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Felix was convinced the world was coming to an end. He didn’t think of himself as a particularly dramatic person (his closest friends would disagree), and even though there was a literal war going on, he was sure Sylvain bringing the same girl to the monastery multiple times was the weirdest thing he had ever witnessed.
He hadn’t really noticed her the first time, thinking she was just another nameless-and-faceless girl on Sylvain’s arm, but she had a very distinct aura which was very hard to ignore. When she had first entered the dining hall, hand-in-hand with a very content Sylvain, it had felt as though a cloud of warmth had entered with her: So familiar and comforting, yet somehow intimidating. Even Felix, being as disinterested in women as he is, had felt himself getting antsy and hot under her sharp gaze. She was special, and she made it known without even trying.
Felix told himself that is why he had noticed her (and remembered her and studied her every move), but anyone with a pair of eyes could tell you it was because Sylvain was so painfully and obviously into her. He chose to ignore that, along with the pain in his chest, but found himself unable to deny it after the fourth time he saw her sitting next to Sylvain in the courtyard in the span of a week. Sylvain was in a stable relationship, and he was happy.
So Felix was happy too, he told himself. Sylvain had responsibilities he would never be able to escape from; his family’s insistence on a Crest-bearing heir being too intense to ignore. He knew Sylvain would have to get married to a noblewoman at some point, and he was glad it would be to someone the older at least seemed to love.
Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that seemed to dominate him. The world was going to end. He just didn’t know if it was because Sylvain being in a long-term relationship surely meant the balance of the universe was broken, or because he could feel his heart crumbling into fine dust every time he saw Sylvain with his... lover.
The weird thing was that no one else seemed to realise just how absurd this situation was, and how it was surely an ill omen. People who saw the two around the monastery either paid them no mind or started gushing about how “cute they are” and how “they wish they could have a relationship like them as well”. Sylvain always responded with witty remarks, accompanied by a bashful smile or a playful wink. The girl (Dahlia, Sylvain had reminded him sourly, at least try to remember, man) just laughed, clutching to Sylvain’s arm like her life depended on it. No one else seemed to sense the impending doom. No one seemed to mind the storm brewing.
Normally, Felix would feel compelled to make some kind of comment on it. Poke fun at Sylvain for acting so gross, or maybe taunt him during training. But no one else cared, and Felix was okay. Dahlia was perfect and Sylvain was happier than ever. Anyone who knew the latter for more than 2 minutes could see how good this relationship was for him. Everything was normal. Felix kept his comments to himself.
If anyone noticed his movements getting more snappy and his responses more irritated than usual, no one said anything. It’s not like Felix was a friendly person to begin with, and he was secretly grateful to be alone. A month passed. Felix trained harder than ever. He didn’t see Sylvain for days on end. He told himself he understood. He was okay. Life went on.
Until one day, his facade came crashing down.
Of course he knew it would be near impossible to ignore Sylvain forever when they had responsibilities and missions and lots of training sessions together, but he still hoped he would spend as much as possible without seeing that smug grin and perfectly disheveled hair. Which turned out to be around a little over a month or so, before Byleth’s efforts to keep the two apart during training proved to be futile and they were shoved into the training room by a very apprehensive Dimitri.
“Sorry, friends,” he said, practically running to the door as if he would explode if he stayed in the room for too long, “we got a lot of complaints about Sylvain here getting ‘special treatment’ because you two haven’t trained together in a long time. Try not to kill each other, I beg you.”
Felix just glared at his back until he left, occasionally stealing glances at Sylvain to see his reaction. The older seemed unbothered, as if he hadn’t even heard Dimitri’s remarks.
After the prince left the room, he slowly turned over to Felix and asked, as nonchalant as ever, “Ready?”
Felix was enraged, but everything was okay. He had no reason to be upset with Sylvain after all. So he just nodded, grabbed a training sword for himself and a lance for Sylvain, and began warming up.
It only took an embarrassing three minutes for Sylvain to have the swordsman pinned to a pillar with a lance pointed directly at his heart. They were both breathing heavily, from both the physical exertion and the tension hanging in the air. Despite the lance in between them, their bodies were pressed up against each other. Felix knew if he lowered himself just a little bit, if he bent his knees a tiny bit more, he would be met with Sylvain’s knee in between his legs. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Both of them were silent for a good minute, not wanting to move in fear of an ambiguous threat that seemed to be lurking in the corner of their minds. They stood there; Felix with his back pressed to one of the many stone pillars around the room, his sword hanging limply from his dominant hand, breathing ragged, eyes cast to the ground, hair damp with sweat. Pathetic and vulnerable. He could not even bring himself to look up and meet Sylvain’s soul-baring gaze, one he was used to but never knew how to react to. This is fine, he thought foolishly, I’m okay. I can just push Sylvain aside and leave. I can punch him if he tries to follow me. I don’t have to be here, I don’t have to do this.
But he couldn’t do any of those things. He just stared at the ground and let the cheap training sword in his hand fall.
The sound of it hitting the floor seemed to snap Sylvain out of whatever trance he was in, because he slowly lowered his lance and whispered, so painfully intimately and laced with worry, “Felix... Is everything alright?”
It made Felix want to scream, to say No, nothing is alright, or shout I miss you so much. Instead, he used all his willpower and physical strength to get his arms to work again and push Sylvain away. Seemingly not expecting this move, Sylvain stumbled backwards and looked at Felix with wide eyes, as if he had just been betrayed beyond his wildest expectations.
“Stop being stupid, Sylvain,” was what Felix’s brain had decided to settle on saying. “Why would everything not be alright?”
To this, Sylvain just scoffed, and motioned to the metal sword on the ground. Silence fell around them once again.
Growing up together and having spent most of their lives basically joint at the hip, these silences were not unusual for them. Felix, especially after Glenn’s death, was prone to making little effort to continue a conversation, or letting it die. Almost always, Sylvain understood and gave him space, or filled the void with meaningless chatter depending on what he thought Felix needed. Even if they didn’t utter more than five words to each other, they both enjoyed being together; finding comfort in stretches of silence and just being satisfied with the presence of one another.
This time, though, the silence was unbelievably uncomfortable for both of them, not exactly suffocating but more so anxiety-inducing. Yet Felix was stubborn not to break it. He was fine, and there was nothing to say.
Sylvain, always so good at reading him, as if all those guards he had meticulously put up meant nothing, thought otherwise. He cleared his throat, and seeing Felix’s eyes on him, spoke up.
“I’ve known you since we could barely talk. You can lie to everyone else, but you should know by now you can’t lie to me, Felix.”
It was true. It was true and Felix hated it. He could feel himself ready to lash out, and found himself unwilling to stop it.
“You didn’t care about me once this entire month,” he said, slightly wincing at the hurt in his voice, “why care now? Just leave me be, Sylvain. Please.”
Suddenly, Felix realised he was feeling really, extremely dumb. He felt cornered, and unnecessarily vulnerable. So he did the only thing he could do and stormed out of the training room.
At least, he attempted to, before Sylvain and his big dumb muscles and strong dumb arms reached out to grip his hand. Being a lancer, Sylvain was a lot stronger than Felix, who was in contrast all lean muscle and nimble movements. Once Sylvain wanted to keep him in place, there was virtually nothing he could do to escape. Still, he did his best to keep his gaze trained on the door, not sparing a glance at the man behind him.
This didn’t really seem to deter Sylvain, who tentatively spoke up again.
“I’m… sorry. I know I’ve been a shitty friend. It’s just… I’ve been…”
“In love,” Felix finished for him. His voice was ice cold when he added, “I know.”
Getting the memo, Sylvain let his hand go limp, and Felix took this as an opportunity to get away. He had said too much, showed too much emotion. He needed to retreat and recover, so he ran.
If he were being honest, it was excruciating to be away from Sylvain. Especially when he needed healing. Sylvain had been his biggest pillar of support since he was a snotty little kid. Back then, Felix wasn’t afraid of emotions, or looking weak. And even though a lot had changed since then, he still saw Sylvain as his only confidant, the only person who had the misfortune of seeing his weakest and ugliest side. Now that he couldn’t go to Sylvain, he had no one. As much as he liked to believe he didn’t need anyone to go to, he knew he was lying to himself. He needed to vent, needed to cry. But the only person he trusted was the only one he couldn’t turn to. It hurt.
What hurt even more was the way Sylvain was so obviously dodging him. Whenever he saw Felix walking towards him in the dormitory, he abruptly stopped and started pacing the opposite way. If Felix was in a room when he came in, he always paused and tried to ‘naturally’ walk back out. On most days, he wasn’t even at the monastery.
Not too long ago, Felix was the one dodging the other, yet in his mind Sylvain had deserved it. He failed to see what he had done to get this treatment. It hurt more than it should.
While his past wallowing-in-self-pity sessions had mostly gone unnoticed by his allies, this time around Byleth asked him to stay in the conference room after a regular meeting. He tried to act upset since this was a “waste of his precious training time”, but even he himself knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was grateful to have some human interaction, and he didn’t really bother to hide it.
Once they were alone, Byleth just gazed at him, her doe eyes searching his face. Unsatisfied, she closed them for a second, taking a deep breath through her nose as if concentrating. When she opened them again, she was supporting a much kinder expression. It was warm and laced with worry, yet it wasn’t patronising. Felix accepted it, and allowed himself to relax even if just a little bit.
“Thanks for making some time for me, Felix. I appreciate it,” she said, with a small smile. Felix realised he rarely saw her smile, and decided to take a moment to engrave it into his memory.
“I just called you to tell you,” she continued, pausing a little to collect her thoughts. “Just… Take it easy, friend.”
Normally, Felix would’ve hated those words, thinking them to be a direct insult to his training and goals. Yet, coming from Byleth, they seemed more like a gentle hug than a stab. He let an involuntary sigh escape his lips.
Hearing no protests from Felix, Byleth continued.
“I am aware you are more of a lone wolf, but we are all here for you. Don’t push yourself too hard. I still need you alive.”
She gave a small smile, and Felix found himself unable to come up with a witty rebuttal. He just gave a nod.
Taking this as a sign of success, Byleth moved a few steps forward and carefully put a dainty hand on Felix’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze. The latter’s eyes snapped up to her at the gesture, unaccustomed to physical contact, and he realised just how much this interaction meant to him. Just how much he had been needing something like this, someone cheering him on.
“It’ll be alright, Felix. Everything shall pass one day,” the tactician said, voice as gentle as her touch on his shoulder. “Take care.”
With that, she left the room. Felix took a few minutes to collect his thoughts and replay the conversation in his head, then stored it away for further deliberation. For now, he decided he needed to train and exhaust his body so he could get a good night’s rest.
A good night’s rest did not come. Felix figured it was some sort of bad karma or divine punishment for all those insults he has been throwing around for years. Or maybe it was just the Goddess having a good laugh.
As he lay in bed and closed his eyes, after a particularly long and relaxing shower, he could feel that night’s sleep would be a deep, comfortable one. He hadn’t had one of those in a very long time, and his body was screaming at him to get some proper rest. Just as he felt himself finally drifting off into a deep slumber, he jolted awake. Someone was - very insistently and loudly - knocking on his door.
Being very generous with his curses and creative with his choice of words, he stumbled around and made his way to it. Guessing by the amount of moonlight in his room, he could say it was way past midnight.
As he was feeling his way to the door, tripping on what seemed like every single article of clothing he owned, an all-too-familiar voice piped up.
“Baby, please open the door already,” the biggest fool in Fódlan was whining, drawing out his syllables way more than necessary. Felix was going to kill him. He was extremely determined to have his head, right that instant. “Please… C’mon… I miss you… Feeeelix…”
Felix realised Sylvain’s speech was slurred, and was filled with a newfound determination to kick his nose in. He shouted back some nearly-incomprehensible cusses and finally reached the door.
When he swung it open, he was fully ready to punch Sylvain square in the jaw, his right hand partially raised, midway through his string of “you idiot, you absolute fool, do you have any idea how late it is, you’re so irresponsible and embarrassing, such a nuisance, Sylvain, just stop that already”. But when he saw Sylvain’s face, all the words and scoldings died in his throat, and he paused.
Sylvain was looking back at him with one eye open wide, but the other one nearly swollen shut. Even in the low-light, Felix could see he had busted open his bottom lip and his brow. There was fresh blood trickling from his nose, and he reeked of alcohol. Felix had seen him drunk before, but this was on another level. He looked like shit.
Yet Felix couldn’t bring himself to finish his words, letting an involuntary sigh slip past his lips as he dragged him into his room and closed the door. Every bit of genuine annoyance and anger he had been feeling was now replaced with worry.
He pushed Sylvain onto his bed so he would sit down and let Felix examine his face, and he complied with little resistance (Felix was sure he wouldn’t be able to do anything even if he did want to resist). To get a good look, Felix had to straddle him, but Sylvain wasn’t complaining. In fact, he was being oddly silent.
When Felix was done looking at every fuck up on his face, he let his hands drop to his sides with a defeated sigh.
“I don’t know what you were thinking, or how you got yourself into this situation but I don’t think I can… do anything right now.”
Suddenly realising he was basically sitting in Sylvain’s lap, Felix quickly tried to pull away but Sylvain was somehow faster, snaking his long arms around the former’s waist and burying his face into his chest.
After a second-long pause to absorb exactly what was happening, Felix started to struggle and shout, trying to get out of his iron grip. This was not supposed to happen. Not tonight.
“You idiot! What are you doing?! Let me go! You’re getting blood everywhere!”
He was practically shouting, but Sylvain seemed deaf to his protests. He wasn’t budging one bit, just occasionally sniffling and rubbing his cheek on Felix’s vest. Eventually, as if he were stuck in a swamp and knew resistance was futile, Felix stopped struggling with a long sigh.
It was silent for a small moment, almost serene. Then Felix slowly spoke again.
“What… do you want, Sylvain?”
He had almost whispered the question, but he was certain the oversized puppy pressed against his chest had heard it. The reply didn’t come instantly, and when it did, Sylvain’s words were still a bit slurred.
“I’m sorry,” he said, whining once again. “It hurts.” He spoke in an almost comical matter, like a small child being denied his favorite candy. Felix sighed, and took Sylvain’s face in his hands, forcing him to look into his eyes to emphasize every word he was about to say. If he weren’t as frustrated as he was, and if Sylvain wasn’t as fucked up, he would’ve been internally freaking out. Instead, he realised he was feeling… sad, of all things. Drained.
“If you let me go,” he spoke calmly and slowly, “I’ll go grab the professor. She can patch you up, and you can get some rest. What do you think?”
Sylvain stilled at the words, letting his arms go and dropping them to rest on Felix’s thighs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the other. It was going to be a long night.
“Don’t wanna let you go,” Sylvain said, pouting like a kid.
Felix just rolled his eyes and slowly slipped out of Sylvain’s lap.
“I’ll be back in a minute. You’ll live.”
Sylvain, seemingly just catching up to the fact that Felix was no longer in his arms and deciding this was unacceptable, started coming up with a paragraph of protests and pleading, but Felix was already at the door. He just gave him a once-over, and slammed it in his face, locking it behind him so Sylvain wouldn’t try to follow him.
Once he was outside and away from the hurricane that is Drunk Sylvain, he took a moment to catch his breath. His mind was filled with the feeling of Sylvain’s head on his chest, hands on his thighs, his whiny voice asking him to stay. He was really, really drained.
Rather than going down to Byleth’s room, Felix decided to check Dimitri’s first. They still stayed next to each other, and he had a feeling that there was a high chance the boar and the professor liked to spend their nights together.
To be honest, he was a little jealous of them. Loving came so easy to those two, everything straightforward and natural. Even though they were fairly lowkey about it, everyone could tell their relationship was a special one. He would be lying if he said it didn’t make him envious.
Taking a deep breath to ground himself, he started striding towards Dimitri’s room. Sure enough, Byleth was there, opening the door instead of the boar. Felix could see him cuddling a pillow with his hair everywhere, and filed the image away for future blackmailing opportunities.
The professor brushed her bed head away from her face and gave Felix a confused look, which made him remember why he was here and how urgent it was.
“Sorry to wake you up, but Sylvain fucked everything up again and we need your help,” he said in a single breath. Byleth was already grabbing her overcoat and pulling on her shoes. “I mean, he got into a fight, and he’s drunk because he’s an idiot, and I don’t have anything to treat him with so maybe, you could, I don’t know--”
“It’s okay. Your room?” Byleth cut him off and gently pushed him aside. Felix just gave a curt nod and started walking behind her, not sure if he was ready to face the disastrous state that his room was surely in.
Surprisingly, everything was as he had left it, with Sylvain sitting obediently at the same exact spot. When he heard the soft creak of the door, he slowly lifted his head up and gazed at the two. He seemed to have sobered up a little, because he didn’t say anything except a small greeting tossed Byleth’s way, who was instantly in front of him with her hands on his cheeks. Not knowing how to help, Felix just awkwardly stood behind her and watched as she cast a basic healing spell.
It didn’t take very long until Sylvain’s wounds had closed up and he was looking much better. Byleth slowly pulled away, admiring her work, then gave Sylvain a soft slap on his cheek, as if to say behave. The older, seeming to come back to his senses after the treatment, chuckled, and after a moment of silence, started blabbering a whole paragraph of apologises, his face twisted into a grimace as if he was mortified with himself.
“Professor, I’m so, I am so so sorry, I’m so dumb, I’m sorry you have to deal with an idiot like me, in the middle of the night too I’m so--” He took a deep breath. Byleth seemed to be intently listening to everything he was saying. Felix was just confused as to what to do.
“Thank you so much, Professor, I’m just, I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing and,” he continued, rushing to let everything out. “I keep fucking things up and I hurt Felix again even though that’s, that’s the last thing I ever want to do and I’m so, so utterly dumb, Felix I’m so sorry, I’m just-- You’re so,” his eyes were on Felix now, who looked like he was about to melt away and disappear. “You’re so important to me and I’m extremely confused and--”
Byleth put a hand on his shoulder, very firmly, and stared deep into his eyes. At the gesture, Sylvain somehow looked even more mortified and quickly clamped his mouth shut. Felix was grateful. After giving the two a look and a gentle goodnight, she was gone.
With Sylvain’s injuries now gone, Felix felt all his previous anger bubbling up inside his chest. He could feel his face getting increasingly redder with rage, but just as he was about to explode, he noticed Sylvain was very slightly shaking, his eyes trained to his lap. With a lot of unidentified but strong emotions swimming through, he realised Sylvain was crying.
The last time Felix remembered Sylvain crying was years ago, when Sylvain’s dad had decided his older brother Miklan was a hindrance to House Gautier, and very swiftly and effectively disowned him. Felix didn’t really know Miklan, but he had been there multiple times after Sylvain had once again been subjected to his brother’s vengeance, whether it be to pull Sylvain out of wells or simply be there to give him hugs. Yet, when Sylvain woke up one day and found all traces of his brother suddenly gone all around the house, he was shaken to his core. Vengeful or not, Miklan was his brother, and now he was gone all because of a stupid Crest. Because of him.
That day, Felix had found him lying on his back under a big willow tree. He remembered how idyllic the scene had been: It was towards the end of spring, so the harsh northern Faerghus weather was merciful. They still had to wear layers, but the sun was out and there was only a gentle breeze, making the rustling of leaves fill the silence around them. The willow was swaying back and forth gently, as if dancing to an inaudible tune. Sylvain, handsome and dashing as always, looked deep in slumber from afar. Up close, Felix could see small teardrops clinging to his long lashes, as his body trembled with small, secret sobs. He only remembered the soul wrenching sadness he had felt, and the wordless embrace they had shared, going on for hours until Sylvain stopped shaking and calmed down. It was the most intimate moment they had ever shared, as Sylvain very scarcely cried. That day, Felix swore he would never let anything make Sylvain cry again.
Yet here he was, as vulnerable as he had been back then; sobs so quiet, but the night even quieter. Seeing him like this made Felix feel awful and useless. He had failed Sylvain. He had failed himself. But he didn’t know what to say, scrambling to come up with a way to make things better to no avail.
While his mind was in shambles, his body seemed to know the answer and before Felix could even register what he was doing, he sighed an involuntary “oh, Sylvain,” and moved to hug the beautiful mess in front of him. It was way too late for any of this, and he was way too tired, so he just slowly pushed Sylvain onto his side until they were both lying down with Sylvain still in Felix’s arms, still shaking, still silently sobbing. Felix didn’t say anything, he knew he didn’t need to, and just let him cry until they both fell asleep.
Felix wasn’t sure what he expected to wake up to in the morning, but he was certain an empty bed was at the bottom of the list. Being the realist he is, he knew this was the only logical scenario, but something inside him had told him this was far too intimate, far too special to just cast aside and act like it didn’t happen. He made a mental note to extinguish that something inside him for good.
Then he realised he was acting really silly. It had surely been a dream, right? Looking back on it, there was no way Sylvain would’ve came to his room, drunk, fresh out of a fight, and then cried himself to sleep in Felix’s arms. The only logical conclusion to draw was that it had been a dream, seeing as how he was indeed alone in his bed when he had woken up, and Sylvain was nowhere to be seen. He was acting like a little child, and everything was okay.
And he had wholeheartedly convinced himself of this scenario, until Byleth approached him in the corridor and asked him how Sylvain was doing, and if his injuries were all healed up.
This made him realise a few things. For starters, he realised he hadn’t dreamt it up. Every single thing he remembered had happened, and Sylvain had left him alone. He also realised he didn’t know the answer to Professor’s question, and that he would like to know. But, a bit belatedly, he also realised he was too tired to pursue it. He was fairly certain he had used up all his emotional energy he had saved up for years in these past few months, and he just wanted to rest for a change.
He could only bring himself to sigh and whisper an “I don’t know” in response to Byleth, before continuing his stroll around the monastery grounds. He knew he was being grumpy and immature, but he didn’t really care. He just needed to empty his mind.
His feet, apparently having a mind of their own, carried him to the third floor balcony. He was pleased to find it empty as always, walking over to a wall and leaning on it, looking at the vast blue sky and the people below. It was a beautiful day regardless of whatever Felix was feeling, clouds puffy and happy, sun shining, not too cold or hot. Everyone was outside, enjoying a rare day of peace, where they didn’t have to worry about invaders or war or death or tragedy. He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs and slowly let it out from his mouth. He would eventually be back to normal, he knew that. Looking up at the sky, he was reminded just how small and insignificant he was. He knew it was all silly.
Hence, he decided it was time to come up with a plan of action. The only problem was that he really had no energy to spare, and even this moment he took for himself was a waste of precious training time. Therefore, the only reasonable thing to do was to let it all happen. He concluded he wouldn’t actively pursue Sylvain, but wouldn’t ignore him either. They were both adults, so they could deal with this like adults. Having made up his mind, he made his way to the training grounds, secretly hoping he would run into Sylvain somehow.
He didn’t. The hurt was all too familiar now.
It seemed Sylvain was very keen on acting like nothing happened, or even pretending he didn’t know Felix. It wasn’t as obvious as last time, but he was nowhere to be seen. Felix even made frequent visits to places he would normally see Sylvain, but he was just… gone.
Frustrated and done, Felix decided it was time to go back to his shell for good. He had been way too vulnerable lately, and he was tired. Sylvain could do whatever he wanted, but Felix wouldn’t lose focus again. He had to get stronger, be the best, and then surpass himself. He needed to train until his body screamed at him to stop.
And that was precisely what he did, until Sylvain decided to crash his pity party, as if he had any right to do so.
Felix was training, as he would any other day, engrossed in his movements, making mental notes at how his limbs moved and how he could make everything more efficient, when a voice from behind him made him jump and drop his sword.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
He turned around, and was indeed met with the very subject of every single frustration he had ever had. Sylvain was standing a few feet away from him, arms crossed across his chest, looking… sheepish. Maybe even apologetic. Felix was enraged. The whole thing was like deja vu.
“Oh, look who finally decided to show his face,” he sneered, putting his sword back in its place, already ready to flee. “Aren’t you busy going on pretty little dates with your pretty little girlfriend?”
Neither waiting nor wanting a response, he swiftly left the training grounds. He didn’t need this.
Sylvain didn’t wait for him to stop and listen when he replied.
“Dahlia and I aren’t together anymore.”
This effectively did stop Felix in his tracks. What?
Sensing his confusion, Sylvain repeated.
“We aren’t dating anymore. It’s over.”
After a beat, Felix couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why? You two were so… good.”
He had now fully turned to face Sylvain, too curious to keep up his attitude towards the latter. As if expecting this question, Sylvain very smoothly shrugged his shoulders and replied.
“I never really liked her anyway.”
It made something inside Felix snap. He knew Sylvain was a “player”, knew his reasons, knew the darkest corners of his soul. But this tactlessness, this disregard, after making his efficacy in battle drop, after making Felix suffer for months, was unacceptable. Even to him. Before either of them could tell what was happening, he grabbed Sylvain by his collar and pushed him against a wall.
Sylvain was just staring up at him with wide eyes, which made Felix even madder. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such rage, and he did the only thing he could think of doing in that moment.
He pulled Sylvain forward and headbutted him.
In hindsight, this was a very dumb move on Felix’s part, as his forehead was now red and aching, but he didn’t really regret it. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction. Sylvain was being an ass, and he had to let him know somehow.
This didn’t mean the headbutt didn’t come with a flurry of rage. Felix was shouting at Sylvain, not bothered by the throbbing of his forehead, unlike Sylvain who was on the floor clutching his head. He wasn’t really making much sense, but he knew Sylvain got the main idea amidst the “Are you insane?! Is this a joke to you?!” and the “How could you stoop so low, playing with a girl’s feelings for months?! Have you no decency left?!”
Eventually, his fountain of fury dried up, and he stopped. Sylvain wasn’t saying anything. He took a deep breath, and started walking back to his room.
Of course, he didn’t make it very far until he ran into Mercedes, because he could never catch a break. He could almost hear the goddess laughing in heaven, or wherever she was at the moment.
“Hey, Felix!” she chirped, jogging over to him. “Where are you he-- Oh Goddess, what happened to your forehead?! It’s all red!” In an instant, her hands were on his face, examining him closely.
“It’s nothing, Mercedes.” Felix grumbled. He just wanted to be alone.
“Are you sure? We should get you to the infi--”
“Mercedes, please.” His voice was firm, but quiet. “Just leave me be.”
Seeing Felix uncharacteristically sombre, Mercedes was at a loss. She didn’t even have an opportunity to do anything besides step back before Felix left.
Though worried, she didn’t really have much choice but to leave him alone for now. Even if she ran after him, she knew he wouldn’t let her do anything and push her away. Accepting defeat, she sighed and continued walking.
As it turns out, that was exactly what she needed to do in order to solve the mystery of Felix’s Shiny Red Forehead. Passing by the training grounds, she noticed she had indeed arrived at the Crime Scene, littered with clues.
Clue 1: A slumped mess near the door, red hair and broad shoulders.
Clue 2: Said slumped mess clutching his head.
Clue 3: The same slumped mess seemingly out of it, not even realising Mercedes approaching.
As a perfectly functioning logical human being, she pieced it all together and realised this was bad.
She timidly approached Sylvain, as if he were a hurt stray animal, and slowly sat beside him. He still didn’t seem to notice her, so she slowly spoke up.
“Hey Sylvie...” She stopped, unsure, but felt Sylvain’s eyes on her. She could now clearly see he also had a glowing red forehead, identical to Felix’s, and couldn’t help but sigh.
“You look like you’re in pain. You don’t have to tell me anything you do not want to, but will you at least let me treat you?” She gave a soft smile, which Sylvain matched. He had always had a soft spot for the healer, so he nodded without giving it much thought.
Mercedes looked satisfied.
She got up and held her hand out for Sylvain to take. Pulling him to his feet, they made their way to the infirmary. Professor Manuela was nowhere to be seen, so Mercedes figured she would just do her thing and they would leave.
Sitting on an old bed near the window, Sylvain realised Mercedes was always so caring, and it reminded him of his mother. Even though his life in House Gautier hadn’t exactly been peachy, he remembered rare moments of tenderness and care, his mother’s soft hands running through his hair to calm him down. Every second he spent next to Mercedes felt like that, even if they didn’t talk or do anything. She exuded a certain aura that made everyone instantly trust her and yield, but she never once used this effect in a malevolent way. Now, with her nimble fingers working their magic on his forehead, he felt like he could tell her anything. And he did.
“I made Felix mad,” he said quietly at first. “Again. And it wasn’t exactly undeserved but he misunderstood me, I think.”
Mercedes just smiled her usual, sweet smile and made a tiny sound of acknowledgement so he would continue.
“I told him… I’m not dating Dahlia anymore. And I said something dumb. I said… I never really liked her.”
He sighed, for what seemed like the billionth time that evening, and looked up at Mercedes’ face. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. She didn’t say anything, but Sylvain knew what she wanted to ask.
“See, looking back, that was an extremely poor choice of words. Because that’s-- That’s not-- I’m just--”
Sylvain stopped again, feeling really frustrated. Then decided to just bite the bullet.
“I like men, Mercedes. I mean, I think I do. Romantically and… you know. I mean, I really liked Dahlia, I did, and the time I spent with her was amazing but I-- I could never really understand my feelings towards her. I-I realised… I don’t think I can see myself loving a woman. Or being married to one. That’s… why.”
He didn’t know what sort of reaction he was expecting from Mercedes, but it was not… nothing. She continued her healing, giving a tiny hum to prod him to continue. Sylvain didn’t know what to say next.
“You know, Sylvie, it’s okay,” Mercedes finally broke the silence, sensing his discomfort. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
She was done healing his big dumb head, so she pulled back slightly to give him a warm smile, and then leaned in for a hug. Sylvain couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at ease. He gave a little chuckle and took a deep breath, feeling it fill his lungs. He felt good, satisfied.
“Although I do believe… a certain someone deserves to hear this too.”
Sylvain couldn’t see Mercedes’ face, but he could tell her smile was still on her face. He felt himself mirroring it despite the butterflies in his stomach.
“Yeah. You’re right, Mercie. Thank you… for everything. I’m not the best at showing it but... I love you a lot. I hope you know this.”
He pulled back to look at Mercedes’ face, and laughed at her shocked expression. He realised he didn’t go around telling people he loved them, not sincerely anyway. But Mercedes deserved- no, needed to hear it.
She started laughing too. Sylvain was mesmerised by how her eyes closed and her nose scrunched up, transforming her already graceful features into something even more magnificent. He knew he was smiling like a doofus, but he couldn’t really help it. Mercedes was a great friend, and he was lucky.
“I love you too, Sylvain,” she said, after her laughter had subsided. Her voice sounded like liquid sunshine.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sylvain noticed something moving outside the infirmary, and snapped his head up to see it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though, so he didn’t really trouble himself with it and pulled himself to his feet, gently guiding Mercedes out of his way.
“Well,” he started, and was surprised to hear how much better he sounded. Healthy. Content. “I’d better go talk to that certain someone before he turns into a blackhole and destroys the monastery from sulking too much.” When he started walking to the door, he had a spring in his step.
“See you around, Mercie. Take care!”
“Yes, you too! Be careful!”
He could hear Mercedes giggling from behind him as he rushed to Felix’s room. It was time to set things right once and for all.
Once he did get there, all conviction left him. He stood there in front of Felix’s door with his hand raised, and felt like an idiot. But he figured this was his best friend in the whole entire universe, and Sylvain loved him. The very thought of losing that special bond between them made his heart clench, so he knew he had to make this leap of faith. He was certain Felix would be there to catch him.
He knocked a few times on the door and waited. Of course, since Felix was a little baby at heart, there was no response. For some reason, it made Sylvain smile to himself. He cleared his throat and leaned in close to the door.
“Felix, are you there?”
There was, once again, no response but he wasn’t giving up.
“Please, Felix, can we just talk?” The pleading in his voice would’ve made him cringe in any other situation, but he didn’t really mind right now. Felix had permission to see every part of his soul anyway.
This time, he heard a grumbled “fine” come from behind the door, and it swung open to reveal a tired-looking Felix. His eyes were droopy and his hair was down.
Sylvain had to take a second to remember who he was and why he was here. Felix’s hair was down, and he was gesturing for Sylvain to go in his room.
Sylvain could feel his legs wobbling as he stepped in, his shoulder brushing Felix’s lightly.
Cool, he thought. This is really cool.
He only realised he was standing like a nervous dumbass in the middle of the room, eyes darting everywhere but never settling on Felix, when he heard the swordsman clear his throat and give him a confused look.
This was anything but cool, but he was Sylvain Jose Gautier, smooth-talker and professional playboy, having captured the hearts of many from all over Fódlan. He could do this.
Taking a deep breath as discreetly as possible, he lowered himself onto the bed, patting the space next to him. The scene felt oddly familiar, but he tried not to think about it.
Felix, as puzzled as he was, complied and sat down next to him. He had his arms crossed across his chest, and he was clearly making a great effort to keep his eyes on the ground. Sylvain saw a little pout on his lips, and felt himself smiling.
Surprisingly, it was Felix who spoke up first.
“Why are you here? Aren’t you busy marrying Mercedes or something?”
Sylvain poured all his effort into keeping a straight face, because this was serious and Felix was clearly upset, but it wasn’t enough to stop the loud laugh that escaped his lips.
“Marrying Mercedes?!” he said after taking a huge breath to calm himself. “What are you even t-- Wait.”
Realisation dawned on Sylvain as the last of his giggles subsided. Felix was still pouting, but his frown was deeper than before.
“That was you at the infirmary, wasn’t it? I thought that was just a kitten… Though I guess I wasn’t that far off.”
Felix scoffed, feeling the tips of his ears turn red.
“Shut up, Sylvain, you ridiculous fool. Can’t you be serious for once in your life?”
“Well, I am serious. You’re just a small kitten, aren’t you?” Sylvain, with a mischievous grin on his face, put his hand on Felix’s head and ruffled his hair. “Just a widdle kitty!”
It earned him a shove, a punch in the arm and a snarl; but he thought it was worth it. He took a second to take in the adorable scowl on Felix’s face, then spoke up again.
“Listen, Felix. I think you… misunderstood. Can I explain everything? Please?”
“...Fine.”
Even though Felix was trying to seem hesitant about listening to him, Sylvain knew that was far from the truth. Once you got to know him, Felix was very easy to read.
Unable to decide on where exactly to start explaining, Sylvain figured everything he told Mercedes would have to suffice. Never one to dip his toes in first, he dove headfirst into everything to get it over with. He was aware he was speaking a tad bit too fast, but he was nervous, and that never happened. But he needed Felix to know. To understand.
When Sylvain was finally done, he was out of breath, but not out of physical exertion. He also realised he had been staring at the wall the entire time, so quickly (and involuntarily) snapped his eyes back to Felix.
Anxiety filled him when he saw Felix refusing to meet his eye, with his fists clenched in his lap. Had he somehow fucked it up even more? Pushed too hard? What if Felix truly hated him now? Had he lost one of the best things in his life?
However, the feeling left as soon as it had come, when he noticed the soft sobs coming from the younger, now noticeably curled into himself. Sylvain automatically, but cautiously, reached out to Felix and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
Felix sniffed, very cutely, and turned to Sylvain with a frown.
“You,” he started with a very wobbly voice, “are an idiot.”
He put his hands on Sylvain’s chest and pushed him back, really hard, onto the mattress.
“You insufferable fool.”
He was emphasizing every word with a little punch on Sylvain’s arms, chest or the bed.
Sylvain was, to put it simply, stunned. He didn’t fight back or say anything because he didn’t know what to do or say. This wasn’t exactly how he had pictured this talk would go.
When Felix calmed down a little, he took a deep breath in between sobs and sat down on his legs. If he didn’t have tears running down his cheeks, or if he wasn’t extremely embarrassed from being this vulnerable, he maybe would’ve realised he was on Sylvain’s crotch and moved off.
But he had more dire things to worry about, like the soft smile on Sylvain’s face and his large hand coming up to brush Felix’s hair back, then wipe his tears away.
“Well, there’s the crybaby Felix I know and love,” Sylvain said, voice dripping with honey and so much fondness.
Felix thought he was going to die. He scoffed and tried to turn his face away, but instead ended up snuggling closer to Sylvain’s hand. He swore it was accidental when his hand darted up to hold it in place, maybe even press it closer to his cheek. His tears hadn’t exactly stopped, but he was still feeling so much at once, he didn’t know what else to do.
Sylvain slowly brought his other hand up, now cupping both his cheeks and more or less forcing him to meet his gaze. He sat up so their faces were now much closer. In the warm light coming from the afternoon sun, his eyes looked like melted pots of chocolate.
“Felix... I’m sorry for always making you cry. Will you please let me fix it?”
Felix couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, whatever this was. Cared for, maybe. Or even loved.
He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, trying very hard not to smile.
“You’d better, you jerk.”
Felix’s arms, apparently having a mind of their own, slowly slid around Sylvain’s neck, bringing their faces considerably closer. It was instinctive, but he didn’t have time to regret it and panic because Sylvain smiled sweetly, then gave him a chaste kiss.
It was quick but loaded with so much emotion, Felix short-circuited for a few seconds. Seeing his wide eyes, Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn’t think of anything but how cute Felix was, how much he wanted to keep kissing him, how his hair was so soft and smelled so good, how he had been missing this all those years and never realised it.
Taking advantage of Felix shutting down briefly, Sylvain flipped them over so Felix was lying on his back on the mattress, with the older towering over him. A yelp that sounded suspiciously like a short laugh escaped Felix, and he was back in the present moment. He didn’t know how to put everything he had bottled up since they were kids into words, so he just pulled Sylvain down to give him another kiss.
One kiss turned into two, then ten, then twenty, and they lost count at one point. At first they were small and careful, almost experimental, like they were both so eager but felt like they had to restrain themselves. They slowly got more confident, mostly thanks to Sylvain’s boldness, but they both could still tell every single kiss held a special meaning. Felix’s hand was in Sylvain’s hair, pulling at strands occasionally, and it made the latter smile through the kisses. They were both so very content, having wanted this for years without the other knowing.
Eventually, they got lazier and lazier, kisses turning to small pecks here and there. At one point Sylvain’s forearms had gotten tired from holding himself up for so long, so he was lying on his side next to Felix, idly playing with his locks. The evening sun warmed up everything around them and made them glow even more.
Felix slowly moved to hug Sylvain across his broad chest and tucked his nose in the crook of the latter’s neck.
“You smell nice,” he murmured.
The low chuckle he got from Sylvain made something inside him explode. He was certain he wouldn’t get through this evening alive.
Maybe it was because he was sensitive and truly happy, or maybe it was because his face was hidden by Sylvain’s goddamn gigantic shoulders, but Felix suddenly felt courageous. He could feel everything he kept inside threatening to spill but he somehow didn’t mind.
Yet, he was horrible with words and unaccustomed to the flowery language Sylvain had mastered. But he decided to do his best.
“Sylvain. You know, I’ve… wanted this since we were little kids. Why did you make me wait for so long?”
Sylvain made a startled sound at that, and his hand that was wrapped in Felix’s long hair stilled.
“Wait, really? Are you kidding around?”
“Of course not, you halfwit. Why would I lie?”
Sylvain let out an airy laugh and finally continued playing with Felix’s hair.
“...I’m sorry.”
He felt Felix smile against his collarbone.
“It’s alright. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Sylvain smiled too. He placed a small peck on the crown of Felix’s head, and was silent as he gathered his thoughts.
“...I sincerely am sorry, Felix. For being such an oblivious dumbass, and making you wait for so long. But now… I promise I will never leave your side again. Just like… just like when we were kids.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything, but the silence around them wasn’t tense for a change. It was blissful, the only sounds in the room the beating of their hearts and some distant laughter from outside.
Felix gently moved back to look Sylvain in the eye, then pressed his lips to Sylvain’s plump and soft ones.
Felix was bad with words, yes, but he knew how to make his actions make up for it. Everything he felt, he felt intensely and he communicated that through the smallest gestures. He didn’t reply to Sylvain, but Sylvain could hear all the unsaid words in his kisses, in the smallest touches he gave him. He understood, and it was more than enough.
Feeling himself smile, Sylvain thought, even if in this small moment they shared, everything was okay.