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Felix stared down at the salad in front of him, throat tight and bile rising in his stomach. He could feel Sylvain’s eyes bore into him from where he was seated across the table. The decrepit dining hall was empty save for them, everyone else was likely asleep at this hour. They should be asleep. Felix wished he was asleep and not staring down this stupid salad.
Realistically it was extremely meager in size, but it looked so big to him. Sylvain was uncharacteristically quiet across from him, just watching. Felix almost wished the redhead would say something. Almost. Shakily, he reached for his fork and took a weak stab at the vegetables. This was humiliating. He shoved the fork into his mouth and almost gagged, almost spat the food back out. It felt foreign, heavy and disgusting in his mouth.
He saw Sylvain wince in his peripherals. Great. He was making a fool of himself. It was just a salad; it was just food. What kind of miserable creature was he that he couldn’t even eat without wanting to vomit? He desperately wished Sylvain wasn’t there, then he could feed the salad to one of the animals around the monastery, and throw up for good measure. But Sylvain was there, and he wasn’t leaving until Felix had eaten. He probably wasn’t going to leave Felix’s side for the rest of the night. Felix didn’t blame him. He knew that if Sylvain left as soon as he ate, he would just make himself vomit it up. No doubt Sylvain also knew this.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was really only about 20 seconds, Felix forced himself to swallow the food in his mouth. He looked up at Sylvain, and the redhead averted his gaze. He knew Felix didn’t want to be watched while he ate, but he couldn’t leave. This was for Felix’s own good, Sylvain reminded himself. Sylvain wished they didn’t have to do this. He wished Felix wasn’t hurting like this. He hated to see Felix hurting. Worst of all, he had no idea what to say, or do, to help. This was so dangerous, and he knew Felix knew that. They both knew that this could very well get Felix killed on the battlefield, and that terrified Sylvain.
Felix took another tentative bite, and once again he had to work not to spit it out. The melancholy look on Sylvain’s face made him want to throttle the other. He knew it wasn’t pity; he knew Sylvain was genuinely concerned. That didn’t stop him from being angry about it. He didn’t want help. There was so much out of his control in this war; this was the one thing he felt like he had control over. That’s what he told himself at least.
Three bites later Felix set the fork down, cheeks burning in shame. Sylvain knew he was done; Felix didn’t have to say it. He wished Felix would eat the whole thing, but he knew that wasn’t realistic. He hadn’t seen Felix eat more than a few small bites of anything in almost a year. Sylvain hadn’t seen him eat anything at all for several months. He sighed slightly, and took the plate from in front of Felix. He didn’t take his eyes off of Felix as he disposed of the rest of the salad, and left to plate to be washed in the morning. Felix fought the urge to excuse himself to the bathroom. He knew Sylvain wouldn’t let him go. They both knew he wanted to though.
Sylvain slowly walked back to the table Felix was still sitting at, trying to find something, anything to say. He came up with nothing. He cursed himself. Felix needed help; Sylvain needed to be that help. No one else knew. It had to be him, and still he could think of nothing.
Eventually, Felix spoke up.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, so quiet Sylvain almost didn’t hear it. The redhead felt his heart shatter at that.
“Don’t. Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault,” Sylvain said without thinking, as he often did.
That was the wrong thing to say.
“Of course it’s my fault. I did this to myself,” Felix bit out, a scowl on his face.
Sylvain wanted so desperately to make Felix understand that this was not actually his fault. That he had been consumed by an illness that had taken root in him. That Sylvain was not upset with him, could never be upset with him about this. That he just wanted Felix to be healthy, and safe, and to not blame himself for something he could not have helped. He didn’t know how to do any of that, so he settled for:
“I love you.”
Felix looked taken aback at the confession. It was not the first time he had heard Sylvain say this to him, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to hear it again. He wasn’t deserving of it, not like this.
Sylvain kept his face carefully controlled as he approached Felix. He couldn’t let his sadness show. It would only serve to make Felix feel guilty.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed. It’s late, and we have a meeting in the morning,” He said, voice carefully soft. Felix bristled at the treatment, but didn’t protest. He knew Sylvain was trying.
Felix knew he was being difficult, and so he went willingly with Sylvain to the dorms. Sylvain walked him to his room, but didn’t leave when Felix opened the door to enter. He knew Sylvain wasn’t going to leave him alone, but it still bothered him. He wanted to be alone, especially after the humiliation that was being forced to eat, and being unable to down more than a few bites.
Sylvain followed him into the room, and sat in Felix’s desk chair as he began to remove his boots. He tried not to look as Felix undressed, but he still caught a glimpse of the other man’s torso as he removed his coat. He was so thin, his ribs sticking out through his skin, his stomach caving inward. Sylvain looked away quickly.
It hurt him so much to see Felix like that, but he knew he could never hurt as much as Felix did over this. That was what scared him the most. If he was hurting this much, how much worse was it for Felix? Sylvain didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to believe that Felix could be doing this, and while he knew it wasn’t Felix’s fault, he couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could do this to themselves. He didn’t know what started it for Felix, but he wished he could go back in time, and be there for him. Sylvain wondered if he could have stopped this, if only he’d paid closer attention, if only he’d been better.
Sylvain shook his head slightly. That kind of thinking would get him nowhere. Felix had fallen down this rabbit hole, and all they could do now was try to pull him back out. He settled down in Felix’s bed next to the man. They were facing each other, chest to chest. Sylvain settled an arm over Felix’s waist, and tried not to think about how thin it was. Felix was silent as they laid, pretending to sleep.
Eventually, the silence was too much for Sylvain to bear.
“I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me, but you are going to be alright. One day. You can get past this. It scares me to see you like this, and it scares me that I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But I know you can get through this.”
Felix was silent as he spoke, eyes trained intently on Sylvain’s chest, so he wouldn’t have to look the redhead in the eyes. It was a very long time before he spoke.
“I’m scared,” Felix whispered, and though Sylvain already knew, it pained him to hear. It pained him that Felix was at a point that he would let himself say something like that, to admit weakness.
“Me too,” Sylvain whispered back. He didn’t know how they were going to get through this, but they would. They had to.