Chapter Text
So.
It's been about a month since you escaped the loops. The Craft sickness was kicking your butt pretty hard, and then processing the loops was even harder. Each of your family members sat down with you privately along with one of the House's therapists to talk through the horrible, horrible things you said to them the day before the big event, and each time you resisted the urge to loop backwards to undo the damage. "Imagine facing the consequences of your own actions!" you vividly remember Isabeau singing out in an uncharacteristically sardonic tone. He assured you that he was over it now and that he was ready to explore a deeper relationship with you, but there was a part of you who couldn't let go of the guilt.
... Which, well, brings you to your first night out of the infirmary, at an inn not too far away from Dormont. All the people of Vaugarde keep trying to offer you and the other Saviors things for free, including separate rooms for each of you, but Isabeau insisted on sharing a room with you.
... And like, you're not opposed to it. You two have shared a bed before. In fact, you've shared a bed many times before. It's just... a little awkward now that all pretense has been dropped, and you two are openly and romantically interested in one another.
...
Stars, you're nervous.
Okay, okay. Breathe in, breathe out. You're fine. You're fine! No really, you are fine. Just keep breathing in... and breathing out—
A light knock on the door sends you flying off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Sif?! Are you okay???" Isabeau slams the door open and rushes in, his brows furrowing in concern as he runs over to your side.
You're fine. You didn't fall that hard. You are fine. You open your mouth to tell him that but only the smallest, squeakiest little "nyaa?" escapes.
...
How blindingly unserious can you be right now?
Isabeau's expression softens as a grin spreads across his face. "Guess you're alright, Sif!"
"Haha, I guess so!" you chime back, your voice returning to you at last. "I was lost in my thoughts so you surprised me, that's all," you add very quickly when you notice your partner staring intently at you.
Before he can interrogate you, you start to pick yourself up off the floor and almost succeed until you wobble at the last second. Isabeau easily catches you without hesitation, supporting you just like he did when the King fell. That's fine too! Except now you're well enough to register his warmth through your cloak, his large hands he lovingly Crafted himself, his gentle but firm hold on you...
"Ummmm, maybe I spoke too soon," Isabeau says, concern weaved into his voice as he brings the back of his hand up to your forehead. "Sif buddy, I think you're running a fever. Your face is turning a darker shade and your head feels hot—"
"I'm fine!" you accidentally snap. Stars, you blinding idiot! He cares about you! Stop! Being! Difficult! You swiftly grab Isabeau's hand from your head before the shock can settle in. "Sorry Isa, I didn't mean to yell. I'm uh. I need a second to breathe."
He nods and sits down next to you.
You breathe.
Your sense of time is still warped so you have no idea how long you've been doing your breathing exercises; all you know is that Isa has been patiently sitting there and following your lead, breathing in and breathing out with you, while squeezing your hand with each inhale. Sometimes you squeeze back, and as you feel your mind coming back to yourself, you look down at your joined hands. Though your gloves have absorbed the majority of it, Isa's sweaty palms are starting to soak through the thin fabric.
Isa peers at you. "Are you feeling better now?"
It's your turn to nod this time. "Your um, hand is getting clammy."
"Oh crab!" He pulls his hand away to wipe it on his pants.
Should you have said that? Maybe you shouldn't have said that. You think you recall Isa being self-conscious about his sweaty hands. Quick, tell a joke! "Clams and crabs? Sands like the coast is clear."
He guffaws loudly, clutching his arms in the familiar way that he does. You're not sure if that was a particularly good pun, but it's still a good sign. It means the situation is under control again and you can act be normal.
Isa's hand falls back onto the mattress, just inches away from yours, as his laughter subsides. Your eye alternates between his face and hand as you chew your lip. Many of the early days in the infirmary were spent in a haze, but you were lucid enough on occasion to remember Isa brushing your hair out of your face or helping you sit up when you were awake. Light touches that didn't linger long, always leaving you yearning for more. You can't remember if you've dispelled your family's misconception of you being touch-averse yet. You've hugged Bonnie tons of times in previous loops, got the group hug you were craving after you broke the loops, held Isa's hand for however long that was just now. You want, you want, you want...
You want to do more with Isa. Not the gross stuff. You'd just really like to do more than hold hands.
...
At the same, you're not sure if you could handle anything more intense right now. You think your chest would explode if you tried to ask for a hug right away.
Maybe baby steps would be the best approach.
"Hey... hey Sif. Siffarooni," Isa whispers in that familiar way you've heard so many times before. You're not sure if it's comforting or not. "Do you want... a feelings talky-talk?" When he sees your eye glaze over, he panics and adds, "We don't have to if you don't want to!"
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
Use your words, Siffrin. Loop told you that you're going to have to talk to them now, no more looping back to erase your mistakes.
"Isa," you finally say firmly. "I um. Want to keep holding hands."
"We can do that!" he replies cheerfully, trying to bring the palpable tension in the air back down to non-suffocating levels.
"Without my gloves on," you continue, stripping the aforementioned articles of clothing off. "And while we're sleeping."
Isa looks down at your naked hands and turns several shades darker all at once. You're suddenly feeling very vulnerable and fight the urge to slip your gloves back on.
"We can... do that too."
Stars, he's sweating even harder.
...
This is blindingly stupid. The both of you are adults.
You're just holding hands.
In the same bed.
Under the same blanket.
Without either one of you wearing your gloves.
...
Maybe he'd sweat a little less if your hands were above the blanket?
...
But you don't want to let go of his hand.
...
His palms are starting to sweat more.
...
You have to do something.
"Isa," you whisper. "Are you awake?"
Yawning, Isa rolls over to his side to look at you. "Yeah, I am. What's wrong?"
You try to picture your hands beneath the blanket, fingers laced together. "Are you hot?"
"No...?" He looks at you kinda funny. "It's a little cold tonight."
Your jaw sets into a stiff line. It's almost comical how subtlety does not work on this man when you need it most.
Breathe. Use your words.
"Well, I'm a little hot," you say, hoping you didn't skip too many conversational beats. "Can we move the blanket a little?"
"Sure!" Isa replies nonchalantly, as he begins to move his hand away from yours—
No.
You grip his hand before he can completely pull away. Isa looks at you in confusion, then tries to take his hand again. You grip even tighter.
"Uh, Sif?" Isa ventures, hesitantly. "You okay there, buddy?"
You nod furiously, slowly moving your arm up over the covers in hopes he gets the memo.
He doesn't.
His arm is a lead weight as you get as far as you can without tugging.
...
Stars, why is this so hard?
...
You breathe in, then out.
And try again.
...
The reality of your failures start to sink in.
"What are you doing?" Isa asks.
Sometimes you think his obliviousness is hilarious, but you know he's smart. It's just too bad he's such a blinding idiot.
"It's hot underneath this blanket," you repeat once more.
You pause. Wait for him to react. To do something, anything.
...
You resist the urge to start thrashing around on your side of the bed.
"... Okay?" he says slowly, the confusion in his face settling in deeper. "I can move the blanket for you."
He starts untangling his fingers from yours and no no no you can't do this you don't want this you need—
You clasp your other hand over his before he can fully withdraw, accidentally tossing the blanket off yourself.
...
"Sif...?"
You feel like crying. Maybe you're already crying. This is so blindingly stupid.
"Please don't let go of my hand," you plead, ignoring the fact that you must look absolutely pathetic right now. "I... I want to keep holding hands. With you. I missed you. A lot."
...
Isa snorts quietly before breaking out into a fit of giggles.
Wait, why is he laughing? Is he laughing at you? Oh stars, he must think you're a blinding idiot.
"I love you, Sif. I'm not going anywhere." Isa brings his other hand over to intertwine his fingers with yours again, pulling the blanket over your shoulders while leaving your hands above the covers. "Is this all you wanted?"
You nod again before hiding your face underneath the blanket. "... I love you too, Isa."
...
Not using Wish Craft for instant gratification is going to be hard to adjust to.