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Sylvain was reclining on the couch in the living room, getting his ass kicked by a level 9 computer character when the main door to the apartment opened. He paused the game and sat up. Felix was at fencing practice and Ingrid was on a date. No one was supposed to be home. He slung an arm over the back of the couch and tilted his head to see to the front door.
Ingrid was tugging her boots off, looking like she was torn between murdering someone and bursting into tears. Sylvain dropped his controller and vaulted over the back of the couch, walking towards the front door.
“Ingrid?” he called.
Her head jerked towards him, her braid swinging over her shoulder. She brushed her hand quickly under her eyes and straightened up. “Sylvain,” she greeted icily in reply.
He folded his arms. “You’re not supposed to be back until much, much later.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes and brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. He trailed after her, wracking his brain for what was happening. The only reason she would have been home this early was if her date had gone horribly wrong. But, Sylvain liked Ignatz. He and Ingrid had been seeing each other for almost a month and she had nothing but good things to say about him. It didn’t really fit.
Ingrid was pulling a beer out of the fridge by the time that he made it into the kitchen. Sylvain leaned against the counter and watched her take a few heavy drinks from it. Finally, she sighed and placed the can on the counter, tugging on her braid like she did when she was feeling anxious.
“We broke up, if you really have to know,” she muttered.
Sylvain blinked. “I thought things between you were going well.”
Ingrid frowned and took another sip from her drink. “I think that’s the problem. They were going well, but not amazing.”
He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
She gave him a withering look. “No. He’s moving to Derdriu to attend a prestigious post-grad program.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “And I’m the one who convinced him he should be applying there.”
Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “You encouraged your boyfriend to apply to a school outside of the city where you both live?”
Ingrid paused, digesting his words. “Yeah, I guess I did, but I’ve seen his work. He needs to go there.” She drank from her can again and then frowned, fanning her face. “Is it hot in here?”
Sylvain blinked. “I guess a little? Our air conditioner is kind of shit.”
Ingrid huffed and pulled the elastic off the end of her braid, untwisting her long, blonde hair. She flipped her head upside down and gathered it into a loose bun at the crown of her head. Sylvain watched her, almost entranced by the fluid, shiny length of her blonde hair.
“My hair’s heavy,” she complained as soon as she had tied it up properly.
“You could always cut it,” he suggested before he thought twice about it.
Ingrid blinked at him and touched her bun absentmindedly. “Cut it?”
Sylvain imagined Ingrid with short-hair for a moment. Short hair like Leonie’s old haircut wouldn’t suit her, nor would Bernie’s style. Something medium-short that hung around her chin would, though. It would be strange because Ingrid had always had long hair, but it would certainly be an intriguing style. He shook himself out of his thoughts.
“Sorry, I know your hair has always been long, that was a stupid idea.”
Ingrid pressed her lips together, looking pensive. She sipped from her beer again. “I’ve heard it’s cathartic,” she mumbled.
Sylvain stared at her.
Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. “Felix chopped his hair off after,” she trailed off, her throat closing around the name and Sylvain nodded.
Felix had hacked almost seven inches off his long hair himself after his brother had died. Mercedes had also cut hers after she had graduated from medical school, ridding herself of nearly 12 inches of hair, saying that it was simply time for a change.
“Mercie would probably cut it for you if you really wanted it done,” Sylvain suggested.
Ingrid nodded. “Yeah, but now that you say it, I almost want to do it right now.”
Sylvain grinned. “I mean, if you trust me with a pair of scissors near your head, I could do it.”
Ingrid laughed. “I think we’d both need to be way more drunk for that to happen.”
Sylvain winked at her and walked past her to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of gin and placed it on the counter between them. “I’ve got tonic water,” he commented casually.
Ingrid drained her beer, placed the can by the sink and took the bottle of gin from him. She tipped it, appraising the clear liquid inside. “This is the good stuff your mother bought you for your birthday, isn’t it?”
Sylvain shrugged. “It’s going to get drunk eventually. Why don’t we make a night out of it?”
Ingrid’s lips tilted into a small smile. She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “If you fuck up my hair, I will murder you.”
Sylvain grinned broadly and reached into the cupboard where they kept dishes, pulling out two glasses. He walked to the fridge and brought out two cans of tonic water and a lime. He tossed the lime to Ingrid and she washed it in the sink while he measured a generous two shots of gin for each glass, topping them both off with tonic water.
Ingrid grabbed a knife from the sink and carefully cut the lime in half. She squeezed it over both glasses, dripping in a healthy amount of lime juice. Sylvain picked up both glasses and passed one to her. She took it and he tapped their glasses together.
“To break-ups,” he said cheerfully.
Ingrid rolled her eyes and took a long drink. “Please, do not compare my relationship to any of your break-ups.”
Sylvain took a sip from his glass. “Ouch, Ing, are they really that bad?”
She gave him a dead stare over her glass. “We’ve had three girls try to break into our apartment because they were so mad at you.”
He chuckled to himself. “To be fair, I never considered any of those three to actually be a girlfriend.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes and drank again. “Not sure you’ve ever had a real girlfriend.” She paused, staring at the glass in her hand. “That’s really fucking good gin.”
Sylvain laughed. “It is, isn’t it?”
Ingrid sipped again. “How much does a bottle of that cost?”
Sylvain considered it for a moment. “Almost 200 dollars if I remember correctly.”
Ingrid almost choked and her eyes went comically bug-eyed. “What the fuck?” she exclaimed.
Sylvain winced. “Remember, my mom bought that for me.”
“God, you’re such a rich kid,” Ingrid huffed.
Sylvain winked and took another drink from his glass. “You’re drinking it too.”
She flushed. “It’s good,” she muttered, taking another drink. “You’re the one who likes top-liquor and wine. If it wasn’t for you, the fridge would literally just be whatever beer was on sale.”
Sylvain shook his head and grabbed the bottle of gin, heading for the living room. “And that’s a damn tragedy. I drank enough shitty beer in college, I don’t need to tolerate it anymore.”
Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she followed him. “You were in a frat, Sylvain, I don’t know what you expected. Whiskey on the rocks every night as you sat around a fire in Godfather-esque armchairs?”
He sat on the couch. “No, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I voluntarily joined the frat and I knew exactly what I was getting into. It just means I can appreciate good alcohol when I drink it now.” He topped up his glass with another ounce of gin.
Ingrid sat next to him and threw her legs across his lap as she reclined, just staying vertical enough that she wouldn’t spill her drink. “I suppose,” she conceded.
Sylvain picked up his controller and waved it at Ingrid. “Smash?”
She snorted. “I’m bad enough at that sober.”
He shrugged and unpaused the game. His character was immediately drop-kicked off the stage and the announcer called the end of the match, advertising his loss. Ingrid laughed next to him. Sylvain laughed at himself and quit to the main menu, shutting his console off. He drank from his glass. The gin was much stronger thanks to his top-up, but it was smooth and very pleasant to the taste.
“So,” he continued, “what’s our plan tonight? Get drunk enough until you want me to cut your hair?”
Ingrid drained her glass and gave him a challenging smile. “One more drink for me and I’m there.”
Sylvain drank the rest of his glass and reached for the bottle on the coffee table. He poured himself a double shot and offered it to Ingrid. She poured herself a 1.5-ounce drink and tapped her glass against his. Sylvain grinned at her and sipped the gin. Ingrid tossed it back like a shot and her eyebrows knit as she scrunched up her face in mild disgust.
Sylvain laughed at her. “Oh come on Ing! You can do it with tonic, but not straight? This is the good stuff.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just trying to get drunk faster.”
It was a fair point. She was the one who had just been through a break-up. Sylvain tipped his glass to her in solidarity and drained the rest of his glass. He could already feel the alcohol fog creeping through his mind. Normally it took a lot more alcohol to get him drunk, but the equivalent of five shots in very quick succession did the job well enough.
Ingrid swung her legs off his lap and placed her glass on the coffee table. She stood up and swayed briefly, obviously already feeling the hit of the booze. Sylvain’s hand shot out to steady her, landing on her back just above her ass. He quickly retracted his hand, moving out of the dangerous territory. He absolutely couldn’t touch Ingrid there, no matter how good her ass looked in skinny jeans.
She crossed her arms and looked down at him. “Well? Are we doing this?”
He grinned.
Felix got home an hour later and found the two of them on the couch, Sylvain’s head in Ingrid’s lap. He dropped his fencing bag by the door and just stared at his roommates. “What the fuck?” he muttered.
Ingrid looked back, grinning. “I got a haircut,” she said brightly, touching the much shorter ends of her hair.
Sylvain closed his eyes and let Ingrid continue playing with his hair. He was absolutely drunk enough to enjoy her gentle touch and not be mortified like he would have been sober. He lifted a hand and waved it over the back of the couch towards the apartment door.
“I’m a professional hairdresser now!” he called brightly.
Felix groaned. “What is wrong with both of you?”
Ingrid shrugged, brushing her fingers over his scalp. Sylvain smiled at the feeling. “Ignatz and I broke up. I thought it might be cathartic.”
Sylvain heard Felix curse faintly. “I thought you two were good?”
Ingrid hummed. “He’s moving to Derdriu. We agreed it was for the best.”
Sylvain sat up, gently pulling out of Ingrid’s touch. His head was still foggy from the alcohol. They’d had a couple more drinks since they started in order to stay well and truly drunk. He grabbed the now one-quarter full bottle of gin off the coffee table.
“Want some really expensive alcohol?” he offered to Felix with a grin.
Felix’s eyes narrowed and he looked between Ingrid’s choppy hair and the bottle in Sylvain’s hand. He snatched it and drank for a few seconds straight from the bottle. He shook his head out and placed the bottle on the counter behind him.
“I’m going to need that if I have to fix your hair, Ingrid,” he muttered. “Come on.”