“Patton, are you implying that Deceit–” started Logan.
“–might try to disguise as one of us.” He turned to Roman. “How do you know Virgil will still be Virgil when you get back to him? I mean– Deceit knows him well enough to–”
“Patton, padre, if you keep talking I might start panicking.”
“I see what point you’re making Patton, but that seems highly inconsequential,” said Logan. They both turned to him. “If Deceit really does try to disguise as Virgil, I’m sure Virgil himself would be there to counteract.”
“Logan, this is Deceit we’re talking about.”
“I know. Did you assume I was talking about Remus or–?”
“No– What I’m trying to say is that Patton might be right. We don’t know what he might try,” said Roman, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go check on him, and um… I–I’ll ask him something only Virgil would know.”
“Do you want us to come with you?” asked Patton.
“No. This is my fault. I have to fix this.” Roman said resolutely. “You two keep looking for that snake.”
They nodded, and Patton watched as Roman disappeared into the crowd.
-
Virgil glanced up from his spot on the floor as Roman entered the library holding two glasses of red wine. He breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re still here.”
“‘Course I am,” Virgil smiled.
Roman strode over, holding one of the glasses down to him. “I got us drinks.”
Virgil took it from his hand. It was slightly cool, and… fizzing? He took a sip and–
“Is this– Is this monster energy in a wine glass?” he squinted, then looked up at Roman. “You’ve just given me monster energy in a wine glass.”
Roman huffed a laugh. “Should I not have given you monster energy in a wine glass?”
“Oh no, I’m not complaining,” Virgil said as he downed the rest of the drink. As he swallowed the last few drops, he glanced at Roman out of the corner of his eye, who was… staring at him. His eyes were narrowed like he was studying Virgil’s face. “Something wrong?”
“Sorry it’s just–” Roman tilted his head, something worrying lining his features. “What were we talking about, before I left?”
“Throwing Deceit out the window. Why?”
Roman sighed, then smiled. “Of course. I just– Patton mentioned that I shouldn’t leave you alone again, in case I ran into Deceit disguised as you.”
Oh. He hadn’t even considered that. Virgil knew Janus all too well. He knew the kinds of games he played. And Janus certainly knew him. Out of any of them, he’d probably be able to imitate Virgil the best, slipping into his skin like the snake he was. He thought of a false version of him, his deep rooted mannerisms practiced down to a T. The thought made him shudder.
What was he off doing now? He thought, then shoved the thought aside. Logan and Patton knew the real him well enough, not whatever facade Janus threw together. He trusted them. He trusted Roman.
“Well this is me. You really think Deceit would deign to drink anything other than wine?”
Roman grinned. “I suppose not.” Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! While I was trying to find the ballroom again I think I found something you’ll like.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow.
“Follow me.”
Roman grabbed his hand, leading them down a long hallway that he had to guess went around the main hall where the ball was taking place. There, he opened a door to a balcony. It was fairly small, with a table, two chairs, and a perfect view of the full moon.
He gave a dramatic bow, “After you.”
Virgil huffed a laugh and took a seat, as did Roman, who rested his hands on the table.
The sight was serene, and beautiful, he had to admit, with snapdragons climbing along the balustrade of the balcony. Virgil couldn’t help but close his eyes, and finally breathe. The feeling of something lodged in his chest was set free, lungs taking in the fresh midnight air.
“A lovely view, isn’t it?” Roman said, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed at the moon.
“And away from the noise too.”
Roman chuckled, “The noise of fun.”
Virgil raised his eyebrows. “The noise of death, actually.”
Roman only smiled. “Yes, because dancing and laughing is oh so dangerous.”
“Okay,” he said. The mockery was not lost on him. He held his empty glass by the rim, swinging it in slow circles. “You know, Roman, you really don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, it’s alright. It’s not like you'll do much without me here anyway.” Roman waved a hand. There were no lights out here, only the moon, and the shadows obscured his face. Virgil ducked his head and grimaced, hoping he was just as concealed. He cast a glance at Roman’s hands, if only to avoid looking at him directly.
His nail beds were longer.
It was an odd thing to notice really, someone’s nail beds, but Virgil squinted. They weren’t longer before. There was no other reason he would have noticed, if not for that short moment he held Roman’s hand when they danced. Roman’s nails had been short, painted red. Virgil, distantly, felt a slow stream of panic build up inside him.
He glanced up at Roman, who only stared plainly, studying Virgil. Then he eyed his hands, and almost looked amused. Everything was silent.
And then he smiled.
It was not Roman’s smile.
“You have a keen eye, Virgil.” he said. Then he tilted his head, and the moonlight caught on the scales of his face like ivory, a single slitted eye gleaming. “But it’s not keen enough.”
Virgil jumped back before he could think, the legs of the chair screeching against the floor as a hiss tore free from his lips. “You.”
Janus only smiled, on the edge of laughter.
“Where’s Roman? What did you do to him?” he snarled.
Janus flashed the whites of his eyes. “Mm, I don’t know, probably passed out in the hallway somewhere when he went looking for you. Unless Remus already fetched him.”
Virgil’s blood went cold.
Janus tutted, “You would think Roman would know how to spot sedatives in his drink.”
“Oh my God.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t breathe.
Janus rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t be so dramatic–”
He had to get out of here, he moved without thinking. Virgil strode to the balcony door, giving it a hard tug. It didn’t budge. He tugged it again, this time with both hands.
“Sit down, Virgil, I–”
“No.” He tugged even harder at the door, tried pushing it instead. “Ugh– Is this– locked from the other side–? Who designed this?!”
“I did. I made this place, remember?”
Virgil let go of the door, then kicked it in frustration. Janus sighed. “Virgil, please–”
Virgil turned to Janus and laughed dryly. “Wow! You really are insane.”
“Just– sit down.”
Virgil glowered at him, wishing the figurative daggers he was glaring were tangible. He slowly stalked back to his chair, sitting down unceremoniously with his arms crossed. “I hope you know it’s taking everything in me to not throw you off this balcony right now. Talk.”
“I thought you said you’d throw me out of a window.”
Virgil hissed.
“Very well.” Janus folded his hands together on the table, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. He tilted his head. A second passed. Then a minute. Janus said nothing, only stared at him as if trying to pick him apart. Virgil squirmed under his gaze.
“...Well?”
Janus frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Virgil rolled his eyes so hard he could’ve seen his skull. “You don’t get what?”
“You.” Janus huffed a mirthless laugh, shaking his head. “How he just… accepted you so easily.”
Virgil paused, confused. “...Who?”
“Thomas,” he said, hissing slightly at the end of the name. Janus looked… lost, almost. More lost than Virgil has ever seen him. His eyes were searching Virgil’s face, as if clawing desperately to find some kind of answer.
Oh.
So that’s what this was about.
Thomas.
In the end, it always came back to Thomas. He was their everything, their galaxy in which they lived—their universe. But stars collided, worlds ended.
“You know, when you first left, I was convinced they’d send you running back.” Something about Janus was somber. He stared down at his scaly hands, stretching them out. His fingernails had extended to his usual claws. It was strange seeing him like this, bits of him peeking through Roman’s disposition, breaking the surface until he was nothing but himself. “But then you changed. And Thomas– God, Thomas. He was actually happy with you around.”
“Is what I did so wrong then?” Virgil scowled. “It worked out didn’t it?”
“That’s the problem!” Janus studied him, looking less like a snake and more like a lost cat. “Why did it work? Why did it work for you and–” Janus looked helpless, like he’d been looking for something in the same place for so long and continuously coming up empty. “–and not for me?”
Virgil said nothing.
“I was just– so angry.” Janus sneered. “I didn’t get it. I still don’t. All I’ve ever done was to help him. And you– you’ve given him nothing but strife.” He waved a hand, rolling his eyes. “But the door was practically wide open for you.”
“So what exactly did you drag me out here for? To tell me how useless I am?” He scowled.
“I’m not calling you useless, Virgil. I just–”
Janus pursed his lips, like he was struggling to say the words. And then it dawned on Virgil.
He’s asking for help.
Just then, the door to the balcony burst open, revealing Patton grinning wildly.
“Oh, Virgil! Good to know you two kiddos are okay, but listen, Logan drank so much of that punch, you need to come look at this!”
Virgil glanced at Janus, who’s scales and claws had disappeared. He looked just like Roman again, falling back into his mannerisms like an actor in a role. Virgil turned back to Patton.
“I– Uh– We’ll be right there, Patton.”
Patton left the door open, returning back to the ball.
Janus’s scales peeked through again, his fangs catching on the moonlight. “They care about you.”
“They do.”
He smiled wistfully, with something akin to jealousy worming its way in. “And I’m still here.”
Virgil sighed. Janus was nowhere near his list of favorite people. But he cared about Thomas. How different was he from Janus, really? They wanted the same things, didn’t they? Janus just had the misfortune of going about it the “wrong” way, the only way he knew how to. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t help himself to be who he was. And was that not the case with Virgil?
But he cared. He cared about Thomas, and that was really all that mattered, wasn’t it?
They were two worlds orbiting the same star.
“How about you start by not sedating people,” Virgil sighed.
Janus tilted his head like he hadn’t considered this. “Well how else was I supposed to get you here?”
Virgil scoffed. “You couldn’t have done, I don’t know, literally anything else?”
“We uh–” Janus cleared his throat. “–stopped being able to summon you, after you left.” He took a sip from his wine glass. Virgil mouthed a single Oh.
Then Janus’s face contorted in disgust as he eyed his drink. “Eugh, you were right. This tastes like shit.”
Virgil snorted. “Told ya.” He glanced back towards the door, where the party had started to settle down. “Uh, Roman is going to be okay, right?”
Janus laughed musically, like what he was about to say wasn’t the most concerning thing in the world. “That depends on how long he can last with Remus’s karaoke.”
Virgil tilted his head, “But Roman loves karaoke.”
“I gave Remus the wrong lyrics.”
“Oh you bastard.”
Janus sighed. “Don’t get so melodramatic, I’ll call him off.”
By the time most of them were gathered in the main hall, all the guests had disappeared, the canvas pristine once again. Janus had sent a note over to Remus, and now he, Logan, Patton, and Virgil were seated at one of the roundtables. Logan was pale, his eyes closed as Patton held a glass of water to his lips.
He looked vaguely in Janus’s direction, eyes still dilated. “So what exactly s’the point of this?” Logan said slowly, testing his words.
Janus waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t know, not everyone is who they seem to be. Or something.”
Logan narrowed his eyes and Virgil couldn’t tell if it was because he was thinking too hard or because he might throw up. Possibly both. “In this scenario all f’us ‘er conditioned t’ be suspicion, therefore t’doesn’tactually prove ‘nything.”
Janus frowned, an actual look of pity on his face. “I would keep your mouth shut but– I actually feel bad.”
Soon enough, Roman and Remus arrived from the hall, Roman rubbing his head while Remus practically had him hoisted up by the arm.
Janus hummed. “You two have fun?”
“Lots. We sang karaoke!” Remus chirped.
Roman shoved him off. “You tied me to a chair! ” he snapped.
“Semantics.”
Logan whined, hands against his ears. “Loud.”
Remus’s head snapped towards him, and he slowly grinned as he darted to stand beside him. “Logan… are you… drunk?”
Logan shook his head, then winced.
Remus cackled, “Oh my God, Teach got drunk! I didn’t even spike your drink!” He cupped Logan’s face with both hands. “You look like a powdered asshole.”
“Remus if you don’take your hands off’me, m’going to jam m’fingers ‘nto your eye sockets,” Logan murmured.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”
Virgil tuned out whatever the others were saying as he slowly approached Roman, waving him off to the side.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Physically? Give me a few business days. But mentally, I don’t think I’m recovering from that.” Roman rubbed his wrists, which were red and raw from being tied up. “I’m going to kill that snake and his evil Luigi henchman.”
“Karaoke, huh?”
Roman grabbed Virgil’s shoulders. “He kept getting the lyrics wrong, Virgil! I was in hell!”
Virgil scoffed, slowly removing Roman’s iron grip off him.“Well, I’m glad you’re okay now.”
“Mostly.” Roman shrugged. “And you? Deceit didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Virgil shook his head. “He uh, he actually wanted to talk to me.”
“Talk? About what?”
Virgil gave a half-shrug. “I would say he’s not as bad as you think he is but– uh, it doesn’t seem like now’s the time since he literally had you kidnapped.”
“Not that bad–?” Roman raised his eyebrows in awe, a wondrous smile peeking through. “Well now I’m even more curious! What did he say that made you change your mind? Did he give you My Chemical Romance merch or something?”
“That would’ve been sick, but no, he just… needed help with something.”
Roman looked even more astonished. “Help?” He barked a laugh. “I will never understand that slippery serpent.”
“Maybe we’re just starting to,” Virgil said, eyeing Janus from across the ballroom. He turned to Roman.
“I’m sorry, by the way.”
Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “For what?”
Virgil sighed. “For not noticing sooner that you were gone.”
“Oh, Virgil–”
“He was disguised as you, Roman. And I didn’t even notice.” Virgil hadn’t stopped turning it over in his head. He didn’t know Janus as well as he thought he did, but he at least wanted to believe he knew Roman. “What kind of friend does that make me?”
“You were having fun, Virgil.”
“But–”
“You can’t be on guard your whole life.”
Virgil bristled, slightly. Roman was right. He’d promised Thomas he’d ease up, but it didn’t always mean he wouldn’t fall back, especially when he wasn’t there. It felt like the only thing he could do, sometimes.
“But that’s what I’m supposed to do, what I do best.”
“What’s best for you is to put your shield down every once in a while,” Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “And I can’t believe I’m the one telling you that.”
Virgil sighed. Maybe, when another party rolled around, he’d give it a shot. At least this time it wouldn’t be filled with shifting, face-changing shadows.
“Thanks.” Then before he thought better of it, he pulled Roman into a swift hug. Roman froze, before slowly returning it.
“Of course.”