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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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Hallucination

Prompts: i love your fics insanity and real or not real!! can i request another fic where a side is struggling to tell what's real and what's a hallucination? can be in the same like universe (carrying on with one of the stories) or a completely different universe/person, idm - anon

*crashes into ur asks*

Hey if you’re still taking requests could you do just Janus comforting someone on the verge of a meltdown? Like lots of soft words and caring Janus? He’s my comfort character and I love him - anon

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 1 (ish)

Warnings: talk of hallucinations, uncertainty

Pairings: focus on creativitwins, intrulogical, dukeceit, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 3864

Sometimes Thomas watches things and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

Sometimes Thomas decides to watch something late at night, when it’s dark outside, even though Virgil tells him it’s a bad idea, and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

Sometimes when Virgil has gone to his room and he’s fine, but Thomas’s mind can’t stop playing it over and over and over and over, he starts to expand on it and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

He can’t remember the name of the video. Something to do with being stuck on a misty island in the middle of nowhere with a monster and villagers that wait to sacrifice tourists to the monster to sate its hunger. Something about a daring rescue or an escape plan doomed to fail.

Something like…

“Do not go outside. Do not turn on the lights. Don’t make sounds.” The old man draws the curtains sharply across the window. “And whatever you do, do not look out the window.”

It’s late now. Patton’s asleep. Virgil’s in his room, probably asleep. The rest of them are still awake in the Imagination. It’s slumber party night for the twins, having created a big sprawling mansion in the Imagination for them to run around in. Logan is here, Janus is here, Roman is here.

Villagers?

They’re talking about what Thomas watched.

Logan straightens his legs out. “It’s not a bad practice, staying quiet.”

Janus rolls his eyes. “Come on, what is this, some haunted island?”

“You saw the people in the video.” Logan rests his weight on his elbows. “Something was amiss.”

“The only thing amiss was how awfully boring you lot are being.” Janus sighs and stands, stretching. “Well, I think a night of entertainment sounds wonderful.”

“The old man said to be quiet,” Roman points out. Wait, is the old man real?

“Do you know how prone to flights of fancy old people are?” Janus smiles. “Incredibly.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh don’t start that.” Janus rolls his eyes and his gaze lands on Remus. A smirk crawls across his face. “Well,” he drawls, sauntering across the room, “someone’s being awfully quiet.”

Remus just shrugs. Janus crouches down.

“What do you think about this monster,” he asks, tapping his fingers on his chin, “about the thing that sneaks around this island, peering into windows, through the keyholes of locked doors?”

“Janus,” Logan warns.

“What? I just want to hear what our other little scientist thinks about this.” He raises his eyebrows when Remus won’t hold his gaze. “No? Nothing? Need more data? Well, I’m sure you could ask around if you wanted to.”

“We’re not supposed to leave,” he says softly.

“I know you’re a goody-two-shoes, Remus, but you’ll never get anything done that way.”

“Leave him alone, Janus,” Roman says with a wink, “he’s just mad at how pathetic the monster design was.”

Long limbs. Dark eyes. Moved like shadow.

“And the Boy Scout, coming to the rescue.” Janus rolls his eyes as he stands. “Aren’t you tired of being so boring?”

Roman holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m all for exploring!”

Janus sighs. “Ever the dashing prince, are we?”

“Ask nicely and I may sweep you off your feet too.”

The banter continues. Logan just sighs and pulls out a journal, the pen emerging from god-knows-where as he writes. Remus swallows and glances toward the window.

In. Out. In. Out.

Roman and Janus are still tossing barbs and jests back and forth. Remus cannot help but notice how loud they are being.

The old man said to be quiet.

Logan looks up when he begins to crouch down and shuffle behind the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing.” He gives a half-hearted smile. “Texture spoons ran out.”

He nods and goes back to his writing. Remus glances at the nightstand. Only 8:00. The conversation gets progressively louder. Logan joins in eventually, rolling his eyes at Roman’s increasingly elaborate proposals to bring in jukeboxes, disco lights, and speakers.

“Let’s think about this logically. If the ghosts or whatever the hell the monster is sensitive to sound, why not pump everything to like, 300 decibels and blast their eardrums out?”

“Or it could be that they just hear things like we hear things,” Logan remarks.

“Mm.”

“Why do I have to be quiet?” Roman spreads his arms. “I should not have to deal with that!”

“Actually, you know what,” Janus says gleefully, “I agree. We shouldn’t have to be quiet. If this place doesn’t have adequate monster protection, that’s on them.”

This place…didn’t they make it safe? Roman said they made it safe. Is it not safe anymore? Are the shadows—is the monster here?

“Always the entitlement,” Logan sighs, seemingly resigning himself to the voice of reason as he settles his journal to the side, “assuming that everyone should cater to your needs.”

“Oh come on, Logan. You have to admit that having a hotel that isn’t secure makes little to no sense.”

Hotel? Isn’t this still the mansion?

The low buzz of an LED sign comes from outside. Remus blinks. Has…has that always been there?

“Not respecting the rules of wherever you choose to go makes little to no sense.”

“That’s gotta hold up in court though.” Roman glances at Janus. “You get me?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Janus says, drawing himself up like a lawyer, “I would like to sue on the grounds that my intestines were devoured horrifically by a terrifying, savage beast that the hotel owners neglected to inform me of. How am I standing here, you ask, if my intestines have been devoured? Simple. Spite.”

Roman’s off, cackling to his heart’s content. Logan bites back his own smile.

“And how, may I ask, is this not the fault of yourself?”

“May I say, Your Honor, that victim-blaming is not cute—“

“Here here,” comes Roman’s voice.

“—and also, the information about aforementioned monster came from someone who was not an employee of the hotel,” Janus finishes grandly, “therefore they can suck my—“

Logan hits his hand against the nightstand, still fighting down laughter. “Defendant is charged with contempt of court.”

“Do not pass go,” Roman chortles as Janus swoons dramatically, “do not collect 200 dollars.”

“Remus,” Janus cries out, “avenge me!”

Remus does not respond. He is too busy trying to figure out when the mansion became the hotel.

“Remus,” Janus cries again, crawling dramatically across the floor, “save me from this indignity.”

“No, thank you,” he mumbles instead.

Janus huffs, pushing himself off the floor. “Then by all means, please tell us your ingenious solution to this monster problem that we find ourselves in.”

Remus looks up, his face carefully blank except for a small smile. “I’m going to hide underneath the sheets,” he says in a soft, small voice, “because everybody knows monsters can’t get you when you’re under your sheets.”

“That is adorable,” Roman chuckles.

Janus’s eyebrows raise slowly until another fiendish smirk crawls across his face. “Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

“Aww,” he coos, “hiding under the sheets to get away from the monsters, how adorable.”

Remus doesn’t respond.

“If only the others could see you now,” Janus crows, “they’d know how intimidating you really are.”

Logan takes his glasses off, polishing them with the handkerchief from his pocket. “As if you’re any better, crying over a torn seam in your cape.”

“That bastard took two weeks to get right!”

Remus ignores them once more, glancing at the clock. 9:45. An acceptable time to try and go to sleep. He moves slowly and quietly as he tries to get into the bed. The monster could be here. The banter continues behind him as he pulls the sheets tight around him.

He does not see Logan glance over. He does not see that Logan frowns and glances at the clock, thinking perhaps Remus is more tired than he appeared, but…still. He does not see Logan look back at the others still talking, they’re probably not going to go to sleep for a long while.

He does not see Logan look over at him as Janus leaves the room, claiming he’s going to go find somewhere more fun to sleep. He does not see Logan frown, looking to see Remus still on his side, huddled under the sheets. He does not see when Logan starts to count.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He does not see Logan beckon Roman closer.

He does not see Roman frown as he comes closer, sighing at the notebook in Logan’s hands.

“Logan, why the hell can’t you take a break for…” he trails off when he sees Logan’s face. “What?”

“Perhaps I like to keep myself occupied,” Logan says smoothly, even as he nods insistently to the notebook, “even in times where the circumstances might be less than ideal.”

Roman raises an eyebrow. Subtle, Logan.

“You are chronically incapable of taking a break, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Do you know any words other than ‘perhaps?’”

“Perhaps.”

Roman hides a smirk as squints at the text.

I think Remus is actually afraid. Don’t tease. - L

Remus does hear Roman exhale sharply. He does not see him glance up at the bed before he looks back at Logan and nods.

“Well,” he sighs, stretching and yawning exaggeratedly, “on that note, it’s probably a good idea to try and sleep.”

Logan snorts. “And here I thought you were supposed to be an actor.”

He swats at him halfheartedly as he starts getting ready to go to sleep. What that means is just a matter of snapping his fingers to change out of the prince costume. He packs his other clothes away and crosses the room, keeping his footsteps loud but not too loud.

Now that he’s paying attention, he can see how scared poor Remus is. He’s frozen under the sheets, barely moving. As Logan starts talking quietly to himself, he sets his bag down next to Remus’s and sighs, moving around to make a bit more noise.

Remus still doesn’t move.

When he’s made all the noise he can reasonably make, he walks a little closer to the bed and reaches to fix the curtains, unable to stop the soft noise when his shadow falls over the bed.

“Hey, Re,” he whispers, leaning down and brushing the sheet a little further from his face, “it’s just me, it’s just Roman. Can you open your eyes for me?”

It takes him a moment but his eyes do open. He smiles down at him and cups his face for a moment.

“Hey, there, Re,” he murmurs, “can I come join you?”

He barely nods.

“Thank you.” He frowns when he doesn’t move over. “You gonna let me in?”

He can tell by the way his eyes glass over that’s not a good idea unless he can convince him otherwise.

“Come on,” he whispers again, “scoot to the other side for me.” He nudges his shoulder gently. “Logan misses you.”

Loren doesn’t let his mumuring falter but he does reach across the small space between their beds to lightly pat the side closest to him.

Remus moves, as skittish as the new dragon pups, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest, his pillow gripped in his other hand. Roman swiftly takes the warm spot he’s vacated, wincing in sympathy as he shivers on the cold sheets.

“Thank you,” he sighs, making a show of getting comfortable before reaching out for him, smacking his lips together in sleep, “now come here.”

At his quickly stifled questioning noise, he drops the act and opens his arm wide.

“It’s okay, Re,” he whispers, far too quiet for Logan to hear, “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay.”

He stares at him a moment longer before he realizes that shit, he’s not going to be able to move on his own right now.

“Can I come get you, Re?” Roman smiles when he gives him another one of those jerky nods. “Thank you, I’m gonna pull you over to me, okay?”

He takes him into his arms slowly and carefully, wrapping him up in the sheets until just the very tops of their heads poke out. He relaxes just enough so that he can maneuver him to where he likes, but he’s far from the sleepy pile he expected.

“Hey,” he whispers, tucking his hair behind his ear, “you want to stay here with me, Re?”

He blinks sluggishly. Roman bites back a curse and leans down to rub his nose against his.

“Hey, hey, Re, you just focus on me, okay? Stay with me here—“ he tightens his grip— “right here…I’ve got you.”

He frowns when he makes a small little noise that sounds like it could be his name.

“Yeah, Re? You calling for me?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He kisses Remus’s forehead.

“Nonverbal,” he whispers, “or just scared? Or both?”

A moment passes.

“Both it is then.” Roman tucks his head under his chin. “Why don’t you go ahead and close your eyes, Re, I’m right here.”

They stay there, wrapped in the blankets, Remus warm and snug up against Roman’s chest. He plays with his hair, one of his legs slung over his to hold him close, working to lull him out of his frozen state. After a while, Logan stands from the other side of the room and pats Roman’s shoulder.

“Your turn, Roman.”

Roman rolls over. “Huh?”

Logan nods his head toward the bathroom. “Shower.”

Roman sighs dramatically and presses another kiss to Remus’s forehead, leaving his brother dazed, blinking up at Logan. Logan watches Roman leave before he turns his gaze downwards. Remus tries to pretend the shiver that goes through him at the way Logan softens his gaze is just the cold.

“Remus,” he calls softly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Remus, may I join you?”

A pause.

“Tap the bed twice if yes, once if no.”

A pause, then Remus hesitantly reaches out to make two little taps.

“Thank you.”

He slides smoothly into the bed, reaching out to carefully slip an arm under his and pull him off of the sweat-soaked sheets—when did that happen?—and into his arms. Remus moves pliantly, tucking his chin into the space left between his chin and the pillow.

“Hey,” he whispers, gentling his voice as he tucks his head closer to Remus’s, “hey.”

Logan is warm. Is Logan—Logan said it made sense to be quiet. Logan knows. Logan understands. Logan always understands.

“What’s the matter,” Logan calls gently, “can I help?”

Remus swallows. “Monster.”

“Are you afraid of the monster, Remus?”

Remus nods. “Black eyes. Shadow. Kill you and Roman and Janus and then go find Patton and Virgil and Thomas. Bad.”

“The monster isn’t real, Remus,” Logan says softly, running his hand through his hair, “it doesn’t exist.”

Remus shakes his head. “We’re in the hotel on the island. It’s real. Roman left and the monster will kill him.”

“Roman is just in the bathroom,” Logan corrects, moving his head to indicate the running water sound, “he’s alright. We’re not in a hotel, we’re in the mansion you two created.”

“But the LED sign is buzzing outside.”

“Would you like to look and see?”

“No!” Remus wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist. “We’re not supposed to look out the window, the old man said not to.”

“The old man isn’t here,” Logan says patiently, “I’m here. I have you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“He said—he—he’s not real?”

“No, Remus, he’s not real.” Logan gives him a gentle squeeze. “This is real. This is real, Remus, I’ve got you.”

“You’re real.”

“I am.”

“You said it’s safe to look out the window?”

“It is.” Logan squeezes again. “Would you like me to show you?”

Remus nods. Logan leans up and pulls back the curtain, peeking outside. There’s no bright red light from the hotel LED sign. Just soft moonlight.

“There’s no sign, Remus,” he murmurs, “you’re not in a hotel.”

Oh.

“The scar,” he blurts, his hand flying to his chest, “from the stab, what if it’s already got us?”

“I don’t have a scar,” Logan says, lying back down and taking Remus’s hand, “here…feel.”

Logan presses his palm to his bare chest, pulling his shirt out of the way so Remus can see. There’s no scar.

“You don’t have one either…may I?”

When he presses his palms against Remus’s chest, there’s no scar.

“We’re…not there?”

“No, Remus, we’re not there,” Logan says gently, “we’re here, in the mansion, safe, there’s no monster.”

The water stops. A moment later and Roman emerges, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He sees the two of them in the bed and pouts.

“You stole my spot!”

“I had Remus to comfort,” Logan says smoothly, waving him over, “though you are welcome to help.”

Roman ruffles Remus’s hair. Remus leans into it.

“Ro, are you real?”

“Yes, of course, I’m real, Re, what…” Roman trails off and his eyes go wide. “Oh, Re, did we—did I push you into hallucination territory? I’m so sorry, yes, we’re real, we’re here, we’re in our mansion, we’re safe, Re.”

“Safe?”

“Yeah, Re,” Roman murmurs, getting in to cuddle his brother properly, “we’re safe.”

“Real?”

“This is real.”

Remus buries his nose in his brother’s real neck and holds him close. Logan stays by his side, stroking his hair and murmuring that Remus is here, they’re real, they’re safe.

After a moment, Remus takes a deep breath and pulls apart.

“You know the rules, Ro-Bro.”

Roman grimaces, his head dropping to rest against Remus’s sternum for a moment before he nods. Logan looks back and forth between the two of them.

“What are the rules?”

“When Remus gets pushed into hallucination territory,” Roman says softly, “he sleeps alone.”

Logan frowns. “But surely it would help to have us reassure you and help ground you?”

“Wouldn’t help for the intrusive thoughts and hallucinations to include you too.”

Logan winces. “I suppose not, but—“

“Lolo we’ve tried,” Remus mumbles, “we—this works. It sucks and I hate it and so does Ro but this is what works.”

“I trust you,” Logan says, squeezing Remus’s hand, “and I trust you to know what works for you.”

“We’re just overprotective.”

“I’ll say.”

Roman gives him one last hug before standing and pulling Logan to his feet. “You know we’ll come as soon as you call.”

Remus nods. “I know.”

The room feels empty when they leave.

The night passes.

During the witching hour, he startles awake.

The sheets are soaked in sweat directly under him. His eyes are wide. His breathing is too controlled.

The monster is not here but the shadows are.

Somewhere in this house, he knows, something is here. He can hear the voice in the movement of the curtains, hear the step in the way the floorboard settles. Hands never meet his tender flesh, a mouth never bites his fragile throat, but something is here.

Step. Step. Step.

The fear clouds his eyes as it drips into his ears. The light flickers. Something brushes a knuckle up and over his cheek. Something pauses outside his doorway.

Through the depths of the fear filling his ears, something knocks.

The chill rips its fingers out of his mouth and smears them over his throat. Something knocks again. There’s something outside. There’s something outside.

“Sweetie,” he calls as he opens the door, “Sweetie?”

Janus steps inside.

“You’re awake,” he says, shutting the door and sitting on the edge of the bed, “it’s quite late.”

“I know,” Remus says as he sits up, wary, “sorry.”

Janus hums, reaching out to idly brush his hair off his forehead. The chill curls and lingers around his fingers, the shadows diving to hide in the lea of him, greedily drinking the fear from Remus. Janus goes to pull his hand away only to notice the prickles on Remus’s skin.

“Are you cold, my dear?” He frowns and lightly dusts his forearm with his fingertips. “You look it.”

Remus shakes his head. Janus raises an eyebrow, pressing his thumb hard against his arm to reveal a white imprint. It takes long seconds for the chill to let blood color the flesh again.

“Let’s not lie,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back up to catch Remus’s, “shall we, sweetie?”

Janus reaches up to trace the air around the curve of his cheek, one finger lightly tracing his jaw. The electrifying tingle clenches his hands in the sheet. He tilts his head and hums softly.

“What’s keeping you awake, sweetie?”

The chill snarls, refusing to let go of his throat.

“You can speak,” he encourages, lightly knuckling the underside of his chin, “it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head a little.

“None of that, now, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He closes his hand around his. “To be afraid is nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, you know that.”

The shadows move slowly, wary of him, eager to taste his fear. The chill huddles around it, icing it in place, refusing to let him breathe without reaching its fingers into the pit of his throat.

“Oh, my dear,” Janus murmurs, running his fingers along the side of Remus’s neck, “can I do anything for you?”

He shakes his head quickly. Too quickly.

“Sweetie…”

“You’ll be annoyed.”

“I’m concerned,” Janus corrects gently, “that’s all.”

Remus risks a glance at the shadows.

“And you know, Remus,” he continues, lifting his hand to press a chaste kiss to its back, “taking care of you is never annoying.”

A different type of fear tingles along his fingers as they brush the curve of his jaw. This one reaches deep, deep along his fingers, up his arm, down to the curve of his shoulder, wriggling in between the cold knots to pulse against him. The shadows bloom in the corners of the room, shying away from the light flickering over his face, his shirt, his hand.

Through the mouthful of fear, his tongue wets his lips. “You’ll find it stupid.”

“Never, sweetie.”

“The dark,” blurts shamefully from his mouth, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“The dark, sweetie? Is this about…”

“I got pushed into hallucination territory earlier.”

Janus makes a noise of sympathy, murmuring an apology for teasing earlier.

“I can’t see anything but the shadows,” Remus whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, “and the noises, and how empty it is because I know it’s not empty.”

“And what helps this go away,” he asks, still cupping his hand, “what makes the shadows leave my sweetie alone?”

“S-stay? Please, with—with me?” Remus’s breath starts to catch again. “Don’t—don’t let them hurt me.”

“Oh, sweetie, of course,” Janus murmurs, “of course I’ll stay.”

The poor thing chokes out a sob. Janus reaches forward to lie him back down when his hand brushes the edge of the sheet. He frowns. Picking the sheet up between two fingers, he winces. He can feel his fingertips rubbing together, it’s barely warm enough.

Remus’s breath still hasn’t caught when he returns with a thick quilt, spreading it over him to banish the last of the chill.

“Hush now,” he soothes, smoothing the corners of the quilt, “hush, sweetie, it’s over, you did so well, shh…”

Janus climbs into bed, pulling the shaking Remus to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly, tightly around the poor thing as he cradles Remus protectively.

“Come here, my sweet,” he whispers, “come here, now, shh, shh, you’re alright now, sweetie, shh, shh…”

His cries soften, gentled into mewls against his chest as he warms him against his skin. The poor thing is still clenched tighter than a fist. He croons, taking his wrist in his hand and pulling him flush against him.

“It’s alright, sweetie, you did so well, it’s gone now, you did it, there you are, here you are, right here, sweetie.”

The poor thing whines.

“Oh, sweet one, shh, shh, shh, my dear, you’re alright…” He makes a noise of sympathy when he doesn’t stop. “What’s the matter, sweetie, tell me, say it, come now…”

He brings his hand up to stroke gently under Remus’s chin.

“Say it, sweetie, tell me what’s troubling you so, let me help, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

“The shadows,” he whimpers, “the shadows, I can—I can hear them, they—they’re everywhere—I—they’re looking at me, they’re touching me, I can—I can feel them—I—“

“I’ve got you, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek, “I’m right here, nothing can touch you, here—“

He pulls the blankets up and over their heads, creating a little bubble of intimacy in the dark room.

“I’m here, sweetie, it’s just me, I won’t hurt you, you know I won’t. Shh, shh, hush now, sweetie, it’s alright.”

They stay like that for a little longer, Remus sobbing out the rest of the fear as Janus hushes him softly, pulls him close, soothes away the last of the tremors with gentle hands and tender words.

After a while, Remus pulls away.

“…thanks, Jan.”

“I promised,” Janus murmurs, “I promised that I’d do it when you need me to.”

“I know.” Remus sniffles. “I just…wish you didn’t have to.”

“Don’t ever feel bad about needing something,” Janus chides softly, chucking him lightly under the chin, “especially not when you really need it.”

“Already sent Lolo and Ro away for hallucinations, you—“

“They’re fine, sweetie, a little worried, but they came and told me what was happening.” Janus kisses his forehead again. “They’re not angry, they don’t begrudge you needing things, and they’ll be here for you. They always are.”

“I know.”

Exhaustion begins to seep into his eyes. He blinks sluggishly.

“This is real, right?”

Janus gives him a squeeze. “It’s real.”

“Can I sleep now?”

“Oh, of course, sweetie,” he murmurs, leaning back up to rest his head on the pillow next to Remus, “you go right ahead. I’ll be right here. I’ll keep the shadows away.”

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