Chapter Text
Sylvain felt like he got thrown into a fucking blender.
“Miklan Gautier, 27, was found dead in his car on the 401 early this morning. Gautier was found dead on the scene.”
Sylvain put down his chocolate milk and called Dorothea.
“Hey babe, can you pick me up?”
“What’s wrong? Your voice is shaking.”
He was shaking. “I’m not feeling great. I think it was something I ate.”
“Okay, I’ll come get you. There should be some gravol in your bag; take that with some water and sit down. I’ll see you soon. Bye, I love you.”
“I love you too.” Sylvain hung up slammed his phone onto the desk. It was raining in January. How funny.
***
Dorothea knew that Sylvain didn’t have a stomach-ache. Something happened and Sylvain wasn’t telling her what. Dorothea sighed and closed her eyes. He would tell her when he wanted to. It wasn’t her job to pry.
The ride home wasn’t great. It was the first time they ever drove home together in silence. Sylvain was turned away from her; he chose to stare out of the passenger seat’s window than tell her what was wrong. Dorothea’s eyes kept flickering at Sylvain in concern. She had never seen him like this before; whenever he was angry or upset, he would tell her about it. Or at least, she would be able to pierce through whatever façade he put up and force him to tell her. But something was telling her that forcing her way through would end terribly. So, she left it.
When they got home, Sylvain shrugged off his coat and headed directly into their bedroom and closed the door. He never closed doors, period. Dorothea took a small breath before knocking.
“Can I come in?”
No answer.
“I’m going to make lunch. Let me know if you need anything.”
She wasn’t much of a chef – Sylvain handled most of the cooking between the two of them – but she knew how to make a sandwich. She piled on salami and spring mix onto white bread and put a little bit of mayo before placing the finished product onto a plate. She took one for herself and left the other on a plate. He would eat it when he was ready.
Dorothea spent most of her day on the couch, between watching Netflix and idly scrolling on Instagram. Sylvain didn’t come out. Eventually, it was time for bed, and Dorothea knocked on the bedroom door again.
“Sylvain?”
No answer, again. He hadn’t come for lunch, or dinner, when she ordered it. A part of her really wanted to barge in there, but… she couldn’t bring herself to.
“I’m going to bed. I just wanted to let you know. Good night, I love you.”
She was turning away when the door opened and Sylvain grabbed her, spun her around and pulled her into his arms, crushing her into a hug.
“Sylvain?”
“Miklan. It’s Miklan. He’s dead.”
Dorothea wiggled her arms around Sylvain’s body and squeezed him as hard as she could.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
They stayed in each other’s arms, with Dorothea rubbing Sylvain’s back as he cried into her. Eventually, Sylvain’s tears dried, and he was stable enough to be taken into bed. Dorothea stroked Sylvain’s hair as he slept before drifting off to sleep.