#nb!deceit

I can’t explain myself at all

Virgil can’t see, but he knows exactly where he is. The world would have to end before he were to forget this tower.

And all the wants and all the needs

It’s dark, so dark, both inside and out. There’s a storm brewing just past the horizon that blots out the final traces of the sun, plunging the Imagination into complete darkness—save for the occasional bolt of lightning that streaks across the sky.

Virgil finds it beautiful.

All I don’t want to need at all

He hums into the silence, allowing the dangerous feeling stirring within him to begin to rise from the pit in his stomach. The clouds swirl ever closer, responding to the pull of Virgil’s bitter anger.

The walls start breathing, my mind’s unweaving

Stepping closer to the window, he reaches out a hand to empty air, already feeling the tingle of electricity as though he’d been struck with it. If he hadn’t already been so consumed by his own emotions, they would have been made even more tangible in the sticky, pre-storm air.

Good. This won’t work if he’s not strong enough.

He steps back again, watching patiently as the storm rolls his way, picking up speed as it draws nearer, fed by the sheer power Virgil holds in his chest. Taking a breath, he shuts his eyes, drawing more of that indescribable feeling from the depths of his mind.

Maybe it’s best you leave me alone

When he opens them again, the storm is nearly upon him. He smiles, waiting patiently for the last time.

Virgil has been perfect for too long. It’s time that changed.

A weight is lifted on this evening

The clouds gather around the tower, swirling around it from the pointed roof to the ground far below. The wind blows in through the window, bone-chillingly cold. Virgil doesn’t shiver though, numb to his surroundings.

Heralded by a deafening clap of thunder, a brilliant bolt of lightning flashes through the clouds hanging low over the roof of the tower.

I give the final blow

The world goes white.

When darkness turns to light

When the light stops piercing through Virgil’s eyelids, he opens them and looks down at his hands. They don’t look different, and he doesn’t feel different. Had Deceit felt different, or had they truly believed that everything was fine even in the very beginning?

Virgil doesn’t know, and he doesn’t plan to ask either. It’s his turn to be heard.

It ends tonight, it ends tonight

_________________________

A falling star, at least I fall alone

There’s a darkness in their heart, a feeling they can’t explain, a feeling they’re engulfed in and suffocated with, a feeling that clouds their thoughts and bursts from their chest in an explosion of all-encompassing, utterly overwhelming fury.

I can’t explain what you can explain

Janus can’t see. They don’t know where they are, they don’t know what drew them here, and they don’t know what they’re doing. All they know is that the sun is setting, and that feels right. The darkness—and the surge of something that comes with it—feels so, so right.

You’re finding things that you didn’t know

The sun dips lower, the darkness grows more absolute. If they squint, Janus can just make out the silhouette of a castle, backed by the final rays of daylight.

This must be the Imagination then, they think.

Janus tilts their head curiously, wondering why the Imagination had tugged so powerfully at their heart.

Whatever the reason though, they’re glad for it. There’s now a feeling in their chest that they never want to let go of—a feeling of warmth, of strength, of climbing to the top of a mountain alone and seeing the whole world at the bottom.

That feeling, combined with the way the fading sunlight leaves behind a land of darkness, is utterly and completely beautiful.

I look at you with such disdain

Janus watches silently as day finally gives way to night, not a single drop of sunlight left behind as the new moon takes over the sky.

The walls start breathing, my mind’s unweaving

There’s not a sound left in the tower Janus is standing in, and the silence is almost deafening in its pervasiveness.

Left with only their thoughts to occupy them, Janus’s mind drifts far, far from the tower—back to the ground, away from the Imagination, into a moment in time from earlier that day.

Maybe it’s best you leave me alone

And it’s all they can do to keep from screaming at the memory. It’s all they can do to tamp down the fire rising in their chest at the reminder that no one ever listens, that no one ever will.

Not unless something changes.

And something is going to change tonight. Janus can feel it. There’s a vibration that’s traveling through the air in time with the beating of their heart, and that means something.

They walk towards the window.

A weight is lifted on this evening

There’s a star falling from the heavens, and it’s shooting towards them. As it nears, the vibrations in the air grow louder, more rapid, more intense, and Janus can all but see the feelings of hate and frustration and inadequacy and pain flowing from them with each beat of their heart.

The star is moments away from colliding with Janus and the tower they’re in when they close their eyes, trusting that whatever’s happening now will be a catalyst for the something that’s going to change.

I give the final blow

The world goes white.

When darkness turns to light

Once the light seems to have faded enough, Janus opens their eyes one at a time to find that… nothing has changed. The tower is still as dark as it was before, the world outside of it just as empty.

It ends tonight, it ends tonight

They don’t feel any different, either. There’s no emotion gained, nothing missing, nothing that’s dislodged from where it’s buried in their heart.

Just a little insight won’t make this right

The only thing they know is that somehow, someway, it’s their turn to be listened to now. They will be heard.

It’s too late to fight, it ends tonight, it ends tonight

_________________________

Now I’m on my own side

“Virgil.”

Virgil blinks, turning in search of the voice. “Janus?” There’s something strange in his own voice, a deep note of fierceness and strength held in it. It feels powerful, and Virgil wonders if this is what Janus had felt all those years ago.

“I’m down here,” Janus calls, words almost lost to the storm.

“And what are you doing down there?” Virgil asks. He peers out of the window, elbows set on the ledge, chin resting in his hands.

“I came to find you.”

“You did?”

“I did, because I thought to myself, Virgil, that you couldn’t possibly be so stupid as to make the same mistakes I did. And yet,” they gesture to the tower before them, “here we are.”

Virgil straightens up, expression hardening. “That’s where you’re wrong, Deceit. I’m not making the same mistakes you did because I know where you failed.”

“And where is that, now?” Even this far away, Virgil can see their scornfully raised eyebrow.

He grins, all teeth and no warmth. Spinning on his heel, Virgil shuts his eyes and when they open, he’s standing in front of Deceit. Oh, he could get used to this.

“Well, you see,” Virgil says, “you gave up the power you gained in this tower because you were afraid of losing what you had and I, so very much unlike you, have nothing to lose.”

“That’s not true at all,” Deceit says, blinking in confusion.

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s truly not. You have Thomas—”

“The only thing I do for him is offer a sprinkling of useless protection, and even that he barely listens to. I’m tired of every worry I express being dismissed as an overreaction even when many of them so clearly aren’t.”

“—and the Light Sides—”

“Do you really think they care about me? All I’m good for in their eyes is doing my job, and even that only grants me shaky appreciation at best. Despite what they may say, I’m still the villain in their eyes and if I ever show so much as a hint of imperfection, they’ll never forgive me. You have no idea what they think.”

“—but you’re right. I can’t speak for them. The only person I can speak for is myself, and you’ll always have me.”

_________________________

It’s better than being on your side

“Janus?”

Janus blinks, searching for the source of the voice that had just spoken. “Virgil?” There’s something strange in their own voice, a certain smoothness and strength to it. It feels powerful, and Janus wonders if this is what that star had changed.

“I’m down here,” he says, and Janus makes their way to the window, peering out at their friend standing so far beneath them. “What is this place?” Virgil asks, squinting up at them.

“I’m not sure.” They wave their hand, and their surroundings shift from the inside of a stone tower to the open field outside of it. “Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Virgil lets out a shaky laugh, clearly trying to mask his panic about something.

“Whatever’s the matter, dear?”

“Something feels wrong.”

Janus frowns. “Can you be more specific?”

“It’s just… not right. Off-balance? Does that make sense?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, I think that’s what drew me here, that unbalanced feeling. It’s—” he shakes his head. “Did you do something?”

“I didn’t.”

“Did someone else, then? What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I woke up in the tower, almost as if I’d walked there in a trance, and then a star fell from the sky.”

“A— sorry, what?”

“A star. A star fell from the sky.”

“No, no I heard what you said. I just didn’t think— did you mean literally?”

“I did, in fact.”

“What did it… do? The star?”

“It hit me.”

“It WHAT?”

“Not violently or with any particular malice, it just… flashed through the sky, through the window of the tower, then its light collided with me.”

Virgil blinks, a look of extraordinary confusion on his face. “You sound different. Is it just me or do you sound different?” he asks, dodging around the subject they’d been previously discussing.

“Hm, do you think so?”

“…Yes. That’s— that’s why I said it.”

“My voice does feel a bit… smoother than normal.”

“It’s not just that. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something else. It’s also more…”

“Powerful?” Janus suggests.

Virgil looks at them strangely. “…Yeah. Exactly that.”

“Interesting. It feels more powerful too.”

“Why? What did that star do?”

“Virgil, I told you, I don’t know what really happened—”

“Bullshit. I think you do.”

Janus sighs. “I am telling you the truth.”

“Really.” Virgil raises an eyebrow, a perfect portrait of skepticism.

“Yes, really.”

“Then take a wild fucking guess. You may not know what really happened, but I’m one thousand percent sure you have at least some idea.”

With another sigh, Janus says, “I felt… ignored today. Disregarded.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Virgil’s voice is sharp, and if Janus didn’t know better, they’d think he was angry.

They do know better though, and they know that voice means that Virgil is afraid. So very, very afraid.

So when Janus replies, “I’m getting there,” they do their very best to keep their voice soft. “That’s not the first time I’d felt like my words went unheeded, of course, but this time on top of my annoyance, I felt this… bitterness. Anger, almost, but more than that— it was also a desperate need to be heard. Then I woke up here, completely clueless as to what happened until I thought about that conversation again. When that need to be heard took over again—that’s when the star struck me.”

“So…?”

“So I think the star is giving me a chance to be heard.”

“…Right.”

“You’re the one who asked, Virgil.”

“D’you really think the Light Sides are going to listen to you just because your voice sounds different?”

“It’s more than just that, I think.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure, not yet, but I know they’re going to listen to me once I figure it out.”

“You don’t need their approval, you know.”

“This isn’t for them, it’s for Thomas. He’s the one that needs to listen to me, and he needs to listen because I’m right. When he doesn’t, he gets hurt. I don’t want that for him.” Janus’s voice changes even more as they say that, turning from merely smooth to pure silk, a cloying charm to their words.

“What— what’s going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Your voice, it— it feels wrong. It’s too—” Anxiety screws up his face in what looks almost like disgust and shakes his head. “It makes you sound like… not yourself. You’re scaring me.”

“I assure you, darling, I’m still perfectly myself. There’s no need to be afraid.”

“I know, but— look, I know that you’re not going to do anything to hurt me and that I have no reason to be anxious about this, but something still feels wrong and I don’t want it to be you but I think it might be and I don’t want to lose you but you’re changing and something’s so very not right and—”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Janus keeps their voice low and steady, stepping closer to Anxiety. “Can I touch you?”

At his nod, they step closer and brush a lock of hair behind his ear before placing both hands on his shoulders and rubbing their thumbs back and forth in a soothing motion. “Calm down, Virgil. I’m not going anywhere.” Janus’s words cause the tension to immediately drain from Virgil’s whole body, leaving him relaxed in a way he so rarely is.

“I know.”

“Good.” Janus’s hands drop from Anxiety’s newly loosened shoulders, one drifting towards his face and the other falling away entirely. “I promise,” they whisper, drawing Anxiety’s head towards their own and resting his forehead against theirs, “you’ll always have me.”

_________________________

It’s my fault when you’re blind

“No, I won’t. You’ve proved that to me.”

“I— no. That was—”

“A mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Pretty fucking terrible mistake, then.”

“I’m aware, Virgil.”

“So how am I supposed to know history won’t repeat itself?”

“You’ll just have to trust me, I suppose.”

“Fat chance.”

“Virgil, believe me when I tell you that this is a terrible decision that you’re about to make. If you let go, I promise everything will feel right again.”

“Did it feel right for you?”

“Not at first, but—”

“Yeah, see, that does the opposite of convince me.”

“—but that was because I’d just lost you. And I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

_________________________

It’s better that I see it through your eyes

“What happened today?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone since before I woke up and Thomas’s anxiety is through the roof. What did you do?”

“Nothing at all, my dear Virgil. I simply illustrated to Thomas that he has a greater capacity for lying than he may be willing to admit.”

“You’re hurting him, Janus.”

“I’m helping him.”

“He can’t only listen to you, that’s… that’s not healthy. If he only ever heard what you wanted him to—”

“He’d be better off. My one aim is to protect him, and I’m the only one who seems to be capable of doing just that.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I protect him too, you know.”

“Sure you do, darling, but you protect him by scaring him. I protect him by allowing him to put himself first, to do things he’d otherwise be convinced to not do—to never do—by the Light Sides.”

“He doesn’t do those things for a reason though!”

“Not a very good one, last I checked.”

“No, it definitely is. He can’t just—” Anxiety pauses to take a breath. “You know what, that doesn’t matter right now. My point is: you can’t be the only one who holds sway over Thomas and his choices.”

“I’m afraid I can, actually. That’s the whole point of this newfound power I’ve been granted.”

“Then give it up.”

“And what, go back to being ignored when Thomas needs me? Now, why would I do that?”

“I— I don’t know. But you’re… different now. You aren’t Janus anymore.”

“Don’t be silly, of course I’m still Janus. What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Like… you are Janus, but you’re not the Janus I know. You’re… different, and I don’t like it.”

“Oh dear, I’m so very sorry that I can’t cater to your every desire, Anxiety.”

“Stop. Whatever that was… stop it.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. This is me, whether you like it or not.”

“Then I’m leaving.”

“Sorry— What? Oh, absolutely not, darling. You can’t do that.”

“I can, actually, and I will. Take all the control you want, but I want nothing to do with you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine? I thought I’d ‘always have you,’ or was that complete bullshit made up just to placate me? So you could use me as a stepping stone? Did you just want someone you could pretend to be friends with until you got what you wanted?”

“Maybe I did.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Janus.”

“How very sweet of you to think so.”

“You’ll come back to your senses one day. You have to. And when you do, you’re going to regret this with your entire being. I know you really did love me before you got all… like this. You’re making a mistake.”

“On the contrary, I think losing you will be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“And I know it will be the worst.”

_________________________

All these thoughts locked inside

“You sure aren’t doing a great job of showing that.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

“What if that’s not good enough?”

“Then… it isn’t. No matter how many times I tell you I regret the decision I made more than anything I’ve ever done in my life, I can’t— I can’t make you do anything. But Virgil, I just— just—”

“You just what?”

“I miss you.”

_________________________

Now you’re the first to know

There’s a darkness lifting from their heart, a feeling they can’t explain, a feeling that’s falling away, fading into nothing at all, allowing them to breathe, breathe, breathe.

Janus can breathe. Thank god, they can breathe.

But at what cost will they continue to breathe freely? What pain will each rise and fall of their chest bring as they remember what they did, what they said, how they failed, who they hurt—

Virgil.

They need to find Virgil. They need to get Virgil back. They can’t lose him, and they’d made a promise to him, a promise that they had broken, a promise that’s now been cracked in so many places and shattered into so many pieces. No matter what the cost, they have to mend it.

They still know the way to Virgil’s room, of course they do. Everything else may be twisted and wrong, but this, at least, is right. Janus knocks on his door. “Virgil?”

It’s thrown open. “Janus?” Virgil stands there, staring. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to—”

“Fucking what, apologize? I think it’s just a bit late for that, don’t you?”

“I—”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Virgil—”

“No. You don’t get closure. You don’t get a happy ending. Were you hoping for even more than that? Did you want forgiveness? Love, even? Well, whatever it is, I don’t care. And whatever it is, you don’t get it. I warned you that you were fucking up, but did you listen? No. So why should I listen to you now?”

“I miss you.”

“That’s rich,” Virgil says. The door slams in Janus’s face.

Janus rests their head against the slammed door, eyes shut as though that will block out the memory of their mistakes. They take a deep breath, and it takes everything in them to stop the tears from falling.

Virgil had been right. He’d been right from the very beginning. Losing Virgil is so, so far from ‘the best thing to ever happen to them,’ and reminding themself of this only serves to make their heart ache even more.

“I miss you.” Janus whispers the words to Virgil, to the universe, to anyone who will listen, but the only response they’re given is silence. There’s no one left for them at all.

_________________________

When darkness turns to light

“I miss you,” Deceit repeats, and Virgil remembers.

It ends tonight, it ends tonight

He remembers everything.

The fear he’d felt upon hearing the cold purr in Deceit’s voice that first day.

The horror he’d experienced when he’d found out that Thomas’s sudden spike in anxiety had been because of them.

The anger he’d felt when they’d refused to listen to reason.

And the pain. Most of all, Virgil remembers the pain.

Virgil remembers when he’d first heard that new voice of theirs, when he’d finally accepted that they were changing—for better or for worse, when they’d started to ignore him in favor of focusing every bit of their energy into getting Thomas to do exactly what they wanted and nothing else, never anything else, when they’d started to become cruel, sadistic, apathetic to everything but their own desires, when they’d said losing him would be the best thing that would ever happen to them—

Every change, every word, every moment he remembers brings on a little bit more heartbreak.

Just a little insight won’t make this right

That heartbreak is almost enough to snap him out of his fervor.

Almost.

Despite it all, despite those memories, Virgil still can’t help but want to be heard, to be listened to, to have the influence that Janus had possessed, even if it would only last for the blink of an eye.

He wants that more than anything, and he wants it with all his heart.

But he’s still forgotten something.

It’s too late to fight, it ends tonight

“I miss you,” Deceit’s words echo in his mind, and Virgil remembers more.

The fear on Deceit’s face after they’d knocked on his door.

The horror in their voice as they’d slowly realized he wasn’t going to forgive them.

Their anger at themself for fucking up so horribly.

And the pain. Most of all, Virgil remembers their pain.

Virgil remembers when their voice had cracked, just slightly, when they’d looked at him with barely contained tears in their eyes, when they’d clutched at their heart as though it was being ripped in two, when desperation had seeped into every word they spoke—

Every word, every action, every glare he’d given Deceit—Virgil is consumed by the memory of it all bringing another layer of heartbreak to their features.

And when they’d said that they had—

Missed him.

When they’d said that they had missed him, that was the worst of all.

Their face looks exactly the same now as it had then.

It ends, when darkness turns to light

Virgil blinks. Blinks again.

There’s a darkness lifting from his heart, a feeling he can’t explain, a feeling that’s falling away, fading into nothing at all, allowing him to breathe, breathe, breathe.

“De— Janus?”

It ends tonight, it ends tonight

“Virgil,” Janus replies, reaching out a hand. “I’m here, right here.”

Just a little insight won’t make this right

Virgil grips it like a lifeline. “Thank you.”

It’s too late to fight, it ends tonight

“I couldn’t let you make the same mistakes I did. And I— I couldn’t handle even the thought of losing you again.”

“Janus, I—”

“I know. And it’s alright. Everything is alright.”

It ends tonight

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

Tonight

Virgil lets go of Janus’s hand in favor of wrapping his arms around them. They hold each other tight, years and years of time to make up in this one moment. The seconds tick past as they remember how they’d felt when the world was wrong—when they were wrong, both of them—and they forgive each other.

When darkness turns to light

“I missed you,” they say in unison, and the world feels right again.

It ends tonight

_________________________

_________________________

“Good morning, mi luz.”

Dee groaned, rubbing their eyes to clear them. “What time is it? And why are you not lying next to me?”

“I made you breakfast, Dee,” Roman said, placing the plate on their nightstand with a smile. “And if you’d like, you can come watch the sunrise with me.”

“Mm, the sunrise is pretty. Almost as pretty as you,” Dee replied, blinking slowly as a smirk spread across their face.

“You’re sweet, but I would have done this even without you lying to me.”

Dee straightened slightly. “My darling, I promise I would never lie to you, especially not about something as indisputable as your beauty which, now that I think about it, is far, far greater than that of any sunrise.”

Caught off guard, Roman blushed. “I’m supposed to be the one flustering you this morning,” he pouted.

“Oh, did I fluster you, then?” Dee was sitting up completely now, their blinking and smile turned innocent.

Roman huffed fondly, throwing the nearest item of clothing at Dee—their cape. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Of course I do, love.”

“Good. Now, get dressed, mon rêve. The sunrise waits for no one.”

_________________________

“Roman, my darling, my dear, what’s this on the mirror?”

“It’s a heart, and it’s for you, mon cœur.”

“You’re too sweet,” Dee said with a soft laugh, poking their head out of the bathroom to place a quick kiss on Roman’s cheek.

“Only the sweetest for you, dolcezza.”

_________________________

“I have a gift for you,” Roman said, bringing a small, velvet box out from behind his back.

Dee peered at him over the pages of their book, one eyebrow raised. “Proposing already?”

Roman laughed. “Not quite, mi tesoro. It’s only been a month, have some patience.”

“Well then, what’s in the box?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Roman said, walking over to their chair and setting himself lightly on the armrest of it. He opened the box carefully, revealing a necklace glittering in an array of colors with earrings to match. “You complained about a tragic lack of rubies in your life—and jewelry box—the other day, so—”

Dee silenced him with a kiss, pulling back with a soft smile on their face and a sparkle in their eyes. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“Of course I did, Dee.” Roman matched their smile. “I take it you like them?”

“Oh, Roman, I love them, and I love you.” They wrapped their arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss before asking, “Can I try them on?”

“But of course. They are yours, after all,” Roman replied, pulling the necklace out of the box and clipping it around Dee’s neck. He leaned back, admiring them. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

“Me, or the necklace?” Dee teased, a light smirk on their face as they hung the second earring from their ear lobe.

“You. Always you.”

_________________________

“Where are we?”

“Still the Imagination, mi sol. We haven’t gone anywhere.”

There was a playful twinkle in Roman’s eye that Dee couldn’t see—what with their own eyes being closed and all—but seemed to be able to hear anyway. They laughed in response, saying, “You know what I mean, you dork.”

“That I did,” Roman said, kissing their cheek. “Just one moment, vida mía. You’ll see.”

There was a moment of quiet as Roman fluffed out a picnic blanket and scattered a few light pink cherry blossom petals over it. He snapped his fingers and a picnic basket appeared at one end before he snapped once more to put the finishing touches on their surroundings. “You can open your eyes now, Dee.”

They did so, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight as it reflected off their scales and became entwined in their eyelashes. “Paris?” Dee’s voice came out as an almost reverent whisper, eyes wide in awe as they gazed up at the perfect replica of the Eiffel Tower standing tall and proud across the grounds from them.

“Paris,” Roman confirmed, grinning. “What do you think?”

“Roman, it’s gorgeous. I can’t imagine how much time it must have taken you to make this—” they gestured to the green grass, the cherry trees in full bloom, the Eiffel Tower itself, “—so detailed and so vibrant.”

“It was nothing, really,” Roman said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“You are…” Dee shook their head fondly, barely holding back a laugh. “You are too much, in the best possible way.”

“Why, thank you, ma fée. I try my best.”

This time, Dee did laugh. “You were using Spanish nicknames earlier. Was that just to throw me off?”

“Did it work?”

“It would appear so, wouldn’t it?” they said with a smirk, pulling Roman down to the picnic blanket beside them. “What food did you bring? All that waiting stirred up quite the appetite.”

“Only your favorites, of course.”

“Of course, how could I have expected anything but the best from you?”

“How could you have indeed.”

_________________________

“Dee?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Are you free tonight?”

“Why, do you have plans?”

“No, we have plans,” Roman corrected. “As long as you aren’t busy, of course.”

“Hm, I suppose I could spare a night,” they replied, a teasing glimmer in their mismatched eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

“Does there have to be an occasion to celebrate the fact that I’m dating the most wonderful person to have ever graced the earth with their presence?”

“Sssstop,” Dee hissed, covering their face that was currently flaming a brilliant shade of red.

“Never,” Roman said with a triumphant grin, burying a kiss in their hair. “See you in a few hours, mea columba.”

_________________________

Roman dropped the last of the rose petals in his hand onto the circular table in the middle of a ballroom that was currently functioning as a romantic, candlelit dining room, letting out a sigh of relief. There. Now all he needed to do was wait for Dee to arrive.

He sat himself down in a velvet-covered chair, crossing one leg over the other as he reclined in it, always keeping one eye on the path of rose petals Dee would be sure to follow.

Sure enough, not a minute later, Roman heard the click of heels on marble approaching. “Roman, I love you dearly, but I do think a castle is a bit excessive as far as places to host dinners go, and— oh,” they said, voice trailing off into a whisper as they rounded the corner.

‘Oh’ was right, Roman thought as he stood and made his way over to them, making a conscious effort to stop his jaw from dropping. Deceit looked… perfect. They wore a slinky dress made of deep golden silk, their neck and ears adorned with the ruby jewelry Roman recognized as his own gift to them. Beneath the candlelight, their face sparkled with traces of glittery makeup, and their effortlessly tousled hair made Roman’s heart nearly stop.

He was… so gay.

“You look stunning, ocelle mi,” he whispered to them, taking their hand in his own and leaving a light kiss on it.

“And you’re not so bad yourself,” Dee replied, their eyes sweeping over Roman’s red and white suit before lingering on his lips. “I like the lipstick,” they smiled coyly, gazing out at them from behind long lashes.

“Dinner,” Roman squeaked in the most dignified manner possible, offering out his arm.

“As you wish, dear heart.”

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After the room had filled with saccharine conversations and laughter and their stomachs had filled with rich food and wine, Roman led Dee away from the table, which vanished into thin air with a wave of his hand. He twirled them once, showing off the newly empty room.

“A ballroom? You’re so romantic.” Dee brought both hands fluttering to their chest in what looked to Roman like a mocking approximation of a swoon.

Roman scoffed lightly. “I’m doing the bare minimum—not even well. You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not quite that fragile.”

Frowning, Dee took a step closer. “I’m not lying. I’ve told you, I won’t ever lie to you. You’ve been so sweet to me for as long as I can remember, since the beginning of last month especially. Everything you’ve done is— it’s been perfect, and perfectly romantic.”

“Yes, well… my point still stands,” Roman stated, forcing a smile, hiding his pain. “You deserve more than what I can give you. You deserve the world.”

“I— no. Roman, sweetness, my light, my angel, my prince, I hope you know how incredibly wrong you are. Who you are is more than I could ever ask for, not to mention everything you’ve been so wonderful as give me.”

“But it’s still. Not. Enough. You— you’re you, and I’m me and I don’t know how but I’ve somehow tricked you into thinking that you love me.”

Dee paused, hand suspended in midair where it had been reaching out to comfort Roman. “Darling, you don’t truly believe that, do you?”

“I—”

“Come here, my love.” The prospect of dancing a distant memory, Deceit conjured a plush settee before settling onto it. Roman reluctantly sat down next to them on it, curling slightly in on himself.

“Look, it’s— it’s fine. Forget I said anything.” Trying for another smile, Roman made a show of fixing his appearance, throwing back his shoulders and brushing a stray hair out of his face. “I love you, Dee,” he added, hoping desperately that they truly would forget what he’d said and pretend this conversation had never happened.

“I love you too, Roman,” Dee said gently, “but I can’t do that. I can’t just… forget that you don’t think I love you unconditionally and without pretense. Because I do, and nothing you have said or will say is going to change that.”

Roman shifted, his suit suddenly feeling suffocatingly tight.

“You’ve made me the luckiest person alive, and there’s no one who knows that better than I do. Roman, I love you, and you deserve that. The fact that you love me in return is all I need, and I know that you do; everything you’ve ever done for me proves that and then some. Now, what can I do to convince you of that?”

“I— I don’t know. I just— I can’t— I don’t believe that. I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

Dee looked at him with a touch of melancholy in their gaze, but continued a moment later in an impossibly gentle tone. “That’s okay, love. Can I hold you?”

Roman nodded, relaxing into Deceit’s arms. “It feels like I’m— like I’m broken.” He felt himself shuddering slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

“Shh, none of that. You don’t need to be sorry for not knowing, and you don’t need to be sorry for feeling broken. I will do everything in my power to prove to you that you’re wrong though, and I will wait for however long it takes for you to understand that I am telling the truth when I say that I love you—all of you, supposed flaws included—more than words give me the power to express.”

Roman felt a soft smile spreading over his face. “I don’t deser—” he cut himself off in the middle of the word before stretching up to press a kiss to Dee’s jaw, deciding instead on, “I love you.”

“Much better.” Dee returned the kiss, laying theirs softly on Roman’s forehead. “I promise we’ll talk more later, but for now,” they said, sweeping Roman off the settee and into their arms, “how about that dance?”

The settee vanished with a wave of Roman’s hand as Deceit set him back on the ground. A very real smile spread across his face as he bowed over their hand, placing a kiss on it. “I’d be honored,” he replied.

_________________________

translations for Roman’s nicknames in chronological order:

mi luz (Spanish): my light

mon rêve (French): my dream

mon cœur (French): my heart

dolcezza (Italian): sweetness

mi tesoro (Spanish): my treasure

mi sol (Spanish): my sun/sunshine

vida mía (Spanish): my life

ma fée (French): my fairy

mea columba (Latin): my dove

ocelle mi (Latin): my little gem/apple of my eye (literally: my little eye, but used by Roman poets to mean one of/something similar to one of the former)

_________________________

Drawing his knees to his chest, Virgil hid his head between them and squeezed his eyes shut as though that would stop him from being as awful and ugly as he was. It didn’t, of course, and the only thing it succeeded in doing was burning a too-vivid image of each of his flaws into the back of his eyelids. Virgil hugged his legs closer.

There was no comfort to be found alone in his room, but that was okay. Virgil had gotten through bouts of dysphoria like this before, and he’d been alone then just as he was now. This too would pass, and he would be fine.

That didn’t make thinking any less nausea-inducing, but the empty comfort did remind him to breathe just a bit more slowly.

Then he was restless again, his mind moving too fast, too fast, too fast and he needed to do something. Normally, Virgil would blast music and block out his thoughts for a little while, but it was past three in the morning. He doubted anyone would appreciate being woken up, and he knew from experience that headphones would only make him feel more trapped in a body that he refused to think of as his own.

So Virgil was left with nothing but his empty room, utterly alone and pacing across a floor alight with beams of moonlight that had managed to slip through a crack in his curtains, his mind alight with the spark of thoughts he wanted—needed—to get rid of.

He’d only been pacing a few minutes when Virgil begrudgingly admitted to himself that it was doing nothing.

He needed to do something else, something that would distract him from the fact that he was too short, his hands and fingers to lithe and small, his—

Virgil took a breath. What he needed to do was breathe.

His friends. The other sides. Logan, Roman, Patton—any one of them or all three. They could help him, he was sure of it. All he had to do was ask. All he had to do was knock on one of their doors. All he had to do was admit out loud that he wasn’t created right and be vulnerable and become even more of a burden than he currently was.

That was going to be a hard pass on his part, now that he thought about it.

Deceit and Remus wouldn’t need any sort of explanation though, and he’d grown up with them. If anyone could help, it would be them.

It really was too bad, then, that he’d abandoned them.

So no, he definitely was not dealing with that.

Coping mechanisms, then. Those should help, right? Right.

Music was already out, and so was pacing. Journaling would only make him more aware of thoughts he was desperate to ignore, and so would meditation and grounding exercises.

Coloring might help distract him for a while, he thought. At least, he thought that until he remembered that coloring was an activity done by little girls and he was not a little girl.

Then coloring was out too, apparently. He could add another patch to his hoodie? But that would mean taking it off, and he really couldn’t do that right now.

Fidget cube? No, that would do about as much as the pacing had—meaning it would do absolutely nothing.

He could put on his binder, but his chest already felt too tight and he could barely breathe as it was.

He could…

He could…

Virgil didn’t know what he could do. He sat back down on his bed and curled in on himself, defeated by his own mind.

A small voice chose that moment to pipe up that his friends would really be helpful right now, but Virgil shoved it back down. Nope. He wouldn’t bother his new friends and risk ruining those fragile relationships forever, and he couldn’t face his old ones. Instead, he would stay locked in the silence of his room and trapped at the same time in the deafening noise of his mind.

Well. At least, he would after he got a drink of water. It was the least he could do for this wretched body of his he supposed, and besides—he could try to sleep once more after that. The glass of water might even help him in that regard.

Quietly, Virgil padded across the floor to his door, opening it just a crack to check that he was alone in his wakefulness. Satisfied by the empty space that greeted him, he opened it the rest of the way and made his way to the kitchen, guided by the dim light of the refrigerator.

As he was reaching up to grab a glass from a cabinet, Virgil heard a noise. Startled, he pulled his hand back to his chest and spun around, wide eyes searching for any and every possible source of it. He squinted out at the dark void ahead of him. “Hello?”

When no response came after a few seconds, Virgil turned back to the cabinet with a slightly confused frown lingering on his face. He shook his head, concluding that he’d simply been hearing things. This time when he reached for a glass, he was able to put it on the counter before there was another noise.

Spinning around again, Virgil mused to himself that it had sounded like— no. It probably wasn’t, so he wouldn’t get his hopes up. Still seeing nothing, he took the glass from where he’d set it down, walking over to the fridge to fill it up.

“Boo.”

It took everything in Virgil not to let out an earsplitting shriek and deck the person who had snuck up behind him square in the face. He had just enough self-control to avoid doing that though, so instead, both his hands shot to cover his mouth as the glass he’d been holding fell to the floor, forgotten in his panic.

As though in slow motion a hand shot out to catch it a split second before it shattered on the tile. The owner of the hand let out a sigh. “I did say not to scare him, didn’t I?”

“And I said it would be fine, didn’t I?”

“And you were wrong, as per usual. Just as I’d said you would be.”

“Oh, come on, DeeDee! Nothing’s broken, right?”

“No thanks to you.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Virgil hissed out, “Hi, so sorry to interrupt this absolutely vital conversation, but why the fuck are you here?”

“Are we not allowed to visit our friend when his half-hearted lies and intrusive, dysphoric thoughts are so tangible that we know he’s not doing well?” Remus pouted.

Virgil blinked. “Your what now?”

“Friend,” Deceit repeated for him, sounding every inch the exhausted mom they were. “We were far too close to let a little disagreement like that get in the way of anything. Now, surely you didn’t think that just because you abandoned us unceremoniously we weren’t friends anymore, did you?”

“…No, that was exactly what I thought, and for a good reason! I didn’t even say goodbye when I left, I had no reason to think we were still…” Virgil made a vague gesture with his hands. “You know.”

“Friends?” Remus asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah. That.”

“Come now, Virgil. We were family, and family doesn’t abandon family. Especially not when they’re at their lowest and most alone.”

“Yeah, but I abandoned you.”

“Yeah, and we forgive you. But you were gonna say sorry soon, weren’t you?”

“Remus, for once could you not—”

“No, he’s right. I— I am sorry. I don’t know why I just— left like that. There’s no excuse for that, and I guess I wanted to—”

“Shh, darling. We don’t need an explanation right now. We’re here for you anyway, aren’t we, Remus?”

“Yep! I’ve got the best Buzzfeed Unsolved episodes ready for us back in my room, and there are snacks, and—”

“Actually, can we just… stay here for now?”

“Absolutely, dear.”

“Mhm, agreed. Besides, I see a couch that looks absolutely perfect for cuddles, so I think that’s exactly what we should do.”

Virgil gives a shaky smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

With that permission given, Remus promptly picked up Virgil bridal style and collapsed backward into the couch with a laugh, motioning for Deceit to join them. They did so, settling themself down primly next to Remus and watching their two friends fondly.

Then Remus dragged them into the impromptu cuddle pile and, dignity having been ripped violently from their grasp, Deceit allowed themself to relax into it. They did try to fight it, slithering upright a little bit more, but then they rested their head on Remus’s shoulder and took Virgil’s hand into theirs, so it was safe to say that their dignity truly was long gone. “Do you want to talk to us about anything?” they asked, running a thumb comfortingly over the back of Virgil’s hand.

“Not right now. I think I’m just going to—” Virgil paused to yawn, “—try and sleep for now. Thank you guys though, really.”

“We’ll still be here in the morning, Virgey. We aren’t going anywhere.”

And they didn’t, holding Virgil close to their chests until morning dawned, remaining on the couch even after Patton stopped short at the scene in front of him, even after Logan brought over one steaming cup of coffee for each of them, even after Roman almost woke Virgil with the loud announcement of his arrival, even after all three of them had joined Remus and Deceit in the living room with Virgil. They would all wait there until he woke up, and then they would assure him that they could and would be there for him at any hour of the day if need be. They’d remind him of his broad shoulders and strong jaw, his muscled arms and his voice that was growing lower by the day. They’d remind him that no matter what he thought and no matter how much his body didn’t feel like his own, he was handsome inside and out. They would tell Virgil how much they loved him, and how they were so glad that he was who he was, flaws and all.

And Virgil would smile, blissfully content with who he was.

For now though, they let him sleep. He was smiling there, all wrapped up in Remus’s arms with his head resting on Deceit’s shoulder, and no one was going to do anything to wreck that peaceful smile of his.

Besides, they all loved him—his new family and his old—so they would always wait for however long it took to tell him so.

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