Chapter Text
“Can someone please give me a hand?” Hilda begged, both her hands noncommittally grasping the handle of a pink floral suitcase that was perching precariously out of the edge of the trunk of Dedue’s car, her eyes half-closed in a squint from the bright sun. Sylvain cast her a glance but didn’t move to help her, not wanting to indulge her seemingly incurable, ineffable laziness. She returned the look, her eyes widening as if to say yes, I’m talking to you, but he still didn’t move.
“Don’t look at me,” Linhardt said, holding his sunglasses to his face, at his side an old, busted duffle bag emblazoned with their alma mater’s logo, the sleeve of a shirt coming out of the broken zipper.
“Ah, you’re here!” The front door of the beach house swung open and Dimitri came bounding down the stairs dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts, which he didn’t seem to realize until he was standing in the driveway. “Uh, sorry… I was just cleaning up. Anyway, I’m so happy to see you all! It’s been too long!” He stopped to wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead, scanning the crowd of his currently-regrouping friends. Sylvain tried to figure out what was so off about him, realizing after a moment that he was covered from his face to his legs in a painful-looking sunburn, presumably from being at the shore for almost the entire time since graduation.
“Dimitri, honey, I’m so happy to see you,” Hilda cooed, still struggling with her heavy suitcase. “but would you mind helping me with this?”
“Oh, of course!” Dimitri came to the back of the car and effortlessly grabbed the suitcase from Hilda, highlighting the fact that the suitcase was definitely not that heavy and she was just being lazy. Sylvain almost said something to try to discourage Dimitri from being both an accomplice and a victim to Hilda’s indolence, but decided it wasn't worth having yet another fight with her.
“Thank you, babe,” she said, wrapping herself around Dimitri’s arm before he headed back up the porch steps. “I didn’t realize you were the only one who knows how to be a gentleman.” She cast a dirty look at Felix, who was actually carrying Annette and Mercedes’ bags as well as his own, and unamused by Hilda’s teasing.
At that moment, Dedue finally stepped out of the car from the front seat, Ashe following suit on the passenger’s side. “I just spent 4 hours driving five children around, forgive me if I need a moment,” Dedue said, stretching his limbs as he stood up for the first time in hours.
“Sorry, again, man,” said Ingrid.
“I could have taken one of the children from you if they were that bad,” said Byleth, who had driven himself, Linhardt, Mercedes and Annette while Dedue took everyone else, bringing his own bag up the stairs, following behind Dimitri.
The rest of the group followed suit, carrying their various bags, suitcases, and backpacks up the stairs and into the living room of the beach house. Sylvain stopped at the doorway, taking in his new surroundings; the room was spacious and clean, each large window adorned with thin, white curtains that only accentuated how much sunlight was filtering through. Each wall was adorned with beautiful photos and paintings of various beachy scenes, the largest of them all being the huge oil painting of a lighthouse that hung behind the couch, on every surface a bowl full of seashells or a sculpture of a mermaid or sand castle.
From the front foyer, Sylvain could see not just the living room, but the spacious, blue-and-white kitchen.
“God, this place is beautiful, Dimitri,” Hilda said, awe in her voice, staring up at the wave-patterned molding of the ceiling.. “How do you afford it?”
“Oh, this house has been in my family since before my parents were even born,” Dimitri replied.
“It looks so different,” said Sylvain, recalling the last time he had been there, quite a few summers ago when they were in high school. The only part of the house he recognized was the grand staircase in the corner that lead to the upstairs and the deck outside, which he could see a portion of from the window in the kitchen.
“Yeah, there was a storm a couple years back, and we got some damage so we decided to renovate and put it on stilts since we’re right at the water. It’s all paid for already though, I just have to cover utilities while I’m here.” He blushed a little. Dimitri always got embarrassed when he had to explain just how wealthy he was, especially when Ashe and Byleth were around.
“Anyway, how is everyone? Did the drive over here go well?”
“We got here unscathed, but I wouldn’t exactly call it an ideal trip,” said Dedue, the passive aggression he usually tried so hard to conceal coming through .
“I’m sorry somebody can never admit he’s wrong,” Hilda hissed, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Sylvain, burning a pink hole into his face.
“It’s fucking toilet paper! You didn’t have to cause a scene!” He was embarrassed to admit in front of Dimitri that he and Hilda had gotten so heated over their argument that he had unseated himself to turn around and scream at her, causing Dedue to miss the exit because he couldn’t hear the GPS and Ashe was too busy mediating to help navigate.
“But at least we didn’t hit any traffic!” Looking on the bright side as always, Ashe.
“Thank you again for inviting us over, Dimitri.”
“Mercedes, you know you’re welcome in any of my homes any time.” As soon as he said it, Dimitri seemed to realize just how braggy his words sounded, and cringed before taking a breath. “Uh, speaking of which, let’s get you all settled in.”
“Yeah, where are the bedrooms? I might have over-packed and if I don’t unpack this bag I think it’s gonna explode.” Annette gestured to the wheeled blue bag at Felix’s feet, the one with zippers that appeared to be one t-shirt away from their ultimate demise.
“Ah, about that. There should be enough room for everyone, but it’s gonna be tight. There are 5 double beds, but only three bedrooms, ‘cause two of the bedrooms have two beds each. And I’ll take the couch so you can all have a bed.”
“Dimitri, you shouldn’t-” Ashe began to speak up, but was cut off quickly.
“I insist. I can use the bedrooms any time I want, I can take the couch.” A second accidental humblebrag in one conversation. Nice, Dimitri.
“Actually, I think you and Dedue should take the master bedroom, since you had to deal with… a hard time on the road,” Mercedes said, eyeing Sylvain and Hilda, as if she somehow knew that they were the most guilty.
“Oh, we don’t-” Ashe started, only to be cut off by Mercedes’s incessant kindness.
“Plus, isn’t tomorrow your anniversary?” Ashe blushed as Mercedes excitedly clasped her hands together. “Take it! Who else would? You’re the only couple anyway! And I’ll share a bed with Annie, no problem.”
“Yeah, and me and Ingrid can take the other bed in the same room!” Hilda winked at Ingrid, who looked a little skeptical. “I’m a bit of a blanket hog, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Byleth and I will take one of the beds, if that’s okay with him,” Linhardt said, gesturing towards Byleth, who simply nodded. Since Linhardt had transferred from some small school down south that Sylvain had never heard of, he and Byleth had been really close, and recently nearly inseparable. Nobody knew what their friendship consisted of besides sitting next to each other, usually in silence, but they had recently signed a lease on an apartment together, so they must be plenty happy just to read books together as they often did.
Sylvain looked around the room to see Felix making a facial expression that could only mean they had reached the same conclusion at the same time.
“Uh…”
“Oh, come on,” said Ingrid, who was clearly having the same thoughts, as the three of them often did. “You guys slept together all the time when we were kids, and you were roommates almost all of college, you can’t handle it for a few nights?”
“The key word there is kids, Ingrid. We’re grown men. It’s not like we were sharing a bed as roommates,” Sylvain replied, hoping nobody would remember the nights they would “dispose of” all their whisky and very much did share a bed.
“It’s fine,” Felix sighed, finally speaking after spending the last hour of the car ride in silence after the toilet paper debacle. “I’ll sleep on the roof.”
“Felix-”
“Sylvain, it’s fine. You take the bed, I’ll figure something out.” Sylvain couldn’t figure out why Felix was being so aggressively altruistic, but decided not to push it.
“Why don’t you guys switch off every night, if you’re gonna be stubborn?” Annette’s suggestion came with sounds of agreement from everyone but Felix.
Instead, he laughed, more of a pointed scoff. “I’m not sleeping on any sheets Sylvain’s sweated on.”
“Hey, I can’t help that I run hot!”
“You certainly do, babe, your face is bright red.” Sylvain crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the ground, trying not to draw more attention to what he wished Hilda wouldn’t have brought up.
“Anyway,” Dimitri intervened, “As I said, let’s get you all settled in.” He led everyone up the stairs, bringing a very apologetic Ashe and silently smiling Dedue into the master bedroom, which Sylvain could see from the hallway was large, comparable to the living room, and just as clean, well-decorated, and nautical. The other two bedrooms were a bit smaller, but still large, with distinct motifs; The bedroom facing the street was butter-yellow and adorned with floral prints on every surface, while the bedroom facing the backyard was dark blue with a celestial theme, suns and moons hanging on the walls and printed on the bedspreads.
Mercedes seemed to have taken a liking to the flowery room, so the girls settled in there, excitedly talking about how fun it would be to have a girls’ sleepover for the week. So Sylvain, along with Linhardt, Byleth, and a reluctant Felix, brought their things into what Sylvain was mentally referring to as ‘the space room’, Linhardt immediately throwing his bag onto the bed near the window and throwing himself onto it as well.
“I’ll leave my bag in the corner here,” said Felix, doing exactly that, “But I mean it- I’m not sharing a bed with you even if it is a queen.” His dark eyes, fixed squarely on the very plush-looking comforter, betrayed that he was at least seriously considering it.
“Suit yourself, man. I don’t care either way…” Sylvain turned his back as he trailed off, realizing that the tail end of that sentence made it sound like he wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with Felix, which, even if it was true, wasn’t something he wanted known. Especially by Felix.
Sylvain figured Felix was just trying to prove himself to himself, that come two A.M. he would give up the charade and end up sleeping at the very edge of the bed, trying desperately not to let his body touch Sylvain’s even the slightest. Sylvain imagined Felix falling out of the bed in the middle of the night, and had to suppress an internal laugh.
The mosquitoes buzzed in circles around Sylvain’s head, everyone at the table swatting them back and forth, to and from each other. The yellow citronella candles that were lit along the wooden outdoor table clearly weren’t doing their job, and the scent of food grilling and alcohol flowing seemed to be outweighing the flies’ desire not to get squished to death.
“God, it feels so good to relax for once,” Annette said, cracking open her first beer of the evening and taking a long sip from the bottle, ending it with a satisfied gasp that made it seem like she was trying to advertise the beer. “At least for the next couple days I don’t have to think about the fact that I still don’t have a job!” Her brow furrowed and her eyes widened as she began to stare at her hands, signaling that she wasn’t as relaxed as she was trying to seem.
“You’re not gonna stop thinking about it if you don’t stop talking about it,” said Ingrid, coming out onto the deck from the kitchen, taking her seat next to Sylvain and across from Felix, handing them both the beers they had asked for.
“Well, it’s stressful! I only have so much saved, and my dad is insistent that I keep living on my own even after my lease is up.” Annette ran a hand through her hair, which she had let down for the first time in a while, as if to push the now-crumbling image that she was relaxed.
“Well your dad is an ass,” Ingrid replied, reaching her arm across the table to point in Annette’s face, the drink in her hand making the gesture seem even more exaggerated. Sylvain wondered if Ingrid had started drinking earlier than the rest of them or if she was just feeling bold because she was so far away from all her responsibilities, as Annette was trying so hard to feel. “And you’ve only had your degree for, like, a week. There’s lots of need for chemists, just give it time!”
“Yeah, at least you’re not Sylvain, nobody needs a hot redhead to soliloquize at them 40 hours a week,” joked Hilda from Sylvain’s left as she punched him gently in the arm, the joke getting a half-laugh out of everyone sitting at the table, even Felix, whose shy smile made the hurt of the joke worth it.
“That’s rich coming from you, miss Costume Design.” She was probably right, though.
“Everything’s all done!” Ashe shouted beside the grill at the other end of the deck, the joy on his face visible even from a distance. In his hands was a large wooden tray covered in plates, and after Dedue placed one more foil-covered plate on the tray, Ashe began to walk over to the table as Dedue headed into the kitchen, Dimitri getting up from his spot at the head of the table to follow him inside.
As Ashe got closer, the smell of the food he was carrying grew stronger, and it only made Sylvain hungrier. He could see as Ashe put the tray in the center of the table that it was covered in nothing but meat- perfectly grilled steaks, burgers, chicken, everything. Just moments after, Dedue and Dimitri came back out onto the deck from the kitchen, both of them also carrying large quantities of food, including a large stack of hot ears of yellow corn, whole fish, paella, and an assortment of other things that seemed like way too much for the eleven of them.
“Oh my God,” was all Ingrid seemed to be able to say, her mouth hanging just slightly open and her eyes wide, staring at the rack of ribs.
“I can’t believe you two were willing to make this huge dinner after the hell we put you through on the road,” said Sylvain, unable to decide what to eat first.
“This is fun for us,” Ashe replied, he and Dedue finally joining the rest of the group at the table, Ashe holding a bottle of white wine and both of them, plus Mercedes and Hilda, readying their previously empty wine glasses. “This is what a regular Saturday looks like at our house.”
“Plus, it means we don’t have to pay for dinner whenever we all go out next,” Dedue added, putting one arm around Ashe, who laughed and leaned back into Dedue’s shoulder. God, they were so cute it made Sylvain nauseous, jealous, and ecstatic all at once.
“Very smart, Dedue,” said Hilda, pouring a glass of wine for herself, as well as for the rest of those who preferred it over the ensemble of beers Dimitri kept in the fridge in the basement. “Though I don’t know if we’re gonna be eating anytime soon after we’re done with all this.”
“If I may propose a toast, to our first vacation as graduates, and to all of you, and especially to Ashe and Dedue, not only for preparing this-”
“Yes, Dimitri, we get it,” interrupted Ingrid, causing a blush to settle over Dimitri’s face and a stifled laugh to come from everyone else. “And yes, let’s toast, to all those things.”
So they did just that, everyone’s cans and bottles and glasses colliding. Sylvain felt the light, almost blissful feeling of the evening grow more intense as he met his drink to Hilda’s, Ingrid’s, Mercedes', and Annette’s, and though he couldn’t quite reach Ashe and Dedue, or Linhardt and Byleth, or Dimitri, he raised his beer in their direction and smiled, and they did the same. He saved his last toast for Felix, who must have decided to put aside his reservations towards showing emotion for the occasion, smiling modestly at Sylvain as their eyes and hands met, Sylvain feeling himself blush and smile wider, his body once again betraying him.
As if on cue, they all began to demolish the wealth of food in front of them, Sylvain heading straight for the paella and pot roast. Everything was perfect; nothing less would ever be expected of Ashe and Dedue, who had been making elaborate feasts for their friends since the group had first formed during their sophomore year of college. The current spread had all the characteristics of those of the past: far too much for the group, food in every color of the light spectrum, and aromas that made the brain go fuzzy with longing. Unique was that night though, not only for the warm summer air and the sunset over the ocean just feet from where they sat, but also the sheer joy shared between the eleven graduates, the haze of alcohol that blanketed all of them, the fireflies dancing from shoulder to shoulder, the conversation they were usually too busy eating to engage in.
Sylvain looked around at all of his friends, the most important people in his life, all of them wrapped up in that moment of uninterrupted, unconditional delight. He saw Dimitri talking to Linhardt about some film, heard Hilda giving Mercedes and Anette advice about thrift shopping, and watched Ashe clumsily feed Dedue a biscuit with his bare hands, Byleth laughing along with the two of them. He listened for a while to Ingrid and Felix on his right, the way they effortlessly danced between topics, the ease of conversation that could only be found between two people who had known each other since before they could even talk.
At this table were all the people he loved most. Maybe it was just the beer talking or the aphrodisiacal oysters, but Sylvain felt like he could’ve been glowing, like he could cry just watching Felix forget for a moment that he didn’t like to laugh that hard in front of other people. Or maybe it wasn’t the beer, or the oysters. Maybe it was just Felix’s laugh, a peal rarer than any precious metal and richer than anyone to own them.
“Ugh, I just love you guys soooo much,” Annette said, slurring slightly, her arm wrapped around Mercedes’ shoulders, her cheeks red and eyes a little damp. Sylvain was pretty sure she’d had two beers at most, but, well, that’s Annette. In college, most gatherings with alcohol ended with her ass-up in the bathtub wearing one of Dimitri’s suits after one rum and coke. “Like, I’m so so so happy we’re all here and we’re all together friends and I love you…”
“Annie, are you okay?” Mercedes shifted in her seat, carefully as to make sure Annette didn’t fall off of her and land on the floor, which also happened a lot whenever Annette drank, but also when she didn’t. Mercedes was on her third glass of wine, but besides her hair slipping out of its ponytail, she was holding on just fine, which always came in handy when Annette lost control.
Annette unhung herself from Mercedes and let her arms fall onto the table, now looking directly at Sylvain. “I love all of you, just, I do, really,” she stumbled over, beginning to lean onto Felix. “We’re so good to have you,” (Sylvain assumed she meant ‘lucky to have each other’), “because, what if we didn’t?”
“She’s right, you guys,” said Hilda, who had spent the last twenty minutes posing with her wine glass in nobody’s direction and asking Sylvain to pose with an ear of corn and take selfies with her (and the corn). “It took for- ever for us all to meet, and if it wasn’t for Linhardt, who almost didn’t even go here, it might… not have happened. And what if I didn’t transfer in either? Y’all would have been missing the most important person in your lives.” She exaggerated her point by leaning back onto Sylvain and putting her hands on his shoulders, as if demonstrating the fact that it had been Sylvain to introduce her to everyone else after they met in the theatre department.
“I’m just surprised you graduated, Hilda,” Sylvain teased, prompting her to remove herself from his torso and mockingly push him by the chest. She might’ve been a little embarrassed, but he couldn’t tell if the blush on her face (the one behind the makeup blush) was from that or from drinking. Though he was singling her out, he was truly kind of astonished that they all graduated together, on time. From Hilda, who never showed up to class and proudly shouted “C’s get degrees, baby!” every Saturday night, to Linhardt, who also never showed up to class for either of his two majors or his minor but still managed to graduate with honors, to Annette, who was never around due to her insane self-imposed studying schedule, but still barely managed a 3.0, it was some kind of miracle that they all ended up in the same place. But it happened. There was a picture of eleven stupid assholes all wearing ugly gowns in an auditorium that proved it.
“That’s what I’m sayyy ing,” Annette whined. “I was almost going to Lin’s uh, school, at south, which would have been so ugly of me. Thank God I have no money.” Her drunk giggle sounded a little bit like crying, which maybe it also was.
“Annette, you remind me of a ferret,” Linhardt said, unprompted but not inaccurately.
“I couldn’t imagine my life without all of you,” said Dimitri, looking at all his friends from the head of the table, Sylvain unable to clearly see the look on his face but certain from his voice and years of knowing him and drinking with him that his eyes were watering. “I wouldn’t want anyone else in my house.”
“We would be here no matter what, man,” called Ingrid, shouting a little in Sylvain’s ear as she stood up slightly in her seat to talk to Dimitri, one hand leaning on the table, the other clutching her third beer, raised a little in Dimitri’s direction like a drunken version of pointing.
“Yeah, but you guys are mean to me,” Dimitri replied, his voice going hoarse and his gaze pointed directly at Felix.
“Well, I think it’s best not to dwell on the what-ifs,” said Sylvain, not wanting Felix and Dimitri to get into one of their classic fights where Dimitri cares about something and Felix doesn’t, especially with how drunk they were. Felix hadn’t said anything to anyone for at least fifteen minutes, and his face was glazed with a red luster, meaning he was just a few minutes or half a drink away from turning into mean-drunk Felix, who was even more of an asshole than normal Felix (but also way funnier). “We’re all here, aren’t we, in this huge house with all this food?”
“God, I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think I can eat any more,” groaned Ingrid, leaning her head on Sylvain’s forearm, a rare bit of affection from the girl he’d been married to in a very unofficial ceremony by Dimitri on this very deck when they were seven.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Mercedes suddenly shot up out of her seat, causing Annette to nearly fall out of hers, only regaining her balance by grabbing the back of Felix’s shirt collar, choking him a little (if anyone but Annette did that, they would’ve been flayed). “Dimitri, come inside with me!” She took off, doing her little mini-jog that meant she was excited about something but also nervous, which usually made everyone else nervous too.
Dimitri seemed caught off guard by Mercedes’ sudden request, but when she playfully mussed up his hair as she rounded the corner of the table, he smiled and got up to join her, following her back into the house. The rest of them sat in silence, confusedly awaiting their friends’ return, before Mercedes and Dimitri came back out just moments later, both of them holding containers and plates covered in saran wrap and tin foil.
“I brought dessert!” Mercedes’ face was overtaken by a toothy smile, clearly proud of either her creation or her ability to remember it.
The group responded with playful groans and shouts, all of them knowing they really shouldn’t eat any more.
“Mercie!” Annette half-shouted, half-squealed. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have had that last chicken leg…”
“You should know by now that I always make dessert.” She and Dimitri took a moment to place each serving down and uncover them, revealing a pile of assorted cookies, a tray of pistachio dip and fresh fruit, two different kinds of mini cheesecakes, and a huge mango cobbler topped with coconut cream.
“You’re trying to kill me, doll, I know it,” Hilda said as Mercedes leaned over between her and Sylvain to mix the pistachio dip with a spoon, Hilda grabbing Mercedes’ arm and clumsily kissing it. “After I fall into a food coma I bet you’re gonna steal my liver.” Mercedes winked at Hilda, who feigned fear and laughed, still gripping her arm.
Dessert was eaten in relative silence, the overeating and liquor finally making their way into everyone’s minds and beginning to shut them down from the inside. The sun now long set, the citronella candles and porch lanterns were the only remaining source of light. At some point, Ashe had connected his phone to the outdoor speakers and put on some breezy acoustic album which matched well to the sound of the ocean, so the silence was comfortable, all of them absorbing the moonlight and trying to stop themselves from eating another bite of Mercedes’ dessert.
Unsurprisingly, Linhardt and Byleth were the first to call it a night. “We’re going to bed,” Byleth half-slurred, half-sang as he stood up and started to make his way inside, a yawning Linhardt at his side, his eyes already closing.
“Not surprised,” said Sylvain, having known the two of them would be the first to retire since before they’d even gotten to the house, though he’d hoped the night would last a little longer. “Don’t forget, I’m sharing a room with you guys… please don’t make me walk in on anything you wouldn’t want me to see.”
“Don’t be gross, Sylvain. I can share a bed with my friends without making it weird, unlike some people. ” Hilda snorted at Linhardt’s comment, which was probably based on something that happened on an overnight trip or a post-rager accidental sleepover in college that Sylvain couldn’t remember. “Plus, I don’t even know if I have the energy to change my clothes.” Linhardt’s voice only proved his point further, just the sound of it draining Sylvain of some of the energy he did have, as if Linhardt was a witch stealing his life energy for his own use. Byleth closed the door behind him as they went inside, and a chorus of affectionate goodnights echoed against the side of the house.
With two of them gone, the night was really coming to a close, and even though this was only the first night of the trip and there was so much more to look forward to, Sylvain was hesitant to let it end, even as the ocean breeze became too cold to bear without the sun to counter it, everyone quickly turning from silly-drunk to sleepy-drunk.
“Who wants another drink?” He proposed, not garnering any kind of positive response, only a muttered “ there’s something wrong with him ” from Ingrid, presumably spoken to Felix, who either didn’t hear or didn’t respond. “Aw, c’mon guys, don’t die on me…” He looked at all of his friends and saw the faces of satisfied housecats, all sleeping in each other’s laps.
“It’s been a long day, Sylvain,” Dedue said with a sigh, his right hand holding his own head up, his left arm around Ashe’s shoulders. Dedue was right, it was a long day, especially for him. Sylvain had almost forgotten that today was the same today as the today that everyone had woken up to get on the road, stayed on the road for four very long hours, loaded into the house, and unpacked, had almost forgotten that it was Dedue who had been tasked with transporting more than half the group and had subsequently spent hours in the kitchen and at the grill.
“Do you wanna head up?” Ashe asked, his lips curled up and eyes creased in an exhausted smile. Dedue nodded, and the two of them unfurled from each other, stretching as they started to stand up.
“Aw, guys…” Sylvain let his protest fade before he could finish it, realizing that resistance at this point was futile and everyone would be heading to bed soon whether he bothered them about it or not.
Everyone but Felix, apparently. Sylvain would be heading upstairs to an empty bed.
Not that it bothered him, not that he particularly wanted Felix taking up space and sheets, but the fact that he would be the only one in the house sleeping in an empty bed (Dimitri would be on a couch, so not the same thing, okay) felt like some very on-the-nose dramatic symbolism.
“Try to keep the noise level down tonight, okay, babes?” Hilda teased, grabbing Ashe by the wrist as he walked behind her to get to the door. “I know you got the master bedroom, but we’re all sharing a hallway.”
“No promises,” Ashe replied, smirking, getting a surprised laugh out of Hilda and Annette, Ashe’s cheeky response clearly brought on by the wine- it was rare to see him willing to play along with Hilda’s racy jokes.
The pair headed into the house linked by their hands, Hilda whistling and Annette letting out an adorable screech of “ I love you! ” as the door closed.
“They’re so cute,” said Ingrid.
“It makes me want to throw up,” Hilda whined.
“Please don’t throw up on my porch,” Dimitri said, glaring at Hilda from the other end of the table as he began to stack plates and silverware.
“I’ve thrown up on this porch, like, a dozen times,” Sylvain reminded him, recalling the first few summers they had been allowed to be in the house alone, back in high school, when they had somehow convinced Felix’s older brother to bring them alcohol and they completely forgot how to behave. All of Sylvain’s memories of this house, which went back further than most memories he had, were filled mostly with Felix, with the trouble they’d caused and the mistakes they’d made and the stories they’d be telling for the next lifetime. Some of those memories, Sylvain would kill to have pictures of. Others, he didn’t want to remember.
“Please don’t remind me,” Felix said.
“Yeah, and that’s why I don’t keep tequila in the house, Mr. Sylvain Jose Cuervo.”
Ingrid laughed at the very embarrassing pseudo-memory Dimitri had brought up. “Oh my God, I forgot we used to call him that,” she said, her tone bordering on hysterical.
“Oh, I could never forget what happened after that bottle disappeared. Do you remember the-”
“The bird feeder, and the watermelon slices, and-”
“I will never forget the image of his pants stuck in that tree.”
“Hey!” Sylvain interrupted, getting out of his seat to join Dimitri and Ingrid, standing by the head of the table, not pleased with being left out of a conversation about things he’d apparently done. “I can’t be held responsible for the things I do when I’m wasted. I don’t remember that shit.” There were things he did remember, though, that he still wished would never be brought up again. He knew Felix would never mention them either, though, and Dimitri and Ingrid had no idea they’d ever happened. Behind closed doors.
“So your degree doesn’t count, then?” Felix asked with the same deadpan tone with which he had delivered every mean joke he’d ever made.
“I can’t believe how long you guys have known each other, like, no matter how many old stories you tell, I’m just, like, ugh,” Annette said, stringing syllables together to create a Frankensteinian slur that only kind of sounded like a sentence. “It’s so sweet, you guys are like family.”
“Hey, you’re family too, Annette, all of you are,” Dimitri said in his overly-reassuring Dimitri voice. “Though, I guess not everyone’s thrown up on me on the top of a ferris wheel,” He looked directly at Felix, who met him with a violent glare.
“I’m going up before any more embarrassing things happen,” said Sylvain, knowing full well that three people on this deck could probably list every one of his failures, slip-ups, and public humiliations, and would do it without hesitation. “Anyway, Felix, are you or are you not coming to bed?”
Oh, God, why did he say it like that?
“What?” Felix asked, almost astonished, as Hilda didn’t even try to hide her mocking laugh.
“No, I didn’t… I didn’t mean like, bed. I just mean, should I leave a light on in the hallway?” Why Felix was so red in the face, Sylvain wasn’t sure (besides the alcohol, obviously), but he felt that his face, too, was getting hotter by the second, and cursed himself for it. They were just sleeping. It was only a few nights and they were just sleeping. And that was only if Felix was willing to give up the “sleeping on the roof” nonsense, which Sylvain was trying and failing to give him one last chance at.
“It’s not needed. I’ll sleep on the roof, or out here, I meant it when I said it.”
“Felix, you don’t have to-”
“I’m not sharing a bed,” he insisted. “And especially not with you.”
“Alright.” Sylvain struggled to hide his expression as the warmth in his face spread into his eyes and threatened to make a damned fool of him. And out of all the funny stories that had come to pass in this backyard, it was just his fucking luck that this would be the one he’ll have been just sober enough to remember next time. “Goodnight, guys.”
Sylvain realized as he closed the door behind him, concerned farewells from the girls following him into the kitchen, that he probably should have helped Dimitri clean up, but if he hadn’t gotten into the darkness of the quiet house soon enough, everyone still outside would have seen him start to cry.
What the fuck? Sylvain yelled at himself in his head as he walked from the kitchen into the living room and up the stairs. Why are you crying? Stop it. Sylvain didn’t cry, especially not at stupid shit like this. What even was this? Why was he crying? Was he really crying because Felix was rude to him for a second? If that was really why, then Sylvain should’ve been crying every day for seventeen years. Sylvain, you fucking pussy, stop crying.
He continued to curse at himself under his breath, tears coming nevertheless, the sounds of the nearby ocean seeming to egg him on, with all their empty, relentless crashing, like that of his thoughts against the front of his intoxicated skull.
Sylvain hesitated at the door to the shared bedroom, trying to gauge from the soft light spilling out from the horizon between the floor and the door whether Linhardt and Byleth were still awake. If they were awake, they might be able to tell that he was in the middle of a miniature rage-breakdown, and Byleth might try to do that ‘silent therapist’ thing he always did. If they were asleep, he might not be able to get in, get undressed, get in bed, and stop being such a little bitch without waking them up, which would mean spending all of tomorrow with a hole burning through the back of his head from the dirty looks Linhardt would be shooting him.
But from the center of the hallway, he could hear Ashe and Dedue from the other side of their bedroom wall, sounds too soft and perfect and intimate for Sylvain to be allowed to hear. It was more than just an invasion of privacy- he felt like his weird drunk-and-pent-up-Sylvain energy would seep through the wall and ruin their lay.
He opened the door, slowly, to find that both hypotheticals were partly true. The lamp on the nightstand in the middle of the room was on, and Byleth was sat up in his bed, glasses on, an old-looking book in his lap. Next to him was a tangle of dark sheets, out of which a mane of dark green hair was spilling, and two pale arms draped in a distinct red bathrobe (apparently Lin did have the energy to change his clothes) hung off the edge of the bed. Byleth shifted slightly as he noticed Sylvain entering the room, peering at him over the top of his glasses like he was a professor whose office hours were just about to end.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it up those stairs,” said Byleth, deadpan.
“I’m not that drunk,” Sylvain tried to say without letting his voice warble; the peaceful scene of his two friends in bed having grounded him a little, and the bulk of his crying spell seemed to be over, but his throat was still obstructed by a pointless emotional lump and he was sure his face was red and puffy. “Did you see Ashe? Or Hilda? Compared to them I’m sober.”
Byleth, saying nothing, placed the bookmark he was holding onto the current page of his book and closed it, giving Sylvain a long, meticulous look that drew lesions in his flesh.
“Uh, do you mind if I get changed in here? I won’t, like, take my underwear off, obviously.” Sylvain turned his back to Byleth as he leaned over and unzipped his suitcase and pulled out the first t-shirt he saw- one of many of those dumb t-shirts you get at events as a freshman in college. It was a little small on him now, and covered in stains of who-knows-what, but that made it perfect for sleeping.
“That’s fine.”
Sylvain undressed from his button down and shorts and threw on the t-shirt as quickly as he could (an unusually difficult task in his current still-somewhat-inebriated state) facing the door and hoping that Byleth would just go back to reading his book without any more judging of Sylvain’s mental state.
Sylvain threw his now-worn clothes back into his luggage, not really caring (now or ever) that the shorts that had been sullied with beer and the shirt marked by barbeque sauce and Hilda’s clumsy lipstick marks were co-mingling with the clothes he’d washed just last night and planned on wearing to more dignified events that were planned for the weekend. In the corner was a black backpack Sylvain had come to know quite well over the last couple years- it was amazing how long that thing had lasted. Felix doesn’t have his shit for bed- where even is he planning on sleeping? Sylvain thought for a second about going back downstairs to give Felix the bag, or texting him to remind him that it was up here. No. Fuck that. He’s the one being stubborn- he can sleep in his jeans.
Sylvain sat down on the side of the bed, plugging his phone charger into the wall and connecting it to his phone, which he realized now he hadn’t looked at since the car- everyone he actually enjoyed talking to was in this house.
“What’s wrong?” said Byleth, finally breaking the moment of silence, prompting a deep, almost relieved (no use putting this off, after all) sigh from Sylvain. Byleth wasn’t even looking at Sylvain when he asked.
“How do you do that?” Apparently, psychology was the most worthwhile major at their school, because absolutely fucking nothing got past Byleth. Even combined with Sylvain’s degree in (and 22 years of experience of) pretending to be something he wasn’t, Byleth saw everything that rested below the surface of his friend’s facade. The same was true for everyone else, too. Thursday nights back at school were usually tipsy therapy sessions.
Byleth just repeated himself. “Sylvain, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, dude, I’m just tired, and a little drunk, but I’m going to bed.”
Byleth kept staring, his eyebrows lowering a little and his mouth forming that little pout that always meant he didn’t believe you. “Is it Felix?”
I swear, this guy is like, omniscient. Sylvain cleared his throat, which he was sure only made it more obvious that he had been found out, and tried to find the line between avoiding eye contact like a guilty child and staring into Byleth’s eyes as if looking for the magic at the bottom of the well that gave him divine knowledge.
“What do you mean, is it Felix? Why would I be upset about Felix?” He was asking the question not just of Byleth, but of himself- why was he upset about Felix?
“I don’t know. I don’t know what goes on with you two- I just know you were staring at him all night and then you came upstairs without him and you were crying.”
“I was staring at him?” That was actually new information.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I was staring at him.”
“Well, that’s what it looked like to me and Linhardt.”
“Were you guys talking about me?” Sylvain struggled to hold in the whine behind the question, his throat creaking with boozy indignation.
“Uh… yes.” So that’s what Linhardt and Byleth did in private. It was gossip that made them so close. “But only for a minute. Then he fell asleep.”
“Maybe I was staring, but I was drunk. I still kind of am.”
“Okay, Sylvain.” Byleth turned away from Sylvain and opened his book again, clearly giving up on trying to draw out Sylvain’s repressed angst.
Sylvain remained at the edge of the bed, trying to resist the urge to spill his stupid guts out, glad he hadn’t gone in on that fifth beer as he waited for his third and fourth to stop knocking on the back door of his brain stem and threatening to break the boundary between his thoughts and what he was willing to externalize to Byleth.
“Why?” He asked, instantly regretting it, hating the way his voice warbled. “What do you think is- is wrong with me?”
Byleth sighed and looked back up at Sylvain, but before he could speak, the door behind them cracked open and Sylvain turned to see a very tired and nervous-looking Felix halfway through the doorway.
“Oh, hey, Fe,” Sylvain croaked out. Goddamnit. Really? A nickname, now?
“I realized I forgot my stuff. I didn’t come in here to sleep or anything.” He stepped one further into the room and grabbed his backpack off the floor. “See you in the morning.” And Felix disappeared back into the hallway, closing the door behind him before Sylvain or Byleth could respond.
“Let’s go to bed, Sylvain,” Byleth said, quiet and dry, presumably understanding the distressed look on Sylvain’s face, which he could see from the large mirror on the wall above the dresser. “Things are always better in the morning.”
Byleth took off his glasses and put his book on the nightstand beside him as Sylvain turned off the light and got under the sheets. The queen bed was too huge for just Sylvain, no matter how large he was as an individual, and he struggled to find a position that made it feel less empty without having him contort his back like a trapezist. As he laid in bed he realized just how drunk he still was- his little outburst and almost-talk with Byleth had calmed his mind a bit, but beneath his eyelids was a kaleidoscope of colors too bright and spirited for the hour. The ocean wouldn’t stop, either (not that it ever does), each crest and trough echoing against the back wall of the house, and combined with the physical sensation of floating that he couldn’t quite shake, Sylvain could only expect to become unbearably seasick or fall unconscious.
The salt in the air settled on his skin, and he waited.