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Felix flops down on a stool by the vanity in his room, pouting. Sylvain doesn’t seem to notice as he positions himself behind him, reaching for long, baby blue ribbons hand-picked for Felix given the special occasion.
“Sylvain,” says Felix, “what is marriage?”
Sylvain catches his gaze while sectioning off pieces of hair. “Whatever prompted this question?”
“I don’t know. I heard Glenn talking about it. With Ingrid. He thinks I’m too little to understand.” Felix scoffs, his frown deepening. Sylvain smiles, soft and fond, then begins to braid.
“I don’t think he means it that way, Fe. He probably just doesn’t want you to worry about stuff like that yet.”
“But it’s not fair! He always leaves me out of adult stuff! He treats me like a baby.”
“You kind of are.”
Felix opens his mouth to protest, but decides glaring at Sylvain will be more effective. It isn’t; Sylvain’s just holding back a laugh now. And poorly. Felix scowls, smacking his hands away. The ribbons slip through the redhead’s fingers upon impact, and Felix watches in satisfaction as they sink to the floor. He considers crushing them beneath his boot for good measure, but concludes stomping out the door might better prove his point. “Forget it,” Felix mutters, turning on his heel. “I’ll go ask someone else.”
Sylvain chuckles and takes a step forward, grabbing the younger’s wrist with ease. Curse those long legs of his. “I’m just teasing, Fe! Besides, there’s no way your father is going to let you attend the Founding Day celebration looking like that.”
Sylvain leads him—well, more like drags him—back to the chair and Felix slumps over in defeat. Sylvain has the decency to not make fun of him for it, though he does take his sweet time preparing all those blasted pins and ribbons. Felix huffs, impatient. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Oh, right! Marriage.” Sylvain taps his chin, searching for the right words. Felix takes note of how constipated Sylvain looks when asked to use his brain. “I think… I think it’s when you like someone,” he says finally. “Like, really like them, more than anyone or anything in the world. And if they feel the same way about you, you get to spend every moment together. You make it official that they’re your best friend for life.”
Felix twists his lips in contemplation. “That would mean we’re married, right?”
Sylvain laughs, seemingly under the impression it’s a joke. Felix’s bottom lip begins to quiver then, forcing the other boy to regain his composure. He clears his throat before speaking again. “N-no, Fe, it’s not quite like that.”
“So,” Felix blinks the tears from his eyes. “So you think I’m unmarriageable?”
“Of course you’re marriageable!” Sylvain says hastily. “It’s just… we can’t get married.”
“I don’t understand. We both like each other. Therefore, we’re married.”
“I know, but, it’s a bit more… complicated.” Sylvain makes a funny face. “We’d have to like… kiss and stuff. Not to mention, there would be a big celebration to make it all official. And you’ve never liked those.”
“I do when you’re there,” Felix says quietly. What he doesn’t mention is the dull ache in his chest at Sylvain’s words. What’s so bad about kissing? Sure, Felix is a little inexperienced.
Okay, maybe he’s not experienced at all.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t learn. Besides, if he’s to kiss anyone, it may as well be Sylvain. He trusts him. And he’s not terrible looking. Far from it, actually. Not that Felix will say that to his face.
“Hey, c’mere,” says Sylvain, silencing his thoughts. Felix obeys, allowing the other to embrace him from behind. A sigh escapes him at the contact, and he snuggles into the warmth as Sylvain rests a chin on his shoulder. The sensation tickles a bit, and the way Sylvain is looking at him now, eyes soft with adoration, leaves a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.
Felix maintains a normal body temperature out of spite.
“You know I love spending time with you,” Sylvain begins, slow and reassuring. “To be honest, Fe, you’re the only reason I want to go to these things anymore.”
Felix perks up a bit at this. “Really?”
“Would I ever lie to you?”
“No.” Felix’s answer is immediate. Because he wouldn’t; it’s the first promise they ever made to each other. Sylvain grins, gives him a squeeze, and stands up to admire his work.
“Well, look at you!” he says triumphantly, one hand on either hip, and Felix finally allows himself a good look. Sylvain had settled for a half-up half-down style, braids and ribbons intricately woven throughout the updo. He even remembered to leave out a few delicate strands of hair, helping frame the face; a perfect finishing touch.
The longer Felix stares at his reflection, the more his cheeks redden. He feels…
“Pretty.”
Sylvain beams, pleased with the answer. “You’ll be the most handsome one there, Fe,” he says. “All the girls in the Kingdom won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you. Just you wait.”
Well that ruined it. Felix scrunches his nose in disgust.
“Yuck.”
Sylvain breaks into a fit of laughter. “Aw, c’mon, Fe. At least give one special girl a dance.”
“I don’t want to talk to any girls.”
“You haven’t even tried.”
“Because none of them interest me!” Felix snaps, but Sylvain doesn’t want to hear it.
“One is sure to change your mind. After all, there’s no shortage of maidens in the Kingdom looking to settle down.”
“That’s the problem,” Felix points out. “They don’t like me, they like the idea of me.”
Sylvain pauses, as if digesting the words, and Felix takes it as an opportunity for persuasion. Hopping off the chair, he looks up at the other in earnest. “Nobody knows me better than you do. I don’t see the point in starting over with someone else just to make other people happy.”
”…I know.”
“No you don’t, or else you wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince me otherwise!”
Sylvain crouches down to his level, rubbing Felix’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “I’m just trying to help you understand the bigger picture, Fe. You know how important it is to remain loyal to your house. To continue your lineage. It’s all to protect the people,” he says, in the most unconvincing way possible.
“You sound just like everyone else.”
Sylvain exhales slowly, then takes Felix’s hand. He squeezes three times. Felix squeezes back.
Their non-verbal way of saying I love you.
“Just think about it, okay?”
____
Well, Felix thought about it, and it ended terribly for everyone involved. Founding Day’s always long and boring. There’s too much singing, too many speeches and too much Sylvain-not-paying-attention-to-him.
Really, what happened isn’t Felix’s fault at all.
It’s because of a girl.
Arguably the stupidest girl in all of Faerghus.
She had the stupidest smile Felix had ever seen, paired with a stupid laugh and stupid fluttering eyelashes and even stupider strawberry plump lips that she puckered at the redhead every two seconds.
Looking at her, Felix finally understood why some people were better off dead.
After all, if she didn’t exist, she wouldn’t have been the girl stealing every dance with Sylvain—and standing far too close, might he add—than what should be deemed appropriate at a royal celebration. Sylvain didn’t seem to mind, though. He never does. He’s a magnet for girls, what with his smooth tongue and overall damn charm and amiability.
Every attribute that Felix admires him for, and every attribute Felix didn’t seem to develop himself.
Gods, why’s he so mad about this, anyway? It’s not like him and Sylvain are married.
Which is very unfair, if he does say so himself, and Felix has been being really brave about it. That’s more than he can say for Sylvain, who was honestly pretty dramatic about the idea earlier. And for what? He spends most of his time with Felix anyway—what’s so different about making it “official?”
There’s no Felix without Sylvain. Surely, Sylvain knows that.
Besides, what can that stupid girl give Sylvain that Felix can’t?
Felix sighs, remembering how furious he grew watching their every interaction. It was so pretentious, so repulsive, smothered with disingenuous intent on both sides, and he wouldn’t stand for it.
Maybe that’s why he resorted to punching the hussy when she came up to him and introduced herself with that wicked grin of hers.
She likely has a broken nose. Felix did hear a crack when his fist made contact with her stupid, stupid face. And then he ran away immediately.
Far, far away.
He even ran away from all his favorite hiding spots. Sylvain knows each and every one of them, and Felix can’t risk being found by the airhead. Not now. Problem is, it’s getting dark. Very dark. And he can see practically nothing through his tears.
People are likely looking for him already, though. The little wench definitely ratted him out, and Sylvain isn’t that dumb. Neither is his brother. Felix is notorious for his ill temper; they’d still suspect him even if he were halfway across the continent.
However, for the first time in a long time, Felix doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want Sylvain to touch him. He doesn’t want to forgive him or melt into his arms like he usually does. He hates how Sylvain makes him feel. How Sylvain doesn’t understand how boring girls are. How Sylvain doesn’t understand why Felix wants nothing to do with them.
He brings his knees to his chest, trembling. He didn’t have time to grab a cloak, and winter in the Kingdom is ruthless. His clothes are covered in snow, practically on the brink of turning into ice, and whatever footprints made on the journey are long gone; he couldn’t find his way back even if he tried. He’s stuck, and he’s numb, and he might not even survive. Felix feels a pang of worry in his chest.
Maybe they aren’t looking for him.
Maybe everyone decided Felix is too much to handle, that he’s too irresponsible to be an heir, that he’s fragile and emotional and a crybaby and everything Glenn isn’t. He’s simply a backup if anything goes wrong. Something easily replaceable. If he dies here, it’ll be of his own doing and no one will have to feel responsible. It’d be hard to mourn at all, because Felix did it to himself. He’ll always be a second choice.
Not just to Sylvain.
To everybody.
“For the love of Sothis!”
Felix jumps at the voice, having no time to panic as survival instincts kick in, yanking him to his feet. He assumes a running stance, only to realize there’s nowhere to run to. Thick blankets of white cover the premises, piling up at his knees; escaping will prove a difficult feat. In the seconds it takes Felix to plot another form of exit, he’s swept forcibly from the ground directly into a sturdy embrace. He shrieks and thrashes about in response, kicking and scratching and clawing at whomever dares hold him hostage.
“Felix, hey—Felix, stop it! Stop it! It’s me!”
Felix freezes. He leans back just enough to get a glimpse of icy blue eyes and tousled bangs, navy hair falling loose from its ties. He breathes in the familiar scent of pine, cinnamon, and snow.
“G-Glenn?”
“Felix, are you—”
“Glenn!” Felix says, relieved. He flings his arms around his brother’s neck, squeezing tightly. Glenn makes a strangled noise as he adjusts their position, beginning to murmur words of comfort into Felix’s hair. A minute passes before Glenn pulls away, shifting Felix to his hip and looking him over with wild eyes.
“Felix. Thank the goddess. Are you hurt?”
Yes.
“N-no.”
“Don’t lie to me. Tell me where it hurts.”
“M’just cold.”
“Yes, well, that’s evident,” Glenn huffs. He gives Felix a firm shake. “What were you thinking, Felix? Running off like that? Do you have any idea how long we’ve been looking for you? If something had happened to you, I—” Glenn’s voice breaks mid-sentence. He swallows, squeezing both eyes shut and taking a shaky breath. When they open, he’s no longer looking at Felix, but through him, gaze unfocused; haunted. Felix shivers at the sight, and then hiccups, his brother’s stern tone triggering a flood of tears that threaten to disturb the lingering silence.
“P-please don’t be mad,” says Felix, voice wavering.
Glenn engulfs him in another hug, this one longer than the last. “Don’t you cry now,” he says. “And don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? You scared father and I to death.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Glenn sighs, rocking back and forth. It’s soothing. In fact, Felix is just about to doze off when his brother speaks again.
“Tell me what happened, Felix.”
Felix sniffles. “You’ll make fun of me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Felix leans back to look at his brother and holds out his pinky. Glenn laces it with his own and presses a kiss between their fingers. Satisfied, Felix continues.
“S-Sylvain doesn’t want to marry me.”
Glenn stares at him blankly, hesitating for a moment before giving his response. “I see.”
“He doesn’t even have time for me anymore, Glenn. He doesn’t like me.”
“Now, Felix, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, and you know it,” his brother says, frowning. “You should’ve seen the way he cried when he heard you ran away.”
“Well, good! I hate him and I’ll hate him forever and I never want to see him again!”
“Dramatic, as usual. I’m afraid you get that from me,” Glenn laughs. “Come, now, I need to alert the others. And we need to get you home before you die of frostbite, or father dies from a heart attack.”
“...Will you still read me a story before bed?”
“Don’t I always?”