Chapter Text
Janus is standing in front of Virgil’s door.
Virgil knows this, not because his father has seen fit to let Virgil aware of his presence, but because of the break in light next to the crack between the door itself and the floor.
He’s been ignoring that shadow for the better part of five minutes. It’s much easier to sit with his legs dangling off his bed and play random notes on his guitar than it is to think about the “talk” Janus feels required to give him.
Admittedly, Virgil did have an anxiety attack at the dinner table and then refused to talk about it for the next hour, so it's probably a good thing Janus is standing in front of his door.
Finally, his dad knocks.
Virgil strums a random chord a bit louder and doesn’t respond.
“Virge?” Janus’s voice is not at all gentle, but Virgil’s lived with him long enough to know when he’s being kind. “Virgil, can I come in?”
Virgil hits another chord. “I don’t know, can you?”
There’s a very loud sigh from the other side of the door but it edges slightly on laughter. “Really?” His voice is dry now, but still softer than it would be normally. “We both know I’m not coming in without permission.”
It’s Virgil’s turn to sigh. He pushes the guitar onto his pillow and traces the side of it with one finger.
“Yeah.”
“Hm?”
“Yeah!”
“I need clear consent Virgil.”
“Oh my god Dad, come in.”
Janus is smirking a bit when he comes in but his smile falls when he sees Virgil.
Virgil offers him a bitter smile.
His hair is a disaster, mostly because Virgil spent about ten minutes curled with a weighted blanket in the corner of his room repeatedly tugging on the strands. He can’t see his face, but Virgil can easily imagine the dull brown of his eyes and the way his face feels to have lengthened.
“Oh Virge.” Janus shakes his head. “You’re looking well.”
And suddenly, everything Virgil has done to push his dad away comes tumbling down. It’s replaced with a desperate, almost tangible need to be held by him.
Virgil doesn’t say this of course. He just makes grabby hands.
Janus is by his side in a moment, pulling Virgil’s head against his chest and rubbing down his back with one hand. Virgil leans into it. He’s been taller than his dad for about four years now but when he’s just drained like this, it doesn’t matter. He feels just as small as the first day he met him.
“Today a good day then?” Janus asks and Virgil chuckles.
“It was.”
“I can tell.”
Virgil laughs again. Normally, he might pull back and glare at his dad, but the need for comfort hasn’t left so he lets Janus pull him closer.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Virgil grumbles. “Do I have a choice?”
Janus’s hands pause on Virgil’s back. “Always,” he says, as Virgil knew he would. “However I do recommend telling someone.”
Virgil groans.
“You could keep bottling it up. Your therapist says that’s good for you—”
“Your mom.”
“Excellent response.”
For a second Virgil is silent. Then he turns his head into Janus' stomach so his eyes are buried and his mouth is just muffled enough with cloth that Janus won’t be able to make a noise without missing something Virgil says.
“I’m trying out for East Bridge tomorrow.”
Already he can feel a knot forming in the back of his throat and there’s a sort of stickiness to his chest that’s crowding his lungs and keeping him from being able to breathe.
Janus says nothing.
“I want to go. I do. I want to.”
“But…?”
“I don’t know!” A sob broke its way out of Virgil and his entire body trembles with the negligible effort to keep himself from allowing a second to escape. “What if I’m wrong? What if I go to East and I go into the superhero program, and I hate it!?”
“Then you drop out.” Janus says it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Virgil isn’t even close to done. “What if I don’t realize I dislike it until I’m 40, and it's too late to change, and I just have to live with the fact that my life is worthless—”
“Virgil.”
“—my life isn’t worthless, but that my life won’t ever be able to make me happy, and that there’s nothing I can do to change it!”
“If 40 is when your life ends, I must be ancient,” Janus says, not all too gently but still in that kinder tone he always uses when Virgil’s upset. “Virgil, what would you say if I told you I wanted to stop being a lawyer and become a shopkeeper?”
Virgil mumbles something.
“I’m just going to assume you said ‘go for it, Dad’ because anything else is unacceptable and I will ground you.”
A watery laugh replaces the sobs.
“Your life doesn’t start when you get to college and it isn’t over when you choose one job. Anything you pick is reversible.”
Virgil rolls his eyes. “I can’t just follow the dopamine.”
“Why not?” From anyone else the question would have sounded sarcastic, but from Janus it’s very clearly sincere.
“Because I’ll never get anything done?!” Virgil doesn’t pull away from Janus, but if he did he would be glaring at him. “Because short term happiness doesn’t mean long term happiness?”
“If you try something for a few years and hate it, you are always allowed to change what you’re doing. You have a safety net.” Janus’s hands card through his hair. “You’re allowed to explore.”
The words are nice.
Virgil can’t bring himself to believe them.