I Hope the Worst Isn't Over ✔️

Chapter Three

Somewhere in the distance, Janus sat around a kindling fire with Remus at his side. He leaned against a fallen log fiddling with their handheld radio, while the other man sprawled out on the forest floor, uncaring that it was further dirtying his clothes. It was typical, in all honesty, and both men were tired after a long day of traveling. Their efforts were beginning to feel more and more fruitless the longer they were unable to find shelter, not to mention getting service in the woods was practically impossible. It had been weeks now, and Janus felt as if he may well lose his mind if he had to spend much longer in this filth, even if his companion hardly seemed to mind. He set the radio aside in defeat and pulled his shawl closer, wrapping it further around his form to protect from the elements.

"You know, it could be raining like it was last week," Remus said as he observed the action, presumably to offer some sort of condolence for their poor circumstances.

"It could, I suppose," Janus agreed, allowing the fabric to fall aside enough for him to reach out and turn the contraption being used to cook the food they'd caught. He'd much prefer it didn't burn, after all.

"So relax already! You look so tense, there's probably more knots in your back than in shibari art."

Janus rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the remark, "Not at all."

Remus shrugged in disbelief and pushed himself from the dirt, crawling up behind his friend to rub his back. He pressed his thumbs down firmly, turning them in  circular motions to relive the points of stress in his muscles.

"What exactly are you doing?" Janus asked in confusion, and Remus simply laughed.

"Proving I was right. Can't you feel this tension? It has to be so uncomfortable, how high-strung are you?"

"I'm not high-strung," he argued, rolling his shoulders and batting Remus away.

"Ah yes, because the apocalypse is so blissful. Of course you couldn't be stressed." Remus laid back down, though this time he rested himself across the fallen tree, upside down with his back against the bark, joining Janus in basking in the fire. He extended his hands and held them near the flames, letting out a sigh of relief and wiggling his fingers at the warmth it provided. "But it's still only radio static?"

"Unfortunately. There's no way to get a signal with all these trees surrounding us. I've tried, and tried, it's useless until we get out of here."

"Hmmm…" he hummed and stretched his hands further, "we better not lose the broadcast all together. That would make all of this totally pointless."

"Don't be unreasonable, of course we won't lose track of it entirely. We'll continue following the directions until we reach the location it's describing."

"You mean North Windex or whatever?"

"South Wadnix," Janus corrected, "And yes, we should find it eventually. If we're on the right track, we'll be able to settle down at the FSA soon enough."

"If," Remus parroted, looking back to the fire. It seemed he had only taken that word from his friend's explanation.

Janus glanced towards him with a sigh, the man's brown hair a mess that stuck up in all directions as his head hung over the log. White strands were strewn about in the front, coming from a melanin-free patch on his scalp and that caused anything growing from it to lack pigment. Poliosis, Janus believed it was called, or at least that's what he'd been told. Hints of the condition could be seen in the man's other features as well, such as a cluster of white lashes over his left eye, making the green of his iris even more prominent, and even causing the occasional white hair in his moustache. Janus liked to tease that Remus was going to be left with all silver hair by the end of things. It was an amusing thought, and they teased one another frequently. He'd known that boy since childhood, after all, so such mocking was inevitable. It made the chaos of life feel more normal, even if their shared past wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, either. Yes, Janus had such luck as to know Remus since they were kids-- since way before he fell ill. But of course, that also meant bearing witness to said infection when it inevitably rolled around, and watching helplessly as it broke the boy's life apart. He hated to admit how much it broke his heart to lose a part of the Remus he once knew, but he hated even more when people acted as if he was gone entirely. Although different, the man was still alive, still there. Janus knew, because he'd stuck by his side the entire time.