Work Text:
He didn’t know much about love, being six years old, but he knows that Sylvain is his best friend.
Dimitri is nice but always busy, Ingrid is cool for a girl but Sylvain – he always has time for him. Sometimes, he does things that get them into trouble like trying to swim naked in the pond or stealing bread from the kitchen, but Felix never holds a grudge because he made up for it the next day.
He even asked Sylvain if they were best friends, just to make sure, and he just said: “Duh,” which was the perfect answer.
Today, they were supposed to train but when Felix found Sylvain, he was lying on the grassy hill. Felix thought he was sleeping at first because when Sylvain lies down, he makes sure to find a blade of grass to put his teeth. He once choked on it and Ingrid had to slap him on the back.
He didn’t have one this time, and he was staring up at the sky. His fingers were intertwined with each other on his stomach.
“…Uh, Sylvain? What are you doing?” Felix asks, frowning. “You said we were training today.”
Sylvain turns to look at Felix and he smiles but it looks different than his other ones. It didn’t really reach his eyes. “Oh, hey Felix. I don’t really want to train anymore.”
“Oh. So, what do you want to do?”
He shrugs and looks back up at the clouds. “I don’t know.”
Felix chews his lip and wonders if he should go find Dimitri or Ingrid – but Sylvain is his best friend. And he was acting like a weird version of himself. He just wanted to practice this new technique he saw his brother do. Maybe he would if Felix would lie down with him for awhile.
So, Felix takes a seat beside Sylvain and lies onto the grass. It wasn’t soft at all because it is the Blue Sea Moon, so all the grass is crunchy and dead. There are barely any clouds in the sky except one lone cloud that kind of looks like a boat.
Felix looks over to Sylvain and then at the sky. Then, Sylvain. The sky. Sylvain, again.
He’s looking at the sky when Sylvain says, “My uncle died a week ago. Bandits, mother says.”
“What, really?” His head snaps to see Sylvain who has turned his body away from Felix completely. “How does she know?”
“She got a letter delivered to her today. He died in battle.”
Felix frowns. “Isn’t that…good? Father says that the greatest honour as a knight is to die in battle.”
“Yeah, in war. Not by some bandits trying to protect a village.”
“But, there isn’t a war going on right now.” Felix would know – his father is the right-hand man to the King of Faerghus. “Hey, Sylvain. Are you…sad?”
He still isn’t facing him, but he shrugs. “Yeah but I’ve never met him before though.”
Felix nods. He doesn’t think he’s met any other family members either. They haven’t started their official training yet, but they often go watch Felix’s father train. They practice with fake swords and Felix always wins but he thinks that’s because Sylvain never really takes it seriously. He doesn’t know why – he can’t wait until he gets his first real weapon once he turns seven years old.
“Would you be sad if I died?” Felix asks.
“What?” Sylvain looks over his shoulder with a weird expression on his face before turning completely on his side to face him. “You’re not going to die. If you die, I’ll die.”
Felix nods. “I am better at you with a sword.”
“Hey, that time didn’t count! I was distracted by Ingrid!”
“What about that time without Ingrid?”
Sylvain ignores him. “Hey, let’s make a promise. Let’s stay together until we die. So, no being killed by bandits: we got to stick together, okay?”
He’s holding out his pinky so it’s serious. Felix wraps his pinky around his determinedly and nods. Sylvain finally breaks into his regular smile and they race towards the training grounds.
-
He was twelve years old when he started thinking about love more. Sylvain couldn’t stop talking about girls and Felix wonders when he’s going to start liking girls too.
He doesn’t see what Sylvain sees – he describes them like they’re the best thing in the entire world. Raving on and on about their long hair, delicate hands and high voices. What’s the appeal in weak and fragile, though?
He supposes that he does see the appeal in soft hands because Sylvain’s were much softer than his. He didn’t train as much as Felix so there were less callouses and scars along his palm and fingers. He wanted to reach out and feel them but never did for some reason.
Sylvain’s hair wasn’t long like Ingrid’s, but he keeps it untamed and choppy, so it reaches the nape of his neck. Sometimes, it sticks there from sweat after a long sparring session. His skin is also a lot paler there than his forearms.
And, well, Sylvain’s voice didn’t crack like Felix’s. He’s a little jealous, honestly. His voice is smooth and doesn’t pitch suddenly. It’s not quite a man’s voice but it was tones deeper when they were children.
So, Felix doesn’t really think women are that great.
-
A year later, Felix’s brother, Glenn, is killed during the Tragedy of Duscur.
He doesn’t lie on the field and make a promise with his best friend.
Felix picks up his sword and fights until he can’t feel his arms and legs anymore. Sylvain doesn’t train with him anymore, unable to keep up with his strict regime. He says that there was a fair maiden needing a company of a handsome knight that night before leaving Felix completely alone. When he finally collapses from exhaustion and his eyes flutter shut, his mind drifts to Sylvain traitorously.
Sylvain and his broad shoulders despite being unable to even keep up with Felix for more than an hour.
Sylvain and his large hands wrapped around his lance.
Sylvain and his skin glistened with sweat on a hot afternoon day.
Sylvain with a nameless village girl on each arm –
He never lets the last thought finish because he forces himself on shaking legs to keep going until he collapses into unconsciousness.
Felix is only thirteen years old when he decides that he doesn’t need love.
-
“Don’t touch me.”
“Hey, hey! Don’t be so mean! I just wanted to ask you if – “
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
Felix sighs, gripping his sword so hard that he’s surprised that it doesn’t snap. “Yes, I do because you ask the same stupid question every day. Go away.”
“Okay, fine, no women. Just us, then. You and me.” Sylvain grinned, gesturing back and forth like some clown.
He blinks. “How is that any more appealing?”
“I’ll pay.” He insists, voice tilting in a sing-song tone. He slings an arm around Felix’s shoulder, holding him close to his chest. “Come on, you need fuel for your training!”
His body is a treacherous thing, so his stomach begins to gurgle loudly, and Felix does his best to quiet it by pressing down it on by his hand. He curses under his breath and it doesn’t get past Sylvain who grins, holding on even tighter.
“My treat, Felix!”
Well, maybe one quick meal wouldn’t hurt. He tends to forget to eat amidst his training and he believes that his last meal was breakfast when it was nearly dusk. Sometimes, the dining hall’s dishes were too sweet for his tastes as well.
He is pleased that Sylvain directs them to a tavern rather than some garish restaurant that he brings women to. They seat themselves in the furthest and darkest corner (“God, it smells like stale beer back here.” “Shut up, Sylvain.”) when one of the barmaids approaches them.
“Oh, Sylvain!” She exclaims. Her hair was the colour of straw and she wore too much makeup – all red lips with black shadow around her dark eyes. “It’s always a pleasure to see you and - ” She looks over at Felix and pauses. “ – well, that’s a new face.”
He looks at Sylvain, but his gaze is fixated upon the woman. “Childhood friend. I apologize for his manners, Lilian. His social skills are a bit lacking.”
Felix kicks Sylvain underneath the table hard enough that he knows it’ll bruise. He is only a little impressed that Sylvain barely flinches.
“What can I get for you two, then?” Lilian grins, pulling out a notebook from her bosom. (Where did it come from?)
Sylvain orders a certain dish, something with meat, for them both but she doesn’t leave as they continue to titter with each other about whatever. Felix loses interest quickly and decides to watch the tavern and its patrons. Most, if not all, the customers were from the Monastery and were men. It was certainly not Sylvain’s scene and yet…
“Hello? Earth to Felix?” He looks to see Sylvain who’s waving a hand in his face, leaning his entire body over the table. When they make eye contact, Sylvain slumps back into his seat with a disgruntled look on his face. “Come on, you’ve just been staring off into space for past minute.”
“You’ve been here before.” Felix states, pointing a finger.
Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, just once. Then, I realized the amount of testosterone in this place and never came back until now. Thought it’d be a perfect place for a brute like you.”
“Seems like you know that barmaid too well for being only here once.”
His laugh that comes out is high-pitched and unpleasant to Felix’s ears. “You got me. I have been here multiple times for Lilian – she is a refreshing oasis in this dump. I keep telling her that she’s far too pretty to be working in a place like this.”
Felix cocks his head. “You’re lying.”
Sylvain keeps smiling. Weaker men would be unnerved. “You don’t know me like you used to, Felix. You can’t make such bold statements like that.”
“I don’t need to.” Felix shrugs. “You haven’t changed much since we were kids. Incorrigible, weak, lazy.”
Sylvain laughs again. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you. It’s like you’re a completely different person.”
Felix knows this – he seems to be unable to escape Dimitri and Sylvain constantly reminding him of their past together. It was tiring, frankly. Although, Sylvain is looking at him in this rundown bar with no light-heartedness in his face or voice. Was it…disappointment? Longing? Surely, Sylvain isn’t feeling sentimental about their past together, right?
“I had to change to get stronger.” Felix says simply. “You should think about changing too if you ever want to last on the battlefield.”
“Is everything about fighting for you, Felix?” Sylvain asks, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you ever want anything else?”
The man who wanted more than strength died in the Tragedy of Duscur too. He couldn’t say that, though, because if he said that – then he would have to admit what he used to care about more than his sword. And he couldn’t – not to Sylvain. So instead, he says, “What’s more important than strength?”
“Haven’t you ever been in love?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Sylvain shakes his head. “You know I’m not. I know you’re not immune to emotions, Felix. Even someone like you must get lonely from time-to-time.”
“How about you talk to Ingrid about this instead?” He sneers. “She should be looking for a husband.”
“Don’t talk about Ingrid like that.” Sylvain says, seething. As he continues, the anger begins to simmer and evolve into something akin to sadness. “You know why – you know why she hasn’t! Glenn’s death tore her apart – she couldn’t even leave her room to take care of her horse. It was awful to not be able to do, well, anything for her.”
For her? There’s always a ‘her’, isn’t there? Anger begins to boil in the pit of his stomach at those words – as if Felix didn’t know the pain of losing a loved one. He knows pain – he knows hell with its heat and vengeance. Since when did Sylvain ever care about that, though? He was always too busy with those ungrateful girls in the village who only saw the crest of Gautier when they looked at Sylvain.
Felix clenches his fists and forces the next words out with nothing less but venom, “I knew that this was a waste of time. I should’ve never - ”
“Uh, Roasted Beef Stew for two?” Lilian interrupts, holding a tray with their food in her left hand.
Sylvain stands up from his seat and storms out of the tavern without a single word. Lilian and Felix are left alone together – and he ends up eating both servings by himself.
Not only did he ruin his long-lasting friendship with Sylvain, he also didn’t end up getting a free meal.
-
Felix has thought of apologizing to Sylvain multiple times since that incident. It certainly wasn’t the first time they fought – but it was the first time that Sylvain had just left the conversation in anger rather than Felix. The first time that Sylvain gave up on him because no matter how cold, no matter how scalding his remarks are – Sylvain stayed. Perhaps, he took that kindness for granted.
He isn’t sure why he is so upset – he’s no longer being interrupted by Sylvain during his training sessions. He is on-schedule for the first time in months. It doesn’t matter that Sylvain no longer makes knowing eye-contact with Felix whenever Dimitri is talking too long about the Kingdom to the professor and they chuckle quietly together.
It doesn’t matter that Felix has to give his sweets to some kid rather than Sylvain even when its his favourite and his eyes would light up upon being given it.
It doesn’t matter that his steady constant in life is gone and it was all his fault. So, there is no use in apologizing because Felix has nothing to be sorry for.
Nothing will change that even now when that they’re about to face Miklan, Sylvain’s brother, and his band of thieves – which invited his father to come to the monastery. Absolutely nothing.
He doesn’t think there’s a correlation between all this happening and the fact that he’s wandering around the monastery late at night. The gates of the training grounds were locked so he walked and walked to try to burn his restless energy.
Felix is staring up at the Goddess Tower when he hears feet click against the pavement behind him. He naturally concentrates on the quiet sounds just as he was taught by his father when they hunted together. Old habits die hard, he supposes.
“Professor Byleth is to head out to take down a group of thieves in Kingdom Territory! And that’s not all, the leader of that group is Sylvain’s older brother, Miklan Gautier!”
“How tragic. Can you imagine having to face against your own flesh and blood in battle?”
Two men. A bit older than Felix if the gruffness of their voices is any indication.
“Well, Miklan was disowned by House Gautier once Sylvain was born with his Crest.”
“How lucky. I wish I had a crest like him – it must be why he’s so popular with women and why he’s so arrogant. He must’ve grown up spoiled by his family and everyone around him.”
“Yeah, must be. How can we trust someone who is related to a lowly thief?”
Oh.
They think that Sylvain was a noble brat.
They see Sylvain as untrustworthy.
“Hey! What are you doing out here so late at night?”
Felix turns around and sees Seiros Knights – in all their armor and white crests for their goddess. Their helmets obscured their eyes, but he could see their noses and lips even in the darkness of the night. They approach Felix and their armor make loud clunking noises with how fast they’re moving compared to before.
Averting his gaze, he immediately tries to escape the situation: he was never one to run – in fact, he was about to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t spar someone right now. It’d be foolish to fight if word spreads of this midnight conflict if he’s caught. He can’t, he can’t – it’d be borderline sacrilegious if he did.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” He barks to Felix, grabbing his bare wrist with his armored glove.
Oh, fuck it.
Felix easily wrenches himself out of his grip and punches the knight in the nose. There’s an unpleasant crunching sound of bones and blood spurts out from the impact. The knight stumbles and falls backwards into his companion who goes down with him.
His knuckles burn even in the cool night air as he clenches and unclenches his fist. If he had missed, he would’ve shattered his hand.
“W-what the - ! You spoiled brat!” The knight spits out. At least his crooked nose would make him easier to distinguish among his peers. “You’ll – pay for that! You – “
Felix wonders if he kicks the man in the mouth that’ll shut him up. He doesn’t realize he’s striding over to them when an arm shoots out to block his path – and oh goddess, not him. Anybody but him.
“What in goddess’ name is going on here?!” Dimitri bellows, gaze moving back and forth between Felix and the fallen knights.
“P-prince Dimitri!” The knight without a broken nose squeaks out. “Your Highness, this – this brute – just attacked us!”
Dimitri blinks – and he wished that Dimitri didn’t have that freakish strength of his so that Felix could escape this awful situation. He is holding onto his arm with enough force to snap Felix’s arm in half. He stares at Felix for answers which he refuses to give. They stare until Dimitri gives up, looking over to the men. They were practically glowing with relief of being saved by the prince – what spineless dogs.
“My apologies. It seems that he is heavily intoxicated – he won’t have any recollection of this in the morning.” Dimitri explains. “I’m sure Manuela or any of the nurses would be able to easily help with your injury in the infirmary. I’ll make sure he receives an apt punishment so please keep this a secret: with all that’s happening with the Western Church, Lady Rhea does not need more to worry about.”
The knights nod quickly, scrambling to get up from the ground with their armor clumsily clanking against each other. Dimitri hands the injured knight a handkerchief to stop the flow of blood that has trickled down to his chest-plate. Felix is only allowed out of his grip when the knights were small dots on the bride connecting the cathedral to the main part of the monastery.
Dimitri doesn’t look at Felix until the small dots disappear for good and when he turns on him, Felix does not see fury. He sees – pity, and that is worse. His arms are crossed with blue eyes ringed with dark circles.
“I don’t owe you any explanation, boar.” Felix spat.
Dimitri shrugs. “I was not expecting one.”
“So, what’s the punishment? Going to gut me like a fish?” He scoffed. “If you weren’t so desperate to hold onto your façade, I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed torturing me in front of those knights.”
“Goddess, Felix. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Dimitri frowns. “I know – I know that you think of me a beast. I will not deny what you saw years ago but – can we have one conversation where you don’t storm off?”
Felix’s looks away and closes his eyes. Looking at him brings such immense anger – such immense confusion. Who is he? Is he a kind prince? A beast? Maybe, a small voice says, he can be your friend again.
“Did you come to pray as well?” Dimitri asks. His voice didn’t sound farther so he stayed, despite Felix completely shutting him out. “I come to pray at night when I’m unable to sleep.”
“Why are you still here?”
“Oh, well – I decided to clean some of the debris around the Saint statues.” He answers, a light tone to his voice. “That took longer than intended. I was leaving when I saw you.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
His eyes are closed but he knows that Dimitri shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve seemed…off, lately. I know you’re not one for talking about feelings, but I just wanted to still offer that option to you.”
Felix says nothing so Dimitri continues.
“I mean, when we were young, it was quite easy to figure out why you were upset – because Sylvain would tell me. You, Sylvain, Ingrid and I were all close, but you always told Sylvain more than you told us. I wouldn’t have known all those times I hurt you if Sylvain didn’t tell me that you ran crying to him.”
He remembers those moments too vividly for his tastes. Whenever he and Dimitri fought, he would run to Sylvain with tears and snot running down his face. He would bury his face into his shirt and sob, sob, sob, as Sylvain cards his fingers through his dark hair. It was only those gentle ministrations that helped Felix calm down and tell Sylvain what was wrong.
“Thankfully, I’m not as clueless as I was when we were children. Sylvain didn’t have to tell me that you were not feeling like yourself for me to notice – but now that I think about it, he’s also been acting strange too. Is that just a coincidence? Did the two of you – “
“Shut up.” Felix interrupted sharply. “Shut up right now!”
And he does – because Dimitri listens to Felix. When he finally opens his eyes, Dimitri had left a long time ago. The wind is cold against his tear-stained face. He thinks that it doesn’t compare much to the heaviness in his chest.
-
When Miklan threw the Lance of Ruin, it was like red lightning – fast, bright, and deadly. The roar of pain from Sylvain when it pierced through his chest like tissue; that was in slow motion. He thinks someone may have screamed when Sylvain crumpled to the ground. Mercedes and Ingrid desperately drag his body off somewhere – and Felix couldn’t even follow because there were so many thieves surrounding him.
He sees Dedue and Anette trying to reach him through the hordes, but he’s always worked better on his own. He doesn’t think much of it when he nearly trips on a body as he does his best to rush to the second position that Byleth ordered them to ensemble. There’s an empty spot where Sylvain is supposed to be – right beside Felix – and Ingrid fills it.
-
DAY 1.
“Sylvain is alive, but he’s unconscious, just so you know.” Manuela explains whilst blocking the doorway. She’s the only thing stopping him from being by his side and he’s not above using force against a professor.
“So, let me in.” Felix grunts, attempting to push past her but she leans harder against the frame with a frown. He doesn’t know why men liked her so much – she was such a nuisance.
Manuela shakes her head. “No visitors permitted. He needs peace and quiet.”
What do you know about what he needs? Felix attempts to breathe calmly but he knows that he’s becoming ragged and his heartbeat won’t slow down for anything. “Let me just see him,” he insists through gritted teeth. “Just once.”
She stares at him for a moment. Her face is a blank canvas without her bright makeup and her hair didn’t look like it was combed this morning. It was nearly noon – he had to attend a morning class - but he wonders if she even slept at all.
“…Fine. Just don’t tell anyone I let you in, okay?” Manuela whispers, moving aside for Felix to push on through. He hears her mutter, “These kids are going to be the death of me…”
Sylvain is the only one in the infirmary in the bed closest to the window. Afternoon light streams in across his pale form, red hair splayed against the pillow. Felix pulls a chair closer to sit by his side, knees touching the blankets.
He doesn’t know why he expects Sylvain to open his eyes – to smile and say Felix’s name – because Manuela said he was unconscious, right? He wouldn’t just wake up for Felix; he was lanced by a Heroes’ Relic for goddess’ sake.
When afternoon light turns into dusk, Manuela silently sets down a meal from the kitchen by the bedside table. She leaves him alone until dusk turns to night when she insists that he must head back to his bedroom quarters to rest. Felix leaves the infirmary and immediately escapes to the training grounds.
DAY 2.
Manuela lets him in without a word the next morning. He sits in his chair by the window and watches Sylvain breathe as his chest rises and falls slowly. It’s the only evidence that he’s alive and Felix clings onto it.
You can’t die on me, he thinks. Not now – not when we’re so far apart like this.
“Haven’t you ever been in love?”
Felix laughs, but it sticks to the back of his throat and it comes out as a quiet sob instead. “It’s always been you.”
Sylvain doesn’t wake up.
DAY 3.
He’s not allowed into the infirmary until – and he quotes – “You look less like a sewage rat and more like an actual person.”
Felix takes a shower, eats in the dining hall, and goes to the marketplace. He meant to buy some more weapons as his steel sword broke in the last battle, but he ends up by the vendor, buying a boardgame for Sylvain. Even if he wakes up, he most likely will be bedridden for a week and there’s nothing to do in that goddamn room except think about all your mistakes.
He’s never seen the appeal of these games, but he will learn because who else would play with him? Certainly not Manuela.
He also gets Bergamot tea from Ferdinand which goddess, that man can talk about hot leaf juice for hours if you give him a chance.
When he returns, Manuela does a once-over before letting him in reluctantly. He opens the boardgame to read the instructions: blah, blah, tactics, blah, blah. Seems simple enough. Felix also begins to steep the tea so that when Sylvain wakes up, he won’t have to wait for a cup. He doesn’t wake up in time, so Felix ends up drinking his tea instead.
Sylvain has bad taste in hobbies and tea confirmed.
-
Felix fell asleep with his head pillowed in the sheets, back bending uncomfortably as he stays seated in his chair. He wakes up when pain begins to settle into his lower back, and he hears a low groan.
“Goddess…what happened to me? Ow, ow - ”
He forces his bleary eyes open and looks up at Sylvain who is grimacing, holding his chest injury. Felix grabs his hand and immediately says, “Don’t move. You’ll reopen the wound.”
Sylvain blinks a few times and squints at him then widens his eyes. A series of expressions play over his face until he reaches confusion. “Felix…? What are you…what happened?”
He withdraws his hand and sits back into his chair. “You were nearly killed by Miklan. You were already unconscious when The Lance of Ruin corrupted him and turned him into…a demonic beast. You’ve been in the infirmary for three days since then.”
Sylvain leans back against his pillow and sighs. “Ah, yeah – it’s all coming back to me now.”
For what seems like forever, Felix has imagined this moment: Sylvain waking up, finally being able to hear his voice, see his eyes and talk to each other again. And now that he’s here, he can’t seem to say anything at all.
“Do you remember…last time we talked?” Sylvain asks, voice gravelly from lack of use.
Felix nods like he hasn’t been obsessively replaying the conversation in his head until he felt sick.
“I’m sorry…for getting mad at you like that. You were right – I am weak. Insatiable. I’ve been to that bar so many times and Lilian, she helps me back to the monastery when I drink so much that I can’t stand. I don’t know if I was even fully sober during the fight with Miklan. It was...just like old times.”
Felix remembers Sylvain with bruises that weren’t from training practice when they were younger. He never asked.
“I was supposed to have dinner with some girl tonight. Not that it matters – getting kind of sick of women now. Getting sick of my goddamn crest. Getting sick of not having any control over my life anymore.”
“You know what’s the worst part?” Sylvain didn’t really seem like he was talking to Felix anymore: staring up at the ceiling in the infirmary bed. Despite being unconscious for the past few days, his eyes were dark from fatigue. Or maybe that was just the moonlight.
“Who cares if I died from this injury? If I was married, my wife wouldn’t mourn my death, that’s for sure. After all, she got what she wanted: my family, my crest, my money. If I died - well, I’d finally be freed - saved - by this wretched life.”
Sylvain smiles. “Being in the infirmary really lets a guy turn to his darkest thoughts, doesn’t it?”
No. I think that you have these thoughts all the time – but you never told me. Why didn’t you ever tell me?
“You’re a selfish idiot,” Felix hisses through his clenched teeth. “How can you say that? Isn’t that why we’re all here in this goddamn academy - to save others? As knights, as noblemen - for our people? How can you save anyone when you’re dead?”
He turns to look at Felix and the light of the window only catches half of his face. Felix wonders how someone could look so beautiful and sad. “Who would miss Sylvain?”
Who?
Felix grabs Sylvain by the shirt, lifting him up from the bed forcefully that their foreheads knock together. He sees Sylvain flinch.
Don’t you remember that crying kid all those years ago?
“You...”
The one who couldn’t let go of the bottom of your shirt.
“You...!”
Tell me his name.
“Felix - ?”
“Who else, you idiot!” He shouts and pushes Sylvain away forcefully from himself. “Do you think I knew who you were when we were kids? Do you think I cared? Why would you think I would care now!”
Sylvain is staring at Felix with a strange look on his face – eyes glassy and lips trembling. Oh, he was about to cry.
“You’re an idiot!” He screams, voice cracking under the pressure. He could probably be heard by the students who slept on this floor. “You’re egotistical, selfish, weak and useless.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“But – but I will not give up on you! We will rise and we will fall together because - “ Felix took in a shuddering breath, hot tears streaming down his face. “- because you promised me! You promised that we’d be together forever, didn’t you?”
Sylvain stares at him and it’s everything that Felix has grown up with: the honesty, the vulnerability, the sincerity. It’s everything that Felix loves about him.
Oh goddess, he’s in love with him.
“...I did promise you, didn’t I?” He says finally in a quiet voice.
Felix nods, snivelling and wiping his nose fervently with the back of his sleeve. Sylvain holds out his hand and he takes it, falling onto the bed to bury his face into the crook of his shoulder. He hears a pained grunt – and oh goddess, he must be pressing on the wound – but Sylvain is running his fingers through his hair and intertwines their fingers together, so he stays where he is.
He didn’t bother tying his hair up and Sylvain seems to relish in that, twisting and wrapping strands around his fingers. When they were children, Felix’s hair was not this long so it felt…different. Familiar but different.
“I’m sorry.” He finally murmurs.
“Hey, hey,” Sylvain coughs out a laugh. “It’s not your fault that my brother is a flaming piece of garbage.”
“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I just wish I saw him turn into a blood-thirsty, demonic beast. Was he really ugly?”
Felix has finally stopped crying but he might start sobbing from happiness at this rate. “Absolutely disgusting.”
Sylvain nods sagely. “Makes sense. I was the one blessed with dashing good looks in the family after all.”
He raises his head from the crook of his shoulder to look at his face. Sylvain’s gaze was adoring – and he was looking at Felix of all people. His heart stutters in his chest as he manages to whisper, “…I’m sorry for the things I’ve said in the tavern. You’re not weak...and I think I’m in love with you.”
“Felix…” Sylvain moves his hand to cup Felix’s cheek. “I’m in love with you…and I’ve known that since forever. And I never thought that I would be telling you this after I’ve been revived from the dead and with snot dripping out of your nose.”
Felix sniffled. “Shut up.”
“You ruined all my plans for my confession. There was supposed to be a violin quartet, roses, maybe give you a cool antique sword – “
“You’re more than welcome to still give me that.”
Sylvain laughs. “How did I ever fall in love with such a menace?”
When they kiss, it’s soft and chaste – perhaps a bit too dry with Sylvain’s chapped lips. It’s everything that Felix could ever want. And he thinks, that maybe, he might believe in love again.