That Wasn't Wine... - Sanders Sides Vampire Au

Chapter 57: Sap

6,5k reads lol

TW: slight angst

Even though Janus had heard the others arrive, he didn't go back downstairs, rather opting to stay alone in his office while Remus was in his studio, probably writing something new, a poem perhaps.

Remus wrote often; he'd always been a poet, even during his time as a Spanish noble. His gift with words had remained as the centuries went by, and the fact that so many of his works hadn't lasted the passage of the years saddened Janus.

Throughout the decades, Janus had read all the poems Remus had given him, the ones dedicated to him being stored in a very specific folder and considered one of his most valuable possessions. Often, he'd go back to read those, and the change of style present in the writing was fascinating. To some, it might be hard to believe the one who wrote them all was the same author, the differences from the ones written in 1608 and 1890 being incredible, yet there was something about his work that allowed Janus to recognize it was written by his husband. He was never able to put the finger on what, but it was there.

Unfortunately, as time went by, Janus was given access to less and less of these poems. Lately, instead of writing just for the pleasure of doing so, Remus did it as an escape, as a way to vent, letting his raw feelings bleed into a page, creating beautiful, pure art from a place of pain. Letting others read it- it was exposing your soul, your darkest moments, desires and thoughts. It let one very vulnerable, such a thing could be scary sometimes, so Janus respected it. He understood it; there was a reason he didn't let others read his diaries.

In some occasions, Remus did allow Janus to read some of his poems once they had been edited, worked on and perfected. They were horrible, in the most beautiful way possible. Some of them- they stole Janus's breath; they perfectly enraptured some feelings Janus didn't think he'd have to face again.

They were gorgeous, art you could only achieve after centuries of experience; no one else could get such levels of detail.

Yet... well, it hurt, in a sense, the quality being able to rip such out such intense emotions out of Janus. That was part of the reason he didn't mind if Remus kept them private.

The issue with all of this now was that- well, Remus was busy working on his writing, and didn't wish to be disturbed. And Janus couldn't go downstairs either- he couldn't face the others.

The guilt... the pain that he had caused all of them, Emile, Virgil, Patton, even Logan- He couldn't face it.

So instead, Janus went all the way up to his office, where it all had happened. With all the things that had happened in the past few hours, he had had no chance to get back in here. Not that he wanted to, but he had no other choice anymore.

There was a blood splatter on the floor, a few droplets sprayed across the wall. Janus sighed, passing his fingers through it; it was dry now, it'll be hard to clean up. Maybe he should ask for Remus to paint something new or move one of the paintings to cover up the stain. It was surprising the amount of the paintings whose main purpose was to cover up stains, not only blood ones.

On the desk sat the diary.

Janus walked over and sat on his chair, looking down at the book.

It was the one which had the numbers 2023 engraved in golden letters into the back. The date on the page it was opened on had yesterday's date written into it, February 12th. There was half a page dedicated to that day, all written in Janus's cursive writing. In the past, he'd considered his handwriting to be unique, but now? It had been so easy to replicate by August- There was nothing special about it.