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Felix isn’t drunk. Mainly because getting drunk is for actual life problems, which Felix has none of. Drunk problems include Ingrid trying to guilt him into coming home for the holidays this year and his father showing up at Felix’s apartment for a chat with a white box full of pastries that neither of them cares for. Neither of these has happened recently. Ergo, Felix is not drunk.
If, by chance, Felix is trying to get drunk, which he isn’t, he wouldn’t be doing it sitting on these uncomfortable, trying too hard to be trendy, barstools in whatever bar Sylvain’s latest conquest took him to on a date. Certainly, he’d choose better alcohol than whatever shitty half-price drinks Sylvain keeps bringing him. Speaking of-
Sylvain slides onto the empty stool next to him with a drink in each of his hands. The drink closer to Felix is an alarming purple shade, further evidence of Sylvain’s poor taste. Felix reaches past the purple monstrosity to grab the second drink, a much more respectable brown, and takes a sip. He can’t stop the curl of his lip at the overly fruity taste. It’s disgusting.
“I didn’t think you liked Tequila,” Sylvain says, taking a sip from the purple concoction. He swallows, and his lips purse slightly like he’s surprised something that color tasted horrible.
Felix glares first at his glass, then back up at Sylvain. “If you know I don’t like Tequila, why’d you bring me a drink made with it?”
“I didn’t.”
Felix raises an eyebrow to communicate his skepticism, and Sylvain sighs. “I got myself a drink with Tequila. I got you this.” Sylvain gestures toward the purple cocktail and laughs at the disgusted look on Felix’s face. Undeterred, he places the glass in front of Felix, swiping the one Felix had been holding like an ass. “Just try it.”
Felix doesn’t trust either Sylvain or the abomination he thought Felix would like, but Sylvain’s got that puppy dog look on his face that Felix is embarrassingly bad at ignoring. He grabs the glass, frowning at Sylvain to make sure he understands that Felix is doing this against his will, and takes a sip. The liquid is warm going down his throat, spiced in a way that makes his tongue tingle, followed by the familiar burn of whiskey. It’s delicious. Not that he’s going to tell Sylvain that.
“It’s passable.”
Sylvain’s eyes soften at his response, his mouth stretching upwards at the corners. It’s a good look on him, Felix reluctantly admits to himself, then realizes with horror that he’s staring. At Sylvain. Like one of his string of female taggers-on. Felix quickly takes another sip of his drink, nursing the alcohol instead of his massively inconvenient crush on his best friend.
While Felix was busy having an internal crisis, Sylvain had launched into some story about his day, complaining good-naturedly about one of his coworkers. Felix sips his drink while the familiar cadence of Sylvain’s voice washes over him. The bar around them is crowded even for a Friday night, and Felix leans closer to hear him over the chatter and laughter filling the room around them. Despite the crowd, it’s surprisingly nice, Sylvain’s attention a warm weight in Felix’s chest. But like all good things in Felix’s life, Sylvain ruins it.
“So,” Sylvain drawls, signaling the bartender to refill their empty glasses. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
The question catches Felix off guard, partially because Sylvain asked out of nowhere but also because the question is ridiculous. Felix is not bothered because nothing is wrong. He opens his mouth to tell Sylvain as much but snaps it shut when the bartender appears. Sylvain makes idle small talk as the man mixes their drinks with unnecessarily flashy movements. When the bartender accepts a few bills from Sylvain and wanders away to serve another group of patrons, restoring a modicum of privacy, Felix counters, “What makes you think something’s bothering me?”
Sylvain gestures around them as if to imply that Felix’s presence at this bar is some universal signal of discontent, and Felix bristles at the implication. “You’re the one who invited me out,” he reminds Sylvain with a hiss.
“I did,” Sylvain agrees readily before pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “Because I’m such a good friend who can’t, in good faith, ignore such an obvious call for help.”
Felix tries to let that utterly asinine remark pass because Sylvain is goading him into participating in this unnecessary conversation. But Sylvain keeps smiling at him in that annoying way, and Felix has never been able to ignore Sylvan’s needling. He regrets the question before it’s even out of his mouth. “What call for help?”
Sylvain slings an arm around his shoulders, jostling him gently, and Felix considers pushing him away. He doesn’t. “When I asked what you were doing tonight, you said ‘nothing,’” Sylvain says as if that explains anything.
“That’s not a cry for help,” Felix argues. Because it’s not, because nothing is wrong, damn it.
“You always go to the gym on Fridays.”
Felix blinks. He’s not wrong. After spending the week listening to his coworker’s idiotic ideas and typing ‘as per my last email’ on every third reply, he’s usually ready to tear his hair out by the time he leaves the office on Fridays. He can’t seem to leave the week behind until his feet are pounding mile after mile away on the treadmill.
“And,” Sylvain interrupts his thoughts, “your favorite class is on Fridays.”
And that’s- “How do you know that?” Felix hisses, fighting the flush he can feel creeping up his cheeks. It’s true, is the thing. Felix will run until precisely seven fifty-five, walk for exactly three minutes, then go to his favorite calisthenics group class. It’s a challenging class, and the instructor is merciless in her choice of exercises. He likes her, even if she does occasionally try to make small talk with him. Still, he hadn’t realized Sylvain would know that.
“Aw, Felix! There’s nothing wrong with having a schedule.” Sylvain looks delighted, and Felix wants to slap the grin off his face. Or possibly hide under the bar. He’s losing the battle against the blush creeping across his face, and he hopes the dim mood lighting hides his ruddy cheeks. “It’s adorable that you have plans and contingency plans for your exercise classes –“
The fact that Sylvain knows any of this is mortifying, and he is most definitely not pleased that Sylvain remembers little details about him, like his schedule or his favorite alcohol. And he needs to redirect this conversation before Sylvain reveals that he knows about Felix’s favorite running socks or that he’ll glare at whoever dares take his favorite treadmill until they retreat.
“My boss gave the project to the new guy.”
The teasing smile slides off Sylvain’s face, and Felix freezes. He hadn’t meant to bring that up. It’s not important, and he’s an adult. He can handle not being the favorite. He can handle not getting picked even though he’s worked there longer, works longer hours, and has mentioned to his boss that he was interested.
“Oh, Felix.” Sylvain’s hands wrap around his, warm and completely encasing Felix’s. “I’m so sorry. Did he say why?”
Felix shrugs, his gaze sliding down to his empty glass sandwiched between both hands. At his glance, Sylvain orders them another round. When it arrives, Felix downs it like a shot, even though it's clearly meant to be sipped. Sylvain doesn’t say anything, silently sliding his full glass in front of Felix. It’s the purple monstrosity, he notices absently as he takes it.
“He’s qualified,” Felix admits, gaze fixed on his hands.
Sylvain’s large hand slides down to his thigh and stays there, a comforting weight. “So are you, and you’ve been there longer.”
“Sure, but I don’t have family values.” Felix makes the air quotes mockingly. “That’s what my boss said when he announced it.” Felix sneers and makes his voice go nasally, which sounds nothing like his boss, really, but makes a tiny little vindictive part of him feel better. “We’re proud to announce that we’ve selected Richard to lead our new project. He’s proven himself to be a diligent worker and an esteemed family man.” Felix studies the liquid in his glass as he swirls it around in circles. He doesn’t even know why they’re talking about this because he doesn’t care.
“That’s completely unfair.” Sylvain’s voice is tight and quiet like it is when he’s angry.
Sylvain’s anger makes Felix feel warm and less like a fool for being upset about not getting picked. It unseals his mouth, and the rest of the story spills from his lips.
“Richard’s wife and the boss’s wife exchange baking recipes, and I’ve seen them showing each other pictures of their kids. The boss wants to see good values in the workplace and at home. Richard fits that image, and I-“ Felix trails off, unsure how to finish that statement. That he’s the heir to the Fraldarius Company but doesn’t work for his father. Or Felix arrives earlier and stays later than anyone else in the office. Or his desk looks like he could quit today, and they wouldn’t have to clean it out for the next guy.
“Felix—”
Felix interrupts him, unable to keep the words in now that Sylvain’s got him started. “And unless I magically acquire a significant other and prove I’m a family man, he’ll probably never pick me.” He says it resolutely because it’s a fact. And it doesn’t bother him. He’s Felix Fraldarius, competent, hardworking, and could easily get a job anywhere with his father’s connections. It’s just that he’d wanted to do this on his own and prove he didn’t need his last name to succeed.
Felix polishes off the rest of his stolen drink with a sigh and pushes the glass toward Sylvain. It's probably telling that Sylvain wordlessly gets him a refill and mercifully changes the subject. He spends the rest of the night drinking far more than he should and letting Sylvain distract him. And when he wakes up the following day with a nasty hangover and only a spotty memory of the night before, well, just more evidence that Sylvain’s taste in alcohol is shit.
What’s most surprising, after Felix recovers enough to get in his morning workout, is the text waiting for him on his phone when he steps out of the shower.
Sylvain: can’t wait to be your date for your work party! let’s show your boss that you have exceptional family values
It’s followed by a string of kissing faces and, bizarrely, eggplants. Felix reads it three times before he realizes what it means.
He groans. Fake dating? He must have been drunker than he thought to agree to a ridiculous plan like that. He should text Sylvain back and tell him it’s a stupid idea, but he can’t make his fingers move. Sylvain’s a good actor, his traitor brain supplies, he’d probably be able to sell it, and if his bosses think he’s got a steady boyfriend-
Ok, his traitor fingers reply, and that’s that then.
Felix feels significantly worse about the whole thing by the time Sylvain picks him up for the holiday party. Nobody is going to believe Sylvain is dating him. They won’t even have drinks in hand before his boss figures out this is a scam, and then Felix will be the laughingstock of the company. He won’t be able to show his face at work again, forget getting selected for any projects-
“Hey.” Sylvain’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts, his hand coming to Felix’s thigh before squeezing. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Felix scowls and swats his hand away, which deters Sylvain for approximately five seconds before Sylvain’s hand is a grounding weight on his leg again.
“This won’t work.”
“What won’t?”
“This! Us!” Felix gestures between the two of them. “We’re never going to be able to convince my boss that we’re dating. You flirt with everybody, and I can’t be nice.” He throws his hands into the air. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”
Sylvain is uncharacteristically quiet after his outburst, letting the soft music coming from the radio and the rumble of the engine fill the car. He expects Sylvain to withdraw his hand at least, but it stays, and Felix is pathetically grateful.
After what feels like minutes but is probably only a couple of seconds, Sylvain sighs. “Have a little faith, Felix. After watching us tonight, your boss will be convinced we’ve been together for years.”
Felix’s stomach gives a funny little flip at that, and he forces himself to ignore it. Sylvain is doing him a favor; he reminds himself sternly. They’re not together. Felix grunts, more an acknowledgment that he heard Sylvain than agreement, and Sylvain glances over. His eyes are soft, and he’s wearing his genuine smile, not the fake one Felix hates, and Felix is in so much trouble here.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” Felix snaps at him.
Felix pinches Sylvain’s bicep to pull his attention away from the couple he’s been charming for the past few minutes. Felix isn’t paying attention to their conversation, too busy looking around for his boss, but whatever nonsense Sylvain’s been spouting seems to have earned them an invite for a double date. Which… what? Felix isn’t even sure which member of the couple he works with, and now they’re invited over. He’s reluctantly impressed with Sylvain’s acting skills, but the real test is headed their way now.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Sylvain turns to face him, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind Felix’s ear. The woman makes a cooing noise that Felix refuses to acknowledge.
He leans closer to whisper into Sylvain’s ear. “My boss is coming.” He flicks his gaze meaningfully to the right, and Sylvain glances over, picking up his cue.
Felix feels a warm palm press him further into Sylvain’s space. He considers pinching Sylvain again to do something with this weird feeling in his chest, but Sylvain leans down, lips brushing against Felix’s ear as he replies. “Older gentleman? In a boring striped tie and too-short pants?”
Felix can’t hold back his snort. He usually spends these things standing by himself, drinking too much wine, and picking at bland canapes. He’s never tempted to socialize with his coworkers, who mingled in groups like honking geese, but it’s nice having Sylvain at his side.
Somebody clears their throat loudly. “Is that Felix?” his boss asks as if he hadn’t made eye contact with Felix before walking over. “And who is this with you?”
“Your impression of his voice was spot on,” Sylvain teases him in a low enough tone not to be overheard. Felix kicks him discretely in the shin, and Sylvain pulls away just far enough to greet their guest. The wattage of Sylvain’s smile stuns Felix even though it’s not directed at him.
“You must be Felix’s boss. I’m Sylvain Gautier, Felix’s partner.” Sylvain emphasizes the word partner by drawing Felix tighter against his side. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to attend one of these before. The timing just hasn’t worked out. But if I’d known you had such great taste in wine, I’d have made more of an effort to rearrange my schedule.”
Sylvain’s flourishing of his wine glass earns him a jovial laugh from Felix’s boss. “I’m glad you approve of the vintage. I picked it myself. But enough about the wine, I didn’t realize Felix had a partner. How long have you been together?”
Felix feels himself freeze. Of course, people would ask questions about their supposed relationship. Why hadn’t they talked through any details? But before Felix can get worked up, Sylvain continues smoothly.
“We’re childhood sweethearts,” Sylvain gushes with a besotted look in Felix’s direction. “We’ve been dancing around each other for ages, but Felix finally confessed, and the rest is history.”
It’s so absurd that Felix barely withholds a snort. Him confessing? Unlikely. His boss would never believe that Felix would be the one making romantic declarations, but to his surprise, his boss starts nodding. “Not surprising, not surprising. Felix is a hard charger, always going after what he wants.”
Felix is on another planet. His boss, who has never paid Felix even half a compliment, is praising him. Felix watches them interact with detached awe as his boss is thoroughly charmed by Sylvain. Not two minutes into the conversation, his boss insists that Sylvain call him Jim. Three minutes after that, they’re both invited to Jim’s house because his wife would be delighted to exchange recipes with Sylvain.
Their laughter is like a beacon, coworkers drifting closer to lurk on the outskirts of Sylvain’s performance. And it’s a remarkable performance. Choreographed gestures accompany stories of him and Felix, all true but romanticized to highlight their relationship. He has his audience in stitches listening to his attempts to woo an oblivious Felix.
Usually, this type of attention would have Felix retreating to the wall, but Sylvain’s glances, overflowing with affection, keep him rooted. He includes Felix, too. Not in a way where Felix feels pressured to be witty or carry the conversation, just an acknowledgment that Felix is there, and Sylvain is thinking of him even with his captivated audience.
It's easy in a way that conversations with strangers or even acquaintances have never been for Felix, and he finds himself watching Sylvain as the conversation flows around him. His hair is different, Felix realizes, gelled into artful waves that frame his face and draw attention to his eyes, which seem to sparkle under the bright office lights. He’s stunning, Felix admits to himself as Sylvain throws his head back to laugh, showing off the long line of his neck and drawing attention to the unbuttoned buttons of his dress shirt.
As soon as the thought crosses Felix’s mind, his stomach clenches uncomfortably. He has no right to think those thoughts about Sylvain, his friend who’s here as a favor to help Felix make a good impression on his boss. His friend, who has never expressed any romantic feelings for Felix. He’s getting carried away, pulled into Sylvain’s gravity, and forgetting that this arrangement is not a relationship.
“Right, Felix?” Sylvain jostles his shoulder affectionately, and Felix swears that all the eyes in the room shift to him. He has no idea what Sylvain said or what kind of response he’s expected to give, and he feels his face heat against his will. Felix has always been an obvious blusher and knows everybody will notice.
One of his coworkers sighs longingly, and his boss booms out a laugh. “No need to be embarrassed, Felix,” his boss says. “It’s a good thing to be devoted to your partner.” Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to expect a response from Felix, who feels utterly incapable of forming one, and shifts his attention back to Sylvain. “So, you two are very serious then?”
Before answering, Sylvain takes a moment to press a kiss to his forehead, his lips cool against Felix’s skin. “Oh yeah, every time we have dinner with Felix’s dad, we have to dodge questions about the engagement announcement.” Suddenly, Felix’s attention, like everybody else’s in the room, is hanging onto Sylvain’s every word. “But these things can’t be rushed! Felix deserves the perfect proposal even if he pretends he isn’t a romantic.”
He glances meaningfully at Felix, and there’s a collective sigh from the group around them. Felix’s heart is hammering like he’s in his calisthenics class. This isn’t real, he tells himself, but it’s difficult believing it with Sylvain’s undivided attention on him and the warmth of his palm searing into Felix’s back. Then, despite Felix’s belief that the situation can’t get any worse for him, Sylvain turns back to the crowd and seals his fate.
“I can’t wait too long, though-“ Sylvain lets the sentiment hang in the air until his audience is physically leaning forward before he drops the hammer on Felix’s sanity. “We’ve been talking about adopting kids, and I promised Felix’s dad I’d make an honest man of him first.”
The conversation moves on without Felix, who’s left reeling from Sylvain’s declaration. He’s never even thought about having children. In fact, two minutes ago, he would have sworn that he didn’t even like children, but as Sylvain talks about engagements and marriage and kids, Felix is hit with a wave of longing for a future that’s surprisingly easy to picture.
Sylvain would insist on a big wedding, which Felix would pretend to hate but secretly enjoy having everybody witness his claim. They’d honeymoon somewhere cold with luxury lodges for Sylvain and winter sports for Felix. They’d buy an apartment together, within walking distance of many restaurants and Felix’s gym, with at least three bedrooms.
Felix digs his nails into his palms hard enough to dispel the fantasy and reminds himself harshly that there’s nothing between them but platonic affection and years of friendship. The night will end, Felix will return to his empty, Sylvain-less apartment, and Sylvain will return to his endless string of admirers, usually tall, light-haired, and chatty. Not that Felix has been keeping track. And no matter how much Felix might like Sylvain, Sylvain has never glanced back.
Felix mentally adds falling in love with your best friend who doesn’t love you back to his list of drunk-worthy problems and resolves to drink enough to forget this whole conversation. Maybe if he can forget how his chest tightened when Sylvain talked about children or how it felt to be tucked under his arm, he’ll be satisfied with his job, gym, and single status. And if getting drunk proves difficult with Sylvain insisting he drink water between every glass of wine and keeping his plate full of satisfactorily spiced hors d’oeuvres, Felix will have to forget that, too.
After the party, which has earned Felix the approval of his boss, the envy of his coworkers, and a new flavor for his lifelong crush on Sylvain, Felix expects his life to return to normal. Normal, in this instance, primarily means spending all his time alone. Felix goes to work, fields a litany of attempts at smalltalk from people who haven’t so much as said boo to him in the years he’s worked there, stays until the janitors are trying to glare him out of the office so they can finish the nightly cleaning, goes to the gym until ten, and then goes home. Alone. Like he has every day for the last few years.
Except, everything doesn’t go back to normal because Sylvain inserts himself everywhere into Felix’s life. Sylvain has always texted Felix randomly throughout the week, but now he texts Felix multiple times per day. Apparently, Sylvain thinks he wants to know about the lady in front of him at the grocery store or what he’s eating for lunch today. Sometimes he nags Felix to take breaks or leave work early so they can get dinner after his workout. Weirdest of all, he’s taken to sending Felix random images with witty one-liners that Felix doesn’t understand.
Felix is standing in the break room, waiting impatiently in line for the microwave, when his phone pings with a notification. Sylvain had sent him a picture of a black cat lounging on a sunny windowsill with an accompanying message of heart emojis and exclamation points. It is, admittedly, a very cute picture, but he’s not sure what Sylvain expects him to do with it.
“Is that from your boyfriend?” asks the woman in front of him as she slides her lunch into the microwave. She nods toward his phone, and Felix fights down his instinctive response to snap at her to mind her business. He’s not getting along with his coworkers exactly, they’re all still idiots, but he’s not actively avoiding them either. This new friendliness is, surprisingly, pleasant and altogether Sylvain’s influence. Besides, he rather likes people thinking Sylvain is taken. He nods.
She sighs, wistful. “That’s so sweet. My boyfriend never thinks about me enough to text me during the day. You’re so lucky!”
She’s right, Felix realizes. If Sylvain treated his partners like he’s been treating Felix, he would be an excellent boyfriend. Not for Felix, because Sylvain doesn’t see him like that, but for whoever gets to keep him. Felix is getting good at pretending thoughts like that don’t hurt him. He’s saved from responding to his coworker by the microwaving beeping.
“All yours,” she chirps as she pulls her Tupperware out and leaves the room. “Have a great day, Felix!” she adds and is gone before Felix can respond, which is probably for the best. He has no idea what her name is.
As Felix waits for his food to reheat, he realizes that their interaction cleared up something bothering him. Sylvain texts him while he’s at work in case one of his coworkers is nearby. It would be strange that Felix’s partner never communicated with him, and Sylvain never does anything by halves. He’s just playing his role as Felix’s devoted partner, not texting just because he wants to.
Somebody clears their throat behind him, and Felix realizes the microwave is blinking tiny zeros at him. He grabs his lunch and flees from the break room. He goes back to his desk to eat his meal. It tastes even blander than usual.
If it was just the texting, Felix might be able to get over Sylvain or at least go back to living in self-imposed ignorance of his feelings, but Sylvain is seemingly determined to be everywhere in Felix’s life.
He picks Felix up from the gym when the weather is shitty, Felix’s favorite playlist already coming through the speakers as he slips into the passenger seat. Pictures of the two of them and little notes end up in Felix’s lunch and mysteriously migrate to the walls of Felix’s cube. Sylvain drags him to restaurants he’s been meaning to try but hasn’t found the time to or shows up at his apartment with a movie Felix had mentioned wanting to watch.
Other changes start happening as well.
Felix starts leaving work on time, eager to get to an earlier class at the gym to meet Sylvain for dinner or drinks. Despite his working shorter hours, his status at work is improving. His boss smiles at him in passing and, at their last group meeting, announced Felix as the lead for the new high-visibility project. Most surprisingly, the announcement was met with approving nods and pats on the back from his coworkers, with more than one person joking that he’d better let his boyfriend do something to celebrate.
Felix knows he should be happy, but mostly his chest feels tight when he thinks about Sylvain. He’s losing track of the fact that Sylvain is doing Felix a favor by pretending to date him, nothing more. Sylvain is operating under the pretense that they’re in a platonic arrangement, and it’s not fair to him that Felix can’t seem to control his feelings.
They’re battering at his walls every time Sylvain smiles at him, making him want to confess when Sylvain’s hand rests on his leg while they’re driving. It’s not Sylvain’s fault that Felix’s traitor heart is making this into something it isn’t.
He has to end this before Sylvain figures it out because he’ll survive the loneliness when Sylvain goes back to the periphery of Felix’s life. He’ll survive the heartache of losing the most meaningful (fake) relationship he’s ever experienced, but he won’t survive losing Sylvain entirely when he finds out Felix is taking advantage of him.
It’ll hurt, but it’s okay. He’s not going to cry about it or anything. Felix will sit Sylvian down, explain that he can’t do this anymore, and move on. It won’t be easy, but he’s done more challenging things.
Despite his decision, Felix can’t find a good time to have the conversation with Sylvain. Sure, they spend plenty of time together, but there’s always a good reason not to tell him. He’s developed the habit of practicing what he’ll say every night in the mirror, but the second he’s standing in front of Sylvain, all the words disappear.
He’ll do it tonight; Felix decides for the fifteenth time. They’re sitting in Felix’s apartment watching a dubbed fighting movie Sylvain brought, one that Sylvain doesn’t care for but Felix loves. Felix’s feet are shoved under Sylvain’s thighs, and his thumb is rubbing circles into the skin of Felix’s ankle. The plot is simple, good vs. evil, but Felix can’t seem to concentrate at all. He keeps looking at Sylvain, at his damp hair and his worn college sweatshirt that’s falling apart at the cuffs. The light from the screen flashes across his eyes, his features twisting into disbelief as one of the characters onscreen executes some inhuman feat.
Felix swallows around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. Sylvain is here, watching a movie he doesn’t even like just because Felix wants to, and Felix is in love with him. He wants Sylvain to text him, go to dinners with him, watch moves with him, and go to work parties with him because he loves Felix back. Not because of their arrangement.
“This guy reminds me of you!” Sylvain gestures at the screen with the hand that’s not squeezing Felix’s calf. “He acts all aloof on the outside, but he’s really a sweet guy. Just like you. Right, Felix?” Sylvain turns towards him with a smile that slides right off his face when he sees Felix’s face. “Felix? Felix, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you crying?”
His large hands cup Felix’s face, thumbs whipping tears as they fall down his cheeks. Felix hadn’t realized he was crying, but now that Sylvain’s attention is on him, he can’t seem to stop. He tries to turn away, but Sylvain’s grip is firm. He’s going to make somebody so happy one day, Felix understands, and if that person doesn’t realize what they have, Felix will kill them. He sobs harder.
“Okay,” Sylvain says, barely audible over Felix’s sobs. “Let it out.”
The next thing he knows, Felix is sitting across Sylvain’s lap, in the circle of Sylvain’s arms, and he gratefully buries his face into Sylvain’s sweatshirt. Sylvain’s hands rub soothingly into his back as he mourns the loss of this thing between them. Mourns that it was never real.
When Felix’s tears have finally dried, and he feels not better really, but ready to do what needs to be done, he pulls away. Sylvain is looking at him, forehead wrinkled and mouth turned down at the corners. He was having a nice time before Felix ruined it. Sylvain deserves better, better than him, and that thought gives him the confidence he hasn’t been able to muster since they began this farce.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Sylvain’s frown gets more pronounced. “Do what?” He looks completely baffled. Usually, Sylvain seems to understand what Felix is trying to say, and in the face of Sylvain’s confusion, Felix flounders. He opts for pointing between them until Sylvain seems to catch on.
“You want to break up?”
It should be a joke, they’re not dating, but something about Sylvain’s tone seems to be genuinely asking. And okay, if he’s going to make Felix explain, Felix will explain. Once his throat comes unstuck, and he can remember all those words he practiced. In the end, the only one he manages to force out is “Yes.”
He expects Sylvain to perk up, relieved that he can go back to whatever he usually does when he’s not with Felix, but Sylvain looks miserable. His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes, to Felix’s horror, look wet.
“Sylvain-“ Felix begins, faltering as a tear slips down Sylvain’s cheek. He’s never seen Sylvain cry before, not even when they were children. It was always Felix who was the crybaby, always Felix running into Sylvain’s arms because even at six years old, he always made everything better. Felix reaches out, desperate to wipe away the tear and, with it, Sylvain’s sadness, but Sylvain turns his head away. Felix lets his hand drop to his lap.
This is going so much worse than Felix imagined, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.
“Why?” Sylvain’s voice is raspy. He stares at the television pointedly, not at Felix. It’s a simple question, but not one Felix expected to hear. “Why do you want to break up?” Sylvain exhales sharply, rubs at his eyes, then turns back toward Felix. His eyes are still red. “Because honestly, Felix, I thought it was going well. And if I’m doing something that you don’t like, I’d like a chance to make it better.”
Felix shakes his head before Sylvain finishes speaking. “No, you’re perfect,” he admits. Because it’s true. Sylvain has been more than a perfect boyfriend. He just doesn’t love Felix the way Felix loves him.
“Then why?”
“Because I love you!” Felix snaps. Sylvain’s eyes widen, and Felix flinches. He hadn’t meant to say that. In fact, he wasn’t planning on ever confessing to Sylvain. Felix springs to his feet and starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch. Since his traitor mouth has decided to start this, he might as well finish it. “I’ve been in love with you-” he bites out, “since forever, and I thought I could handle pretending to date you to get the respect I deserve at work-“
“Felix-“ Sylvain tries to interrupt, but Felix can’t stop now. It feels like his words are bubbling up, and he’s helpless to do anything but let them out.
“-but it turns out I can’t. I want us to be real, to be boyfriends, and you don’t. So, I can’t do this anymore.” When his words dry up, the only sound in the room is the clanging of swords coming from the TV and the low hum of the heater.
Sylvain stands from the couch and walks over to stop in front of him. Felix can’t bring himself to look up. Instead, he focuses on his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles are white. Sylvain reaches out and gently unfurls them before cupping them between his palms.
“Felix.” He tries to make eye contact, but Felix stubbornly avoids him. “Felix, look at me.” Sylvain is pleading, and Felix still can’t refuse him. He takes a moment to make sure his expression is neutral before he glances up. Sylvain is smiling at him, soft and fond, and it takes all of Felix’s willpower not to look away again.
“Sweetheart.” Sylvain’s voice is barely audible, even though they’re only inches apart. “Why do you think this isn’t real?”
Felix blinks. “You never said otherwise.”
Sylvain’s fingers rub soothing circles into the backs of his hands. “Why would I need to when you’re the one who asked me out?”
What? Felix tries to pull away, but Sylvain tightens his grip. This is nonsense. Felix has been losing sleep over this for weeks. He certainly hasn’t asked Sylvain out.
“It’s not nonsense,” Sylvain contradicts, and Felix realizes he’s been rambling. “Don’t you remember the night we went out to the bar? We were drinking to commiserate your boss’s unfair selection process.” Felix nods along because, of course, he remembers. He’s never been able to hold his liquor like Sylvain can, but he’s not a total lightweight. “When I suggested you bring somebody as your plus one, you said the only person you could tolerate is me. After which you confessed your feelings, it was surprisingly romantic for you-”
Felix feels like the floor beneath his feet is disappearing. Surely Sylvain is joking. At best, his memories of that night are fuzzy, but nothing about this makes sense. Him confessing? Except, a small voice in his head suggests, everything, the rides home, the weekend dates, the constant texting, makes more sense if-
“I told you I loved you, too, so we’re dating.” Sylvain looks so sincere, and he’s here in Felix’s apartment, declaring his love for Felix, and Felix’s face is on fire. “Unless you don’t want to date any-.”
“No!” Felix interrupts, his voice coming out too loud for how close they’re standing. He clears his throat and continues, quieter. “No, I don’t want to break up.” It feels mortifying saying things like this out loud, but the last traces of heaviness lift from Sylvain’s face, and he draws Felix into his arms.
“I love you, Felix Fraldarius, and I’m happy we’re dating,” Sylvain whispers into his hair, and Felix shudders. He buries his face into the worn material of Sylvain’s shirt and feels Sylvain laugh at him from where he’s tucked under Sylvain’s chin. Sylvain graciously lets him hide, swaying them gently side to side while he hums.
Despite the mortification of this whole conversation, Felix feels lighter than he has in weeks. Sylvain loves him back. Sylvain is his to keep. “I love you, too,” he manages to whisper into Sylvain’s shirt. He gets a kiss on his temple for his trouble. They stay just like that for a few minutes before Sylvain, as always, decides to ruin the moment.
“Can I just clarify something?” Sylvain asks, and something in his tone puts Felix immediately on edge. This is his teasing voice.
Felix groans. “No.”
“You thought we were fake dating to show your boss you had family values.” It doesn’t sound like a question, so Felix doesn’t respond and decides to pinch him in the side instead. Sylvain grabs his hand with a laugh and continues, undeterred, “Which makes sense for the party since your boss was actually there and all, but what did you think was happening tonight? Or on all our other dates?”
This conversation has somehow become even more mortifying, and he stays silent, refusing to engage.
“Sylvain!” Felix shouts as Sylvain sweeps him into his arms and deposits him on the couch. He pushes Felix down when he tries to sit up and climbs on top of him. He’s heavy, but in a way that makes Felix feel grounded, and he’s beaming, with no traces of the tears from earlier. Felix bites his lips to keep from smiling back. He’s not going to encourage this type of behavior.
Sylvain’s smile gets even more prominent. “I can’t believe you thought I was such a diligent fake boyfriend!” Felix furrows his brow when Sylvain kisses his nose and tries to shove him off, which leads to them wrestling on the couch.
By the time Sylvain has used his bulk to pin Felix, the credits are playing on the screen. They’re both breathing heavily, and Sylvain’s eyes are shining. “But really, Felix,” Sylvain gasps out. “I let you bully me through your crazy workouts. I let you pick the movie every week even though it’s always action, never anything slightly romantic. I even let you order all the spicy dishes at the restaurant last week. How could you think I wasn’t crazy about you?”
When Sylvain lays it out like that, it seems ridiculous that Felix couldn’t put it together. He scowls, shifting then notices how tightly they’re pressed together. “Wait,” he says, “If we’re dating for real, why haven’t you made a move? I thought you always put out on a first date!”
It’s Sylvain’s turn to groan and bury his face in Felix’s neck. “Felix!” He laughs. “I was trying to be respectful. Prove that you were more than a booty call!”
Felix considers for a moment. “If I get you as a boyfriend, I want the whole experience,” he decides.
Sylvain’s head pops up, and his eyes are dark when they meet his. “Okay,” he says, and the tone of his voice sends shivers down Felix’s skin. “I can work with that.”
Any response Felix tries to make is swallowed by Sylvain’s tongue. Felix fights Sylvain for a minute before he relaxes and lets Sylvain take charge of the kiss, enjoying the sensation of kissing his boyfriend.
Sylvain is his boyfriend.
And maybe in a few years, he’ll have those things Sylvain was talking about at the party, too. But for now, Sylvain’s hands are wandering, and Felix lets himself get drawn into Sylvain’s rhythm.