moceit week 2026

It was a pointless exercise, Janus thought. Pointless, and ridiculously dangerous. Because, who in the hell would be willing to actually select their most precious memory and— and print it? It was insane! Anyone could take it, and destroy it.

He understood the premise. You take your favourite memories, and you drop them into the stupid device and drip a drop of the potion on your tongue and you got to relive it. Or— watch it? The descriptions were unclear.

It was supposed to be private nobody was meant to know what the memory was. The door was locked up, and the students were all threatened with the severest punishments if they were found inside the lab while the photos were developing.

Still. Janus didn’t trust that one bit. All it took was one particularly ballsy — or wealthy — student with a lock pick and an insatiable curiosity and all your most vulnerable secrets were revealed, he mused, as he pushed the door shut behind him and began to peruse the images.

He was just making sure nobody else was in here, obviously. If he happened to glance at the images as he passed, so what? He wouldn’t tell anyone. It was harmless.

He drifted through the aisles of benches, photos fluttering as he passed by them, pictures of toddlers’ birthdays and awards ceremonies surrounding him. He was in a few of them — school events where he came first, and the printer came second, or rare social occasions that Janus was allowed to attend with his classmates. He didn't really share any of them as memories of his own. It was sort of satisfying, seeing what an impact he’d had on his peers’ lives without them even crossing his mind.

Then, he turned a corner near the centre of the room where the cauldron of potion sat. It was a precarious stand, Janus had always thought, hanging by one measly hook above a fire rather than being actually supported by legs, but that was anything but Janus’ problem, so he’d never bothered to point it out. His eyes grazed across these photos, and then—

He froze.

Familiar blond hair found him, two mismatched eyes and a smile softer than anything he would have willingly shown anyone.

Janus stared at the photo, and something dark and sour curled in his gut as he realised he didn’t know who this was, who he ever could have looked at like that, but he could see that their hands were dirty and calloused from working as they cradled his face, and he thought he might be sick—

He couldn’t let this get out. Nobody could see this. If they found out— if his parents found out that he’d looked at a commoner like that— he’d be absolutely royally fucked. His mother would go mental, she didn’t even care that he was gay but if he was gay for a worksman? She’d freak out so badly he’d never see the light of day again, he’d never see anything again. She’d send him to that stupid school, or homeschool him, and he’d never see—

He stared at the photo, and he watched as his hand rose up and gripped it.

“Janus?” a voice asked, and he flinched violently, spinning around. His momentum dragged the photo with him, pulling it violently from the pegs and tearing a corner off.

“It’s Dee,” he spat, furious and embarrassed and hoping that the red flush of his cheeks looked more like the former than the latter as he hid the photo behind his back.

“I’m not calling you that,” Patton answered slowly. His eyes drifted down to Janus’ hidden hand, and his brows furrowed. “Whatcha got there?”

“Where?” Janus asked casually.

“There,” the other boy said, rushing forwards suddenly and diving towards him. Janus flinched back, lifting the photo out of Patton’s reach.

“Get the fuck away from me!” he yelled, shoving Patton hard enough that he stumbled into a workbench, rattling the other photos that were hanging there. “What are you even doing in here? Nobody is supposed to be in here.”

“You’re in here,” Patton said slowly. “You’re gonna break whatever that is. You know how fragile they are.”

“Good!” Janus cried. “Nobody needs to remember this. It’s better for everyone if I just get rid of it!”

“Is it yours?”

“I was there, yeah—”

“That doesn’t answer my question and you know it. Did you pick that memory? Did you hang that photo?”

Janus clenched his jaw. “You should really learn how to mind your own business,” he hissed.

“Janus,” Patton implored. “Seriously, you can’t—”

“Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do. I’m Dee fucking Gadling—”

“Your name is Janus—”

“No it isn’t!” Janus roared, hand balling into a fist around the photo. It crumpled, and Patton gasped shakily, hand raising to his head as his face went slack.

Neither of them spoke for several long seconds. Janus couldn’t bring himself to look down and check on the state of the memory, but he wanted to, if only so he could drag his eyes away from Patton’s wide, desperately betrayed ones.

Oh, fuck. Of course. Of course it was him, of course it was that—

“Janus,” the other boy whispered. “Are you— Is that… mine?”

“Well, perhaps it was,” Janus drawled, shooting Patton a nervous grin. “But I suppose none of us are to know, now, right? Best put it behind us.”

“You destroyed one of my memories?” Patton asked, and his face was turning into a dark reddened shade. “That was mine. You had no right—”

“No right?” Janus mocked. “I can do whatever I please!”

“No, you don’t!” Patton cried. Tears erupted over his eyes, and his breath hitched. “What was it?”

“Nothing! It doesn’t matter. Just pick a new one and hang that, surely your brain isn’t so miniscule it can only contain one memory.”

Patton stared at him, chest heaving as he began to cry in earnest. “What was it?” he asked again. “I don’t— I don’t remember— Was it— Janus, please— Can we fix it?”

Something was still curling itself around Janus’ gut, settling cold and uncomfortable and crawling up into his chest cavity. “It wasn’t anything important.”

“It must have been important to me!” Patton yelled. “I picked it.”

And, well—

He did. He chose that memory. Of everything, Patton picked some stupid childhood… joke between him and Janus. It wasn’t even real. They both knew it wasn’t, even at the time. Why would he ever choose this? Janus didn’t even remember it had happened, and it certainly wasn’t important enough to him for him to select it as one of his most important personal memories ever.

Janus’ choices had been based around his academic achievements. Of course. He… had, admittedly, briefly, considered using one from when he was very young. One of his parents… holding him. Or something dumb and feelingsy like that. But they weren’t the most important to him. Besides, he could hardly have pictured it with enough clarity for it to work, anyway.

“Look, relax, okay?” Janus soothed mockingly. He stuffed the crumpled photo into his pocket, ignoring the icky sensation in his chest as he did so. Patton’s eyes followed his hand, stricken, but Janus continued like he hadn’t noticed. “You wouldn’t even get anything out of that one. It’s fine.”

Patton wiped at his eyes. “You— You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what was in that photo. You don’t get to dictate what I remember.”

“Or what?” Janus hissed, and then Patton was launching forwards. His eyes were locked on Janus’ pocket, hands reaching desperately. Janus flinched back, but Patton was already on him, shoving his hand into Janus’ pocket and stumbling after him as Janus jerked away.

“Give it back!” Patton cried.

“What is wrong with you? Get off!”

“Not until you give me back my memories!”

Janus scoffed, gripping Patton’s arm and trying to pull it away from him. Patton twisted, shoving his shoulder into Janus’ chest and rummaging even deeper.

“You’re insane,” Janus spat, and then he was losing his balance and tumbling to the ground.

Patton fell with him, yelping as his hand twisted out of Janus’ pocket, and Janus just barely caught sight of his head smacking against the edge of the cauldron and tipping it over. The potion splashed over the edge, and Patton cried out as it poured over his head, and then it poured all over Janus, landing in his eyes and his mouth. There was a bright, blinding flash of light, and then everything went dark.

-----------------

Janus awoke with a gasp. He sat upright, the sensation of grass unfamiliar against his back, and the sun beating down on his face. He hissed, raising a hand to shield his eyes, and in doing so, caught sight of the other person seated beside him.

“Where have you taken me?” he asked. “Am I some sort of hostage now?”

“Hostage?” Patton asked, glaring at Janus fiercely from where he was seated a few feet away, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. “Of course you’re not a hostage. Why would I ever need to hold you hostage, Janus?”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you to stop calling me that.”

“Sucks to suck. You stole my freaking memories, I think that means I get to treat you however the heck I want.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Janus groaned. “You’re still going on about this?”

“What?” Patton asked. “What do you mean, still? It was five seconds ago.”

Janus scoffed and rolled his eyes. “For me. You had time to knock me out and carry me all the way out here. Where the fuck even are we?”

Patton let out a sharp sigh. “I don’t know. I just woke up here, too.”

“Helpful as ever—”

The other boy shook his head angrily, shoving himself to his feet. “Fine, whatever. You can find your own way back.”

“What?” Janus cried, scrambling upright. “You can’t just abandon me out here!”

“Well, if you’re so much smarter than me, I’m sure you’ll work out how to get home quicker than I do!”

Janus faltered. Well. He didn’t actually have any way out of this, then, did he? Patton, thankfully, didn’t wait for a response, so Janus just hurried after him.

They were in a… a field, it seemed. Or perhaps a very expansive hill. Janus could see a town in the distance, and he was almost sure that he could spot the old church, except that had been demolished when he was fifteen so his father could build a factory on the land.

His eyes caught on the back of Patton’s head. He had been devastated when that church was torn down. Janus had never seen anyone so upset in his life, he didn’t think. It was the last time he ever appeared in Janus’ house, actually — when he begged Janus’ parents to choose somewhere else, anywhere else.

Janus hadn’t seen the blow land, but he’d heard the slap of skin, heard the way Patton crashed to the ground and burst into tears. He remembered how his hands had shook, how he’d stood outside the door to the office with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. His father had stormed away, and he didn’t even glance at Janus as he did.

Patton had never come back to the house. He and Janus had only ever really spoken once after that — outside of the barbs they sent each other at school — in soft whispered and gentle touches and one single, hesitant—

Whatever. He wasn’t about to start reminiscing. He pulled his eyes away from Patton, looking in the opposite direction of the town, and then he froze.

“Oh— Patton, there’s someone over there,” he called, and the other boy faltered. He turned to look at Janus, and then followed his gaze to where a woman appeared to be sitting on the grass. She had long, golden hair, flowing in the wind and hiding her face from them. Patton frowned slightly, for just a second, before he started walking towards the woman.

“Are you— We can’t just approach her, what if she’s…”

“What if she’s what, Janus? Poor? However will you survive?”

“I have no issue with poor people. What if she’s— I don’t know, a kidnapper?”

Patton scoffed, but didn’t answer. He kept walking towards the lady, and Janus sighed heavily before moving to follow. The woman didn’t turn to them as they approached, even as Patton called out a greeting to her. They got close enough that Janus could see the book she was reading in her lap, although the words weren’t… there. The pages were blank, somehow, although she was still turning the pages like she was getting something out of it.

“Um… hello?” Patton asked. The woman still didn’t look up, like she couldn’t even hear what Patton was saying, and he turned to shoot Janus an anxious look over his shoulder. Before he could speak, there was the sound of children laughing nearby. Both Patton and Janus startled, and turned to find two kids running around on the grass further down the hill. They were both wearing overalls, one made of denim and spattered in paint and practically threadbare, while the other was plush and pristine. They looked like total opposites — no way were they brothers. The one in the denim was shorter, with a mop of dark, frizzy curls and freckles scattered across his tanned skin. The other was porcelain pale, hair stark, platinum blond and gelled back close to his scalp. Janus frowned at him as he turned, and then flinched back.

“What the fuck?” he asked. “That— That’s me.”

“It’s us,” Patton choked. Janus turned to him, and found him staring at the woman with a bloodless face and teary eyes. “That’s… Mama?”

Janus’ heart dropped, and he looked at the woman again.

Oh fuck.

“Patty, Janny, don’t go too far!” she called, and the boys froze from where they’d been chasing each other in circles. “And Janus, darling, do try to keep your clothes fresh, won’t you?”

“Okay, mama!” the boy in denim called, and his voice was so high-pitched, and when he shot the other boy a bright grin he was missing his two front teeth, and Janus thought he might be sick.

“Yes, Mrs Hart!” Little Him cried, and then Little Patton grabbed his hand and dragged him back up the hill.

He was smiling. He couldn’t remember ever being so happy, so carefree. If his mother had seen him with an expression like that on his face, she’d have flipped her shit. It would have been unbecoming of someone of his status. And to hold the hand of someone of Patton’s standing? Fuck. The photo was burning a hole in his pocket, and he wondered if Patton really had no clue what was on it, or if some sense of the memory was still there. The boy certainly didn’t seem to be thinking of it now. He’d fallen to his knees beside the lady, hand shaking violently as he reached towards her.

“What— Are you sure you should touch—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Patton’s fingers brushed against his mother’s knee. And slipped straight through. He gasped, a wet, choking sound, both of his hands slamming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders hunched over.

Janus watched, eyes wide, as Patton broke down into tears, sobbing hard into his hands. He pulled at his collar, his throat suddenly tight, and he watched the little boys collapse into a giggling pile on the floor. He bit down on his bottom lip as they started to play pat-a-cake.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked, and his voice cracked, and Janus didn’t have time to school his face back into something he’d want people seeing when Patton turned around to look at him. “How is— Where are we?”

Janus just shrugged. “I think… I think something went wrong. With the potion, when it fell on us.”

“Wrong how?” Patton asked sharply.

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s, like… sucked us into your memories or something.”

Patton sobbed, wiping at his eyes. “Why mine?”

“Well, I don’t remember this happening,” Janus said, and Patton shot him a glare that suggested he knew it was a lie.

“How do we get out?” Janus asked, when Patton just turned back to his mother.

“What?” Patton asked, voice weak and croaking. “I… Why do we have to get out?”

“We can’t stay here,” Janus answered, and it came out far softer than he’d intended. He couldn’t fully look at the woman. He, admittedly, had almost forgotten about her. Her job as his nanny had been phased out when he was around nine or ten, and she’d been demoted to cleaning duties instead of childcare. Besides, once he’d begun schooling, he barely ever even saw her. Patton had been put through schooling with him, just because they couldn’t put him to work until he was fifteen, so they had remained close, and he still viewed Patton’s mother warmly, but not as warmly as he had when she was more like his mother than she was.

He had been… devastated when she died. Janus wasn’t sure he’d ever known grief like it, except perhaps the day his parents told him they’d be sending Patton away. There was a knot in his stomach now, and he really wanted to be somewhere else just so he didn’t have to keep thinking about her, and Patton, and himself, and how much he—

Nope. Not thinking about it.

“Come on,” Janus said. “We have to… Come on, Patton. You can’t stay here forever.”

Patton didn’t answer. He kept his head bowed, his hands hiding his face as he cried hard, and Janus sighed softly, reaching down to grab Patton’s shoulder.

Then, there was a violent flash of light, and they were somewhere else entirely.

Patton was still kneeling on the ground, sobbing, his breath hitching as he looked around, but his mother was gone. The other two versions of them were gone, too, the little versions that had still been giggling.

The silence was almost painful now. Then, it was broken.

“Patton, it’s fine,” a little voice said, and Janus and Patton turned around to find two more little versions of themselves.

The room was dark, but when Janus turned around, he realised that they were in their old classroom. Two boys were sitting in a corner, one curled up fully, his knees against his chest and his face buried. Patton’s uniform was too big for him by several sizes. Of course, Janus didn’t think his parents would have been generous enough to buy him his own uniform, so he wondered how Morgan had managed to get him even this.

Janus was kneeling in front of him, and Janus could just about see the baffled frown on his face.

“It isn’t fine,” Patton retorted. Janus, the Now Janus, glanced at Now Patton. He was shakily getting to his feet, wiping at his eyes weakly and moving closer to the two of them. He didn’t look at Janus as he passed him, and he crouched down beside the two of them. Strangely, Janus found him looking not at his own small face, but at the face of Little Janus. He had an expression on his face that Janus couldn’t recognise no matter how hard he tried, and he wondered if this version of him could have.

“It is,” Small Janus assured him. “We’ll just hide it!”

“They’ll find it. Someone’ll find it. They’ll find it and they’ll know it was me and they’ll fire mama.”

“No, they won’t!” Janus said, and his tone was harder, and when Janus looked at himself, he found his jaw set in determination. Little Patton lifted his head, and his eyes were bright and glistening with tears. He had snot on his face, and Janus curled his lip in disgust. Little Janus, though, didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. He pulled the sleeve of his blazer down over his hand and wiped it away without even flinching, and Now Patton laughed wetly.

“Aw, you were so cute,” he choked, sniffling alongside his younger self.

Janus scoffed. “Shut up. You’re the one who’s sat there sobbing like a baby.”

“D’you know what I was so upset about?” Patton asked, and Janus shook his head. He did remember this, actually. Patton had smashed a vase in one of the guest suites. He’d been shaking out of his boots about it all day, and finally cracked and told Janus at the end of the day. When it was found, Janus had pretended it was him. He hadn’t really been punished — his mother made him stand in a corner for an hour, but at the time, that felt entirely worth it so that Patton hadn’t gotten in trouble.

Little Janus was still assuring Little Patton that everything was going to be fine. They were hugging now, and Little Patton was pressing his face against the crook of Janus’ neck and crying his wetness all over him, and Little Janus didn’t even seem to notice, let alone care.

When did he start caring, he wondered. When did he stop trying to offer comfort to people, and instead begin to avoid them? Or even mock them?

When, exactly, had Janus stopped being nice?

Patton — Now Patton, that is, not the little version who was still pressing himself against Little Janus — sniffled again. He wiped at his face once more, and then laughed.

“I bet it wasn’t even that bad. I was probably being silly. I used to get upset at everything. Remember?”

“Used to?” Janus drawled, and Patton turned around to slap the side of his leg.

As soon as his hand made contact, there was another flash of light, and the room around them was another one.

Janus never been allowed to personalise his bedroom — no photos or posters, no toys, no painting the walls his favourite colours. The duvet was a cold, crisp grey, the pillows matching.

This wasn’t his bedroom. The walls were covered in crayon drawings and the bed was piled up in a hundred threadbare blankets, each with different patterns and colours and illustrations. It was still made, neat and tidy and loved, but without any of the detached-ness. This was Patton’s bedroom. Not the one in Janus’ wing that he’d had to himself when Morgan was Janus’ nanny. This was the one in the servants’ quarters, the one he shared with his mother after.

Janus could see Little Patton messing around with something on his desk. Dusting, maybe? He was older than in the last memory. Maybe… eleven or so? He wasn’t wearing the school uniform, but a thin pair of jeans and what looked like a hand-knitted sweater. His hair was longer, too, curls looser and falling into his eyes.

“How many of these are we going to have to sit through?” Janus groaned.

His Patton sighed, standing stiffly and shooting Janus a glare. “D’you think I’m in control of this?”

“They seem to be centred around you.”

“Are you serious? We’re both in all of them!”

Janus quirked a brow, pointed across the room at the other Patton. “I don’t appear to be in this one,” he said.

Then, there was a knock on the door, and it burst open before Patton even had a chance to speak.

“Oh, yeah, totally not in this one,” Patton mumbled, as an eleven-year-old Janus rushed into the room.

“Janny?” Little Patton asked, shoving to his feet. “Jay, you’re not meant to be in here, we’re gonna get in trouble!”

Little Janus shook his head. “I’m already in trouble! Patton, my mother is going to kill me!”

Janus flinched slightly. He didn’t remember being quite so afraid of her this young. He didn’t think the fear came in until after Morgan passed away and Patton was kicked out of the house, except that couldn’t have happened just yet, because they were still too… normal.

“What happened?” Little Patton asked, eyes wide as he pulled Little Janus towards his bed and sat down. Little Janus sat beside him, and he was sniffling, breathing fast and hard. Janus frowned, eyes glued to the wall behind them, while his version of Patton crouched down in front of them, head tilted softly. He had his back to Patton, so he couldn’t see his expression, but the tilt of his head was infuriatingly familiar.

Little Janus’s breath hitched, and Normal Patton reached out to take his hand immediately, almost in sync with his younger self. His hand, of course, fell straight through Janus’ knee, and he turned to shoot an anxious look over his shoulder. Quickly, Normal Janus looked away, back to the wall.

“It’s okay, Jaybear, you’re okay. We can fix it!” Little Patton said. “Just— Come on, Janus, tell me what’s wrong. I promise you, we can fix it. I can fix it.”

“We have to run away,” Little Janus snapped, voice ragged and eyes wild.

“Run— Wh— Okay, sure thing. Just, uh— If I can’t come up with a different plan, can we run away… then?”

Little Janus hesitated, but then sighed heavily. “Okay. Fine. What’s your plan?”

Patton — Now Patton — giggled, as his younger counterpart blinked owlishly. “Um— I don’t have one? You gotta tell me the problem first.”

Both Januses heaved twin sighs, and Now Patton glanced over his shoulder to beam at Now Janus.

“I ripped my suit. The one I have to wear for that stupid Centennial Ball. I ripped a big whole right down the arm of the jacket.”

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Little Patton’s eyes had widened, and he glanced at the door, almost straight at Janus.

“Um— Okay. Okay. We can— Um—”

“See?” Janus’ small self shrieked. “We have to go. I have money, we’d be fine—”

“I can’t just leave my mama!” Patton interrupted. “Look, we’ll work something out. You could wear one of my blazers!”

“This jacket cost three thousand crowns!” Janus snapped. “It is perfectly tailored to me. They would absolutely notice the difference.”

Little Patton’s lip twisted to the side thoughtfully, and Janus hadn’t seen him do that in so long it almost made him feel sick. Gods, he’d forgotten how close they were. He hadn’t really realised their friendship had remained so strong for so long. He’d been half-convinced that they stopped being friends as soon as school began, or at least as soon as he’d stopped receiving Morgan’s nannying.

Clearly, though, he was still going to Patton for help far after the fact. Long after the fact. Janus did actually remember this happening, too, now that he was reminded. The Centennial Ball was only a few months before Patton’s mother died, and that was definitely the last time they ever really spoke. Except for—

Well.

Except for nothing, now. Because Patton didn’t remember. And Janus looked at the back of his head, at the way he still tilted it to the side just a little bit like a puppy, and he’d done that the very whole time he’d known him, and there was a pit in Janus’ stomach. He wasn’t even listening anymore — their plan had essentially boiled down to ‘Make Morgan Fix It.’ And she had. Just like she always did.

His Patton giggled, as the two younger versions hugged again, this time with Little Janus just about holding back tears, and then Patton turned to Normal Janus with a little, hesitant smile. “We were pretty cute, huh?” he asked, and his voice was still a little bit raw from the way he’d been crying earlier, and Janus had just watched him. He had been sitting there crying over the death of the woman Janus had once genuinely believed to be his own mother and Janus had just watched.

“I suppose, if snot and tears is cute to you,” Janus croaked half-heartedly. He cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. “Anyway. Care to move on?”

“Um— You know how?”

“I believe if we… ah… make contact, it will let us move on.”

Patton frowned, and his head tilted and Janus’ chest swooped. “It?”

“Well— Whatever. Neither of us is in control so… I don’t know. Who cares? We move on when we touch, so let’s just get it over with.”

“Oh. Okay, I guess. Um… high five?”

Janus quirked an eyebrow at him, but Patton didn’t lower his hand. So, with a roll of his eyes, Janus slapped it, and there was another flash of light.

Now, they were outside. It was raining, and Janus immediately cursed as he was drenched. Patton winced as well, hunching his shoulders and raising his hands above his head as a shield.

“For fuck’s— Why can’t we stay in indoors…” Janus began, but his voice faded as he caught sight of the scene behind Patton.

The other boy looked at him, and his face fell when he registered Janus’ expression. He whirled around, and Janus heard his breath catch as he, too, saw where they were.

The little version of Patton wasn’t really any older than in the last memory. Maybe a few months. He was in the churchyard — that old church that had been demolished. That had been built over. And Janus was such a fucking dick. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Sure, there were a few years between now and Patton turning up in his house to beg them to reconsider, but that was no excuse. None.

Patton was sat on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them as he stared down into the fresh grave before him. The tears running down his cheeks weren’t visible in the rain, but his face was red and his eyes bloodshot. His hair had clearly had an attempt at gelling back, but the rain had washed it all away, making it fall limply into his eyes.

Where was Janus, he wondered. He would’ve sworn he’d spent hours here with Patton after the funeral, just sitting and staring. He hadn’t left him here, had he? Was all the shows of them being such good friends just that— a show?

“I’m so sorry,” a voice gasped behind him, and Janus gasped as his younger self ran straight through his chest and appeared in front of him. The younger version of Patton didn’t acknowledge him at all, but Janus’ Patton turned to look at him approach, and he was already crying, too, face stricken where he’d been staring at his younger self.

Smaller Janus rushed forwards breathlessly, and collapsed to the ground beside his Patton. Mud spattered beneath him, and Janus imagined he’d caught quite the scolding when he got home that evening, but he wasn’t even surprised that he didn’t care. He didn’t even remember.

“Oh, Patton,” he’d gasped, seating himself right next to the silent boy and pressing himself against him, shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. “They wouldn’t let me come back out, with the rain, and they didn’t want me to leave the par— the— the, ah, wake.”

Little Patton didn’t reply. He learned to the side, head tilting so it could rest on Janus’ shoulder, and Little Janus shifted slightly to wrap his arm right the way around him.

Janus’ version of Patton let out a little noise, and he collapsed to the ground opposite their younger counterparts. Janus watched as he crossed his legs and leaned forwards, hands pressing to his mouth. The Little Patton looked like he was staring right at him, now, and even though Janus knew they couldn’t see him, he still felt like they were looking at each other.

“We were so little,” Patton whispered, Janus’ Patton, and his voice was thick and shaky, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck, Jan, we were so small.”

Janus swallowed thickly as Patton reached forwards, toward the smaller him, who was crying harder now that his Janus was hugging him. His hand halted just before it reached his face, like he wanted to wipe the tears away but realised there was nothing at all he could do. His hand came back to press over his mouth, and he tried to take another deep breath.

“It was so unfair,” he choked, and then he was sobbing again.

Janus stared at him as he bent over, hands covering his face. This time, Janus walked forward, slowly approaching Patton from behind as he cried. He eyed the mud beneath him, and the way it was already clinging to Patton’s whole body, basically, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek as it pressed cold and wet into his pants. Patton didn’t speak. Janus wasn’t even sure if he knew he was there, so when he dropped his hands into his lap, Janus immediately grabbed one tightly, holding it between each of his own.

Patton choked on a gasp, his gaze immediately snapped to their joined hands, and then up to Janus’ face. His hand was warm, impossibly warm, and the pads of his fingers were hard with callouses, and Janus squeezed harder. He could feel Patton’s eyes boring into him, but he knew the second he met that gaze he would crumble in a horribly indecent display of feelings.

“How long d’you think he’s got left?” Patton whispered, finally turning back to his younger self. “Before— Before your parents kick him out?”

“Well. They’re evil, aren’t they? I’d give him… a few days, maybe? So it can appear more decent. Appease the other staff, et cetera.”

Patton hummed hollowly, and he leaned to the side. His head rested against Janus’ shoulder, warm and heavy and so, so familiar. He didn’t know how he’d ever given this up — this warmth, this comfort. He didn’t know how he could have possibly been living without it. How he could possibly go back to how he’d been living since then.

Like he’d read his mind, Patton spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve really missed you, you know. Missed— Them. Us, when we were them. If that makes sense.”

Janus nodded. He squeezed Patton’s hand tighter, but didn’t speak.

Then, there was a flash of light.

“Oh,”Patton choked. “I— We were touching the whole time.”

“Hm. Maybe it isn’t about the contact, then. Who knows how this works?”

Patton swallowed. Now that they weren’t in the rain, it was much clearer how badly he’d been crying. His race was splotchy and red, eyes puffy and swollen and rubbed raw. He glanced at Janus, and caught him staring, and then cleared his throat and scrubbed at them again.

“Gosh, sorry,” he laughed wetly. “These’re— They’re really gunning for us, huh?”

“Us?” Janus asked.

“You missed her, too. I know you did. It’s okay.”

A large lump grew in Janus’ throat, and he choked on whatever response he was going to give. Thankfully, Patton stood up before his silence grew too long. “Is this… Your dad’s office?”

Janus blinked, and scrambled to his feet, looking around. “It— It is. Well, it’s the corridor outside.”

“Oh. Right. This… Is another really not-fun one,” Patton croaked, and Janus turned to see two younger versions of them walking down the corridor toward them. A couple of years had passed now. Janus would assume they were around fifteen, maybe.

“Patton, I’m serious, this is a pointless—”

“Pointless?” Little Patton spat, and both Januses flinched slightly at the venom held there. “How can you say that?”

Little Janus rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Oh, yes, I obviously mean it’s a pointless wish.”

“Don’t do that right now, Jay, please. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Fine! You get full sincerity, if that’s what you want. He will not take kindly to being told what to do. He is going to consider this an insult. And you do not want him to think you’re insulting him, Patton, you just don’t.”

They’d reached the doors, their voices lowered to furious whispers.

“I have to try,” Patton hissed. “I have to at least ask. I can’t just let him do this without anyone trying to stop him!”

“It isn’t about that! You can’t stop him. You’re just going to make him angry. Sometimes, you just have to accept the way things are—”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Patton snapped, and he jabbed a finger into Janus’ chest. “You, your parents, everyone like you, you’re all the same. You think that just because you’re rich you get to do whatever you want. Well you don’t. Your actions affect other people. You affect other people, and it isn’t fair that you all get to just ignore the consequences that everyone else has to pay. It isn’t fair. He could build that factory anywhere, and he chooses to demolish a church. It isn’t right.”

“It’s just a church, Patton!” Little Janus implored, and Current Janus flinched away from his own cruelty.

The younger version of Patton froze. “Just a church? Are you serious?”

Little Janus faltered, blinking. “I— Look, I understand this is… important to you. But don’t try and blame me for his actions—”

“Have you tried to stop him?”

“No! Because—”

“Because you’re just as bad. You all are. You don’t— You don’t even—” His voice caught, and he turned away sharply. “Well, I think he had enough factories. It isn’t right, and I’m not just going to sit back and let it happen.” He raised his fist to knock on the doors, and Janus caught him by his wrist and jerked him back.

“Please, Patton. This isn’t going to end well for you. At least make an appointment.”

“I tried to make an appointment. He refused to see me. So, I took the choice away!” He pulled away violently, and slammed his fist against the door. Janus didn’t hear a response, but then Patton was opening the door and walking through, letting it slam shut behind him.

Janus watched his young self rush to the door and press his ear against it, his face twisted into an expression of such raw panic he was shocked he couldn’t hear his little heart hammering. He glanced at his Patton, who was watching Little Janus with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go in there?” Janus asked, gesturing to the door.

“No. I remember that conversation, I don’t need to hear it again.”

Janus nodded. “Do you want… me… to…?”

Patton shook his head. He shot Janus a sad little smile. “He said— I mean, he said some pretty—” He laughed bitterly. “Some pretty awful things. You don’t gotta listen to it.”

Janus winced, and Patton turned back to the Little Janus, who was still pressing himself to the door, his breathing fast and choking.

“I didn’t realise you were this worried,” he whispered.

“Seriously? The begging you not to go in didn’t suggest something?”

Patton laughed. “I… I dunno. I didn’t really realise you were begging. You— You were so worried.”

Janus rolled his eyes. Glaring at his younger self for the blatantly undignified display meant he didn’t have to look at Patton, but it also meant he caught in perfect detail the moment the slap rang through the air and his younger self flinched so hard you could almost believe he’d felt it.

“Oh, gods, look at you. Oh, Jan, I didn’t know—” He froze, and then turned to Janus, eyes wide. “Do they hit you, Janus?”

He clenched his jaw, watching himself rush away from the door and stand at attention in front of the wall. His eyes were huge, locked on the ground in front of his feet, and he tucked his shaking hands behind his back. He jumped as the doors opened with a bang. His father’s footsteps were loud, and Janus mirrored his younger self’s posture on instinct, eyes lowering as he passed.

When he looked up again, Patton was staring at him. “Janus,” he said softly.

“It’s Dee,” he hissed, and then his younger self was ducking into the office and he followed, just so that he didn’t have to keep looking at that stupid, pitying look on Patton’s face.

He found the two younger versions in a stance far more familiar to the current versions of them.

Patton was sitting on the ground, crying quietly with his hands pressed against cheek. He was staring at Janus with wide eyes, while Janus stood above him, arms crossed over his chest and lips twisted into a scowl.

“I told you,” he snapped, and Current Janus scoffed.

“Jay, I— I had to try.”

Janus shook his head, sighing furiously. He shot a glance over his shoulder at the open doorway before turning back to Patton. “You need to leave.”

Little Patton sniffled, shoving himself to his feet and scowling at Little Janus. “You’re just like him,” he spat, and then he stormed past him and out of the office. Janus watched his younger self spin, mouth open to yell something after him, but the words caught in his throat.

He didn’t even know what he’d wanted to say. Was he just going to tell him to fuck off? Ask him to come back? Beg? No. Probably the first one. As worried as he had been, a sentence like that would have washed it away in so much fury he would have probably hit Patton if he returned.

Instead of speaking, Little Janus just let out a frustrated noise, running a hand through his hair and turning to look at the desk. He froze for a moment, something… else crossing his face, something Janus himself couldn’t even recognise, but then it was gone, and he stormed after Patton out of the office. The door slammed behind him, and the two elder versions stood in silence for a moment.

“That was a cruel thing to say,” Patton murmured, and Janus looked away, too ashamed to look at Patton’s hurt expression.

“I know,”

“I’m sorry, Jaybear. I really am.”

Oh, fuck, that nickname. It hit him like a train, slamming into his gut and knocking all of the air from his lungs.

He was so supremely fucked.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t— Gods, I-I didn’t even remember that I had said that. I’m so sorry.”

Janus faltered, and turned to look at Patton, eyebrows raised. “Are you— Are you serious? You— Your mother’s grave was being demolished, Patton, I think you were due for a little bit of pettiness.”

Patton shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I didn’t even realise, Patton. I had no idea why you were so torn up about it.”

“You… Well, I mean… You were worried about me. It’s okay.”

Janus shook his head with another eye roll. “You—” He sighed. “Whatever. If that’s how you want to see it, fine.”

“It is!” Patton said. He let out a big sigh, and then held his hand up for another high five. “Ready to go?”

“I thought we decided it wasn’t touch.”

“I don’t know how it works, Jan. Just— We might as well try, right?”

Shrugging, Janus reached up and high fived Patton again, and there was another flash—

And then they were back in their present lab. They were both lying on the ground, Patton half on-top of Janus, each of them drench in the slightly floral scent of the potion, sopping wet and breathless from the fight they’d had just before it started.

Patton gasped, eyes opening and meeting Janus’ immediately. He blinked, and then slowly pushed himself away.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and Janus shrugged, moving to sit up. Patton sat himself against the back of the workbench behind him, leaning on it and watching as Janus mirrored his position opposite him.

“Why?” Janus answered.

Patton shrugged. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with each other in his lap. “Shouldn’t’ve attacked you. It was— Childish.”

Janus sighed heavily. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been messing with your memories.”

For a moment, Patton’s face twisted angrily again, but then his eyes closed and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Was… The memory you… took. Was it… Was it one of her?” he asked weakly, after several seconds of silence drew out between them.

Janus reared back like he’d been punched, so aghast that he didn’t even think to hide his facial expression. “No! I— I would never, Patton.”

“What was it?”

Janus hesitated, and then sighed. “I didn’t even know it was one of yours. Or what was actually in it. I just— I could see that it was just of me. And I panicked. I’m sorry, okay? I am. I’ll… I’ll try and fix it. It isn’t fully destroyed, it’s just… creased. I’m sure I can fix it.”

“What were you doing that scared you so bad?”

He sighed through his nose. “Well, you’ll know soon enough, won’t you?” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the photo.

“I mean— Look, I— I get why you’ve been so… um… tense. With me. Since— Since I said that to you,” Patton said slowly. “But I— Janus, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. You’re nothing like your father. And I— I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry that ruined our friendship. I never should’ve—”

“That didn’t ruin anything,” Janus interrupted tiredly. He’d set the balled up photo down on his leg, on a dry patch by his knee. “It— We… We were civil once more. After that. Only the once, before we were… worse.”

“We did?” Patton asked, tilting his wet head. “I don’t… When?”

Janus sighed. He began attempting to smoothen out the photo, but it was… well, it was pointless. The photo was smudged. The ink, or— Or the potion, whatever, it wasn’t developed enough when it was crumpled. It was still wet, and the ribbing against itself, against Janus’ hand and the inside of his pocket, had made it… completely unrecognisable.

“That’s… That’s what this was,” he said, looking down at the photo instead of at Patton. “The… last time. I didn’t realise until I found out it was yours.”

“Would you still have taken it if you knew?” Patton asked.

He didn’t even hesitate, “Yes. I would have— Even more, I think. Even faster. I am sorry, though.”

“Is it a nice memory?” His voice was small and shaky.

Janus laughed, and it came out wet and breathless, and he realised that his eyes were burning and his nose was itching. He wasn’t going to be able to fix it. It was unsalvageable. He really had destroyed it.

“It must have been quite nice for you. If you picked it.”

“I’d have thought I’d pick three of mama. It was nice—” His voice cracked, and Janus’ eyes snapped up to look as Patton lowered his gaze back to his hands. “It was nice enough to pick over her. The other two are of her.”

“Well. I don’t think it was that nice,” he choked. “You— You should have. Picked another of her.”

Patton shrugged. “I really loved you. When we were… us.”

“Us?”

“Well, yeah. You know what I mean. Us. Patty and Janny, y’know? I loved you so, so much. You meant everything to me. Until one day you just… didn’t feel it back anymore. Which is fine! You’re not obliged to keep being my friend just because we were friends when we were kids, but—”

“Patton?” Janus interrupted sharply, and his voice cracked. “Please stop talking until you can remember this again.”

“Oh,” Patton said quietly. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

Obediently, he stayed quiet while Janus kept trying to smooth the photo out more cleanly. He was just smudging it more. Around thirty seconds passed, before he gave up.

“Do you know how to fix it?” Patton asked. “Like— Is that gonna work?”

“How should I know? I took the same seminar about it as you.”

“Oh. Right. If it… If it doesn’t work, can you… Will you tell me?”

“It’ll work.”

“You just said you don’t know—”

Janus shot him a glare, and he closed his mouth again. Then, Janus stood up, moving to press the photo on the bench behind him.

“Are you… remembering?”

“Uh… no?”

“Fuck. Okay. Hold on, maybe— Do you have… tape?”

Patton hesitated, and then shook his head, and Janus hissed softly. He turned to where he’d pulled the photo down, and gently took the corner still trapped in the peg. When he turned back, Patton was sitting down on one of the lab stools and bent over, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

“Are you… okay?” Janus asked slowly, not really looking at him from where he was carefully fitting the corner back into place. The corner, at least, was still in perfect definition. Janus could just about see the leaves and the canopy in the moonlight. There was the dim glow of a firefly just barely visible. Maybe, if Janus could stick it down, it would… spread?

“I’m fine,” Patton replied, but his voice was hollow. “I’m just… exhausted. Takes it out of ya, reliving a load of your childhood, huh? And— And I’m really missing my mama right about now.”

The weird part was, Janus was really missing Patton’s mother, too. He knew she’d have been able to fix the stupid memory. She’d have given him such a scolding for ruining it in the first place, but then she would have fixed it. Good as new, like nothing had even happened.

Oh. Oh.

Okay. Maybe this would work?

Janus turned to the cauldron. It still had around half of its content, and he hurried to the storeroom.

“Uh— Janus?”

The door to the closet was locked, but Janus still had his lock pick in his other pocket. He slid it out and knelt on the ground.

“Janus!” Patton scolded, hurrying up to stand behind him. Janus could practically hear him fussing around and wringing his hands.

“It’s fine. I’m going to print the photo again, just… with my memory of it.”

“You… are?”

“I imagine it would work? If I let you use it, perhaps. If we use it together? I don’t know.”

Patton hummed softly, but he didn’t argue again, and then the lock clicked open and the door swung towards them. Janus grabbed one of the blank photos, and hurried back towards the cauldron.

“Do you remember how to—”

“Of course I do,” Janus snapped. Then, he froze, sighing through his nose. “Sorry. Just— Let me focus. Please.”

“Right, sure. Sorry.”

Janus shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. He dipped the paper in the cauldron, and then sucked in a deep breath and pressed his hand against it. Then, he focussed. He didn’t really have to try very hard. He hadn’t managed to pull his thoughts away from it all evening.

Calloused hands, the moonlight, fireflies. A mouth, lips—

And then it was over. He blinked, opening his eyes, and moved to hang the photo with Patton’s other two, in place of the one he’d ripped down and destroyed.

This photo was, obviously, from his perspective. Patton’s smile was shy, somehow even more than Janus’ had been. Janus wasn’t looking at him — his face was more in the periphery, the focus of the image being where their hands were meeting.

“Huh. That’s… sorta weird. I can kinda see why you’d panic,” Patton said.

Janus scoffed. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Why did you even come in here?”

“Why did you?”

Patton scoffed back. “Uh, ‘cause I saw the door was open and got nervous in case someone was coming in to mess around with the memories. Duh.”

“What? I closed the door.”

“Not on the latch, Mr Smarty Pants. It was ajar.”

Janus rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t properly push down the smile picking at the corner of his lips. Patton laughed, and Janus shot him a glare.

“Okay. It— it needs to develop. Um… It’ll take an hour. Do you… remember it any better now that you’re… seeing it?”

Eyes locked onto the photo, Patton slowly shook his head and shrugged. “Nope. Just a picture of me. Might as well be a drawing.”

Janus winced. “Okay. Let it… It’s fine. It’ll be fine. You’ll remember, Patton. You will.”

Patton’s eyes were still glued to the photo, but he nodded, lips twitching into a little smile. “I trust you.”

The swoop in Janus’ chest could have been anything. Guilt, probably. He deserved that, at least. He moved around to sit on another of the stools, resting his head on his hand.

“How shall we kill the time, then?” he asked, and Patton turned to him with a soft smile.

“I guess we could… talk,”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That’s all you ever want to do. But fine.”

The conversation never found any depth. Every time they began to encroach upon anything that could make Janus… feel something, he’d cut them off and sharply switch to another topic. Patton never seemed to mind. He would smile diplomatically, and nod as Janus began some tangent or other. He’d always been… accommodating like that, Janus remembered, had never pushed Janus too far to talk about stuff he didn’t want to. Maybe, it would have helped if he had pushed a little harder. Maybe an awful lot would have been much simpler if Janus just figured out how to be a little bit more open.

He really had missed Patton, too. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to admit it — he didn’t even think he knew until today — but he did. It was like a physical ache in his chest, now, the distance between them something cold and dark that he knew could be gone if he just… leaned. Just a little bit. How hard could it be? A lean? They’d held hands earlier, and done so much leaning. And when they were little? So much touching! They were practically never not touching, it seemed like. How had Janus forgotten all of that? The touching and the feelings, all the way up until Patton was evicted.

And, wasn’t that so wrong anyway? That he evicted at all? His mother had just died, and he’d been given a week.

As far as Janus knew, it had turned out okay in the end. Patton had spent a few years in the children’s home, before he’d been taken in by two brothers — Virgil and… Logan, Janus believed, although he only paid attention enough to make sure they weren’t mistreating him. And they weren’t. Janus thought Patton was far happier there than he had been in Janus’ family home. He seemed happier, around school, and that was all Janus cared to notice before he’d shut it out again.

The hour passed quickly. He didn’t realise how quickly time passed with Patton. They must have lost days when they were kids. It was a wonder they got anything done — they didn’t even have the years of awkwardness and animosity to work around.

“Okay,” Janus said, once they’d lapsed into another silence. “It’s probably been long enough. Come on, let’s… try it.”

Patton nodded, smiling warmly. They approached the workbench with Patton’s memories, and Janus left him there while he rushed to his locker and grabbed the weird little device they’d all been given.

They were all already loaded with the potion. Thank fuck, Janus couldn’t imagine how much trouble they’d be in if they’d made it so the devices didn’t work. Janus hadn’t really listened to how it worked. He just knew he had to slide the memory into the slot and slurp up the potion and he’d be… back there."

He followed the steps with also paranoid caution. The photo wasn’t fully dry, but Janus wasn’t willing to wait any longer. He had to fix it.

“Okay,” he whispered, holding up the pipette. “Stick out your tongue. Give— Give me your hand, actually, we— just so we don’t get separated somehow. In there.”

Patton smiled bemusedly, but obeyed, letting Janus intertwine his shaking fingers in Patton’s, and then he stuck out his tongue. Janus let a single drop hit his tongue, and another hit his own, and they sat back against the workbench. Then, there was a flash of light.

They were in a forest. Janus did recognise this, of course he did. It was dark, except for the fireflies dancing around their heads, and streaks of moonlight peaking through the dark canopy. It was the forest just outside of Janus’ grounds, practically his back yard, but far enough out that none of his staff would see and tell his parents.

They’d been at some festival in town. Not together, of course, Patton had been with his two brand new brothers, Janus with some stupid idiots with whom his parents wanted him to be seen socialising. They’d seen each other, and Patton had waved at him hesitantly, and the next thing Janus knew they were here, sat on the ground with their legs crossed but their knees brushing.

The memory started halfway through the conversation. Patton was giggling, the sound like bells as a firefly landed in his hair. They were holding hands, a mess of fingers caught between them. And Janus—

In the photo of Patton’s memory, he’d looked… soft. It was the only word for it. Janus had been half-convinced it was a distortion of the memory, Patton’s subconscious making everything sweeter than it was, but—

But he was looking at him now. Himself. Blushing and giggling and so, so very vulnerable. He felt sick.

He wasn’t actually close enough to hear what they were saying. They were whispering, their heads tilted together so close their foreheads were almost touching.

“Are we… drunk?” Patton asked, a laugh in his voice.

“We… I think we were, actually. Slightly. Perhaps just tipsy.”

Patton laughed, and then Slightly Littler Janus laughed, and he threw his head back with it, and Slightly Littler Patton was looking at him like he’d hung the moon in the sky.

“Janus,” his Patton said, breathless and choked. His hand was shaking just as hard as Janus’, now, but he was squeezing so hard it was almost painful.

Janus didn’t reply. There was something solid and hot in his throat.

“Do you remember?” he wheezed.

“No. Is— This is— real?” Patton asked.

Janus nodded. He watched his own face duck down, and he watched the other Patton disentangle one of his hands. It reached across the short space and slowly, agonisingly slow, it brushed against Janus’ cheek. He swallowed thickly as he watched, and he watched himself lean into the touch, and he watched Patton get braver, hold him properly, giggling nervously all the while.

“Janus,” Patton choked, and he was gripping Janus’ forearm with his other hand. Janus saw the other Patton whisper something, and then he pulled him in, held his face in both hands and then their lips were pressing against each other.

Janus closed his eyes as his Patton gasped wetly.

“This is real?” he asked, fingers digging into Janus’ arm sharply. “This happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Janus said again. There was another hollow sensation in his gut.

“You— I don’t remember,” Patton whispered.

Janus didn’t catch the flash of light this time. He felt Patton’s grip tighten, and then he let go, and his footsteps clicked against tile.

When Janus opened his eyes, he found Patton staring at him, fingers brushing his own lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “I— Patton, I didn’t…”

“Why did— I don’t understand, I— Is that why you’ve always hated me?”

“I haven’t always…”

“Since then you have! Did I know before? Did I know that was why before you took the memory of it?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Patton cried. “You— Oh, gods, I can’t even imagine what that meant to me, Janus! And you destroyed it!”

Janus kept his eyes lowered. He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t pay to make it go away, he couldn’t get someone else to do it. All he good do was keep saying that, those stupid fucking words, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

And he was. Fuck, Janus didn’t think he’d ever felt so ashamed in his life. He didn’t think he ever would, and it was such an awful feeling. He was really quite used to thinking he was always in the right, but this? This was just terrible. He just wanted to make him stop crying, to make it better.

“Janus? Can you— Can you please at least look at me?”

He closed his eyes tightly, sighing sharply through his nose. But he forced his eyes open, looking at Patton with his face lowered.

And, immediately, Patton’s face softened. He let out a wet laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Aw, c’mon, don’t— don’t look so sad. You’re like a kitten left out in the rain.’

Janus reared back. “Excuse me?” he asked.

Patton laughed again. “Shut up. I’m allowed to make fun of you right now, you destroyed what was probably one of my favourite memories ever.”

“You can’t have liked it that much—”

“I picked it, didn’t I?” Patton asked, and his voice was a touch sharper. “It clearly meant a decent amount to me. I mean, fuck, Janus, I’ve wanted that since—”

“What?” Janus asked, three octaves higher than usual and face burning viciously. “You— You did not.”

“Could you stop telling me what I feel please?”

“I— I’m sorry. You’re right. That’s unfair of me.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, and his voice was so soft and sincere that Janus’ eyes snapped back up to him. He was smiling sadly. “I know you didn’t mean to. I know you wouldn’t have— Not on purpose. I know.”

“I am sorry, Patton.”

Patton let out another soft laugh. He reached out, holding out a hand to Janus, fingers open and inviting. Janus looked at it, and then at Patton. Tears were rolling down his freckled cheeks.

“Can we try again?” he asked.

Janus stared at him. He blinked. “Try— What, the— Th-That?” he asked, gesturing to the memory device.

Patton shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “Not if you don’t want to!” he assured quickly, almost panicked. “Not— Not that part, if you don’t want. We can just— We can just go back to before. To when we were kids.”

Janus stared at him, and he didn’t back away as Patton slowly reached even further, taking one of Janus’ hands between his own.

“If— Do you… Do you want us to try again? At being friends?”

“My parents would make your life hell if we tried the… the other… thing.”

Patton blinked. His brows furrowed a little bit, and his lips curled into a confused smile that Janus couldn’t do anything to pull his gaze away from. “Jaybear, when have I ever cared about what your parents were gonna do to me? Is that why you got rid of the photo? To— To protect me?”

“No,” he answered immediately, that stupid, childish nickname hitting him again and taking away any ability he may have had to lie. “I’m afraid that was… purely selfish. I looked… stupid. Vulnerable. And I was scared someone would see it and… If my mother saw it, saw me like that, with— she’d send me far, far away. And I didn’t… want that. It scared me. It was purely selfish.”

“I get that. We don’t have to. Not if you don’t—”

Janus swallowed thickly. “I think it’s only fair that you get to remember one too.”

“Oh, Patton!” Roman cried. “I was thinking about the conversation we were having last night, and I thought I’d add—”

Patton smiled as Roman kept talking, going on and on about some storyboard he was really very excited about, and that he and Patton had been awake talking about for hours the night before in immense detail. And it sounded like a great story! It was a huge fantasy tale, with romance and betrayal and huge, days-long battles. They’d even acted a few of the scenes out! It was lovely!

Or— It sounded lovely. It really did. Patton couldn’t help but beam at just the thought of it.

The issue, then, was the fact that Patton… really had no clue whatsoever what Roman was talking about. He could swear he’d been in his room all night the night before, watching reruns of The Good Place and having a very healthy and cathartic cry. Alone. In his bedroom. With his face buried in his pillow so nobody could hear.

Had he gone to see Roman after? Had Roman come in to see him? Oh, gosh, Patton certainly hoped the poor kiddo didn’t see him in that state. He knew he wasn’t supposed to hide his bad feelings, but that didn’t count! He wasn’t hiding anything, because he wasn’t feeling bad! He just wasn’t feeling great at the time either, but if Roman found him all teary and cry-y he really needed to assure him everything was—

“Are you even listening?” Roman asked suddenly, his voice dull and cold.

Patton startled, blinking at his kiddo with wide eyes. “Wh— huh? Oh, I— Yeah! Yeah, of course I am, I’m just—”

Roman scoffed bitterly, rolling his eyes and turning away, his shoulders drooping. “Well… Of course. I assumed you were interested in this premise, after last night’s… enthusiasm. Clearly, I was mistaken. I apologise.”

“No!” Patton cried. “No, I care, I promise! I just—”

“It’s fine, Patton,” Roman spat. “Just let me know next time I’m boring you, won’t you? Save us both a bit of time.”

“Oh, Roman, please—”

But it was too late. Roman sank out of the living room just quick enough for Patton to catch the dejected expression on his face, and Patton sighed heavily.

Well. That would take a while to blow over.

-----------

It wasn’t the last time Patton had apparently lost… well, time.

Two weeks after the last conversation he’d had with Roman, he’d walked into the kitchen to find Logan at the dining table, mug of coffee in one hand and book held open in another.

“Ah, Patton. I trust you slept well?”

Actually, Patton hadn’t slept well. He’d been tossing and turning all night, memories floating past and being all bright and loud. Still, he knew that wasn’t what Logan wanted to hear, and there was nothing he could do to fix it now. So, he just smiled, skipping into the kitchen and grabbing the pot of coffee Logan had started.

“You know it, kiddo!” he answered cheerfully. “How’s about you, huh? Get the optimal eight-to-ten hours and stuff?”

Logan made a soft, displeased sound. He sighed through his nose, and when Patton turned around, he startled when he found Logan standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“Uh— Heya,” he said stiltedly.

“Hello. I appreciate your discretion, Patton, but you do not have to pretend that last night did not occur.”

Patton froze. He blinked at him, bewildered. Had he… seen Logan last night?

He didn’t think so. He hadn’t seen Logan in a while, actually. The side had started to avoid their mealtimes, and he hadn’t come out of his room for a movie night in weeks. Patton only ever caught sight of him when he was just waking up, and Patton was just heading up to bed.

But, either way, Logan was avoiding his gaze like something had definitely happened last night, and it was apparently something Patton should both remember and want to avoid talking about. Which did not sound… good.

“Wh…”

“I wanted to apologise,” Logan interrupted.

Patton jerked back, blinking. “You… did?”

“I did. I did not expect for anybody to… see. I am usually better at hiding my… episodes, so I apologise.”

Episodes? That… really didn’t sound good. “You don’t ever have to be sorry, Lo!” Patton assured him, more on instinct than anything. “You know I’d never mind. You can always come to me.”

“Yes, I know I can. But I did not wish to. Therefore, I am sorry.”

“O-Oh. Well, that… okay. I mean, it’s okay. I didn’t… mind.”

Unless he did mind. Patton wasn’t really sure what he felt about it, since he was really quite sure he had no clue what this was about.

“Thank you. And— Thank you, as well, for your… help. You… pointed out a great many things that I will work upon to improve.”

Patton stared at him. Well, now, that just sounded silly. Surely if he’d helped Logan he’d know about it. Right? Surely he couldn’t sleep talk his way into giving Logan good advice. That took him serious effort on a good day, let alone in his sleep.

But, before he could question Logan on it, he was already continuing, “I also apologise for neglecting the social side of our working relationship. I will endeavour to spend more time with yourself, as well as Roman and Virgil, in order to maintain this aspect of our lives. It had not occurred to me that my presence would be missed.”

This time, he really did flinch. “What?” he asked, horrified. “You— Of course we miss you, Lo! You’re part of our family—”

“You don’t—” Logan interrupted sharply, before cutting himself off to take a deep breath. “You don’t have to repeat it. I just wanted to explain to you the things I did not have the chance to state last night. Repeating any aspect of the conversation is inefficient.”

“Right. Um… okay. Sure. Got it.”

Logan nodded curtly. “Good. Thank you. I will see you later at dinner.”

“Oh! Okay, great! Um— See ya! Love ya!”

Logan had already sunk out, and Patton stared blankly at the space he’d disappeared from.

Maybe Patton needed to be getting more sleep.

-----------

The third time it happened, Patton wasn’t even fully aware.

He’d been searching all morning for his cat hoodie, before he’d finally given up and decided to just put his onesie on and have a pyjama day. If Logan had a problem with it, Patton could just laugh it off and rush back to his room before anyone really noticed.

He’d gone through the motions of breakfast and lunch, spending the time in between trying to track down his hoodie elsewhere in the house before he was going to return to tearing his bedroom apart.

Of course, he hadn’t managed to find it, so hurried back to his bedroom to keep searching.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

“Um— One sec!” he cried, kicking the pile of clothes he’d pulled from his wardrobe and onto the floor to under the bed. Carefully, he picked his way across to the door and pulled it open, lips curling into a bright grin and faltering when he realised that… nobody was there.

His eyes dropped to the ground, where, folded neatly and with a little note on top, he found his cat hoodie. Frowning, Patton bent down and grabbed the hoodie and the note, and twirled back into his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed. He unfolded the note gently, and was even more baffled to find Virgil’s jagged, Halloween-y scrawl:

soz 4 making a mess of it. think i got all the eyeshadow out but lmk if not. thx 4 the help

Patton blinked, puzzling over a few of those little three-letter problems. He thought he got the gist though, except for the fact that he didn’t even a little bit recall Virgil making a mess of his hoodie.

He set the note gently to the side and picked up the hoodie, shaking it out so he could examine it. And, like nothing had even happened, it was in fact completely clean.

-----------

There were many other instances of Patton having conversations about conversations he didn’t even remember a little bit.

And, sometimes, Patton found himself really wishing he could do his magical ‘functioning perfectly while entirely unaware of it’ trick. Honestly, sometimes, it felt like whatever weird night-time version of him that would talk to his family was even better than he was during the day. They certainly showed far more gratefulness to him when night-him helped than when day-him tried, so he must have been doing something right that Patton himself couldn’t work out.

So, yeah. Sometimes, he just wished that version could come out and do his job. So what? He didn’t actually neglect his duties. He never left the others without him. Sometimes, he just… contributed less. They never really seemed to notice, he didn’t think, so he couldn’t have been doing that badly. Some days he just really felt like he couldn’t add anything to the conversation.

Today, he wasn’t even sure he could do the pretending.

He hadn’t managed to get out of bed yet. Somewhere in his room, his clock was blinking that it was somewhere in the early afternoon. He just wasn’t feeling it today. His room was a dull grey, the memories floating past aching and bitter. He kept trying to ignore them — Thomas at eight, being yelled at by his mom, or at twelve, being bullied for something he didn’t understand the name of, or at twenty-four, being broken up with again, or—

There was a lot. Patton just… couldn’t really bring himself to do anything but wallow in them, to try and fill the hollow, disconnected feeling in his chest with something, even if that something was the sharp pain in his throat.

He needed to get up. He could feel the others calling him, trying to convince him to come out and discuss whatever issue Thomas had at the time. Because Patton was always so helpful to Thomas, and didn’t just add more problems.

He also just…

Well, he loved his family. He did. He loved them so, so much, more than anything in the world except for Thomas, but—

He just… He didn’t think he could deal with them right now. They were all so angry with him. He’d never had them be really angry. Logan, maybe, for brief periods of time, but Patton could normally just say he was sorry and they’d move on. But this was… different. Logan, Roman, and Virgil were all furious with him, and they wouldn’t even talk to him long enough to tell him how to fix it, and he…

He just didn’t want them to yell at him. Not today. He wasn’t sure he could pretend through that.

So, he hadn’t gotten out of bed. He could hear them getting angry, could feel their summonings stab at him hard and deeper, and he still couldn’t even pull the covers away.

Then, the bed beside him sank down under another weight.

He hadn’t even heard the door open, he blankly noted, as a hand began to card through his hair.

“They’re not asking for you,” Janus said softly.

“I know,” Patton whispered, and his voice came out weak and hoarse.

“You do?”

“Mhm,” Patton mumbled. He kept his back to Janus, not entirely sure that if he looked into those warm eyes he wouldn’t burst into tears. “I just… don’t wanna talk to them right now.”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. He was still playing with Patton’s hair, scratching soothingly at his scalp, and Patton’s eyes burned with tears when he realised nobody in the world had touched him in months.

“Why not?” Janus whispered.

“They hate me,” Patton replied, and— Oh, yeah, okay, there was the crying. He sniffled, hiding his face in his quilt to try and keep Janus from noticing. “They hate me so much, and I just— I can’t do it today, I can’t, please, Jan, can you— Can you please do it for me?”

The fingers stilled. He heard Janus suck in a sharp breath, and a sob tore its way from his chest as he finally flipped over to look Janus in the eye.

“Please?” he asked, voice cracking. “I— You said you do it a lot. You can take my hoodie. You wouldn’t even have to talk long enough for them to work you out, they mostly just let me stand there nowadays. I just— Please, Janus, please can you do it for me?”

Janus stared at him, lips slightly parted. “Are you… sure?”

“Yeah,” he choked. He sniffled, and Janus’ gloved hand slid down to wipe away a tear with the back of his knuckle. “I promise I’m sure. Just— You’ll do the right thing. I know you will. You’ll steer him straight, and they— I mean, you’ll have to deal with them…”

“With them hating me? Oh, my, how could I ever survive such a thing? I’ve never been viewed negatively by them ever, I don’t know what I would do if they didn’t like me.”

A wet laugh slipped past Patton’s lips, and he sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve it. You never did.”

Janus scoffed. “But you do, I assume?”

Patton couldn’t quite bring himself to argue the point, so he just lay back down, turning over so his back was to Janus again. “Please, just… get them to leave me alone. Just for today.”

“Okay,” Janus sighed. “I’ll be back when it’s over, okay? You just… rest.”

Patton didn’t answer, and Janus let out another sigh, and the bed shifted again as he stood up and moved away. Neither of them spoke again, and Patton didn’t hear him leave over the distant sounds of Patton at the age of ten, learning that his grandfather had passed away and having no idea how to process it. He closed his eyes again, and pulled the duvet over his head to wait until Janus came back.

Patton didn’t know how much time passed before he was being tapped gently on the head through the cover. He sniffled, pulling the covers away just far back down to poke his eyes out and peep at—

“Oh. That’s a bit jarring,” he rasped, and his own face blinked in confusion, before grimacing.

“Oh, sorry,” Janus’ voice drawled. Then, Patton’s face melted away, green scars and a yellow eye taking their place, and wasn’t it weird that they brought such comfort to Patton after he’d spent so many years so very scared of Janus?

“‘S okay,” Patton whispered. “Is our kiddo okay?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “He’s fine. It was nothing, just another minor issue blown way out of proportion by your idiotic coworkers.”

“Don’t be mean,” Patton mumbled, without any real heart behind it. “They’re trying their best.”

The other man scoffed. He took off his hat and shuffled around so he could lie on the bed beside Patton.

“You shouldn’t be in here too long. It’ll… get ya.”

“I think I can handle it,” Janus replied softly. He pressed his shoulder against Patton’s, entwining their fingers and squeezing. “How are you feeling?”

What an odd question. Most people tended to just… assume. Whether or not they were right was its own issue. He hadn’t been asked how he was feeling in… years. He didn’t even really know how to answer.

Hm. He didn’t know how to answer. So he just… didn’t. He shrugged, and Patton let out a soft hum.

“They don’t hate you,” he said softly.

Patton let out a choked laugh. “You don’t have to patronise me, Jan. Although I do appreciate the effort.”

“I’m not patronising you. I’m telling you the truth. They love you.”

Slowly, Patton tilted his head to look Janus in his yellow eye. The other man was already looking at him, and his expression was so very warm and sincere that Patton really, really wanted to start crying again.

“How do you know?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

For several seconds, Janus didn’t reply. He looked away from Patton, and his gaze caught on a passing memory. “If I tell you, you can never bring it up again. I assure you, I have already stopped. I did a while ago.”

“Um… what?”

“Promise me, Patton. I don’t wish to, blegh, talk about it.”

“O-Oh. Okay. I mean, you don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine. Just… There was a period of time, after Virgil joined you three and… left me, where I… missed him. So, I would… sometimes… Disguise myself as you. Just to… spend time with him.”

Patton stared at him, eyes huge. It had never really occurred to him how Virgil joining Patton’s family would have affected the others. He didn’t know how — he knew he’d be devastated if, say, Logan just… left him one day. Gosh, he’d miss him so, so, so much. He’d probably try and work out a way to see him, too.

“I ended up getting… slightly addicted. To the sensation of my help being appreciated. If I just… dressed as you, I could receive the appreciation I rather deeply craved. I know they don’t hate you, Patton, because I used to trick them into showing me the… love… they felt for you.”

“When you say used to…”

“I stopped after the last video. When you pointed out that… my taking your place made you uncomfortable. It has been something of a… guilty pleasure in my life.”

Patton watched him closely. He chewed his lip, and squeezed Janus’ hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“‘Cause… You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry you did. I’m sorry you had to try so hard just to… be appreciated. I’m sorry you still do.”

Janus laughed softly. He shook his head. “Don’t be silly. I was perfectly happy letting you people believe I was some sort of evil villain.”

“No, you—”

“Yes, I was,” Janus ground out, shooting Patton a glare out of the side of his eye. Patton winced, and looked away. “Besides, that isn’t what we’re talking about. I’m telling you they don’t hate you, and I’m telling you how I know. That is how I know.”

Patton smiled, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly against Janus’ finger. “If you… If you want… You can keep… indulging in your… guilty pleasure,” he said slowly. “I… I think it’s always been good for them, too.”

“They would feel horribly violated if they knew.”

Another wince, and Patton’s stomach twisted. “Yeah. You’re probably right. I’m sorry.”

Janus shrugged. Another memory floated past — the first time Thomas watched The Lion King, and Patton realised he really did feel a lot better, and the room was far less grey. He tilted his head to lean it against Janus’ shoulder, and if Janus happened to lean back and rub his cheek against the top of Patton’s head, well.

The door to the Imagination is the Mindscape’s worst-kept secret. They don’t talk about it, rarely discuss its existence, but they’re all aware it’s there. They know Roman has a vast majority of the creative control, but it doesn’t mean the others are necessarily incapable of morphing their surroundings. They know that Remus has his own sector, albeit much smaller and difficult to traverse.

The woods that Janus speaks of reside in a sort of… no man’s land. Not strictly Roman’s foothold, but not something for Remus to play with either. It’s a quiet area, trapped in an everlasting fall. Where the breeze gently caresses the orange and yellow leaves, and the ground is soft with dew. Where the sky is always teetering on the edge of a sunset, painted in reds and pinks, splashed with white clouds. 

It’s become a safe haven, a sanctuary of sorts, for two supposedly diametrically opposed sides to meet. Free from external influence, safe from intrusive others who wish to pull them apart. While yes, they talk in the comfort of Patton’s room on occasion — the times where Janus makes himself right at home, lets his walls down for just a moment — it’s here, in the depths of the woods, that the real progress is made. 

And it’s here, that Patton takes a picture. It’s nothing special, in fact, Janus hadn’t even noticed him taking it. They’d been walking, strolling in a comfortable silence, and Patton had hung a few steps behind Janus, subtly lifted his camera, and snapped a photo. Nothing elaborate, but something supremely special. Janus, head tilted slightly, looking to the side and up at the leaves, hands in his pockets. His eyes slightly widened, and his lips ever so minutely parted, as he took in the wonders of a never-ending autumn, swirling around them.

There’s no gold fog, no shimmering haze, no rose-coloured tint to Patton’s glasses. Just a pleasant present, a new memory.

Janus turns as he walks, strutting backwards to raise an eyebrow towards Patton. He’s holding his camera by his side now, a few paces behind, but he’s looking at Janus with such sincerity, it almost makes him stumble. “Do try to keep up, Morality. We wouldn’t want you getting lost again,” he hums, a glimmer of distaste on his tongue. He knows, oh he knows, it’s unsightly to hold a grudge. He’s well aware that it’s unproductive, but he really can’t help himself. 

“Just lost in thought,” Patton responds, picking up speed until he’s by Janus’ side once more, and Janus spins on his heel to walk properly. Patton sidles up on his left, the scaled side, and Janus can feel the eyes burning holes into his skin. “Again,” Patton amends, slightly muttered this time. He fidgets with the camera in his hands, twirling it around carelessly, as though it isn’t one of his most treasured possessions. Then again, Janus supposes, most of Patton’s items are his most important ones. He’s never seen someone take so much care in their stuff, even the ones that are so invaluable. 

Perhaps, he realises, that’s the point. Monetarily wise, almost all of Patton’s things hold little to no value. They’re worthless. Or, maybe, the better term would be priceless. You can’t put a price on the past, you can’t write a price tag for memories. Perhaps that’s why he clings, the fear of letting go, of losing something irreplaceable.

Janus muses over this thought in silence, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It’s unlike Patton to be so quiet during their walks, though he can’t be blamed. After Janus’ little… demonstration, he can hardly expect Patton to be chipper and peppy, can he? Actually, if he were, that would probably be a little more infuriating — the idea of watching him brush it all off, letting it roll off his back like water from a duck. And yet, the image of a reserved, unhappy Patton still pinches him in all the wrong places. Like between his brows, nudging his lips into a melancholic frown.

They continue quietly as they come upon the space Janus had been leading them towards. A slight opening in the trees, where a few logs have fallen over, where the leaves part to reveal the setting sun. The sun that will never truly set, nor rise. The sun that Janus so loves to bask in, that makes Patton positively glow. As much as that isn’t the focus of this outing, Janus isn’t going to deny himself the leisure of lavishing in the sunlight, nor the pleasure of watching Patton turning warm-toned in the lighting.

It’s picture perfect.

Patton seems to grasp the memo, almost magnetically drawn to the log he so often finds himself perched upon. (A frog on a log, Janus thinks, before swiftly disregarding the pun.) Janus assumes his usual position, arms crossed behind his back, a few feet in front of Patton. Neither of them say anything, not for a long minute. Janus doesn’t even notice when Patton takes another photo of him, slightly off centered, hat askew on his head from the breeze. He’s caught on film, reaching a hand up to adjust it, a strip of black and yellow amongst their brown and orange surroundings. 

It takes a moment for Janus to speak. Not for lack of thought, and not because he’s afraid. He knows very well exactly what he wants to say. He knows precisely how he wants to say it too. Rather, he’s not sure how to stand. Where to look. How to hold himself. The words are easy, the tone is simple enough. The body language however, is a little more complicated. The facial expressions, ever so slightly difficult. 

He elects to remain in place, back to Patton, hands clasped behind him, face tilted to the sun. The length of his body casts a shadow on the ground behind him, stretching back to the log Patton resides on. It’s almost as if the two are sitting together. So close, yet so far. They live in different picture frames, each gazing at the other, hoping for a life they can never have. Praying for a past that’s already long gone. Longing for change, whilst wishing they didn’t have to.

“Do you know what nostalgia is, Patton?” Janus keeps his voice steady, fingers lacing behind his back. His feet, firmly planted in the leaf-covered dirt below him, remain stock still. Unable to look at Patton’s face, unwilling to see the confusion, Janus instead looks at the next best thing. The sun. His anger has faded, the bubbling, overflowing rage retreating to a simmer. An urge for understanding. He can’t forgive, he won’t forget, but he’s willing to let go. He’s willing to move forward, to continue ahead, one step at a time. After all, being stuck in the past won’t get them anywhere.

Patton shifts behind him, and Janus can hear him drag his feet through the leaves. He’d changed his polo and cardigan out for a light blue knit sweater right before they’d left. Janus has always been envious of Patton’s ability to stay warm. “Um- yes?” Patton bobs his head, and Janus waits. Not realising at first that Janus had expected a longer explanation, a clearer answer, Patton rushes to continue: “It’s like… a sentimental feeling. Looking back at the past and longing- or, wishing… Or, just… reminiscing. I- I like to remember.”

A brief pause, and a whistle of wind. Janus’ fingers fall from his back, coming around to fix his coat as he sighs. His breath is visible when he does, exhale vanishing into the air. “Lies,” Janus finally manages. Patton goes to say something more, to clarify, to deny, but Janus won’t let it happen. “Nostalgia is lies, those golden memories you look upon so fondly. Back when the world was simpler, and better. You look at the past through your sparkly, shiny fog, and of course it looks brighter.” 

Patton fumbles with his camera, the lens reflecting his face back at him. Finally, Janus turns a little over his shoulder, his right eye — the human one — gazing over at Patton. And Patton — Patton raises the camera, deliberately, and takes another photo. 

It stuns, ever so slightly, and Janus finds himself flushing. A dusty crimson creeps onto his face, a faint bronze flush under the scaled side. He clears his throat, and pointedly chooses not to acknowledge it, not right this second at least. “I understand why you long for the past so… fervently. It’s far easier to look back and deny the hardships you faced. When the waters beneath your boat are stormy, and the sky is thunderous, it’s easy to pretend the river behind you was calm.”

Patton glances down at his feet, shuffling in the leaves, pushing them around. He lowers the camera from his face, lips drawn into a thin line. “I just… wish everything could be easy, now.” The sigh between his teeth is long, drawn out, and he folds a little over his knees as it escapes. “I don’t mean to keep… painting you as a villain, I promise. Just, right now, everything is so difficult. So complicated. And before it…”

“It wasn’t,” Janus completes, moving to fully face Patton now. “I understand your… struggle, Patton. Believe me, I do. Perhaps more than anyone,” when Patton looks up at him, eyes wide with confusion, Janus shudders. They’re seeking, burying into Janus’ own, looking for answers. Janus finds he has to provide. “Nostalgia, lies, denial. It’s all… sort of my department, is it not? We overlap, as it seems. You long for the past, the simpler times. I’m there to… create that shiny fuzz. Those golden memories. It appears that I’m the one seeding that denial,” he huffs in a deep breath, “and for that, I am sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t apologise-”

Cutting Patton off by raising a palm, Janus shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m not apologising to you. It’s… hard to explain. My apology is for making things more difficult than they had to be. I thought I had calculated everything perfectly, and I was wrong. So, I’m sorry. Not for my beliefs, not for my actions, but for the outcome. For my misplaced denial.” 

A beat, and Patton hangs his head again, quietly resigning. Something in Janus’ chest stutters, and he’s moving, feet gliding over top of the leaves as he takes one, two, three steps closer. He lowers himself as best he can, bending in his long coat to sit by Patton. He doesn’t touch him, but they’re close, Patton hunching over his slightly spread knees whilst Janus crosses his legs at the ankles. 

“I don’t expect forgiveness from you, Patton,” Janus eventually says, voice surprisingly steady. “The same way I don’t forgive you. I don’t expect you to forget my past actions, my very deliberate manipulation,” he smooths his hands over his knees, “but I do expect you to attempt to move forward with me. For the betterment of us all.”

Patton exhales, and it shakes his whole body. When he sits up again, he’s grasping at his knees, face wobbling. Janus reaches out and gently pries the camera from his hands, placing it on his lap for the time being. “I want to,” Patton insists, shifting in place. “I do. I want to make new memories, I want to stop being so… trapped in the past.” His fingers tap off his kneecaps, and he cricks his neck to look up at Janus. He’s met with nothing but warm affection, an open ear. “I want to move forward, together.”

A smile tugging at his lips, Janus glances down at his lap and nods. He swipes a quick hand down his scales. “Excellent,” the word comes out a little hissed, not intentionally. A leaf drops behind them, bright yellow, dancing through the air. It comes to rest on Janus’ hat, and choking back a giggle, Patton plucks it off for him.

“Make a wish?” He holds it out in his palm, the faintest shadow of a grin smudged across his cheeks. 

“I think that’s just for eyelashes, is it not?” Janus raises an eyebrow, examining Patton’s face for a shred of disappointment. He searches for even the smallest hint of disagreement, surveys for anything close to nostalgic longing. When he comes back to the surface, he comes up empty handed. He sees Patton, open and honest, telling the truth with his chest. That he wants to move forward. Janus knows that means he may not move on, but he wants to. He’ll put the effort in. And Janus swears up and down, on his own life, on Thomas’ life, that he’ll be there for every bit of it. A supportive stepping stone, a sturdy foundation, a guardrail of sorts.

“Humour me?” Patton asks, and his smile grows. And how is Janus meant to say no to that face? 

He purses his lips, rolls his eyes fondly and sucks in a deep breath. When he exhales in a long blow, his eyes flutter closed. The leaf spirals off of Patton’s hand, getting caught in the breeze between the branches, flittering off into the sky. 

“What did you wish for?” Patton asks, all doe-eyed and questioning. His hand hovers in the space between them, and he glows in the setting sun. 

Janus looks over his face, traces the shadows his glasses cast on his cheeks. “If I tell you, it’s not going to come true, is it?”

Patton’s smile only grows. “I guess so.”

Picking up the camera in his lap, Janus tilts his head. He holds it up, shaking it slightly in th air. “Feel like smiling for a photo?” He moves in place, turning a little in order to fit them both into the frame, as Patton grins.

“Absolutely.” In turn, Patton shifts too, craning around as Janus flips the camera, looking into the lens. They can’t see themselves, are mostly guessing in their placements, hoping they’re centered and look okay. But really, that’s the fun of it. The missteps, the mistakes, a reminder of who they once were, and who they can be. Patton loops an arm around Janus’ shoulders, leaning over him, smiling wide, eyes scrunching. And Janus finds himself smiling much the same, a glint of fangs, shining in the sunlight.

“Cheese!” Patton beams, teeth on full display as Janus presses down on the shutter. One photo of the two of them. 

“There you are, Patton,” Janus relaxes his arm, still holding onto the camera. “Something for your albums.”

“I think I might frame it,” Patton suggests instead, “so I can always see it. So I don’t have to wait until I crave the past. So I can remember what we are, rather than what we were,” he’s slightly sheepish, a little pink in the face. It’s so much, so much of something. Something that they’re not. Not yet. Something they can be. There’s the hint of more. 

Janus nods the affirmative and holds the camera up once more. “Smile,” he prompts, and Patton, caught of guard, is caught on film, hands beginning to raise to cover his face, giggling in surprise. It’s the best photo Janus could’ve asked for. Maybe he’ll frame that one. He doesn’t say that out loud, however. Merely, he passes Patton’s belonging back to him, still grinning ear to ear. 

“Can we sit here a while longer?” Patton asks, quieter. “And just… talk?”

“Of course,” Janus settles a little, trying his best to get comfortable. It’s not easy, perched on a the fallen trunk of a tree, but it doesn’t need to be. The best things never are. All the greatest things in life take some work. His palms come up, fingers tugging his hat from his head in a gentle movement, before settling it to his side on the trunk. 

Patton smiles, shuffles closer, and drops his cheek to Janus’ shoulder. Janus stills, freezing in place, but only for a second. Because it feels right. And as much as he’ll bash Patton for getting lost in the past, he hasn’t denied his own hand in nostalgia. Perhaps he’s getting his hand stuck in the cookie jar, but for just a moment, a minute second, he indulges a fantasy. That this is exactly what they used to be. Young and innocent and close. Sitting close, in this clearing, maybe even on this log, with Patton’s head on his shoulder. When they were Right Brain and Protection, Empathy and Self-Interest, and now — as Morality and Deceit. Less longing for what they were and more… appreciating it for making them who they are now.

Who will they be in the future?

“You’re not doing very much talking,” Janus points out, managing to pull himself back together enough to speak with some level of confidence. He baskets his hands together, threading his fingers, fiddling with the cuffs of his gloves. He trails the covered pads of his fingers over the thin strip of scales between his gloves and his long black sleeves beneath his coat. 

Patton hums, eyes flicking up to meet Janus’ own. “I thought you might start,” his tongue pokes out of his mouth, captured between his front teeth. He rolls it back and forth a little. There’s something about the lighting, the golden glow, the gentle breeze rolling in, that has Janus’ stomach flipping. Cucoons hatch inside his gut, over-rested caterpillars exploding into flight after years of isolation. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, especially not when it comes to Patton.

Right Brain, with his arm around Protection’s back, the two of them beaming for the photo captured by Vision. Empathy, sitting cross-legged on the grass, Self-Interest’s head in his lap, half asleep as Empathy struggled to get them both into frame. The two of them, a splattering of scales creeping up Self-Interest’s- Protection’s- Deceit’s face, down his jaw. Morality, holding his cheek, smoothing his thumb over them, insisting they could fix this. Morality, with uncertain eyes, pressing a kiss to the others hairline, lips grazing across his forehead. 

Janus thinks of the frog spots across Patton’s face, those marring splodges that are long gone, that faded quite fast. He thinks of the horror Patton saw in himself when he… changed. When he transformed, all that time ago. And he leans down, and presses a kiss to Patton’s hairline, lips grazing across his forehead. The same, but different.

A whistle of wind, and Patton visibly flushes, going pleasantly pink under an orange sky. “Goodness,” he breathes, “what was that for?” His eyes are shining where he sits, glasses sliding down on his nose.

Against his better judgement, against all odds, Janus tells the truth. “For trying to grow,” he clears his throat, “for letting go. And for coming here with me. All these times,” he tries to adjust his coat, but Patton leaning on him makes it difficult. So he relaxes instead, draping an arm around Patton’s shoulders.

“Oh, Jan,” Patton breathes, pressing his nose to the joint he’s laying against, “thank you. For… giving me another chance.”

“You’re welcome,” he squeezes where his hand lays, holding just the top of Patton’s arm. He can’t see exactly where this is going, but with the golden fog gone, it becomes a little clearer. Wherever they end up, they’re going together.

Janus realises his wish is already coming true. For he’d wished for new memories, and new perspectives, and an ability to let go. And sitting together, a snake and a frog on a log, he finds it happening — he lets go.

And somewhere, something in his mind tells him that Patton does the same, as he reaches out to lace their fingers together as they chat mindlessly about everything, and nothing. 

Maybe he can let his walls down, just a little. Not forgive, not forget, but move on.

Let go, and make space, for new memories. Carve a path ahead. Voyage through uncertainty, traverse an unpredictable future, and find what they can be, if they keep moving. Keep going, one foot in front of the other, and one day at a time, as they venture together — into the unknown.

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and thus concludes moceit week 2025!!! i had the BEST time running this event, and if anyone still wishes to submit prompts, you can do so whenever you like!!! i'll be taking proper late submissions for the next week, and then beyond that i'll check the blog periodically. but feel free to keep posting!!

There’s a sheet over Patton’s mirror. There has been for some time now. He can’t bear the thought of peeking behind it, of pulling away and gazing upon his shame. His features, contorted and corrupted. Something within him is broken, and the agony of looking at it is simply too much to even comprehend. 

And at the same time, he can’t look away. 

Yes, his mirror is covered, but he still sees himself. Sees his putrid green pores reflected in the screen of his phone, sees his slitted eye staring back at him with shame. With disgust. He’s disgusting, a disgrace. How could he be so foolish? How could he be so wrong?

No one has come to see him. Why would they? Why would they check upon a monster? He hurt Thomas, he was actively hurting Thomas. The person he cares about, so much. Logan’s disappointed in him, Virgil won’t talk to him without a snark, and Roman won’t so much as look at him, unable to meet his eye. Who would? Why would Patton expect any different? He’s undeserving. 

“Patton?” There comes a soft knocking upon his door, a regal, yet gentle, call of his name. “Pat-man?” There it goes again, the careful question. “Are you in there, Padre?”

Patton remains deathly still. The right side of his face is sticky to the touch, a little… mucus-y. He can’t be seen like this, like the horrifying creature he is. The thing he’s become. The thing he’s made himself. 

“It’s Roman,” the voice comes again, and yes, it does sound like Roman. It’s Roman. Roman standing outside of Patton’s door. To yell at him? To cut him down where he stands? Perhaps it would be deserved. Maybe he’s earned this treatment. 

Is it wrong to shut him out? Would it be right to let him in?

Maybe the right thing to do is tell the truth. Or, show the truth. Let Roman see him for what he truly is. 

“Come in,” Patton croaks, far more literally than he’d wanted. He rubs over his face, and it comes away wet. 

The door creaks open, and in steps a shadow. It takes Patton a moment to adjust to the sudden burst of light flooding in from the hallway, but when he glances up from where he’s curled in bed, any hope left in his body retreats. He deflates even further than he thought possible, as Janus steps closer, settling himself on the edge of the bed. The door closes on its own accord, and the bedside light flickers on without either of them touching it.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you, I didn’t think you’d let me in otherwise,” Janus starts, visibly playing with his gloves. He glances over his shoulder, gazing down at Patton, at his skin. At his failure.

“Get out,” Patton spits, curling in on himself further. He presses his right cheek further into the pillow. He doesn’t need this, doesn’t need to be reminded of what a failure he is. 

Janus sighs, and Patton watches from the corner of his eye as Janus peels his gloves off. He does so without fanfare, without declaration. Just resigned acceptance. Patton isn’t sure how to feel. But he doesn’t want this. He hasn’t earned this. This careful silence, this worried tension.

“What’s troubling you?” Janus asks, as though he doesn’t already know the answer. “There’s no need to hide, Patton. I’m not here to scold you. I’m here to… talk.”

Patton shuffles, strokes over his face again and wipes his hand over the sheets. “What is there to discuss?” He shifts, unable to decide if he should sit up and reveal his horror. 

“You’re clearly feeling… down. Perhaps I could lift your spirits?” Janus clears his throat, wincing, as though telling the truth pains him. Or maybe that’s just Patton. Maybe forcing this proximity is making him sick.

“Sure,” Patton finally makes his mind up. He knows what the right thing to do is. Scare Janus off. Show him why he should leave. “Why would you want to cheer me up? Just look at me — I’m a monster.”

He gestures over the right side of his face, splodges of green frog skin blooming over his flesh, down his neck, across the back of his knuckles. He meets Janus’ eye, vertical slit meeting horizontal, and feels his own welling with tears. The look on Janus’ face, it must be disgust. It has to be.

“I’m a disgusting, half-monster,” Patton croaks again, defeated.

“Ouch,” Janus snorts, though it’s wet, upset. When Patton looks at him, he looks… genuinely hurt. Hands basketing in his lap, head tilted, scales shining in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“I didn’t- I don’t mean-” Patton stutters, and promptly looks away. How can he explain… all of this? What is there to say? He can’t say anything at all. Everything he says is wrong.

“Relax,” Janus hisses, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. “I can smell the anxiety pouring off of you. You’re not Virgil, so let's calm down a tad.” He kicks his feet up onto the bed, inviting himself into Patton’s space. He settles into the pillows, keeping his hands to himself, and a respectful distance. But Patton can feel his presence, feel the cool air radiating off of him.

“Why are you here?” Patton mumbles.

“Like I said, I’m here to talk.” Janus stretches his gloves between his fingers, scaled hand on full display. It’s new. It’s strange. It’s a show of trust that Patton doesn’t know how to respond to.

Patton scoffs and turns away again, crossing his arms. 

“You’re not a monster, Patton.” It’s quiet, and sincere, and accompanied by a hand coming to touch at his shoulder. When Patton looks over at Janus, he finds him staring at the wall in front of him, palms still fiddling with his gloves. Then he spots the third arm, sheepishly touching Patton's shoulder. “You’re not. You’re… overwhelmed. You’re beating yourself up.”

“I’m disgusting,” Patton retorts, though he doesn’t flinch away from the touch. It’s been several days of hiding in his room, hiding from himself. Days of avoiding his appearance, of ignoring the screens and windows, of laying in the dark.

“Do you truly believe that?” Patton nods, and Janus hums. “Then surely… you find me disgusting too, yes?” He turns to face Patton properly, all scales and fangs. Patton swallows the frog in his throat.

“Of course not!”

“Well, why not? We’re one in the same, aren’t we?” Janus tilts his head, and his hat slips down a little, falling to the left. “Both half-things. Both not quite right.”

“I’m not even quite right anymore, Jan. I think I’m wrong.” 

Janus sighs again, lighter this time, features softening visibly. His slitted, serpentine eye swells in the low light as he looks at Patton. The black spreads, much like the way a cat’s pupils expand when they stare at something they like. Patton finds himself wondering if the same is true for snakes — if the same is true for Janus.

“How could you ever be wrong? In your entirety, that is. Doing one wrong thing, two, three, hell, a thousand wrong things, doesn’t make your very existence a mistake,” the hand around his shoulder slides, arm following until it’s wrapped around Patton’s upper half, pulling him down. He goes, weightless and limp, resting his left cheek on Janus’ side. “And this doesn’t make you… a monster, or whatever you seem to think you are. It makes you complicated, it makes you different. But not bad, never bad.”

Patton sniffles. He’s still… he must be… wrong? In some ways?

Janus pulls him closer, dropping his gloves at long last. “You are not bad, Patton. You need to understand this. Just because you made a bad choice, or said the wrong thing, does not stop you from being a good person.”

Still shaking, still sniffling, Patton touches his face again and winces. When he pulls his fingers away, the touch remains. 

Janus has a hand on his face. Janus has a hand on his cheek. Janus is holding him close, and touching his face, and telling him he’s still good. He’s holding him, hand in unloveable hand, and telling him that he’s right.

“Come here, frogger,” Janus pulls Patton impossibly closer, until they’re pressed together, skin to skin. Normal, human skin. Nothing like their other sides. And for a moment, everything is fine. 

“Will it go away?” Patton asks, quiet, hopeful. 

Janus hums. “Maybe,” he laces his fingers with Patton’s own. “Or maybe not. Mine never did.”

Patton nods. He’s not okay with that. But he can learn.

And when he wakes up, unaware he’d ever fallen asleep, tangled in a mess of six arms, he’ll pull down the sheet over his mirror and find his reflection, frog patches slowly receding. 

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