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Sometimes Sylvain gets like this. It’s no big deal, really, except that it is.
Through constant repetition and practice of fake, wide smiles and an easy personality, he is mostly able to hide it. He is definitely able to hide it from the world at large. He has moderate success with his friends. But he has zero success with Felix after a couple days or so.
Felix has always been good about reading him like a goddess-damned book.
It creeps up on him this time. Things seem to be going well. He’s got a job he loves, and he’s got Felix, and he’s got their cat, and things are quiet. Peaceful. But it’s the peaceful times he has learned to hate the most, because peace means he has too much time to get into his own head. Sylvain has always been good in a crisis - anyone will say so - but when there is no crisis, his self hatred starts to slither in.
It starts small. He drops a tray of food, thankfully not on anyone, at work and spends the rest of the night angry at himself. He snaps at Felix when Felix is making dinner, over something so inconsequential and insignificant that Felix stares at him blankly for a good 15 seconds, and spends the rest of dinner silent and sullen and convinced that this time, Felix is definitely going to realize Sylvain isn’t worth trying for, isn’t worth sticking around for. Of course, Felix doesn’t. Instead, Felix wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close when they are ensconced in warm blankets and sheets, and even though Sylvain knows Felix knows he won’t sleep tonight, he whispers soft, sleepy words of love until he falls asleep himself.
In a cruel twist of fate, these loving words only serve to make Sylvain hate himself even more, because who is he to deserve such kindness?
Sylvain retreats further. Claude texts him because he hasn’t heard from Sylvain in a week, when Sylvain is a chronic texter. Sylvain doesn’t participate in the GM Brewery group chat more than a handful of times, and his friends - particularly Claude, who does know him and his spirals more than anyone save Felix - are getting suspicious.
Worst of all, he withdraws from Felix. Luckily - or unluckily, depending on how you view it - Felix is particularly busy with a charity stream event over the weekend in addition to a new game drop that he’s trying to record for, so, at least at first, he doesn’t notice. Maybe he notices that Sylvain isn’t spending as much time in his office keeping him company as he usually does when Felix is busy with his career, but if he does, he doesn’t comment. Sylvain orders take-out so Felix doesn’t have to cook and pretends to eat it. He only does the most perfunctory gestures of affection towards Felix, aborted hugs and kisses on the cheek. Perhaps the most grievous sin of all, he pretends to fall asleep on the couch watching Netflix instead of going to bed with Felix, because he can’t stand the thought of Felix being sweet to him again.
The stream comes and goes. Sylvain says he will attend, but doesn’t. He knows this will be a red flag, an alarm bell ringing at full volume, but after a week of being essentially alone and feeling like if he has to live one more second like this, he will rip his skin off, he is desperate for some relief.
Felix finds him on the couch, after midnight, curled up with a blanket pulled up to his chin. On the TV, Netflix cheerfully asks if he is still watching, and has been asking for how long now? Sylvain has lost track. He’s been busy staring unseeing at the wall.
The couch dips where Felix sits, too close, next to Sylvain. His voice is quiet in the dark, the only illumination in the room coming from the television. It makes Sylvain look gaunt like a spectre.
“What can I do?” Felix asks softly. He doesn’t reach out, not yet, because he knows Sylvain and he knows that sometimes even this overly tactile man can’t stand to be touched when he gets like this. Instead he just sits close, close enough to touch if Sylvain wants him to, and looks at Sylvain with a gentle expression that is so completely unlike Felix’s normal scowls that it brings tears unbidden to Sylvain’s eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Sylvain says in a broken voice. “Don’t feel sorry for me.” Felix starts to draw back, hurt flashing across his face, until Sylvain continues. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Sylvain,” Felix chastises. “You know I don’t believe that. I know you do, but don’t think I do, too.”
“But--”
“No. Let me decide how I feel.” Felix’s voice is stern, because this, his love for Sylvain no matter what, is one point he will never, ever budge on, no matter how Sylvain protests.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Felix letting Sylvain gather his thoughts and decide when, and if, he wants to talk, and Sylvain trying to decide when, and if, he wants to talk and what he would say when he did.
“I can’t stand living in my own body,” Sylvain says at last. His voice sounds too loud in his own ears, this confession dragged out of him kicking and screaming, but Felix has to lean forward, almost into Sylvain’s space, to hear him. “I can’t stand feeling like this. I am falling apart and I don’t know what to do.”
“How long?” Felix keeps his voice unnaturally soothing, like he’s speaking to a dangerous animal.
“A little over a week.”
Felix nods. “I noticed you were acting off, and then Claude texted me asking if something was wrong. It wasn’t until you missed the stream that I knew something was really going on. I’m sorry I didn’t notice before now.”
“Don’t be sorry, I--”
“If you say you don’t deserve it, I’m going to knock your teeth out of your mouth.” Ah, here is the Felix Sylvain knows. It almost makes him smile.
“I didn’t want you to know,” Sylvain admits. “I don’t know what you can do about it.”
Felix shifts in his seat, and it is clear that he wants to reach out even though he keeps himself from doing it. “Have you tried calling your therapist?”
Sylvain rubs the back of his neck and looks off to the side and down. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to explain how I feel or if he would even be able to help.”
Felix leans forward and grabs Sylvain’s phone from where it sits, face down, on the coffee table. He ignores all the notifications, knowing that it would do nothing but upset Sylvain right now to know they are there, and unlocks the phone with the passcode Sylvain gave him over a year ago. He swipes to Sylvain’s contacts and opens a message to Byleth.
This is Felix. Sylvain really needs you right now. Can you see him tomorrow?
He leaves his phone number at the end of the message so Byleth can contact him instead of being ignored on Sylvain’s phone, then he sets the phone down and turns his attention back to Sylvain, who is looking vaguely mutinous.
“I know you don’t want to talk to him, but Sylvain, you have to. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me, okay? I want you to want to get better, but if I have to use myself as leverage, you know I’m not above it.” He pauses for the hint of a smile. “I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”
“I do,” Sylvain whispers. His eyes are tearing up again, and this time the tears slip down over his cheeks. “I love you, Felix. I don’t know if I would be here if you weren’t here with me.” He won’t meet Felix’s eyes, but he suddenly so desperately wants a hug. He leans over until his body slumps against Felix’s side.
Felix wastes no time snaking his arms around Sylvain’s blanket cocoon. He rests his cheek against the top of Sylvain’s head and lets him cry it out. One hand rubs gentle soothing circles on Sylvain’s back, between his shoulderblades. Sylvain doesn’t indulge in the loud, ugly sobbing that he really wants to, because his hiccuping sobs and the wetness against Felix’s t-shirt are bad enough. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his tears dry up, leaving him feeling hollowed out. He swipes at his eyes, but doesn’t move from Felix’s embarace.
“Better?” Felix asks.
Sylvain nods against his shoulder, not trusting his voice.
“Do you think you should talk to Byleth about starting up your meds again? Maybe for good, this time?”
“I hate the thought that I have to have medication every day just to live a normal life,” Sylvain says, voice muffled against Felix’s shirt.
“I know. But I think it’s worth it, to avoid weeks like this. Don’t you?”
Sylvain knows, deep down, that it is, but he can’t bring himself to agree verbally. Instead he burrows his face into Felix’s neck, trusting that Felix knows, as he always does.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Felix suggests, running a hand through Sylvain’s matted mess of red hair. “I said I would do a patreon stream tonight, but I can cancel it.”
“No, don’t,” Sylvain protests. He doesn’t add that he’s not worth it, not this time, but Felix hears it anyway.
He leans back and tugs Sylvain’s shoulder so they are face-to-face again. Sylvain knows his face is blotchy and red and horrible to look at, but this doesn’t seem to faze Felix as he looks more serious than he has in his life and says, “I would do that and more for you, Sylvain. I hope you know that.”
Tears threaten for the third time, but this time he holds them back. “I love you, Felix,” he says, voice cracking, instead. “I want you to do the stream. But… can I come be with you while you do?”
Felix reaches out and rubs his thumbs across the tear tracks on Sylvain’s cheeks. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask. I’d rather you be with me than out here alone anyway.”
Sylvain manages the smallest of smiles. “Careful, Fe. Your soft side is showing an awful lot tonight.”
“Shut up,” Felix huffs, turning his face away and turning bright pink. Sylvain loves it, always has, but he’ll be nice and not torture Felix anymore tonight. Instead he shuffles out of his blanket cocoon and stands up, knees creaking and joints popping from sitting too long in the same position. Felix joins him, laces their fingers together, and leads them to his office.
As Felix goes about setting up for the stream, Sylvain goes to his office and retrieves his desk chair. He rolls it into Felix’s office and sets it up right next to Felix’s chair. Now that he has broken through the wall against physical affection, he wants to be as close to Felix as possible. Felix settles in, and Sylvain settles in beside him, and when Sylvain rests his head against Felix’s shoulder, as unobtrusive as he can manage, Felix only smiles and squeezes his thigh.
They sit like that while Felix streams, and as the time ticks by, Sylvain feels lighter. Maybe he just needed to reach out, he thinks, as he always does after someone helps pull him out of the mire of his sadness and self loathing. Maybe he needs to let Felix take care of him sometimes.
He closes his eyes. Tomorrow they will go see Byleth. He’ll talk about starting the meds again. They’ll figure it out, and Felix will be by his side, and there’s nowhere else Sylvain would rather be.