Archive of Our Own ^beta

The journalist meets them at The Eagle and Lion, the bar on the campus of Garreg Mach University. Felix finds it a little annoying, since The Eagle and Lion is always packed full of people, staffed by overtired, underpaid students, and, frankly, their nachos were shitty. Felix never forgave any restaurant with shitty nachos. 

But the journalist -- famed music reporter Annette Dominic -- had wanted to hold the interview at the place where it all started, and since the cramped two bedroom that Felix and Sylvain had used to live in during school wasn’t available, this was the next best thing. So they all pile into a booth in the corner -- Felix mostly on Sylvain’s lap, Dimitri and Dedue acting like the two largest bookends on either side, and Ingrid smushed in between Sylvain and Dimitri. Felix had ordered the nachos even though he knew he was going to be disappointed, and he picks morosely at them while Sylvain and Dedue talk about something uninteresting. Sylvain has his hand spread out on Felix’s stomach and he keeps pressing kisses to the back of Felix’s neck whenever Felix has his mouth full of mediocre-at-best nachos; Felix jumps every time, overly sensitive, but Sylvain just laughs and continues his conversation with Dedue, not even bothered when Felix pinches his thigh. 

At four pm on the dot a cute redhead walks over to them. She shakes hands with all of them before sitting in the chair they had dragged over, shrugging off her coat and beaming wildly. 

“It is so nice to finally meet all of you!”

“We didn’t know if you wanted anything, so we just ordered you water,” Dimitri, ever the gentleman, says. Felix has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Ingrid had given him a very stern, very threatening talk about not doing something obnoxious and ruining their good press again, even though Felix had already apologized a thousand times for challenging that radio host to a sword fight. 

Annette smiles warmly at Dimitri. “Water is perfect, thank you.”

“We ordered nachos for the table,” Sylvain cuts in, even though they had not been for the table, pushing the plate forward and ignoring Felix’s elbow in his stomach. 

“They’re shit,” Felix says as Annette reaches for one. He can hear Ingrid sigh heavily next to him, but Annette doesn’t seem to notice. 

“They’re good! Thank you,” she says, which means she’s either a liar or she has bad taste in nachos. Felix has strong opinions about both of those things. “Do you mind if we jump right in?”

“Of course, let’s do it,” Sylvain says. Felix can’t see his face, but he’s pretty sure Sylvain had just winked. Sylvain has a specific voice that tends to accompany his winking. Felix elbows him again, just for good measure, as Annette puts down a recording device on the table.

“Let me just say, I have been a big fan of you guys from almost the beginning,” which Felix doesn’t believe, but then she says, “I was at the first show you played in Enbarr, when you opened for Dorothea and the Operatics, remember? Absolutely phenomenal.” Felix decides he’s being unfair to Annette Dominic and resolves not to judge her too much for her poor taste in nachos. “And it’s very exciting to be here, where it all began. But I know you all didn’t meet here, did you?”

“Goddess, no,” Ingrid says. “I’ve unfortunately known Sylvain, Dimitri and Felix since we were kids, but Dedue we didn’t meet until high school.”

“Unfortunately?” Annette asks. Felix can’t tell, since Sylvain has manhandled him completely into his lap at this point, but he knows Ingrid well enough to know she probably rolls her eyes. 

“Try wrangling these three fools for twenty years and then you’ll understand what I mean.”

Annette laughs; it sounds a little like bells. “And yet you joined a band with them.”

Ingrid laughs; it does not sound like bells. “Not my finest decision, but I think it worked out well.”

“So whose idea was it, then? The band?”

Felix, Ingrid, and Dimitri make a noise of derision near simultaneously. Dedue laughs quietly as Dimitri says, “Oh, this was Sylvain’s brilliant plan.”

“I didn’t hear any of you assholes complaining when we sold out Deirdru,” Sylvain says, but his tone is light. 

“Had you always wanted to start a band?” Annette asks Sylvain. Sylvain might respond, but Felix can’t hear over the sound of the other four of them laughing their asses off. 

“I believe,” Dedue says, deep voice thick with humour, “that his reasoning had something to do with meeting girls.”

“Oh, it was definitely to meet girls,” Ingrid says. 

Annette looks confused; Felix can’t blame her, given that he is currently on Sylvain’s lap, with Sylvain’s arms wrapped around him. “And how did that work out for you?”

Sylvain laughs. “Sometimes the only way to get what you need is to stop looking."

Sylvain is drowned out by Ingrid blowing a raspberry on her arm and Felix making gagging noises. Sylvain pinches Felix on the inside of his thigh and removes one of his arms from around Felix’s waist to tug lightly on Ingrid’s hair. 

“Both of you shut up.”

Annette leans her chin on her hand. “So you start a band to meet girls, and end up falling in love with one of your bandmates.” She grins. “Please, tell me more.”

Sylvain bursts into his bedroom at seven in the morning and says, “Let’s start a band.”

Felix, who had been considering the merits of going back to sleep and skipping his morning run, rubs at his eyes and says, “What?”

“Let’s start a band,” Sylvain says again. 

“No, I heard that,” Felix says, sitting up. “My question stands.”

Sylvain walks over to Felix’s bed, shoving his legs out of the way to sit down and ignoring the way Felix scowls at him. “Think about it! Ingrid plays bass, right, and I’m sure Dimitri still remembers how to play piano, we can put him on keyboard --”

“Are you drunk?”

“Dedue knows how to play drums, and I haven’t forgotten that you played guitar in high school.”

“Yeah, for the music credit. I haven’t played guitar since, Sylvain, I don’t even own a guitar.”

“And you wrote all those songs in school, remember?”

Felix throws his pillow at him. “I told you not to mention those,” he hisses. Sylvain holds up his hands. 

“What? They were good! They were more than good, remember Ms. Casagranda said you had real talent. Stop throwing shit at me!”

“Then shut up! We’re not starting a band!”

“Just think about it. Will you think about it?”

“No,” Felix says. “Get out of my room.”

“Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“No.”

“Think about it!” Sylvain says again as he leaves. Felix lies back down, counts this morning as a loss, vows to run his usual route twice tomorrow, and goes back to sleep.

He gets a text from Dimitri in the middle of class, and since Professor Hanneman has the droning voice of a grandfather talking about an old war that no one is interested in, Felix answers it. 

Dimitri [9:37]: did Sylvain talk to you about his band idea 

Felix [9:38]: unfortunately 

Dimitri [9:38]: do you still know how to play guitar?

Felix [9:39]: please tell me you’re joking 

Dimitri [9:40]: yeah it’s stupid but idk

Dimitri [9:40]: might be fun

Felix [9:41]: the last time you said that about one of Sylvain’s schemes we had to climb out the window of that duke’s house to escape 

Dimitri [9:41]: how could i forget, we had to swim across that ravine because his dogs were chasing us

Felix [9:42]: my fucking point stands

Dimitri doesn’t respond after that, which means he’s won the argument. Things are largely okay between him and Dimitri now, in a way they haven’t been since Felix’s brother died, but that doesn’t mean Felix wants to join a band with him. 

Seeking validation, he texts Ingrid. 

Felix [9:47]: did Sylvain ask you if you wanted to start a band 

Ingrid doesn’t text him back, because she’s in class and is ridiculous like that, which means Felix is forced to listen to Hanneman the way he’s supposed to for the rest of class. 

Class is over and he’s packing up by the time Ingrid texts him back. 

Ingrid [10:02]: no, but we are not starting a band 

Felix feels better; he finishes packing his bag and is heading to his next class, texting Ingrid as he walks. 

Felix [10:04]: thank the goddess

Felix [10:04]: I think Dimitri was considering it

Ingrid [10:05]: does he not remember that duke and his dogs?

Ingrid [10:05]: hang on Sylvain is calling me

Ingrid doesn’t message him before his next class, and Professor Eisner’s lectures are so interesting that he doesn’t look at his phone for the next two hours; by the time class is done he has a couple missed texts from the three of them, one from Dedue, and then one sent to the entire group chat from Sylvain: come on guys just meet me at the eagle and lion for lunch pls?????

Felix texts back fine. 

The Eagle and Lion is stupid busy like always; Felix hadn’t willingly come here since freshman year and he’d had their horrible nachos. Sylvain is sitting at a booth in the corner and waves at Felix when he sees him. Felix has a brief crisis about whether to sit beside Sylvain or across from him -- their thighs pressed together versus Sylvain’s stupid face and stupid shoulders across from him -- but he settles into the booth beside him with the reasoning that if he sat far enough over, he wouldn’t have to touch Sylvain at all.

The thing the movies didn’t mention about being in love with your best friend is that more than anything, it’s just down right inconvenient. 

Sylvain, of course, ruins his poorly thought out plan by having absolutely no regard for personal space, sliding over and slinging an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “This is going to be --”

Felix cuts him off. “I don’t want to hear your stupid pitch until everyone else is here.”

“Fine, fine,” Sylvain says, stretching out his legs and keeping his arm around Felix. “Hey, I have a date tonight, so if you hear anything unsavoury coming from my room…” He waggles his eyebrows at Felix, who can’t help but think he should have listened to Sylvain ramble on about his stupid band instead. 

“Whatever. I’ll just go study with Ingrid.”

“You don’t have to, I don’t want to kick you out of the apartment --”

“I’ve heard you have sex too many fucking times, Sylvain.”

Sylvain shrugs, removing his arm from Felix’s shoulder and stretching, grabbing the back of his neck with his hands. “Suit yourself. You know, you’re free to kick me out anytime you want, too.” He nudges Felix suggestively, who slaps his hand away. 

There’s been a few times over the years that Felix had tried to date, to get over the idiot sitting beside him. Ashe had lasted the longest, through most of their senior year of high school, but he had broken up with Felix after prom with a soft smile and sad eyes. I know you love him, he’d said, and Felix hadn’t bothered trying to lie. There had been a few one night stands during the three years he’d been at university, a small lineup of mostly forgettable men, but nothing that had ever come close to the horrible, all consuming fire that lit up inside his chest every time Sylvain smiled. 

He is saved from answering by Ingrid, who arrives and sits down on Felix’s other side, followed shortly after by Dimitri and Dedue, who take the chairs across from them. 

“We’re not starting a band,” Ingrid says, before Sylvain even gets a chance to open his mouth. 

“Oh come on!”

“I think it might be fun,” Dimitri says. Felix rolls his eyes, but Sylvain latches onto Dimitri’s muted enthusiasm. 

“Yes, see! And it works great, you all play instruments --”

“And what are you going to do?” Felix says, intending to trip him up, but Sylvain has an answer ready. 

“I’d be the singer.”

Ingrid bursts out laughing, and Dedue’s lips twitch, which was roughly his equivalent. Sylvain clutches a hand to his chest. 

“I am offended!”

“Can you, er, sing?” Dimitri asks cautiously. 

“I don’t know. Never really tried.”

“Sylvain!”

“What? You don’t have to know how to sing, have you ever listened to punk?”

Felix leans his head back against the booth and closes his eyes. “We’re not starting a band,” he says. 

“You guys haven’t even heard all the reasons why we should! Did you really think I’d come here with no plan? It’s like you guys don’t even know me.”

“Nothing you say will get me to join a band,” Felix says, but Sylvain plows on ahead. 

“Ingrid -- think of what an inspiration you’d be to little girls! How many female bass players are there? Besides, uh, it’d look great on your resume!”

“‘Started a shitty college band’ would not look good on my resume.”

“It would if it was a good college band. Come on, Ingrid, what kind of a feminist are you?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Look, guys, what’s the worst thing that could happen? We get together, we suck, we laugh about it later. But think of the best case scenario! We’re great, we become famous, we get super rich, and girls will go crazy!”

“Ah,” Dimitri says. “So that’s what it’s about. I should have known.”

“Goddess, Sylvain, do you ever think with anything other than your dick?” Ingrid says scornfully. “I don’t want to be famous. And you already are super rich, you trust fund asshole.”

Sylvain laughs and leans back, rubbing at his nose. “Not necessarily,” he says, voice thick with some emotion Felix can’t place. He lifts his head to stare at Sylvain, who has a large, fake smile plastered on his face. 

“What does that mean?”

Sylvain shrugs, aiming at nonchalance and missing the mark by quite a bit. “My dad emailed me. At first it was just the usual shit, you know, but then at the end he said… well, he found me a wife. A nice girl from a nice family with a nice inheritance. So he told me to stop playing around at school and come home, take over the business and get married. Anyway, I told him to fuck off.” He laughs. “He did not like that. Told me I had a week to go back home, and he’d forget about the -- what were his words, fuck. Oh -- the slight against him. Dramatic fucking asshole. Anyway, that was six days ago, so.” Another shrug. “You know.”

“You should have told me,” Felix says, thinking back over the past six days. Had Sylvain been acting any differently? 

“I’m telling you now,” Sylvain says. “So, you know, not to play this card, but my entire life is crashing down around me and I think it would be fun to start a band.” He speaks to the table, but he looks only at Felix. “What do you say?”

And what is he supposed to say, when Sylvain is looking at him like that? He lets out a frustrated noise and then says, “Fine. But if we’re shit I’m calling it immediately, do you understand?”

Sylvain grins, the brightest thing in the grimy bar, wrapping an arm around Felix and pulling him in tight. Felix feels his cheeks burn. 

The rest of the table also concedes, as if Felix had been the only thing holding them back. Dimitri looks kind of excited, which is annoying, and while Dedue remains carefully blank as always, Felix has the feeling that he’s only agreeing to it because Dimitri did. 

“Why do I get the feeling we’ve just made a huge mistake?” Ingrid mutters to him. Felix can’t help but agree. 

“So what does your father have to say about the fact that you’ve become so successful?” Annette asks. Sylvain laughs, breath against Felix’s ear. 

“Don’t know. Haven’t talked to him since.”

Annette gives him a smile that seems understanding. “Father’s can be tough,” she says, a story in her words that the five of them don’t know. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvain says, and it mostly is, after so long, but parents can leave scars that take many years to heal, and his arms tighten around Felix. Felix, aware that everyone will see and doing it anyway, turns his head and kisses Sylvain’s temple lightly. The others don’t mention it, thankfully, and Sylvain perks up after that, hooking his chin over Felix’s shoulder. 

“So,” Annette says, back on track, “You guys start a band. Were you good at the beginning?”

“Well, Sylvain actually can sing, which was a surprise to all of us,” Dimitri says. 

“Including me,” Sylvain says lightly. “I am a man of many talents.”

Felix snorts. Sylvain pokes him in the side. 

“So how long until you got your first gig?”

“Surprisingly quickly, actually,” Ingrid says. “The university is pretty good at promoting student run events, and once we realized we actually weren’t completely shitty, Sylvain gave us all that stupid face of his and convinced us to sign up to perform at the White Heron Cup.”

“What face is that?”

Sylvain turns his eyes on Annette, looking his most sad and vulnerable, and while she holds out for an impressive amount of time she eventually laughs. “Yeah, okay, I see that. Wow.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of girls with that look. And Felix, but he won’t admit it.”

“That face doesn’t work on me,” Felix says, which is a complete lie, but Annette Dominic doesn’t need to know that. Sylvain laughs but doesn’t contradict him. 

“So tell me about the White Heron Cup,” Annette says, taking another nacho. Felix looks at them in distaste. 

“Every year, Garreg Mach does the White Heron Cup. It’s been going on for centuries. It used to be a dance competition before a ball, but it’s been updated -- they still do a dance, but before that, instead of a dance competition, they do a kind of battle of the bands. Sylvain convinced us to enter.”

“And you won,” Annette says. 

“Yeah, we did, so you’re welcome,” Sylvain says. 

“Sometimes I think back on the beginning, and I… we were really good!” Dimitri says. “Actually, genuinely good. It still blows my mind a little. It was raw and unpolished, but it worked. We all just meshed and worked together so well. The vote for the winner was unanimous.”

“I told you we’d be good,” Sylvain says, a little proud of himself. Felix rolls his eyes. 

“We hadn’t planned on winning,” Dedue says. “We didn’t quite know what to do.”

“I still don’t know what to do half the time,” Dimitri laughs. “Or at least that’s what it feels like.”

“So after the White Heron Cup, what did you do?”

“Sylvain couldn’t be contained,” Ingrid says. “He was infuriatingly smug.”

“It was really fucking annoying,” Felix chimes in. 

“He wanted us to get out there, play more shows, and after the success we were having… we played at the university some more, and it always went great. People were coming up to us in the halls,” Dimitri says. “We even rented a studio with what little money Sylvain had saved before -- well, you know, and we recorded a whole album.”

“I met so many women,” Sylvain says. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Felix says. 

Sylvain laughs. “I like when he gets jealous,” he says to Annette. 

“Anyway,” Dimitri says, recognizing a fight and trying to avoid it. “For almost a year we stayed local, finding gigs through word of mouth or the university. But we were getting good, and we wanted more. We just didn’t know how to do it.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Annette says with a smile. “Enter Ferdinand von Aegir?”

Felix sighs. “Enter Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“We need a manager,” Sylvain says. Felix looks up from his desk. 

“Do you ever knock?”

“Sorry, but I’m galaxy braining over here.”

“Wanting to hire someone to do our work for us is hardly galaxy braining.”

“They wouldn’t be doing our work for us! They’d be doing their own work. We need someone to help promote us, and find us shows to play, and whatever the fuck else a manager is supposed to do.”

Felix turns a page in his textbook as a way to passive-aggressively remind Sylvain that he had been studying. “Glad to see you’ve thought this through.”

“I talked to everyone else today, but somebody didn’t show up for the meeting.”

“Having lunch in the school bar is not a meeting, and it’s hardly my fault I had a test.”

“Who needs school, Felix! We’re rockstars!”

“We’re not fucking rockstars, and we graduate in months. We can’t all coast by through seducing our TAs.”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about her.” Sylvain flops down on Felix’s bed, stretching out. “I was supposed to call her. Shit.”

“You are the scum of the earth,” Felix mutters, ignoring the way his stomach clenched and focusing on his notes. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Felix frowns, turning around and looking at Sylvain, who looks at him and then laughs. “You don’t have to put your Good Friend face on, Felix, I’m just joking. But thank you,” he adds, softly, and Felix turns back around, face burning. “Anyway, the problem with hiring a manager is that, uh, we’re all pretty broke. Well, no, that’s not true. Ingrid, Dedue and I are broke, and Dimitri’s father had that stupid clause in his will that Dimitri can’t have his inheritance until he graduates, remember? So I --”

“I’m not asking my father,” Felix says, interrupting. “So don’t even ask.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix says firmly. “I’m not asking my old man for shit.”

Sylvain is silent for a moment, possibly sizing up how serious Felix is about this. Eventually he says, “Alright, fine. Then we need someone cheap, which probably means another student. Any ideas?”

Felix is about to say no, but then he stops. Another student who had the potential to be a manager --

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Hello!” Ferdinand says, sweeping in and extending his hand to Dimitri, who was closest to him. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“Hi,” Dimitri says, as Ferdinand extends his hand to the rest of them before sitting down next to Felix. 

“Hello, Felix!” Ferdinand says warmly. “How are you?”

“How do you know Felix?” Sylvain interrupts before he can answer. “He’s being vague, as usual.”

“Oh! Er --” Ferdinand looks at Felix, then, who rolls his eyes and nods. 

“You can tell them, I don’t care.”

“Felix and I went on a date once,” Ferdinand says. Felix firmly doesn’t look at Sylvain. “Quite disastrous, really, but we emerged as unlikely friends, so I suppose it worked out!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Sylvain says. He sounds, incredibly, hurt, which just pisses Felix off, for some reason he can’t quite place. 

He nudges Ferdinand. “I have to go to the bathroom.” Ferdinand obligingly gets back up so Felix can escape. “They’ll fill you in,” Felix says to him before doing his best not to storm off. 

He doesn’t actually have to go to the bathroom, so he pretends he’s heading in that direction and then ducks back around and heads outside. There are a couple students out front, chatting, mingling or smoking, and Felix wraps his jacket around himself and glares up at the stars.

“Hey, man,” someone says, and Felix turns, annoyed. “You’re in the Blue Lions, right?”

Felix looks back up at the stars. “So I’m told,” he says, hoping the weird cryptic answer will scare the man off, to no luck. 

“I know it’s really annoying, and feel free to badmouth me when I leave, but can I take a picture with you? My girlfriend will go absolutely nuts.”

Felix sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he says, redoing his ponytail and turning to the man, who grins at him. 

“I’m Claude, by the way.”

“Sure,” Felix says. Claude laughs quietly. He flashes a peace sign during the picture, a smile on his face, standing next to Felix, who stands unsmiling with his hands in his pockets. He feels a little bad about it. 

“Sorry,” he says reluctantly. “I hope your girlfriend doesn’t mind that I look like an asshole.”

“It’s cool,” Claude says. He has a very calculating look about him; Felix shifts under his gaze, feeling rather like Claude was looking at him with x-ray glasses. He gives Felix a crooked grin and a salute before heading back into the bar. 

Felix is just about to follow when Sylvain comes out. 

“Hey,” he says, standing next to Felix. “Thought maybe you fell in,” he says, and it takes a moment for Felix to remember his excuse about going to the bathroom. 

“Yeah, sorry. Needed air.”

They stand in silence for a few moments before Sylvain finally speaks. “Do you want to break up?”

Felix flinches, staring at Sylvain in horror. “I -- what?”

“The band,” Sylvain clarifies. “I mean, do you want the band to break up?”

Felix turns away, wishing he didn’t blush so goddamn easily. “Why?”

“I just -- I know you were kind of dragged into it, and if we’re actually going to do this… everyone should be on board. If you just want this to be some dumb school story we all tell our kids someday, you got to tell me. I don’t want to push you. But you gotta let me know before we go forward with Ferdie.”

“Oh, Ferdie, huh? You two got close quickly.”

Sylvain laughs and bumps their shoulders together. “I can’t believe you two went on a date without telling me. What was so disastrous about it?”

“Ferdinand is the weird horse girl everyone knows.”

“I thought Ingrid was our weird horse girl?”

“Yeah, well, they’ll get along great. Anyway, he introduced me to his horse --”

“Oh, no --”

“And those fuckers can sense fear --”

Sylvain is wheezing beside him, clutching his stomach. 

“Don’t laugh, you asshole, he looked at me with hate in his eyes --”

Sylvain doubles over. 

“And he made some fucking huffy sound and I thought he was going to attack me, so I screamed a little bit and then hid behind Ferdinand, who did not find it nearly as funny as you do, I think he was offended on his horses behalf.”

“Oh my goddess, Felix.”

“Anyway, it didn’t work out,” Felix says, and he can’t stop himself from smiling as Sylvain leans on him, resting his head on Felix’s shoulder as he laughs. “In order to date Ferdinand you have to date his horse. But we still kept in touch, occasionally.”

“I guess this means I should cancel the horseback ride I was going to take you on for your birthday, huh?”

“Fuck off straight to hell, Sylvain,” he says, but he’s laughing. Sylvain slings an arm around his shoulder.

“So. Are you in? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Felix sighs. He takes a moment to think about it -- was he really ready to go forward with this? He thinks about the fact that he has band practice, now, and he thinks about the girls who hang off of Sylvain’s every word, and he thinks about Sylvain up there singing songs that Felix wrote about him, and he thinks about Claude asking him for a picture, and he comes to the slightly disturbing realization that he kind of likes being in a band. 

“Yeah, I’m in,” he says. 

“We kept it casual until we graduated,” Ingrid tells Annette. “We were all so close to finishing, we didn’t want to start something that might interfere.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Dedue says. 

“Yes, Sylvain had quite a different idea,” Dimitri says with a chuckle. 

“That’s only because Sylvain is one of those wretched people who excels without studying.”

“Ah,” Annette says. “I always hated people like you.”

“Life is short, Annette,” Sylvain says. “If you waste it working hard, it'll be over before you know it. Get out in the world. Have some fun!”

Ingrid smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ow!” Sylvain throws a napkin at her before turning back to Annette. “Anyway, once we graduated, we let Ferdinand do his thing, and… well, the man knows what he’s doing. He’s a little scary sometimes. Before we even knew it, he’d gotten us that gig in Enbarr, opening for Dorothea and the Operatics.” Sylvain gets a wistful smile on his face. “Now that was a woman.”

“She didn’t give you the time of day,” Felix says. 

“It was wonderful to watch,” Ingrid says. “Sylvain tried to flirt with her, and she --”

“She read me my fucking rights,” Sylvain says with a laugh. “She was having none of my bullshit. She called me out in front of everyone.”

“It was wonderful,” Ingrid says. “To finally have another woman to deal with Sylvain.”

“You must have gotten along well with them, despite that,” Annette says. “You’ve toured with them many times since.”

“I think we got along well with them because of that,” Felix says. 

Dimitri laughs softly. “Do you remember when she --”

“When she called him a misogynist!” Ingrid finishes gleefully, and Felix laughs, leaning back more into Sylvain. 

“She was stone cold,” Sylvain says. “I love it. We’re on good terms now, now that I’ve stopped flirting with her bandmates --”

“And her crew,” Ingrid says. 

“And that pizza delivery boy who came to our hotel room that one time,” Felix says. 

“Alright, alright!” Sylvain says, but his tone is light. “Weren’t we talking about what a good manager Ferdie is?”

“After we played with Dorothea, things opened up for us,” Dedue says. “But we weren’t quite where we wanted to be.”

“It’s funny,” Dimitri says. “We started it just to appease Sylvain, but somewhere along the way, we all decided we wanted to do this thing the right way.”

“And then Ferdinand completely surpassed our expectations,” Ingrid says. Annette nods. 

“Gronder Field.”

Felix nods. “Gronder Field.”

“You’re kidding, right? This is a joke?”

“Certainly not,” Ferdinand says, looking offronted at the idea. 

“Gronder Field?” Dimitri says. “You got us a show at Gronder Field?”

“It is part of a festival, but yes.” He looks at the five of them, sitting around in shocked silence, and then says, “Was this not why you hired me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain says. “I just didn’t think -- fuck, Ferdie. How are you not charging us more?”

Ferdinand smiles. “If you perform well at Gronder Field, my price is going to go up.”

“That’s fair,” Dimitri says, a little weakly. “Who’s headlining the show?”

“The Knights of Seiros are the main headliners,” Ferdinand says. “I believe the Black Eagle Strike Force are supposed to as well, but I do not think they have confirmed yet.”

“Holy shit,” Ingrid mutters. Felix privately shares the sentiment. 

Sylvain shakes his head. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“It was your idea!” Ingrid says incredulously. Sylvain holds up his hands. 

“Sure, but when have my ideas ever panned out! I --” his phone rings and he cuts off, looking down at it. “Shit. Hey baby,” he says, answering it, and Felix turns his face away. “Was just about to call you... ‘Course I’m not lying, babe! ...Who told you that?” He laughs, loud and fake. “She’s just jealous, sweetheart. Why would I go out with another girl when I have you?”

Felix can’t take anymore. He gets up, annoyed, ignoring both Ingrid and Ferdinand when they look at him, and heading out to the balcony of Ferdinand’s ridiculous apartment. He leans his arms on the railing and stares out over the horizon, thinking about the girl on the phone, and the one Sylvain had messed around on her with, and all the rest of them, hanging off of him and screaming and swooning. He hates that he has so much in common with them. 

The door behind him opens and someone steps out; Felix ignores them in the hopes they’ll leave him alone, but much to his chagrin Dimitri comes up and stands beside him. 

“You know,” he starts, and Felix drops his head, letting out an angry noise. “Sylvain can be a little dense sometimes.” As if that wasn’t the understatement of the century. “And… well, I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I know a thing or two about what it’s like to always be looking at someone who isn’t looking back.”

Felix looks up at him, eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he says. 

“I don’t mean to pry --”

“No, that’s not the problem. Are you that fucking blind? Dedue is absolutely looking back, you complete moron.”

“I -- what?”

“I really hate you sometimes, do you know that?”

“He -- what?”

“Get your nose out of my business and go kiss your stupid boyfriend,” Felix says, only a tad bitterly. 

“Huh,” Dimitri finally says. “I guess sometimes you’re so busy looking you don’t notice that they’re looking right back.”

“You sound like a greeting card. If you don’t go away I’m going to shove you off this balcony.”

“Just… I know it must be hard to hear Sylvain --”

“Dimitri.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going.”

Felix rubs at his temples and closes his eyes, thinking of the way Sylvain’s voice had turned husky when he said hey baby. He’s not sure if he hates Sylvain or himself more. 

The door opens again. Felix groans. 

“Saints, will you people leave me alone?”

“If you are going to sulk on my balcony, I should be allowed to join you at it.”

Felix glares as Ferdinand takes the spot Dimitri had just vacated. “I’m not sulking.”

“I just think --”

“I don’t need your advice. It’s none of your business.”

“You put me in charge of this. It becomes my business when it can effect this band.” When Felix doesn’t answer he continues. “Felix. How many songs on this album are about him?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

Ferdinand sighs. “That’s what I thought. Have you ever considered talking to Sylvain about this?”

Felix laughs. “That’s horrible advice. Didn’t you hear that phone call?”

“Unfortunately,” Ferdinand says, wrinkling his nose. “I am just saying. You will never know anything unless you talk to him.”

“There’s nothing to know.”

“Felix --”

But Felix has had enough of the interventions, and he turns around to head back inside before Ingrid or Dedue came out to wax poetic about love to him. Ferdinand trails in after him. Felix ignores the empty spot next to Sylvain -- who is thankfully off the phone -- and sits beside Ingrid instead, who gives him a pitying look. 

“Shut up,” he mutters. Infuriatingly, she just pats his knee.

“And then the unbelievable happens,” Annette fills in. Felix gets the feeling she’s completely forgotten that this is technically an interview; she hasn’t looked once at her recording device, instead appearing completely engrossed in their story. 

“Black Eagle Strike Force couldn’t make it,” Sylvain finishes for her. “They called Dorothea, but they couldn’t make it. But she gave them a suggestion.”

“Which is how we ended up as headliners,” Ingrid says. Sylvain’s arms tighten around Felix again. 

“This is my favourite part of the story,” he says, quietly so no one else can hear.

“Shut up,” Felix says, even if it’s favourite part, too.

By the time summer and the Gronder Field show rolls around, they’ve released another album and have played all over the continent; they’ve amassed quite a few fans, and a few more crew members, including a guy named Ignatz, who designs all their merch for them. 

Yeah, they have merch. Felix can’t quite believe it. 

Every member of the band has a minor breakdown before the Gronder show, whether it was imposter syndrome or just the fear of screwing up. Even Felix occasionally has dreams where he walks out on stage in his underwear. The only one who seems unaffected is Dedue, who remains calm like always; he is a steady presence in their lives, and all of them find themselves gravitating to him more and more, comforted by him. Felix keeps giving Dimitri pointed looks, but as far as he knows the idiot still hasn’t acted on what Felix had told him. 

Whatever. It wasn’t his relationship. 

A week before the show Ingrid had threatened to quit a handful of times, Sylvain had stopped talking to “save his voice” (they all joked that this wasn’t the worst thing) and Ferdinand was beginning to complain that they were going to turn him grey. But Felix still doesn’t quite believe it until he’s backstage. 

There are so many people. He’s going to throw up. This is too fucking much. 

“Hey,” Sylvain says, grabbing his arm and speaking low, as if still trying to preserve his fucking voice. He looks around at all the people milling about and then says, “Can I talk to you?”

“Okay? Talk, we’re supposed to go out soon.”

Sylvain looks around and then drags Felix into a small side room that’s packed high with equipment. Felix waits expectantly for him to talk, conscious of the time, but when Sylvain just shifts from foot to foot he finally loses his patience and snaps, “What?”

“I didn’t start a band to meet girls,” Sylvain says in a rush. Felix waits, but no more information is forthcoming. 

“What the fuck, Sylvain, why did you pull me aside to tell me that? We don’t have time --”

“No, please,” Sylvain says, grabbing his arm when Felix tries to leave. “Please, just hear me out for this.”

Felix sighs, but he’s never been able to deny Sylvain much when he looks like this. “Hurry up.”

Sylvain nods and releases his arm. “I was just looking out there, and there are so many people --” as if Felix needed the reminder -- “And I was thinking about how we got here, and I… I needed to tell you. I never quite meant it to get this far. And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. But I’m tired of acting like this was my plan the whole time, because it wasn’t.”

“Okay? Fine, Sylvain, that’s fine, I don’t know why --”

“I started a band because I missed you.”

Felix cuts off, as if the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He stares at Sylvain, who is smiling softly, but he offers no further clarification. “What?”

“I was afraid,” Sylvain says. “We were growing apart, all of us, kind of, but you… you didn’t talk to me anymore. You didn’t tell me when you were going on dates. You stayed in your room most of the time, and I know you were studying, but it felt like I was losing you.”

“Well what about you?” Felix shoots back. “You were out with a different girl every night. You didn’t even tell me your father cut you off, Sylvain.”

“I know,” Sylvain says. “I’m not saying I was any better. But I just had this horrible vision that we’d graduate and then we’d just lose touch, and I wouldn’t see you anymore, and I couldn’t handle that.”

“That wouldn’t have happened,” he says, but even as he says it he’s thinking about the way they’d been before Sylvain had had this crazy idea. They hadn’t been drifting apart so much as Felix had been pulling away. He hadn’t realized it at the time, maybe, but looking back on it it seems clear, and he feels sick with it. Sylvain was his best friend; had Felix really planned on giving him up? And why, because of some stupid crush that he couldn’t control? “I’m sorry,” he says, after a moment, wanting to reach out to Sylvain, to assure both of them that it wouldn’t happen, not now that he knew. He’d bury his feelings for Sylvain deep where he couldn’t reach them, lock it away so it didn’t hurt anymore to watch him date girl after girl. He’d stop writing songs about him. He’d do whatever he needed to ensure he never lost this. 

But Sylvain is not done. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Felix,” he says, eyes cast down, and he lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I know I don’t show it enough. And I know you have every reason not to believe me, but none of those girls have ever compared to you, for what it’s worth. That was kind of the heart of the problem.”

Felix feels like he’s been slapped. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, easy nonchalance that Felix doesn’t believe for a second. “Just thought I should put all my secrets on the table.” He gives Felix a lopsided grin. “Sorry to kind of dump this all on you before we play the biggest show of our lives! Didn’t really think this through.” He stretches his arms behind him, and Felix doesn’t know if he wants to kiss him, or punch him, or run screaming away from all of this, from the crowds of people out there and the idiot in front of him, who’s looking at Felix so softly that Felix thinks he might burn up under his gaze. 

“Sylvain --”

But Ingrid sticks her head in. “What are you two doing? We’ve been looking for you. We kind of have a show to play, if you remember?”

“I don’t need the attitude,” Felix mutters, dodging one of Ingrid’s hands as it tries to smack him on the head. Sylvain laughs, but it’s not quite real. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m ready.”

That’s all fine and good, but is Felix? He looks at Sylvain again, wondering how the fuck he’s supposed to go and play now, after that. And did Sylvain really mean what he’d said? It’s just so hard to line up this confession with the man Felix thought he knew better than anyone, the womanizer with a different girl on his arm every other day, occasionally two. He thinks about all the times he’d had to sleep with headphones in to block the noises coming from Sylvain’s room, thought of all the girls he’d run into in the morning as they were sneaking out. It doesn’t match up. 

But then he thinks of Dimitri’s words: I guess sometimes you’re so busy looking you don’t notice that they’re looking right back.

If he thought about it that way… if he played devil’s advocate to his own mind, couldn’t Sylvain’s womanizing back up what he’d said? A different girl all the time because he couldn’t settle down, because they weren’t who he wanted, bringing them back to the apartment when he knew Felix was there, would hear, as if he were trying to make him jealous. Constantly grilling Felix on his own love life, acting like he was just being a supportive friend even as he always pried, always wanted to know. And then an email from his father, demanding he marry, and instead he cut himself off completely and then came up with this wild idea that would keep them all together -- 

He can’t do this. He can’t do this right now. He follows Ingrid back but his mind is going a million miles an hour, and he can’t focus, and he can hear the roar of the crowd, and he can’t do this. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. 

“Steady, Felix,” Dedue says. Felix stares up at him and then closes his eyes, nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

He wipes it from his mind; he’ll deal with all of this after. 

He follows Dimitri onto the stage. 

They play well. They play great. Sylvain puts his heart into it, and he keeps turning to look back at Felix, grinning widely as he sings the songs that Felix wrote about him, and Felix keeps his mind blank because if he thinks about it he’ll lose it. 

But how can he keep his mind blank? How can he just pretend that it didn’t happen?

Before the last song starts, he grabs the microphone and, for the first time in their career, speaks to the crowd. 

“Uh,” he says, listening to his voice reverberate through the speakers. Everyone on stage is staring at him slack jawed, unsure where exactly he’s going with this, but he ignores them and plows on ahead. “We haven’t actually played this next song in a while, but, uh -- well, I wrote it about someone, and they’re here tonight,” he shoots a look at Sylvain, “so. Yeah. Anyway.” 

Look, he’s never been a fan of public speaking. 

He starts the song on his guitar, aware that it’s not what they had planned, but after a few notes the others pick up on it and continue. Sylvain is staring at him so intently that he misses his cue, and they have to loop around and play the beginning bit again. 

Sylvain doesn’t take his eyes off of Felix the entire time, and when the song is over Felix gives a half-hearted wave to the crowd and then all but runs off the stage. 

“Felix!” He hears Sylvain call after him, but he doesn’t stop, pushing through crew members before hiding himself back in the little side room, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Felix,” Sylvain says, close by, and Felix doesn’t open his eyes until Sylvain’s fingers loop around his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. “Felix, talk to me.”

“What else would you like me to say?”

“You wrote that song in high school,” Sylvain says. He hasn’t let go of Felix’s wrists. “Felix.”

“Yes, okay, I did, what about it!”

Sylvain laughs, then, and runs his fingers through Felix’s hair. “You should have told me.”

“Hard to get you between girlfriends.”

“Yeah, I guess I deserved that.” He smiles down at Felix, fingers touching his cheek gently. Felix has to resist the urge to lean into Sylvain’s hand. Felix looks up at him, and Sylvain brings his other hand up to frame Felix’s face, and he leans in -- 

“Can you two stop running away!” Ingrid says, sticking her head in again and outright ignoring the scene she so rudely interrupted. “They want an encore, you lovesick fools, let’s go.”

“I think I might kill her,” Felix says, and Sylvain laughs, hugging him quickly and kissing Felix on the forehead. 

“Meet me after, okay?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, following him back out and entwining their fingers. 

After turns out to be much later than Felix would like; there is a party at the Knights of Seiros’ hotel room that Ferdinand won’t let them skip, and Felix puts in as much effort as he physically can before he escapes out onto the balcony. It’s surprisingly empty, just a couple of smokers, and he stands on the other side from them so they don’t think he’s looking for conversation. 

An arm slips around his waist. 

“I thought I’d never get away,” Sylvain says, as Felix settles into his side. Felix snorts. 

“You were talking to that one woman for ages.”

“Jealous?” Sylvain says, raising an eyebrow. Felix rolls his eyes. “For what it’s worth, I was talking to her about you, because she collects fucking swords.”

“Wait, really? Which one?”

“Catherine,” Sylvain says with a laugh. “Don’t worry, she gave me her number to give to you.”

“Oh, is that your excuse for getting numbers now?”

Sylvain leans back against the railing, pulling Felix against him. “I will delete every single number in my phone if you want me to,” he says seriously. 

“Every number? Even mine? What happens if you need to get a hold of Dimitri?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sylvain says lightly. Felix laughs and slips his arms around Sylvain, who smiles down at him and tucks Felix’s hair behind his ears. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

Sylvain’s smile turns into a shit eating grin. “How many of our songs are about me?”

Felix desperately hopes it’s too dark to see his blush. “I’m not answering that.”

“Just give me a rough percentage. Half? More than half?” Felix makes a show of trying to move away just so that Sylvain will hold him tighter. “Oh come on. 75%?”

“I’m going to leave you out here,” Felix says, and with a laugh Sylvain turns them around so he’s pushing Felix up against the railing. They are so close that Felix can’t see around him; the only thing he can see is Sylvain. 

“I’ll find out eventually,” he says. 

“Over my dead body.” 

Sylvain moves his hand up Felix’s back to rest between his shoulder blades before leaning in and saying, “I’m going to kiss you now before Ingrid interrupts us again.”

Felix laughs softly. “Okay.”

Sylvain is, of course, an excellent kisser, because if you practice at something enough you’re bound to get pretty good. His lips are soft, and he tangles a hand in Felix’s hair, and Felix sighs into his mouth as Sylvain runs his tongue over Felix’s lower lip. 

“Oh, great, every single member of this band is making out except me, that’s nice.”

Felix groans in frustration as Sylvain turns around. “Do you have an alarm that goes off to let you know when the worst time to interrupt would be?”

Ingrid gives him the finger. “I wanted to find you to tell you that Dimitri and Dedue finally got their shit together, but I see you’re busy.” She rolls her eyes. “Please don’t have sex on the balcony again, Sylvain.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t having sex --”

Felix decides, very firmly, that he doesn’t want to know. He pulls Sylvain back to him as Ingrid heads back inside, but before he can kiss him again Sylvain says, “80%?”

“Fuck off,” he says, as Sylvain wraps his arms around Felix and laughs against his mouth. 

“So how many of your songs are written about Sylvain?” Annette asks him. Felix has decided that he really likes her, which is why he doesn’t tell her to fuck off. 

“We still don’t know,” Ingrid says. “Dimitri and Dedue and I like to go through our discography and make guesses, but Felix won’t tell us.”

“Felix won’t even tell me, ” Sylvain says with a pout. “No matter what I do to try to get it out of him. Stop hitting me!” He says to Ingrid. 

“Stop being you, then,” she says, but she’s laughing as she says it, and she raises her hand again to ruffle Sylvain’s hair affectionately. 

“So if you guys could give a piece of advice to others out there, what would it be?”

They all think about this. Felix thinks through what he’s learned over the past few years: honestly is important, tell your friends how much they mean to you, drink lots of fucking water before going out on stage. Ingrid, Dimitri, and Dedue also seem to be contemplating what they would say, but Sylvain speaks up before anyone else can. 

“If you’re in love with your best friend, there are easier ways to go about it then starting a band.”