Janus's POV:

It was late at night, and the city was hung with a quiet, sleepy aura that felt like a warm blanket. 

I had tried to walk back home, but had gotten lost and had to get directions from some random person. Which had sucked. 

But now I was home, and as I padded through the darkened hallways, hearing the soft, constant sound of the fan in Emile's room, I couldn't hold back a smile. Living in Lakeside was nice, as the city was beautiful, but I couldn't ever find a better place to live than this apartment. 

I walked sleepily to the comforting burrow in the wall, packed with blankets, books, and the familiar smell of orange tea and hot chocolate that made me sigh in relief. The fairy lights, in the shape of stars, were unplugged-- we rarely had them on, actually, they were mostly for show. The blankets were rumpled and messy, tucked into the corners, and pillows were thrown around until it looked like a bird's nest. 

No matter what, I knew I had a home here, and the realization filled me with a sort of warm, soft glow. 

Wriggling out of my jacket, I pounced inside the sleeping cave and nestled into the blankets, letting out the breath I didn't even know I was holding. It was warm, cozy, and comforting, and I felt surrounded by a hug as I curled into the soft fabric and closed my eyes. 

I just wanted to sleep. 

---

The next morning was clear and fresh, birds chirping outside the window in spiraling, high-pitched notes. Warbling robins fluttered away from the windowsill as I slowly stretched awake, blinking sleepily and yawning widely. 

The morning light flooded into the room, cool and tinted a slight aqua. Blankets were still wrapped all the way around me, muffling my movements as I nuzzled further into the nest of pillows, yawning and closing my eyes again. 

Thoughts swirled through my mind, and I suddenly remembered last night. Memories flashed through my mind in shattered snapshots, sharp as glass and dark as nighttime. 

Walking up to the phone booth, the red metal tinted in cold shadow as the moon starkly illuminated the glass walls. 

The rough feel of the quarter in my pocket, the coldness of it as I clenched my hand around the metal. 

Snapping my head up, I passed a hand over my eyes and let out a soft hiss, trying to shake away the memories. I plastered on a false smile and shoved the blankets off of me, slipping out of the nest and stretching like a cat. 

When I made my way the kitchen, I saw Emile stirring something in a large pot and raised my eyebrows. It smelled good, which was unusual for anything Emile made. "What'ss that?" I purred, slipping up behind Emile and sniffing the air. 

He yelped, then turned around with a frown and swatted me. "Just some oatmeal, that's all," he muttered. "Don't smell me."

I chuckled, still slightly sleepy, and sat down backward on the chair, my arms and chin resting on the back. "Don't worry, I won't," I teased. "Anyway, what do you have planned for the next few days?"

Emile glanced at me. "Uh... well, today I have some appointments-- one with Elliot, and one with someone new." He scrunched up his nose at the sly look I was pulling and sighed. "And yes, fine, I might ask... Remy if... we could go out sometime..." his voice faded into a mumble, and he stirred the oatmeal slowly. 

Raising an eyebrow, I leaned back in the chair. "Honesstly, darling," I cooed, drawing out the pet name, "just hurry it up and assk him out. Adopt ssome babies. You've fallen sso hard for each other, you've been through so much-- you should at leasst be boyfriends."

He blushed a darker red than I thought was possible and just shook his head. "Well, what about you and-- and Remus?" he challenged, making me choke on empty air. "I don't think I've ever seen you go out on a single formal date."

I coughed several more times, tearing up slightly, and took a deep breath. "We-- we don't talk about that," I finally muttered, turning around and slumping in my seat. "Shut up shut up."

Now laughing, he reached over the stovetop and turned the burner for the oatmeal off. "Well then," he chirped. "Guess we don't talk about my love life either." He stuck his tongue out at me and pulled some bowls out of the cupboard. 

I rolled my eyes. "You're sso sstubborn, Em."

He sighed. "And also? Serious talk time." He sat down, folding his hands, his gaze flickering away. "Can you please-- please just tell me what's going on?"

I froze. "What do you m-mean?" I stammered, my body tensing. "Uh..." I swallowed thickly, feeling trapped. "Nothing's going on," I denied, steeling my voice even as panic cracked my defenses, one by one. 

Emile looked at me with pained eyes. "I know something's been going on, and I think it involves your dad. Just please." He reached over the table, gently grasping my hands in his and gave me a quiet, comforting smile. 

Feeling my eyes welling up with tears, I squeezed them shut, my hand shaking free of Emile's and tracing the burn scar over my eye with slow movements. "I don't..." I mumbled, opening my eyes and looking at Emile. 

He bit his lip, letting out a long breath. "Janus," he said, "I'm here. I'm your best friend, so please, tell me what happened. I want to help." He leveled his gaze with me, green eyes meeting teary, muffled grey ones. 

"You really want to know?" I whispered, letting my hand drop to the table. 

"If it'll help," he replied softly, tilting his head. 

I swallowed, slumping slightly in my seat. "...alright," I murmured, grasping the edge of my sleeves and rolling them up, exposing the sharp, laced scars that lanced every which way across my arms. 

Emile let out a small, horrified gasp and froze. "Janus?" he breathed, his forehead furrowing. "Why?"

Frowning, I rolled my sleeves back up sharply, stubbornly ignoring the pain it caused when the fabric rubbed against the scars. "You know why," I muttered. 

"The wanted poster," he realized, his expression becoming one so sad it hurt my heart to look at him. "Is that why? Oh, Janus..." He walked around the table and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, quietly breathing in and out. 

I felt tears pricking at my eyes and took in a deep, ragged breath, crumbling into myself. 

He rubbed my shoulders. "Shh, I'm so sorry this happened to you," he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into me. "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you sooner. I should have helped you sooner."

I shook my head, words coming out in jumbled, cracked stutters, my voice a quiet shadow, broken and messy. "That's-- not all," I mumbled. "I-- I tried calling him." I reached up to my face, smearing tears off. 

Emile raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean? Who..." he stopped talking as realization flooded him. "Oh... oh my god..."

"I told him-- I wassn't going to ever, ever, ever come back," I whispered, "and if he tried, he would have to drag me back, and I'd go down sscreaming." I closed my eyes tightly, but the image was still there, the dusty, dingy alley where I had found the old payphone. 

Emile sighed slowly, squeezing me one last time and drawing back, meeting my gaze. "Janus?" he asked, grabbing my hand. "I'll be here, you know that? I'll always be here." He sniffled, blinking away tears. 

I smiled faintly at him, letting a tear leak out of my eye and drip down my chin. "I know. And I'm never going back." I breathed deeply, meeting his gaze softly. "This is my home now."

It was hard, breaking away. I hadn't done it before-- not even considered it, no, because I was scared. I was scared that he'd realize where I was and rip me away from where I wanted to be. 

But after the awfulness of the last few days, I realized that things weren't going to get better unless I made them better. If he tried to take me back, I wouldn't let him. 

I had friends now. 

I knew where I belonged.