Chapter Text
It was about a week into the semester that Felix learned that there’s no such thing as an inconspicuous building at GMU. Old as it is, the university chose to preserved its style of gothic architecture as it kept adding more of them to its campus. The building Sylvain told him to meet him at is no different – tall spires, elaborate arches and high towers. He frowns, standing at the entrance and glaring at the wooden doorway like would somehow come to life and find him intimidating. Why is this more difficult than it should be? It’s just some stupid project. It’ll be over in a couple of weeks and then he’ll never have to talk to Sylvain again. He can go back to pretending that the charming redhead in his history class doesn’t exist. Except, maybe he doesn’t want to do that and fears that after this is over, he won’t have an excuse to talk to him again. Maybe he’ll be the one that gets ignored. Pathetic. It’s stupid. He barely knows the guy. They’ve only interacted a few times. A few times where he’s felt more at ease than he has in almost a year.
He shakes his head and with a sigh, he slips inside the building as someone exits and heads to the third floor to room 312. He’s not sure if he takes the stairs for the exercise or to delay the inevitable, but once he’s in front of the door he rips off the band-aid and steps in without a second thought.
He hears it before he sees it – the all-too-familiar sound of a guitar being tuned, of someone testing out a rhythm on a set of drums and someone else idly strumming a bass. Once he opens the door, he immediately sees Sylvain at the forefront of the room, guitar over his lap as he tests out the tone. Across from him is a boy with freckles and silvery hair that he doesn’t recognize.
“Hey!” Sylvain calls out with a casual smile.
Felix kicks himself, knowing he was too busy lamenting himself to notice that every other person coming through those cursed doors was carrying some sort of instrument. Hindsight is a bitch.
“You tricked me,” he deadpans, arms crossed in front of him and eyes narrowed at Sylvain.
“Yes, but in my defense, you wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t,” he has the audacity to say. He’s smiling that charming smile of his, the one that makes Felix simultaneously angry and weak. In this situation, it’s the former more than the latter. For a moment, he stands in silent consideration.
“I'm leaving,” he settles for saying.
“No, wait!”
“Annette?” His question is punctuated by the sound of crashing cymbals and a falling bench.
Among the wreck is the small girl, quickly scrambling to get back up and make her way towards Felix. He’s taken aback by the way she looks at him – equal parts determined and pleading. How she manages such a look is beyond him.
“Please stay,” she says, her tone firm.
“I didn’t know you were in a band,” he says, looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of an amused Sylvain.
“Well… you never asked and now you know!” She says defensively.
Felix furrows his brow. “Why would I ask something that specific?”
“Well –”
"Annette writes all of our songs," Sylvain chimes in.
She takes the opportunity he’s given her to steer the conversation back to its original point. "And I've never had anyone sing the lyrics and I really really really want to and if I'd known you sing, I would've asked you before but I'm asking you now so please please please -"
"Fine! Fine, I'll... give it a shot. Hand me the sheet music or something." He presses his fingers to his temple. He’s annoyed. There’s no way he can refuse Annette, not when she gives him that pout and wide-eyed look. Sylvain has set up a trap – a gamble – and it’s paying off. He doesn’t need to look over to the other corner of the room to know that there’s a pleased look across his face. He hears the other boy – the one with silver hair – snickering as he fixes the drum set.
“Yes!” Annette cheers and immediately goes to her backpack, discarding several pages of notes before pulling out what she was looking for and handing it over to Felix. There’s victory written all over her face.
Felix grunts and all but tears the sheet from her grip. The silence in the room is filled with expectation. To say that he’s uncomfortable with all of their eyes focused on him is an understatement. He's surprised to find that he isn't rusty at all. Reading the notes written on the piece of paper comes as naturally to him as reading the words off of the pages of a book. What's more, the song is good, something he could easily picture a professional band playing.
“I’m Ashe, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sylvain spoke very highly of you,” the other boy interrupts, hand extended for Felix to shake.
“Felix,” he says, returning the handshake. “But I’m sure you already knew that.” Once again, he shoots a derisive look at Sylvain, who seems completely unaffected.
"Why haven't you tried singing these yourself?" He asks absently as he shifts his attention back to the written song.
"I, uh... we tried that once," she answers.
"Annette has a good voice but, uh..." Ashe elaborates.
Sylvain clears his voice. "We got someone temporary to play the drums for a gig at one of the small concert halls around here. You know, like one of those things were lots of amateur bands play in one night? Anyways-"
"She forgot the lyrics. Massive case of stage fright. Worst show we've played to date. Sorry, Annie." Ashe looks at her sheepishly.
“Don’t be, it’s not like you’re lying.”
"And that usually doesn't happen because...?"
"The drums are big and they're way in the back!!" At that, Felix can’t help but let out a laugh.
“Hey! Don’t make fun of me, it’s true! I get along fine if no one sees me.”
Felix can understand that, to some extent. He remembers the first time he sang in public. It was his first year of high school. Loathe as he was to admit it, he’d been a nervous wreck, only kept together by Glenn’s – as soon as the thought comes to mind, he pushes it back before it can take hold of him. He shakes his head. He’s past that. Yet the way his heart beats in his chest tells him otherwise.
“So, do you want me to sing this or what?” He mutters.
“Alright, you heard the man. Time to get started,” Sylvain says. Just like that, the mood in the room shifts completely, in a way Felix doesn’t quite know what to think of or how to react to. It feels familiar and entirely different at the same time. It makes his chest feel tight. Instead of thinking about it any further, he places the sheet on a stand in front of the microphone.
Hesitantly, he takes a deep breath. He tries to pretend that the people in the room aren’t there, that the music is coming from an intangible source.
Here goes nothing.
He lets his voice drift over the music, synchronize with it. The lyrics flow from him naturally, instinctively. He barely has to look at the sheet music. To him, it’s almost like breathing. For a moment, he forgets that anything else exists. He lets the rush of music fill him, wash over him and take control of him. He gives a name to the strange feeling in his chest. It’s nostalgia. He missed this.
-
He gets a text from Sylvain a few hours later and isn’t sure whether or not he wants to open it. He lets it sit on his phone for a few minutes before the giddy feeling in his stomach gets the better of him. He grits his teeth and snarls at his phone like it’ll somehow react, maybe automatically send a message to Sylvain telling him to fuck off. Except that’s the last thing he wants to say to him. He feels like an idiot, more so when he sees that smiley face next to Sylvain’s name, the one he hasn’t deleted for whatever reason. It’s endearing , he hears a voice in the back of his head say.
Sylvain :D Gautier: sooooo what did you think of practice?
The text is simple enough. He thinks for a moment, tapping his finger against the hardened wood of his desk as he meditates on his answer.
Me: It was alright.
Sylvain :D Gautier: what do you mean alright?!
Sylvain :D Gautier: it was great
Sylvain :D Gautier: you know it
Sylvain :D Gautier: I know it
Sylvain :D Gautier: we all know it
Felix grimaces at the sudden barrage of text messages.
Me: It wasn’t bad, but I’m not sure this is for me.
Sylvain :D Gautier: why?
Sylvain :D Gautier: you looked like you were having fun
Sylvain :D Gautier: and I was right
Sylvain :D Gautier: your singing voice is amazing!!
It seems Sylvain prefers sending a shit ton of messages at a time instead of using punctuation like a normal person. Felix types several phrases and deletes them immediately. It’s complicated. It brings back bad memories. You were seeing things. He settles for something else.
Me: It’s just not my thing anymore. I grew out of it.
Sylvain :D Gautier: :(
Sylvain :D Gautier: you sure?
Sylvain :D Gautier: you know… you’ll make Annette really sad if you say no
He’s right, but Felix is sure he can bear the disappointment. It’ll take her a few days to get over it, but she’ll move on and find someone else to fill in the open spot in her band. Besides, it’s not like he promised he’d join. He sang a couple of songs, that was it. He starts to type. She’ll be fine. He immediately hates how the words look on his screen.
Sylvain :D Gautier: you’ll make me really sad too :( :(
Me: You’ll be fine.
That he can easily type.
Sylvain :D Gautier: no I won’t
Sylvain :D Gautier: I’ll die
Sylvain :D Gautier: you’re my only hope Felix
Me: You’re insufferable. There are thousands of people on campus, I’m sure you can find one to join your band.
Sylvain :D Gautier: can’t
Sylvain :D Gautier: come ooon
Sylvain :D Gautier: I know you had fun
Sylvain :D Gautier: join
Sylvain :D Gautier: join join join
Sylvain :D Gautier: join uuuusss
Sylvain :D Gautier: joooooin uuuuuss
He tosses his phone on the bed and watches the screen light up incessantly. No, he's not doing this. Screw Annette. No, that's awful. Fuck Sylvain. Yes, better. He can live with that. He doesn’t need this in his life right now. He doesn’t need the baggage that comes with having to deal with the same people on a regular basis. So yeah, fuck Sylvain and also sorry Annette.
Still, he can’t shake this feeling, an odd sensation in his core that he can’t quite name. You had fun. His phone keeps vibrating and lighting up. That's enough. Almost on reflex, he calls Sylvain. "Fine! Shut up. I'll join your stupid band now leave me alone." He has to make a conscious effort not to yell, mostly out of consideration for his neighbors, not so much for Sylvian.
"Yes!" Sylvain celebrates. Felix can picture him grinning. For whatever reason, it makes him uneasy. "Practice is tomorrow at 4:00. I know you only take morning classes so no excuses. Also, lunch at 3:00 with the band. Gotta get to know each other, spend quality time, all that. I'll text you the details."
"Wh-" he doesn't give Felix a chance to refute anything he said. Great. At least this is another version of lunch with Annette? Sure enough, he'll find out tomorrow that it isn't.
-
He stands outside of the campus gates, waiting for the rest of the band to come. The cool autumn air surrounds him, telling him that winter is near. He’s glad that GMU is farther south from his hometown, allowing him to avoid the harsh cold up north. At the very least, it means the aches and pains that settle into his bones on cold days won’t be as bad.
From the corner of his eye, he spots someone headed towards him. To his surprise, it’s only Sylvain. The same unpleasant feeling that he gets around Sylvain spreads through his chest and stomach, heart skipping a beat. “I thought you said this was a band thing ,” he says as soon as he knows that the man in question can hear him.
“It is! You and I are both members of the same band. That means this is a band thing,” Sylvain says.
“What about Annette? And Ashe?” He asks, hoping that maybe he’s misunderstanding the situation.
“Oh, Annette’s having lunch with someone else and Ashe has a crazy schedule during the week,” he explains.
Felix’s eyes narrow. He realizes that he should have texted Annette. Again, hindsight comes to ruin his day. “You could have just said it was us two.”
“Would you have come?” Sylvain asks, head cocked to the side, hands in his pockets and looking as relaxed as ever.
“…”
“Thought so. See, this is why I have to trick you into going places,” he says, having the audacity to wink at Felix.
“You know, if someone doesn’t want to spend time with you, usually you take a hint and back off,” Felix grumbles.
“You don’t want to spend time with me? Rude,”
“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles. “But, to recap, you want to make it up to me for tricking me into going to your band practice-"
"Our band practice," he corrects.
"Whatever. Our band practice by tricking me into going to lunch with you,"
"Yes. My treat, though," Sylvain says, as if that changes anything.
Felix sighs. "Alright, fine. Let's just get this over with."
"That's the spirit!"
"Where are we even going?"
"There's this Mexican place off campus I thought you might like. You said you liked spicy food?"
He's surprised that Sylvain would remember something he said in passing like that. He feels heat rise to his cheeks.
"Yeah, that's fine," he says, looking away and fixing his scarf so it covers the lower half of his face. When he looks back, he spots the case in Sylvain’s hand. "What's with the portfolio?"
"Oh, this?” He asks, lifting it a little. “I just got out of life drawing."
"Studio art? Sounds like too much trouble for a core requirement,"
"Oh, it's not a requirement. I'm an art major," Sylvain says offhandedly.
That... is unexpected. Looking at Sylvain, he never would have guessed he was the artistic type. "I assumed you were business or econ."
"I am. Finance, to be specific."
"That's an odd combination," Felix can’t help but point out. He wonders if he likes both things equally, if he has a plan or if one of them is more of an outside expectation. Then he quickly asks himself why he cares in the first place.
"Maybe. You're still undecided, right?" Sylvain asks.
Felix doesn't miss how he quickly changes the subject. So it was most likely the latter assumption.
"I am," he answers.
"So, any idea what you're major will be?"
"No. I'm undecided. It's in the name," Felix snaps.
Sylvain laughs, unoffended by his biting tone. "Come on, don't get sassy. Most people have some idea at least."
Maybe if he had asked that question a couple of years ago, Felix might have been able to answer. Maybe it's some sort of mental block that prevents him from remembering what his aspirations used to be. As it stands, he doesn't have any, at least not career-wise. He doesn't see a point to it, given his circumstances. Unlike most people at GMU, he didn't come here to get an education, but to get as far away from his family and former friends as possible. He hadn't given much thought to what comes after. For all he cares, he can place the complete list of majors on a wheel, spin it and see where he lands. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, theology major – wouldn’t that be something. Felix shrugs instead and leaves it at that.
“I guess you have some time to figure it out,” Sylvain says idly.
"What do you think of GMU so far?" Sylvain asks.
He suspects it's largely to fill the silence. He shrugs. "It's been alright."
"I remember my first few weeks as a freshman. Well, sort of, you know, parties and bars every other day. Have you checked out any of the ones nearby?"
"No," he says simply.
"Really? If you don't have a fake, I know where you can get a good one," Sylvain offers.
"No thanks. I don't drink," he says.
"Really? You're a college student, unsupervised probably for the first time and you don't drink?" Sylvain asks.
"No, I don't." His tone doesn't leave any room for questions. He doesn't owe Sylvain any explanations.
"Alright, alright," he backs off. "Didn't mean anything by it. But hey, you can sti hang out at house parties."
"Haven't been to one," he grumbles.
Sylvain stops walking and turns to him, eyes wide and mouth hanging ajar. "What?!" Now he sounds like Felix just told him the sky is pink. "We're fixing this."
"No, we're not," Felix deadpans. He barely likes interacting with people as is. He's comfortable on his own, always has been.
"We are!" He insists. "A couple of friends of mine are throwing a party on Saturday, it'll be fun, I promise!"
There's a voice in his head that mimics Sylvain's words. It sounds surprisingly like Glenn's.
Sylvain's eyes soften. "Look, if you don't like it, I'll pay for your uber back, deal?"
"... fine," he agrees hesitantly. It's... not a bad offer, he supposes. If he decides he that the entire thing is a ridiculous waste of time - which he most certainly will - he can go back to his apartment.
While lunch goes smoothly - at least, as smoothly as anything involving Sylvain can go - there's a feeling he can't shake that sours his mood. He offers Sylvain his usual clipped responses, though for an entirely different reason, ruminating and sorting out his thoughts. He could say no to Sylvain, tell him to fuck off and say he'd rather face a hundred years of torture than go interact with a bunch of drunk morons he doesn't know. But he doesn't. For some reason, he doesn't.
The realization hits him like an incoming train. No, what he feels around Sylvain isn't uneasiness. It's not some gut feeling telling him to stay away, not some constant anger or annoyance. No, it's the opposite. The complete fucking opposite. He has feelings for Sylvain. Fuck.