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Theopauldin typically woke slowly, and today was no exception. This morning it wasn’t the buzz of the shops beneath his windows that greeted him upon regaining consciousness, but rather, a serene natural soundscape: birds warbling, the wind rustling through the trees, someone raking leaves outside.
This was not his room.
More than that, it was the sensation of a firm warm body beneath his cheek that put him on alert, letting the young scholar know that the morning was not an ordinary one. After all, it wasn’t every day that he brought someone to his residence to spend the night — or went home with another, as seemed to be the case today.
Theopauldin opened his eyes and suddenly stilled, suppressing the desire to stretch out his body. This— This was Ameliance’s bedroom.
So then…
He shifted a little and the hand resting on his shoulder instinctively tightened its grip, then relaxed. When he tilted his head to glance up at Fourchenault—who else could it have been?—Theopauldin was rewarded with a view of the other man’s sun-drenched blond locks, spilling out across the pillows from the intricate braid that he’d worn last night.
Right — the engagement banquet.
As with most events of Ameliance’s design, it had been a grand affair, showy and extravagant and the talk of all Sharlayan for an entire week prior. Nobody was left off the guest list: friends, neighbors, classmates, even passing acquaintances. Theopauldin had played an active role from the start — whether by helping the couple decorate, coordinating schedules, or advising the household staff when neither of the two was available.
After all the work that had gone into the planning, it was no wonder that the three of them took the first opportunity to let loose. Ameliance was, as always, the life of the party—her noble upbringing notwithstanding—and wherever she went, Fourchenault dutifully followed. Theopauldin’s role tended to be more subdued, drifting from one conversation to another until he’d exchanged at least a greeting with nearly everyone there, but in the end, all three of them ended up in the same place: exhausted and drunk, sprawled across the L-shaped couch in the mansion’s sitting room.
How they ended up upstairs, though, Theopauldin hadn’t the faintest idea.
Overindulging the night before had left him with a mild nausea and a headache that made itself known as soon as he awoke, but for the moment, he had bigger things to worry about. Things that simultaneously warmed his cheeks and planted a seed of fear in the pit of his stomach.
With slow unsure movements, Theopauldin uncurled himself away from the other man and moved away a little, turning his body to lie on his back. As he’d already expected to some extent, there was Ameliance sprawled out on his other side, taking up nearly the entire half of the oversized bed despite her small frame.
She stretched and grinned, somehow looking no worse for wear from the night before. “Morning.”
“Mm.” Words abandoned Theopauldin for a moment, awareness lingering on the fact that he was still pressed up along Fourchenault’s side — not as closely as before, but enough to make him hesitate. He grimaced through another wave of physical discomfort; it was certainly not helping the undercurrent of anxiety within him, which was threatening to escalate into something worse. “Did- Did anything… Did we—”
Ameliance was quick to shake her head. She rolled onto her side, resting her cheek on her hand. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Alright.”
They plunged into silence again. Outside, Theopauldin could hear the voices of children passing by the mansion, engaged in a back-and-forth only comprehensible to others their age. They faded away as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind the soft buzz of activity that had been there before. If he were to guess, he’d say it was nearing noon. The feeling—or rather, realization—that he was intruding suddenly crept up on him, bringing his attention back to the present moment; he moved to extricate himself, intending to give the couple their privacy.
Fourchenault’s tight grip around his bicep stopped him in place. Then, the other man seemed to catch himself, immediately loosening his hold. “You can stay,” he said, quietly but firmly. “If you wish to.”
Theopauldin stilled. It was hard to know exactly how Fourchenault meant that — after all, several interpretations sprang to mind. He and the couple were close—closer than where most friendships end up—but that was what made it all the more difficult to understand.
As usual, Ameliance read his hesitation correctly. “Theopauldin, you know—” She paused abruptly. It seemed that she, too, was struggling to phrase what she was trying to say. “You know you’re dear to us both, and…” She cleared her throat. “Well, if that becomes something more, then we’d certainly welcome it.”
Theopauldin’s eyes unconsciously darted to the side, towards Fourchenault.
“Fourchenault and I are on the same page, as a matter of fact.”
He felt the other man nod beside him — as good as a confession could get, coming from him.
Theopauldin hummed in acknowledgement. They were sweet, kind words, coming from his two closest friends, but they did little to quell the unsettled emotions shifting within him. He’d been there to witness their nascent romance years ago, had been there to encourage two people who were so indisputably good for each other, that half of Sharlayan knew it before they did. He’d also been there when their relationship opened up, blossomed into something strong and unbreakable and even more beautiful, put down roots and flourished.
He’d never risk putting it in harm’s way, even with the best of intentions.
Ameliance watched him without saying a word; he hoped that this uncharacteristic quiet was the result of overindulging the night before and not anything more than that.
Though Fourchenault still refused to meet his eyes, he continued to hold onto his forearm, even venturing as far as to give it a few experimental strokes. Gentle, always.
A small detail caught up with Theopauldin then, and he swiveled his head to look between his two friends. “You’ve… spoken of this before?”
Ameliance nodded, but it was Fourchenault who answered.
“Only—” He took a sharp inhale, then let it out in an attempt to relax. “Only in hypotheticals. If, perhaps, someday, we— you—” He cleared his throat. “Well. You understand what I mean. Not that we ever thought it a legitimate—or probable—possibility.”
“We talk about many things,” chimed in Ameliance with a playful grin.
Theopauldin sighed, looking between his two friends. “You can understand why I’m… hesitant. You’ve both seen how these things play out.” His expression shifted into another, equal parts serious and fond. “And you know you’re too precious to me to risk losing.”
“You’re right, of course,” agreed Ameliance after a long pause. “But I have faith.”
Fourchenault nodded, then took Theopauldin’s hand and squeezed it, much like Theopauldin tended to do to him when it was Fourchenault who was in need of reassurance.
Ameliance continued. “And, well… ’tis not as if we can take this back, either.” She made a vague gesture. “Things already have changed, haven’t they? For better or for worse.”
“Then I shall have faith, too,” said Theopauldin after another pensive beat of time. He brought Fourchenault’s hand to his lips and pressed an exploratory kiss to it; soft and barely there. “But you must tell me at once if— hm, should your feelings change. Both of you.”
There was a moment of quiet that followed. Theopauldin tried to relax into it, silence his thoughts again.
“I can’t wait to see you married,” he said distractedly, imagining the big day like he’s done countless times before. It was still moons away, but he was well aware that the planning work would make them go by in a blink.
“Yes,” said Ameliance dreamily, gazing over Theopauldin’s shoulder at her husband-to-be.
Theopauldin moved to sit up, so that he could see both of his friends at the same time. When he glanced over at Fourchenault, the man’s expression was nearly identical to the one Ameliance wore, one of his small rare smiles playing on his lips.
It would be alright, wouldn’t it? Theopauldin was beginning to believe it more and more.
He chuckled, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of Fourchenault’s hair behind his ear, though instead of his usual flustered expression—a favorite of Theopauldin’s—the action elicited an amused huff in response.
“How do you feel?” Theopauldin asked.
“As if I've survived a chocobo stampede,” muttered Fourchenault.
Ameliance let out a quiet snort. She had her hands in her own tangled hair, attempting to finger-comb it into submission.
“Well, then! Good day to take it easy, I say.” With the earlier nausea having subsided, Theopauldin was beginning to feel more like himself again. What he craved now was a good, strong coffee, expertly prepared by either himself or Fourchenault, but he was not yet willing to extricate himself from his current, especially comfortable, situation. He always loved the quiet moments they spent together; this one held even more meaning than any of the previous ones.
“Theo?” Ameliance scooted closer to his side, a note of annoyance in her voice. “Would you fix my hair?”
“Gods,” he said, sliding a hand into her platinum-white locks as he’d done many times before. “’Tis worse than Fourchenault’s, and that’s saying something.”
Fourchenault lightly flicked his thigh but made no other protest, likely realizing he had no leg to stand on. He lifted a hand to sort out the knots in his own hair, but soon grumbled in frustration and moved closer to Theopauldin, much like Ameliance had done.
“Wait your turn,” said Theopauldin with a chuckle as he got to work, taking great care not to pull on the strands as he combed out the worst offenders.
Ameliance sighed under his touch, closing her eyes as she relaxed into it.
Sometime later, after he’d finished with Ameliance and moved on to help Fourchenault, the companionable silence was suddenly broken by a sharp inhale — quiet, but all too recognizable to Theopauldin as a sign of anxiety from his closest friend.
Fourchenault rarely gave voice to his feelings at times like this, but he did so now. “Theo, you… If you do wish to go, please feel free. I— we’d hate to pressure you.”
It was a kind sentiment, yet Theopauldin couldn’t help but give a soft laugh in return, having already made up his mind. “If you sincerely want me to stay, then I will stay. Now, do you?” He raised an eyebrow.
Fourchenault’s eyes widened. “Of course I do. I always do. We—”
“We do,” said Ameliance with a note of finality in her voice that her fiancé seemed far less capable of in the moment.
“Then consider it settled,” said Theopauldin. “And we shall have a proper talk later, the kind you like. After coffee.”
Fourchenault chuckled and yawned, finally relaxing a little.
It was a brand new day and uncharted waters, but the trust Theopauldin had in his friends seemed to grow by the second, and the way they treated each other hadn’t changed one bit. It was that which reassured him more than anything else.
He lifted Fourchenault’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, one that made all the promises that he didn’t have the words to voice.
“Shall we?”
As usual, they faced the day together.