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A soft creeeaaakkk of Janus’ wooden door stretched throughout the bedroom, waking him up from his soundless slumber. No movements to check who it was were made, however. He knew exactly who was there. While he waited patiently, the figure must have stood motionless in the doorway for at least three solid minutes. Perhaps they were contemplating; perhaps they were regretting—Janus didn’t know, and it wasn’t his place to ask. Eventually, the person shuffled forward, one unsure step at a time, before another weight was resting in his bed.
The snake let his eyes fall open as he sank into the sheets, slowly rolling onto his side to face the other personality. On the edge of the bed sat Remus, just as expected. His frame was hunched over as he stared at the floor, likely contemplating his next move. Nights like this were always… difficult for the sides. Janus, Remus, and Virgil, when he was around, were very stubborn, refusing to confide in anyone, even the other “Dark Sides.” However, it would be a lie to admit that they didn’t need comfort. This formed a weird, unspoken habit between all of them. On nights they struggled with their own emotions and restless thoughts, they often crawled into the rooms of their friends to just exist. No words would be spoken, no expectations were held. They would simply crawl under the blankets, and if the two—or three—were willing, perhaps cuddle closer as they fell into slumber.
This time was different, though. As much as Remus hated to show his true colors, he never took this long to lie down in bed simply. But once again, this had been, from day one, an unspoken tradition between them. Never had a word been uttered about the nights before, and Janus certainly didn’t intend on breaking this truce.
And so, he waited patiently.
What felt like hours passed, the clocks on the wall tick, tick, ticking, and eventually Remus settled himself into bed. Movements were slow and faulty, hardly calculated at all, as he practically collapsed into fluffy bedding. Typically, this is where Janus would initiate contact, either cuddling closer or rubbing soothing motions into the other facet’s back. But Remus was lying on his back, staring at the yellow tapestry above their heads. From where Janus was angled, his eyes looked watery, near tears, but his mouth remained sealed like a zipper, and so did Janus’s.
Just as Janus closed his eyes with the tempting promise of sleep, a shaky voice carried to his ears.
“Are you going to leave..?”
It was no doubt from Remus—who else could it be from?—but it was so out of character that it almost made Janus jump out of his scales. He had never heard Remus so… scared. Vulnerable.
“What do you mean?” The snake matched his friend’s hushed voice, not wanting to break whatever moment they were clearly having. If he were to scare his friend away into hiding, even just once, he would never forgive himself.
Remus’s eyebrows scrunched, facial expression faltering for a mere second. The tears in his eyes welled up even more, threatening to stream down, but he bit his tongue. “Are you going to leave like Virgil? Leave to be accepted by those shmucks without me?”
The cold, ‘unfeeling’ heart in the unfaithful side’s chest shattered into a million pieces. The two of them have been bonded since day one, along with Virgil at some point. When you were doomed to be the villain of the narrative, no matter your actions, who else did you have to confide in but the people just as ‘evil’ as you? But as Virgil grew more restless, more antsy, he drifted off into the unknown. The two of them couldn’t reach out anymore; their eyes burned as they watched him cross the Other Side.
That night after was ruinous. The two of them hardly said anything, roaming around the mindscape in utter silence like ghosts. They would give one another the occasional guilty look, but never for longer than a second. Never did a word fall from their mouth, because, truthfully, what was there to say?
After that, Remus crawled into his bed for that entire week. While Janus wouldn’t mutter a peep, he was grateful. He didn’t want to be alone either.
The snake couldn’t imagine how it must be for his friend; not only did he lose Virgil, but he also had to watch Janus become more accustomed to the others. Before his very eyes, he was watching the slow acceptance—conversion—of his only companion left. And soon, at least to him, that final person in his life would be leaving. Soon would the day come, Janus hovering over the border one final time before jumping. He wouldn’t look back to see the duke, tears streaming down his face as he was once again alone—alone in a cold, empty ghost town. No host, no brother, and certainly no friends but the cobwebs in the corner.
“Oh, Remus…” He reached out a hand, carefully resting it on his shoulder. Remus flinched, but allowed the gesture. He didn’t want to. The last thing he wanted was for their final moment to be like this. Warm. Kind. Loving. He wanted to hate Janus, to hate him like he hated the other “Light Sides.” They thought they were so good—good enough that they labeled people like him and Janus as rotten to the core, undeserving of any sympathy. It was hypocritical. Disgusting. How was Virgil so different from them?
But Remus wanted comfort. He wanted Janus’ comfort. His touch, his hugs, his smooth-as-silk voice. He wanted to press his ears to his chest, listening closely to that beating heart of his and matching his breathing. But he didn’t want it from Janus—not this Janus. He wanted the old Janus, the one who was attached to his hip since the dawn of time. The Janus that would release wild spiders into The Commons with him. The Janus who would always accept him for who he truly was. The Janus who looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world.
“I’m not going to leave you, darling.”
Remus squeezed his eyes shut. He was lying, he could feel it. He had to be—there simply was no universe where this Janus loved him enough to stay. He could feel his breathing starting to hitch, nose full of gross snot that both ran down his chin and stuffed his breathing. The sight was hideous, revolting, repulsive, every negative word under the sun. As much as the duke loved the bad in Janus, he wished he would just bite the bullet and cast him away.
“That’s what Virgil said, too. We all promised not to leave.”
The side of dishonesty paused before wriggling closer. Resting his head on the other, he took in a deep breath to settle his thoughts. The scent of metal, smoke, and God knows what else filled his sensitive nostrils, bringing him back to older times. It was honestly abhorrent, and if the smell came from anyone else, they would have been booted out of his luxurious bed before they tainted it.
“Remus,” His voice was softer than anyone had ever heard it. It almost made the duke angry. He was no baby that needed comforting, no sniffling creature without a mom to look after it. “I’m not leaving until we cross the borderline hand-in-hand. If they can’t accept you, then they sure as hell can’t accept me.”
A shared silence fell between them for a moment. It was raw with emotion, sniffling, and a little bit of anxiety, but it was also oddly… safe. Taking in his own deep breath—albeit shaky—Remus allowed himself to wind down. His body became one with the satin sheets underneath his weight, enveloping him like a warm embrace. Their breathing synced up, becoming restful and at peace. Janus watched closely as his dearest friend’s chest rose and fell in a relaxing rhythm.
Finally turning over, watery eyes met alluring, sharp ones. Remus held out his hand, a single pinky outstretched. “Promise..?”
“Promise.”