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Another day.
Another argument.
Another fight.
It felt almost constant now, the yelling back and forth between the two sides. Virgil had begun to grow tired of the antics, standing there with furrowed brows as he listened to Janus harp on and on over how Virgil never should've left. He should've stayed with the Dark Sides. He was becoming soft.
Janus noticed how Virgil stayed silent and grew a bit suspicious himself, but was more aggravated by the thought that the other wasn't listening to him. He scoffed before turning away slightly, "Why do I even try with you, Virgil? Just standing there doing nothing. They really have melted you down from your former glory."
"Why does it matter to you so much?" Virgil snapped back, his tone sharp and quick, like the tip of a blade slicing through the air. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," Janus stated back, glancing back at Virgil with a blank expression. A face the other was all too familiar with. As much as he knew the facade, it still hurt him nonetheless. Hearing those words come out of his former friend's mouth was a bitter pill to swallow. "The moment you left, I had no more cares for you," Janus continued. "I'm merely here now to remind you of the mistakes you made. The mistake you are."
Virgil felt his chest swelling with emotion. The anxieties he held, the fears he shouldered. It was all coming up to the surface like a bullet train that couldn't be stopped. All his insecurities rose at that moment—but instead of letting it consume him, he got up. Janus's facade broke in that moment, his face showing genuine traces of shock and maybe even fear when the other began walking away. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then another, before it started to race at a speed he hadn't experienced before.
"Virge, wait—" Janus began to say, but briefly cut himself off once he saw Virgil turn around and face him. His face was contorted with a slew of different feelings, but one was more noticeable than the others—anger. Frustration. Maybe even a hint of disappointment. Virgil had one last string of hope that, once—just this once—Janus could be honest with him.
One last time.
"Tell me now or forever hold your truth," Virgil stated firmly, although his voice slightly wavered from his own nerves. "Do you really mean that?" He asked, expecting an honest answer. Janus stood there, completely tongue-tied. His mouth hung open for a moment, like he wanted to say something. He was going to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. It was painfully silent for what felt like hours, the tension growing thicker with each passing second.
"I…" Janus muttered, trying his best to come to terms with the truth without looking like a complete fool, because the truth? He did care. Hell, he was torn when Virgil left. It felt like his whole world had crumbled, and he didn't know who he was anymore. It was like a piece of him went missing, and he would have to go through war and back to get it again… but he wasn't willing to show that much vulnerability. So, he let it go.
Virgil, having had enough of the silence, just shook his head silently before turning away and leaving Janus alone, the image of the snake's stone-cold face stuck in his mind. An image that refused to leave him, no matter how many times he'd seen it. No matter how many times he told himself it was nothing more than an emotional wall. The sight of that face never failed to hurt him because Janus always knew how to get under his skin and make him feel like a fool for even hoping that he would be truthful.
And Virgil did feel like a fool. A complete, utter fool.
His final string had snapped, and he feared that the olden days could never return even if he wanted them to, for Janus would never admit his truest feelings.
They both lost the world that day.