Work Text:
Sylvain’s jaw dropped open of its own accord, and he had to squint at his phone screen to make sure- Yup. Still Claude on the line.
“Come again?”
On screen, Claude rolled his eyes and grinned, “I’m serious. I love what you’re doing with this one. It’s really great.”
Not that Claude was a mean guy or anything. Farbeit. Hell, he was one of Sylvain’s best friends—all the more impressive considering their relationship history. If you’d told Sylvain ten years ago that he’d be able to maintain this kind of close platonic relationship with an ex, he’d never believe it.
Claude was a special case though. He’d wormed his way past most (not all, but most) of Sylvain’s defenses, and, even when it became obvious that things would never work out, he saw through Sylvain well enough to… Stay in touch. Stay close. Forgive.
This was a new one though.
Sylvain frowned at his phone, “What’s the catch? You never compliment my writing like this. There’s always a catch.”
Claude twirled a pen in one hand, a telltale smirk in place, “It’s what you love about me. I make you better.”
Sylvain’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sure. But still. What’s the catch this time?”
“No catch,” Claude shrugged and dropped the smirk. “It’s a really engaging read. I love this character driven thing you’re doing.”
Sylvain’s smirk dropped too. He grinned instead, sincerely warmed by the praise. Claude was his go to editor; he’d trusted him with all his manuscripts, even back in college when Sylvain was still suffering under the thumb of his parents and Claude had to coax him towards following his dreams…
This particular manuscript meant a lot to Sylvain too. He was inexplicably fond of-
“It’s just…”
Sylvain’s smile faltered, “What?”
Claude pursed his lips, “There’s one thing bugging me because I really can’t tell.”
“Go on.”
“How do you want readers to feel about the main character?”
“What? Hugo?”
“Yeah. Great name by the way. It’s hilarious. Feels ironic on him.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of supposed to be. He hates it too.”
Claude chuckled at that, “But seriously. I can’t tell.”
Sylvain frowned, “What do you mean?”
“It’s like-” Claude waved a hand around, “Like I kind of hate him? He’s sort of a prick. I mean, hate’s a strong word, I guess. He is funny in a pissy sort of way. He’s frustrating though.”
“Okay…” Sylvain nodded, but his brows had furrowed together.
“And,” Claude went on, scratching at his beard, “the way you write him… It’s like… It’s as if you want readers to love him. But I just can’t see that in his attitudes and actions. He’s off putting, but you write him like he’s completely charming.”
Words failed Sylvain for a moment. He reviewed his manuscript so far in his mind—taking stock of the main character’s actions and behaviors. Claude studied him, the way he studied everybody, through the screen.
“I guess…” Sylvain trailed off and scratched the back of his neck, “I didn’t really see him that way…”
“Hey.”
Felix dropped his messenger bag to the floor of Ashe’s apartment and kicked his shoes off per usual. It was a typical Thursday evening for the two of them.
Ashe didn’t approve of what he called Felix’s “Spartan” lifestyle—specifically, his diet which prioritized health and convenience (at the expense of all “joy,” according to Ashe). So, Ashe invited Felix over to his apartment once or twice a week for dinner. Sometimes lunch if it was a weekend and neither of them had work. If they could, Dimitri and Dedue joined them.
Tonight, it was just the two of them.
Ashe looked up from the stove and grinned, “Hey! How was work?”
“Fine.” Typical answer because, yeah, work was fine. Same old.
Felix settled onto the couch and took out his phone while Ashe tended to things in the kitchen. The apartment already smelled fantastic; the spices filling the air were a promising preview for whatever was for dinner. Felix didn’t know. Ashe usually didn’t tell him, and he was more than aware and accommodating of Felix’s preferences. Their natural order.
Soon, Ashe joined him in the living room space while things simmered along in a pot.
Felix didn’t like to make small talk, but Ashe liked chatting, so: “What about you? How were things at the library?”
Ashe smiled appreciatively and dove right in, “It was okay. A little too busy today. A lot of tour groups passing through… I like it better when the library’s quiet. The way it should be.”
Felix nodded. Ashe worked for one of the city’s largest and most historic libraries. Total bookworm. They were so different; it was a wonder that they’d maintained a friendship ever since Ingrid had introduced them all those years ago. “Yeah, that must get annoying.”
Ashe nodded, “I did get a lot of reading done during my lunch break today which was a nice break from all the people. That reminds me…”
He stood up and walked away for a second.
Felix blinked when he returned with a book in his hand.
“So, listen, I know you’re not much of a reader…”
Felix snorted, “Ashe, if this is you trying to get me into another stupid Lord of the Rings knockoff-”
“It’s not! It’s not! It-...” Ashe squirmed and fidgeted with the hardcover. “Well, it’s sort of not. I mean-”
“ Ashe- ”
“It’s technically historical fantasy, I guess!” Ashe said over him. “But that’s not why! This isn’t about the swords or whatever.”
Felix raised an eyebrow and waited for the inevitable elaboration.
“It’s…” Ashe ducked his head and fiddled some more. “It’s the main character. He reminds me a lot of you. I think you’d really like this one.”
Felix rolled his eyes, “This again? Ashe, how many times-”
“No, really! This time, it’s- it’s weird how similar you two are! Even down to your taste in food,” Ashe added, gesturing behind him at the kitchen. “Speaking of.”
He tossed the book unceremoniously over to the couch cushion next to Felix and went back to the stove. Felix shook his head and kept scrolling on his phone—ignoring the book sitting next to him.
“I’m serious, Felix,” Ashe called over. “It’s a great read too. I think you’d really like Gautier’s writing style. He has a way with words. I’ve loved all his books, and this one’s right up your alley.”
Felix snorted loud enough that Ashe would be able to hear over his usual cooking clatter.
Ashe sighed—half fond, half frustrated. Also typical.
Then: “Ah, shoot, this is taking longer than I thought to heat up. Sorry, Felix. It’s gonna be a while longer till we can eat.”
“No problem,” said Felix automatically. It wasn’t like he could complain when Ashe fed him so regularly and generously. Still… He put his phone to the side, and his eyes wandered to Ashe’s book. Meandering Sword… He scoffed.
“Not about ‘swords’ my ass,” he muttered. Ashe didn’t seem to hear him though, too preoccupied stirring whatever he had cooking in the large pot. It smelled like some kind of stew though. Hm…
Feeling resigned and bored and a little restless, Felix grabbed the book and thumbed through the pages. It was pretty long, especially for him. He really didn’t bother with reading. He’d never liked it much, and it certainly didn’t feel worth the time. Still, Ashe’s enthusiasm was… Well.
Besides, he reasoned, he was just sitting around waiting on food right now. He flipped to the front page.
Both of his eyebrows rose up his forehead almost immediately.
“Ashe.”
Ashe was humming and digging around his spice cabinet.
“ Ashe. ”
“Huh? What?” Ashe looked over.
Felix, blinking and frowning, waved the book at him, “Is this a joke?”
Ashe tilted his head, “Uh… what?”
“This-” Felix waved the book with more anger, “-a joke?”
Ashe arched an eyebrow, “Your literacy skills? I mean, yeah, kinda. That’s what you get for never picking up a-”
“Ashe.”
Ashe smirked and stopped teasing, but he still looked confused. “I don’t actually know what you mean, Felix.”
Felix narrowed his eyes.
Ashe widened his and shrugged, “What?”
The plain confusion—completely sincere—on the other’s face was undeniable, but… Felix’s frown deepened, and he stared down at the first page again. Or, more accurately, stared at the name there.
Hugo.
Ashe didn’t even know his middle name… No one did these days. Felix never used it.
A coincidence then.
Feeling weirdly perturbed by all this, Felix let himself sink deeper in the couch and started reading. He tried to ignore the odd prickling sensation running along the back of his neck.
“Felix?”
“Ashe.”
Ashe’s confusion and concern was audible. Felix never called.
“What’s, uh… What’s going on?”
For reasons beyond him, Felix’s throat closed up. He stared around his room, unsure of how to voice his question. Unsure of what his question even was.
He knew what he wanted to ask, but it wasn’t a question Ashe could answer.
And it sounded insane.
He stared down at the name scrawled along the bottom of the hardcover in front of him. Sylvain Jose Gautier.
The question echoed silently in his mind:
How does he… know me?
It wasn’t just the coincidence of the main character’s name anymore. Felix was halfway through the novel and well past that first sticking point. And it was far beyond the surface level quirks and character preferences that Ashe had initially pointed out: the love of meat and spicy food, the swords, the fondness for cats, the acerbic attitude (which Felix had to admit, begrudgingly, was accurate).
No, this was personal… and intimate.
Things about his relationship with his brother and father. Hugo’s brother and father had different names, but their personalities…
The most paranoid recesses of Felix’s mind still wondered if Ashe was pulling a weird as fuck prank on him, but he knew that was impossible. Ashe had never met Glenn or Rodrigue.
If Felix was being honest (and he really didn’t want to be because the truth was creepy as hell), it was everything. Yes, the novel was set in a historical fantasy, but Hugo was Felix. From his feelings about his mom right down to his feelings about religion. From his relationship with his body to his philosophy on mortality. Including things that Felix didn’t even like to admit about himself, yet, undeniably…
It was all right there. Laid out on pages in front of Felix.
On some level, it felt mocking. Hugo would do something that Felix could tell, from the third person perspective of a reader, was a mistake, and Felix felt the frustration of it. As if Hugo’s mistakes were his mistakes (and, accounting for the different genres of their lives, they were his mistakes in so many ways). However, there was something about the writing…
It felt (and Felix flushed just thinking it): loving.
For every twist and turn of Hugo’s story, the author, this Gautier guy, wrapped him in prose that felt equal parts honest and adoring. Somehow.
“Felix?”
Ashe’s voice pulled him back to reality. Felix bit his lip.
“Just… Tell me… What do you know about this author?”
There was a brief pause, then Ashe chuckled, “Gautier? Wow, you must be really enjoying the read.”
Felix squirmed. “Something like that. I guess. It’s not as stupid as those other books you used to recommend.”
Ashe’s chuckle broke into a fuller laugh, “Well, in that case, I’m glad to hear it.”
Felix groaned, “Shut up. Just. Tell me.”
“Okay, okay…” Ashe sounded far too pleased. “I am glad though.”
Felix tapped his foot along the floor of the library’s DVD section. He was fighting the urge to pace. Except that he wasn’t because he was in complete control. This was fine.
“Okay, so what do you-”
Ashe pulled up short, stared at Felix for one second, and smirked. Felix huffed preemptively. He didn’t like the knowing look on Ashe’s face. Not one bit.
“Nervous, Felix?”
“Tch,” Felix’s hands clenched on his arms a little. “No. Stupid.”
“It’s okay if you are,” said Ashe, but his smile was far too close to a smirk for Felix’s liking. Hmph. “I’ve been starstruck by plenty of authors who’ve come through.”
“I’m not starstruck ,” Felix seethed. Not at all. And that was the truth. Not that he could really admit what it was to Ashe. He wasn’t even sure…
It was, first and foremost, curiosity. A deep burning curiosity to meet the man who’d essentially put Felix down on paper in all but name and genre. Beyond that, there was… Felix’s shoulders stiffened. A little fear. He’d finished Meandering Sword a while back and had bugged Ashe with as many questions as he could justify. He’d tried to avoid alarming Ashe… and failed. Ashe was thrown by Felix having any questions about the literary world. Once Felix had demonstrated a distinct interest in Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ashe couldn’t get over it.
He dropped all of Gautier’s other books off for Felix. Felix had poured through each of them as much as he could justify, but there wasn’t anything else in his writing that screamed “Felix” the way his latest book did.
Meanwhile, Ashe was beside himself that Felix was reading. He called it The Great Literacy Victory™ of his career. Spreading the joy of reading to the reading-challenged. In this case, Felix. At this point, Felix didn’t have the heart to tell Ashe what was really drawing him to the books.
Months passed like this, and Felix felt unhinged over it all.
Then, like clockwork, like always, Ashe came through for Felix. This time in a big way. Or rather, Ashe’s job came through for Felix. It wasn’t one of the most prestigious libraries in the country for nothing, after all.
(“Felix! You’ll never guess what happened!”
“What?”
“Come on, sound excited! You’re gonna lose it.”
“...What?”
“...Why are you like this?”
“...”
“Fine, whatever. Be that way.”
“Alright, Ashe! Just tell me okay?”
“Are you excited?”
“Sure.”
“Good, because you should be because your favorite author in the world is doing a book signing tour and guess what library made the list?”
“...”
“Felix?”
“...”
“...Felix? Are you okay?”)
Felix shook his head and brought his attention back to Ashe.
“I’m not starstruck,” he insisted. Quiet this time. Less heat.
Ashe tilted his head and dropped the smirk, “No, I guess not. I don’t know why you’d be nervous though.” Ashe hesitated. “The book… really meant that much to you?”
Felix didn’t know what to say to that. It did. It really did.
“Well,” Ashe began again. “The good news is: you’ll have a chance to talk to him about it today. Don’t worry, Felix. I’ll be sure to introduce you to him after the book signing is over. Think about what you want to ask him about.”
I want to ask him how he knows me.
The words died in Felix’s throat. It’s way too crazy.
Sylvain shook one last hand, signed one last title page with his usual flourish, threw one last roguish wink out into the world (a practiced skill from his earlier youth), and finally, finally it was over.
…He didn’t particularly enjoy book signings.
It felt too showboaty. Too many niceties. Too much puffery about his work.
He preferred the quiet, insightful criticism of Claude. He enjoyed the collaborative, engaging conversation of Bernadetta. He cherished the lively but loving analysis of Dorothea.
But duty called, and Sylvain answered. Meandering Sword was doing relatively well, although it wasn’t on track to be his most popular novel, so a small book tour was in order.
Sylvain was okay with this not being his best seller; the story was near and dear to his heart for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out. He kept coming back to his early conversation with Claude. How did he want readers to feel about Hugo?
It was a tough question to answer.
(“Sylvain, this Hugo guy sure is a lot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“His personality. His whole… lone wolf thing. I guess I’m surprised you’re doing a deep dive on a character like this.”
“He’s not really a ‘lone wolf,’ Bernie. He just… He has a hard time… What?”
“Hm, nothing, nothing. Go on!”
“He’s scared of losing people. That’s the key. It’s how fear and love drives all his actions. I think that’s really interesting.”
“I can see all that, I guess. Yeah, that makes sense. He’s a tough nut to crack, huh?”
“Yeah, he kind of is. I think I understand him though.”
“Are you having fun? Writing him?”
“That’s not really the word I’d use… I like it though. I’m really attached to this book.”
“I can tell.”)
Yeah, Sylvain didn’t need this to be a big hit. It meant something to him, even if he couldn’t say what. If it meant something to other people too? That was enough. Getting Hugo’s story out there and spending time with the character was enough…
(“You talk about this character like you’re in love. It’s sickening.”
“Thea, it’s not like-”
“What? It’s true. You get all swoon-y over him. Which I really don’t understand because he is kind of an ass-”
“He’s not an ‘ass!’ He just-”
“See? Why are you defending him? You never get like this with your other characters.”
“...”
“Sylvain?”
“I’m not sure.”)
Sylvain’s fingers tapped along the cover of one copy, while library staff started clearing the room out. Book signings weren’t his favorite things in the world, but he was undeniably good at them. A charming public speaker through and through.
Outside of the actual meet and greet of it all, Sylvain did genuinely enjoy touring the libraries and bookstores he got to visit. Talking with the staff that hosted him was always pleasant. It was how he’d met Bernadetta in the first place.
One of the librarians—Ashe—was walking over from the back of the room, grinning broadly. Really nice guy. Sylvain was a big fan.
“Hey, Ashe,” Sylvain smiled. “Hope that was all good. I think it went well?”
“Absolutely,” said Ashe. “That was great. You’re really well spoken.”
Sylvain rubbed a hand along his neck, “I try. Heh, thanks for helping put all this together. It’s a beautiful library. I’m glad to finally see it.”
Ashe warmed even more at the praise, “Of course. We’re happy to have you here. We’ve got snacks in the break room now. And coffee. C’mon.”
“You got me at coffee,” said Sylvain, and he followed Ashe back through the library’s large rooms and spaces—oaken and marble and columned and ornate. Sunlight streamed through tinted glass windows lined with lacy metalwork that painted intricate shadows on the floors. It was gorgeous. Sylvain really needed to brush up on his architecture sometime.
Ashe led him to a quaint Staff Only room and let him in.
Sylvain’s eyes found the food first, “Hey, thanks. This is really-”
Then they landed on the person leaning on the small kitchen counter.
Ashe blinked at Sylvain’s sudden silence, “Sylvain?”
“Is this a joke?”
Felix hadn’t stayed for the entire book talk. Much less the book signing.
A lot of it felt like puffery, and he wasn’t for that anyways.
Beyond that, and much more importantly, that familiar itch—that prickling sensation—wasn’t just scratching along the back of his neck anymore. The more he listened to Sylvain talk about his work and his book and his silly little stories the stronger it got. Until it evolved into a full blown frenzy, lighting his nerves on fire and racing up and down his spine. It felt like electricity ricocheting through his skeleton. It demanded his attention—screamed at him—in ways that felt urgent, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
…He was really losing it.
And all because Ashe just had to get him to read a stupid book.
So, from the back of the library’s main room, he’d excused himself and sought refuge in the staff lounge. He’d been back there with Ashe plenty of times and knew Ashe would be stopping by after the talk to man the snacks and drinks and catering laid out afterwards.
Felix was disciplined enough to avoid the coffee. He felt jittery enough, like his body was trying to crawl out of his skin of its own accord. Caffeine wasn’t a good idea, so he grabbed one of the deli sandwiches and scarfed that down in an attempt to calm his nerves.
It worked. Or maybe leaving the book talk had worked. There was a clear difference now that he wasn’t in proximity to…
Felix huffed into the currently empty space of the lounge. Was this a mistake? He’d wanted to meet Sylvain Jose Gautier to sate his curiosity, to try to get some answers, but to what questions? What could he reasonably ask without coming across as a crazy person? He pinched the bridge of his nose. This is so fucked.
Clearly, he needed to get out of the library altogether or risk complete embarrassment (and potentially getting Ashe in trouble at work if he really did come across as some sort of psycho stalker fan).
He got up to leave and paused. Some more extra copies of Meandering Sword were laying around. The library had stocked up ahead of today’s event. Felix stared at the cover—the lone, armed silhouette framed by a shield. He swallowed.
Okay, he couldn’t ask anything too crazy… but… maybe… maybe he could ask the one question he cared about most. And the one question that, maybe, wouldn’t set off too many alarm bells. It had taken a while for Felix to accept that he wanted to know… To accept that he was worried…Once he did, it was undeniable.
It kept him up at night.
So much of Hugo’s life in the book was a fantasy retelling of his own. And yet, by the end of it all, Hugo was alone. It was sticking to Felix in ways he didn’t like, compounding the mystery of how this stupid author had written this stupid book in the first place.
So, yeah, he could ask about that or something. It would be like a book talk. Not a weird superstitious confrontation about the origin of the story. Yeah. That would work.
Felix leaned against the nearest counter and nodded to himself. He could, at least, do that much.
In no time or a long time, the door to the lounge opened up again, and-
“Alright, here’s the lounge.”
“Hey, thanks. This is really-”
The prickling sensation turned into a low grade hum shooting straight through every fiber of Felix’s body. He looked up from his staring contest with the floor, and there—closer, closer than in the library’s main space—was Sylvain Jose Gautier framed in the doorway right behind a pleasantly oblivious Ashe.
Felix stared. He took it all in. The red hair. The mild brown eyes.
The stunned expression on his face.
Sylvain looked like several buildings had just dropped on him.
“Is this a joke?”
The tone and the question was enough for Ashe to realize something was up, but he was definitely confused. Fair enough. Join the club.
Ashe blinked, “Um, it’s our usual catering spread. Sorry, did we- do you have allergies? We usually ask about-”
He stopped talking because Sylvain’s eyes were fixed on Felix—fixed and unmoving. Felix didn’t feel like he could move either.
“So,” Ashe cleared his throat. Loudly. “Uh, Sylvain, this is my friend, Felix. He was at the book talk too, and he’s read your work. Felix, Sylvain.”
The spell broke, or Felix shook it off. He stepped forward, and the electricity coursing through his body dulled a little—started to clear. Felix stretched out a hand, “Nice to meet you.”
Sylvain seemed more thrown than Felix, but, after staring at Felix’s hand just a little too long, he finally snapped back to action, “Oh! Sorry, yeah, nice to meet you too.”
Then Sylvain reached forward and grasped Felix’s hand in his.
It was supposed to be a handshake, just a handshake, but as soon as their hands made contact Felix felt the universe explode around him; solid matter burst into particles then reformed moments later, the sun blinked out of existence and back on immediately, gravity shifted altogether. Felix felt the curve of the Earth pull away from his feet, launching him into the stratosphere. He was free falling without anything anchoring him in place except-
Sylvain’s hand was warm.
Ground resettled below Felix’s feet. They were inside the staff lounge at the library.
Sylvain stared at Felix, and one look at his frozen eyes confirmed there was something mutual about that experience.
Ashe glanced back and forth between the two of them and shifted his feet.
“So, uh… The rest of the staff will probably be by soon for… you know, the food. Um, do you want to-”
Sylvain spoke without looking away from Felix—not once, “Do you want to go out for coffee or anything? My treat.”
Felix’s answer was automatic, “Yes.”
Sylvain, by his very nature, did not get nervous meeting new people.
Felix, Felix, Felix…
Felix was the exception. It’d been mere minutes since Ashe introduced them, and Sylvain was already a mess—jittery like his whole body itched. He couldn’t take his eyes off Felix.
Felix. Felix .
He rolled the name around in his head some more, trying to get used to it because, undeniably, Felix was Hugo. Sylvain knew that the way he knew his hair was red. The way he knew leaving the business tract his parents laid out for him to pursue writing was the right call.
Remarkably, Felix seemed to know too, if the other’s reaction was any indicator.
A tense, high-energy silence had developed between them. They’d practically departed the library in quiet, earth-shattering, resounding silence. Now, Felix turned them into what had to be the nearest coffee shop, with shoulders hunched to his ears.
Sylvain barely registered the cafe’s modern decor around them. Felix had somehow magnetized his eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off him—lithe form, bright amber eyes that bordered on gold, dark raven hair tied into a sleek ponytail at the back of his head, and the sharp lines of his face. Even ordering a plain cup of the house roast felt strenuous under these circumstances.
They sat in the back, away from other customers.
Everything about the situation’s strangeness made Sylvain want to avoid eye contact… but he found he couldn’t.
Felix cleared his throat, “So.”
Sylvain chuckled weakly, “So.”
And then —holy shit— Felix actually blushed at that, and it was so charming and so disarming that Sylvain couldn’t help the nervous grin on his own face.
Okay, clearly, it was time to talk.
“So,” Sylvain began, arching an eyebrow and smirking a little. “Ashe said you’ve read my books.”
“I-” Felix’s mouth hung open for one comical second then he snapped it shut, took a tentative sip of his coffee, and settled a little more comfortably into his seat. “I don’t read.”
Sylvain blinked. Well, that wasn’t where he thought this was going. “So, you… haven’t read my work then?”
“No, I- I have.” Felix’s blush got redder.
Sylvain tilted his head. What was the truth? “Okay. Um. Then.”
“I don’t usually read,” Felix went on, and some of the red faded from his face. “But I read your books. Well, one of them first. Ashe recommended it.”
Sylvain nodded. He didn’t have to ask which one. “And then you read the others?”
“Yeah, well- sort of-” Felix flicked some lint off his pants. “I skimmed them once I realized they weren’t the same.”
“Yeah… Right… Yeah, okay.” Sylvain tried not to have an ego, but it was hard not to feel a little wounded over that dismissal of his other work. Not that this was about the quality of Sylvain’s writing. That last thought prompted Sylvain to take the dive—to come dangerously close to what they were both clearly dancing around, “Yeah, Hugo’s only a character in this one.”
Felix’s eyes darted back up to Sylvain’s and held his in a steady intense gaze, “Right.”
More silence.
Sylvain didn’t know what to say next, but- “So, what did you think of it?”
It might have been the final question he could ask without directly acknowledging it, and they both knew it if the way Felix paused to consider his answer was any indicator. Technically, Felix could give him any kind of bland book review right now, and they could leave it at that. Go their separate ways. Without outing themselves as having some kind of reciprocated break from reality or whatever the fuck was going on right now.
But Sylvain already knew what Felix would do because he’d written an entire book filled with what Felix would do and they both knew it-
“Mixed feelings about the main character.”
There was a quirk at the end of Felix’s lip that had to be a smirk. Sylvain smirked back.
“I guess I don’t blame you. That must have been strange.”
Felix seemed a little startled that Sylvain was speaking so close to the truth, but he recovered quickly, “It was… It was weird. How…” He trailed off. Sylvain didn’t know how to finish that question either.
“I don’t know,” said Sylvain. He allowed himself to frown. “I’m really thrown. How long has it been since you read it?”
“Ashe got it to me pretty close to publication,” Felix rolled his eyes. “He’s a huge bookworm.”
Sylvain grinned, “Right. But not you.”
“No,” Felix shifted in his seat. “Not me.”
“So you’ve been sitting on this for months now? Did you talk to Ashe about it?”
“No,” Felix shrugged. He squinted at Sylvain. “Would you have? What would you have said? What can you say about this now?”
Good point. Sylvain nodded, “Yeah, I get that. And that’s why you looked at my other books too… I… I don’t know, Felix. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
He recognized that the name Felix was starting to slot into place. Starting to eclipse the other. Becoming true. He also recognized that he should have been freaking out. Every logical reasonable impulse told him a freakout was the right thing to do.
…But Felix was right in front of him, and things were starting to feel…
Correct.
Felix scoffed, “What? You’re telling me you’ve never met a living version of one of your characters walking around on the streets before?”
It was said with a tough, throwaway casualness, but the underlying tension gave Felix away. There were nerves in his eyes. Sylvain felt it too. He smiled; a familiar fondness—the kind that he’d harbored for his struggling protagonist for ages now—bloomed in him, only this time the blossoms took root in reality. It felt like his heart was growing.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Sylvain echoed. He glanced down at Felix’s hands, clutched around his coffee cup. “Can we…” He paused. Everything about his next request would sound insane, but Felix was clearly on the same page as him so… “Can we try touching hands again?”
Felix bristled, “What- Like what?”
“Just-” Sylvain held his out on the table, palm up, “Just like this. I just want to see…”
Felix stared at Sylvain’s hand like it might bite him. It wasn’t the least flattering look anyone had ever given him (some truly awful morning afters from his past held that title), but it definitely wasn’t flattering. After a lot of internal deliberation, Felix reached his own hand back across the small table and settled it onto Sylvain’s.
It wasn’t the same big bang effect that happened in the library. The atoms of the universe didn’t rearrange themselves, but something still happened. The world still lurched around them and stole Sylvain’s breath away for a moment. Felix seemed to experience something similar.
Sylvain gulped around his nerves and moved to ask another question but Felix cut him off-
“Why-” Felix paused for a second to gather himself. He hadn’t taken his hand out of Sylvain’s. That felt correct too. It felt complete. “Why does… In the book…”
Sylvain waited. He didn’t know where this was going.
“Hugo seems… really lonely at the end.”
Felix’s voice went quieter, and it punched Sylvain straight in his heart. He stared. Of all the questions he’d been anticipating, this wasn’t one of them.
“I…” He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t exactly a question either. “Are you… Are you worried about that?”
Felix shrugged—as if he didn’t care—and stared at the nearest wall. It was transparent though. A bad lie.
Sylvain’s fingers curled up, wrapping around Felix’s, “I want to try one more thing.”
Felix brought his eyes back to Sylvain’s. The vulnerability of his comment and the follow-up left the harsh edges of his face a little softened, “What?”
Sylvain leaned forward, over the table. “Can I?”
His posture made it obvious enough what he meant, and Felix’s eyes widened.
Sylvain’s gut clenched. Was that the line? Was this too far? Was this too crazy?
Felix leaned forward and angled upward, and Sylvain pressed their lips together softly.
It wasn’t a reimagining of the universe, but truth itself. The solidification of truth. Felix felt like the most inevitable force Sylvain had ever encountered, like something he was meant for. Like everything all at once.
The kiss was almost too much to take. Maybe that was why they pulled back, but Felix turned his hand down to grip Sylvain’s back—tight and firm. Sylvain thought he could feel his pulse racing.
It took a lot for Sylvain to speak again.
“I think he was lonely because… I didn’t write myself in.”