Chapter Text
“Feelings buddies?”
Siffrin sets down the wood they were carving. They invite you onto their bed with a cute tilt to their head and a couple pats against the blanket. You shake your head and offer a hand out.
“Maybe somewhere more… private?” You compromise. “I don't want anyone to overhear us again, haha… ”
You feel awful just asking them, but… postponing this conversation any longer would be the coward's way out.
Fear has been a ruling factor for the entirety of your life. Like a loyal hound, it traced your footsteps across the entire country, gnawing at your ankles every given opportunity.
Interacting with strangers. Praying to Change. Looking at those stupid papers. Fighting sadnesses. Every social fumble, no matter how insignificant. Struggling to stay positive and ruining the mood. Needing Isabeau, Odile, Siffrin to reassure, calm you down, because an anxiety attack has pinned you to the ground. Tricking your hyperactive thoughts into doubting their intentions when all they're doing is trying to help.
You're sick of allowing it to tear you away from the people you love.
Siffrin’s frail hand tightly wraps around yours. Pulling them up, you let go and watch them shakily grab their cane. Oh! That's… the first time they haven't put up any sort of fuss.
Are their pain levels worse today? They hadn't done strenuous activity recently which you know of, unless they went outside to… stare at the sky again? To what purpose? Despite all their stubbornness, it's hard to believe they’d waste what little energy they’ve had on something so silly. Perhaps, a flare up? Or, maybe, one of their wounds became infected-?
No, no, it's probably nothing. Still, you make a mental note to ask whenever it's more appropriate. If… if he even wants to talk to you anymore.
Siffrin returns to your side and holds your hand, silently allowing you to lead the way. Guilt presses in from all sides at his eagerness despite keeping you at arms length the past….. since you failed him.
You quickly guide him towards a small clearing close to the clocktower that you would often retreat to whenever you kicked yourself out of what was supposed to be your dorm room too, and Claude insisted on crowding the entire space with loud music, and explosions, and weird chemicals that stunk up the room-
A pang goes through your heart. Your throat grows tight. Stay positive. Gotta stay positive. You’ll unfreeze Vaugarde, and you'll save…
Hm? No, no, the King is frozen, Claude is alive, she’s not…
….Oh, you're here already! Thank Change, you already have enough to think about today. Trying a smile, you raise yours and Siffrin's interlocked hands into the sky. ”We’re! Here!!! Go ahead and get cozy. We might… be a while.”
Siffrin looks around. He lets go of your hand to find the perfect perch against a tree. After staring blankly at the grass for a moment, he blinks and decides on a small rock. It’s surprisingly big enough to fit him without issue. He sighs and leans back against his tree, cloak catching on the wood.
Shall you sit by his side, or in front of him? Stay close, or give him space? Which option would be more fruitful? Would he feel safer, with an easy escape route? Would he prefer you close by, for when you confess your guilt? To slap you back? Stare you down, with a bitterness solely reserved for the others during their feelings talks with Siffrin?
…He’d never been anything but nice, only mean towards himself, when it's your turn to talk with them about the loops.
Why does that hurt so much? This lack of bite should be a good thing, right? He doesn't feel pressured talking with you is all. That has to be why.
But of course, your traitorous mind whispers:
Of course he won't yell. He’s afraid of the consequences.
Stop. Stop! You didn't force him to come all this way just to throw yourself a pity party. Quit being so selfish! Don't waste even more precious minutes of their time you know they'll spend worrying themself into the ground over hesitating like this.
Say your lines. Pretend you're Lord Joséphandre, apologizing to Marcel after blowing their cover and getting her arrested. Well, um, preferably without the attempted murder tacked on to the end? Siffrin would never go that far, even if they- if they hated you.
You choose to sit in front of them, albeit with enough space for them to get up if they’d like to.
Okay, okay. The scene is set. Breathe in, and out. Just like Siffrin does. The guards have given you twenty minutes. You’ve got this, Mirabelle.
Still, it feels like nails dig into your throat as you speak. “The day you snapped. Telling me, believing that I should be alone.”
You flinch as Siffrin does, fear and anger and guilt immediately festering in their expression. Oh Change. There were so many better ways you could have eased them into the conversation??? A method that works wonders for these kinds of conversations, even if Siffrin sometimes gets a little… weird! About it!!!
No, no, no, it's too late to back out now. Don't lose your trail.
“Sorry! Sorry. It's just- important context. For what I wanted to share with you. Please, allow me a moment to explain before worrying. It's not anything you did.” They settle slightly at your reassurance- which you take as a win. Deliberately ignoring the despair filling your heart at the fear still settled in every inch of their form.
“That day… I said a lot of terrible, horrible things to you- none of which you deserved.” They open their mouth to protest- “Don’t! Even think about finishing that thought! I already know what you're going to say, and I say no!!!” Their jaw shuts with an audible click.
“I'm being serious, Siffrin. You’re probably the sweetest person I've ever had the joy of meeting. Yes, even when you get a little rough around the edges from stress.”
They're baffled. Completely baffled, brows raised high and cheeks dusted with a heavy blush. Quickly, their tortoise shell hides them from view.
You'd smile, if this were any other conversation.
“Nonetheless…” Change, you’ve already lost the page you're on. You sigh. “For the past few months, I've been running in circles and circles about the words I’d exchanged. About…slapping you. Replaying that moment over and over in my head, plotting and rewriting all the ways I should have dealt with it differently.”
You swallow, shoving back the endless waterfall of self-hatred trying to make itself known. “If- If I simply had taken a moment to stop and think, then maybe you'd be- you'd actually feel… comfortable, talking to me. Selfish as it is to wish for…”
He rises a little from his cloak collar, rubbing a hand against his cheek. They tilt their head into their palm and look up, slightly confused. “I am comfortable talking to you.”
This again. You sigh heavily. “I-I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but you can be honest with me.” They blink, making eye contact for a brief moment.
“...I'm not lying. Spending time with you is nice.”
Yes, they are! You’ve seen it, spent night after sleepless night lying awake ruminating over their suppressed behavior. No matter which (productive) angle you strike with during your feelings buddies sessions, they always hold back. Every single sentence runs through twelve different filters before they speak. It's gotten to the point you struggle to distinguish between the carefully crafted storybook character named Siffrin, and Siffrin, your messy, sometimes frustrating, and deeply beloved friend.
And anytime you start digging into how they really feel, to cross the gap they keep attempting to widen and bring Siffrin back to the surface- that awful fake grin pulls across their lips. Blatant evidence they're crafting little lies, thinking you're stupid enough to fall for them.
Whenever you refuse to back down, and true irritation enters their eye, and ‘finally,’ you think, ‘finally I’ve found my friend again, done enough to be trusted with the truth again,”- instead of letting loose, everything about Siffrin just- just hollows out! With that awful smile taking the lead! Or- Or they just laugh it off, turn the tables and deflect with your problems instead! Which is the exact opposite of what you intended, when promising to be feelings buddies!
Coward that you are, you allow them to switch subjects unless it's actively dangerous. Come a few minutes time, there’ll be that perfect segue back towards the matter, Siffrin's true feelings. You just need to be patient. Forcing things will only make them retreat further and cement how terrible a friend you’ve been.
(Make them leave you behind this time.)
By the time you remember, or lay within grasp of that picture-perfect transition, it's always too late. The window has passed. Siffrin needs rest, Bonnie needs someone to play with, Isabeau needs a sparring buddy, Odile requires your help fetching something from the House, a Housemaiden calls for your aid, some important official wants to talk to you, one of the people in Dormont wants to chat, a rude reporter wanders into the clocktower and demands attention from the blessed Saviour.
No one expects him to immediately get better at sharing his trauma. Unpleasant, life-altering Changes such as Siffrin’s– Change only knows how long it'll take for them to recover from. Often, severe cases like his take decades- a whole lifetime to recover from in some amount!!! It took an entire crabbing timeloop just to get him to confess his greatest wish- to stay with his family! Of course he's going to be incredibly slow to open up about his issues. You don't blame him for it.
Restraining their anger- you understand why they’d desperately try to hide it. Any ugly emotions you let escape, all they do is hurt the people you love. Isn't it easier on everybody to bottle it up and slide the ugly mess upon the furthest shelf, far away from the other bad emotions? Sadness, grief, fear- anything common enough, safe to show without stepping on anyone’s toes.
It's just- something about the way he goes about refusing you, which cuts so deeply.
“...I’ll believe you.” You nod agreeably, fidgeting with a brooch. Cheerful “ding dings” ring out into the forest. You have to trust they’re being honest enough right now. Considering that smile hasn't cropped up yet. Not only has it fled- he’s frowning.
“Um, continuing on…” The grass sways lightly in a small breeze. A bee passes through, lazy pace giving it ample time to spot the perfect flower.
“I-I can't stop thinking, ‘why couldn't I keep myself in check? Gotten out of my head for once, held my tongue? I've had months to learn, trust that Siffrin would never hurt me on purpose! So- So why did I immediately go on the offensive?’”
Because he’d unknowingly ripped into a wound long festering, becoming the tipping point for everything you’d buried deep, deep inside, never to see the light of day.
“Something was obviously going on. You’d been acting completely out of character. Interrupting me constantly, hardly engaging in conversation or hovering near people and seeing what they say, all while wearing that stu- sharp, empty smile. I should have bothered to put in actual effort towards listening to you! And yet, I hardly gave you a chance to defend yourself before steamrolling on.”
“But…” You let go of the brooch and clasp your hands tightly. Eyes squeezing shut, you hunch over. “What haunts me the most, out of everything that occurred that day… is letting you go the way I did. Bonnie and madame Odile have both come to me, admitting how their individual talks fell apart. And- and now I feel even more stupid.”
His boots audibly scrape against rock. The noise is so loud in the empty clearing, you flinch. “...”
“...If anyone here is stupid, it's me. I shouldn't have bothered changing the script– um, rushed our conversation. You deserved better.” Siffrin hisses. Very loving but incredibly stern words already form on your tongue, armed and at the ready if they further self-deprecate.
“No, Siffrin.” You level them a stern look.”You’ve already had your apology tour. The rest of us… you deserve to have ours, too. You weren't the only person feeling extra crabby that day.”
He looks like he wants to protest, but only comes up with empty air. A knife sinks into your heart and twists. Shame, heavy and unpleasant, combs down your body.
So you were right.
“I'm serious, Siffrin. I've been a terrible friend, drowning in work to avoid thinking about everything. Refusing to take the correct path, confront my mistakes, even as the guilt drowned me from the inside out.”
“I tried to find the right time to bring it up, thinking I'd muster up the courage to apologize by the time you’d mostly recovered, but… as time passed, and you’d healed up, I pushed things further and further and further, until….” you sigh.
“Until now?” Sheepish, you look off to the side.
“Because there's never a perfect time for important conversations. I realized, the longer I wait, and the more feelings buddies talks we spend dancing around the issue, the more hurt you’ll be, the more you’ll ignore it, or- Change forbid- shift the blame. And… clearly, I was too late on that front. Again."
Siffrin says nothing. They're doing that breathing exercise.
You breathe with Siffrin. Eye downcast, their hands shaking where they grip their knees. Your own shake a little less as fresh oxygen fills your lungs.
“Which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you.”
Just a little farther, Mirabelle. You’re doing good!
(It's not worth it don't say anything either way he's going to hate you leave you behind abandon you drift away just like everyone else-)
“It, um, feels like you've been distant? with me? Lately? Or- there's this weird layer of dissonance between us, that doesn't exist with the others. At least, not to such a large extent?”
Siffrin flinches back, eye filling with horror. Your heart pounds in your chest, the air entering your lungs becoming heavy.
“A common pattern between your talks with Odile, Isabeau and sometimes Bonnie which I've noticed is… you- you get a little snippy? If pushed hard enough, you fight back instead of staying silent like usual. Sure, half the things you don't mean or are clearly based in… other matters, but you speak freely. Spell out everything you're feeling, even the mean thoughts, without a filter."
Hearing them yell remains a shock, even all these months later. They never reach the volume most people manage, and it always leaves them sore after.
Horror gives way to embarrassment, leaving Siffrin's cheeks dark with shame.
They've become a scarily good actor when speaking. But… still, they remain completely hopeless when it comes to expression work. It's admittedly a little funny to watch, when they aren't trying to hide.
“And…” Change, this feels silly to worry about.
“Never once have you gotten angry with me. Irritated, but never…”
Siffrin balks, a deer in the torchlights. “W-Why would I get angry with you?”
Oh, he thinks it's silly too. Sweet anxious Mirabelle, who can't even stand in front of a classroom of six people without breaking down, seeking out conflict? On purpose???
Hah…. yes, you’d be shocked if you were anyone else.
The thing is…
It feels wrong to admit, but you'd appreciate some bite back. Raw emotion, anything to show you they’re being completely genuine. Evidence they’re not just- saying things! Saying things to appease you and avoid conflict, to let you know if you’re actually doing something good! Being a good friend! Offering reassurance that these talks don't mean more to you than them!
“And while that's generally!!! A good thing!!! Fights are always awful and messy and stressful, I understand why you'd want to avoid them– but the extent to which you avoid them around me specifically…”
“...” Guilt, guilt, guilt washes over the clearing- so thick you can practically smell it. If there were a sadness nearby, it'd be drawn in for sure.
Oh. Oh no. You probably should have brought a weapon- even with the Curse over, the threat of sadnesses attacking has yet to shrink.
…You're! Going to trust! That everything will be fine! Nothing terrible has approached so far, after all… you have to trust this peace will last.
Bringing your focus back to the conversation at hand, you resolutely look them straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry.”
That makes Siffrin startle.
“Mira?” They lean forwards, pity concern painted all over their face.
“I'm sorry for everything I said back then. I'm sorry for slapping you. F-Failing you for the thousandth time, and then letting you stew alone in your thoughts for so long that you turned the blame onto yourself for my mistakes!”
Even now, you can vividly remember the texture of his cheek against your palm as you made the second to worst mistake of your life. An imprint of the sting settles across your bare palm, you can't help but fervently rub at it until the sensation dissipates.
“I'm sorry for revoking our- our entire friendship!!! After all we’ve been through, because of some stupid doubts!” You throw your hands into the air. “I feel so endlessly stupid for it every day! I should’ve held myself together, not let all my stress get to me!!! Because then, at least, maybe you'd still like talking to me! And, and-!!!”
Unpleasant warmth flushes across your cheeks. A stray tear buds along your eye. Stasis and stagnation. Don’t cry now. You're making things worse! Pitying you- that's the last thing either of you need right now.
“And maybe… you… you wouldn't have nearly died.” You whimper, choking on every syllable.
Sniffling, yours, invades the complete silence of the clearing. A yawning pit opens below you, threatening to swallow you whole.
Then… frail hands lean forward, hesitate, twitch, and embrace your clasped ones. You shudder, breath catching as they tease apart your hands and cradle them gently.
Heart shattering, you squeeze their hands.
How could you ever believe them to be anything but this so painfully sweet?
“None of this was your fault, Mira. You couldn't have predicted how terrible this loop went.” He says, and the sheer warmth and confidence in his voice makes you want to believe him, too. But you know better. Shaking your head, you tread forward.
“I-I'm sorry, Siffrin. I'm sorry for calling you useless. Taking everything you’ve ever done for me- every conversation, spar, joke, attempt to cheer me up, every moment you spent risking your life, leading us over and over again when things got dangerous, and every time you helped everybody out and went on secret quests with them simply because you could- and spitting it back into your face, like all of it could suddenly mean nothing to me. As if, as if our valuable time together was something so easy to dispose of- when without you all, I couldn't have succeeded. I couldn't have saved anyone.”
Nonetheless, saved yourself. Hypothermia would have claimed you right as your journey had begun, if not for Isabeau. It's not like the Change God would have done anything to help- you’re a fraud who claims to have their blessing. Why would they feel anything but ire for you?
“I revoked everything we had, and- and for what? Because I was a little stressed? Anxious? Afraid the King would kill us, leading Vaugarde into complete stasis and stagnation? Throwing a pity party for myself, when you were having issues so much bigger than mine! Facing a-a horrible reality so much worse than anyone could possibly imagine! A-And still, I couldn't bother listening-”
“Mira.” They squeeze your hands tightly. A sharp inhale escapes you, and you try to follow their guided breathing. They're smiling. It looks… sad.
“You had a lot on your plate. Guessing that I was in a time loop of all things on top of everything else would be pretty weird. Bedsides… I couldn’t have- wouldn’t have let you know about the timeloop.” He winces. “Not for long.”
Despite yourself, you find a small giggle erupting from your throat.
“Gee. I wouldn't ha-have guessed.” Siffrin huffs, a tiny bit of weight lifting off his shoulders. Scrubbing your face, you rub away what little tears formed.
“...Can I let you in on something? From one of the loops?” He shifts, wincing as his leg stretches out.
Ah. Well…
“Is it spoilers?”
Siffrin falls into thought. With that cute tilt to their head, they answer haltingly, “Kind of? Not yours, at least.”
…Hm.
Would there really be much harm in hearing it, then? Oh, what if it's something embarrassing??? You loathe the second-yet-kind-of-first-hand embarrassment you sometimes get upon hearing about some of the nicer moments from the timeloop- did you seriously rant about Claude every single loop??? Ahhhh, how embarrassing. All that whining must've become so annoying to listen to, even the first time around!
But…
“Then, um…”
But, you're too curious! With a resolute nod, you confirm, “Yes, I would like to hear it.”
A sad smile pulls at Siffrin’s lips. “Odile found out about the timeloop once.”
That makes you jolt in your seat? Oh??? Crab??? However did that come about?
“Oh!!! Did you tell her about it?” You got the impression they hadn't quite managed to talk about the timeloops while they were happening, but they’re scarily good at catching you all off guard as of late. Sometimes it's a good kind of surprise! But… other times….
A broken mirror. Mumbling. Singing. Evidence of your incompetence spilled across stained linoleum.
They squint and look away, suddenly sheepish. “...not… directly?”
“...Siffrin,” you sigh, exasperated amusement relaxing some of the taut threads of emotion squeezing your ribs. Siffrin huffs, ducking into their collar once again.
“...She only found out after I slipped up long enough during my performance and showed her a couple books on wishcraft. We… never got to those scenes.”
Hmm… hearing so does bring a small amount of reassurance, but…
“Even so… no amount of reasoning, explanations could magically reverse the impact of my words. I still ripped you out of my life, because I was stuck in my own head. And knowing what I know now- that you got in a whole crabbing timeloop just to stay with us because we're all you have?” A strangled noise escapes you, “Change, Siffrin, I'm surprised you haven't yelled at me, hated me the most, nonetheless at all!”
Siffrin squeezes your hand, tone urgent. “Mira, I could never hate you.”
You wish he would just elaborate for once, instead of keeping you guessing! “Why???”
“...” They tuck away into their collar. When they come back up, you see the edges of the smile. “It's water under the bridge. I know you didn't mean it for long, so it's fine.”
It's fine.
It's fine?
Letting your face fall flat, you stare at them. “Siffrin. Look at me.”
They do, only managing to meet your eyes for a moment before wincing and staring anywhere else. Squeezing your still clasped hands together, you continue.
“What you told me, how you said it, wasn't nice. I'm… I'm still angry about it, but I've forgiven you. Despite everything, you never truly intended to hurt me. Not out of malice. In your infamous hit or miss way, you were… you were genuinely trying to help. Even if you could've really stood to word your point better.”
Siffrin shifts, twitching. “...”
“But me? There's no excuses to hide behind. Nor would I want any excuses. So please, don't try to make any for me, either. Please.”
Doing so is a little too cowardly for your tastes. Makes you feel like you're being pitied. You're a grown crabbing woman, you can handle the heat.
…It's not Siffrin's fault they're predisposed to shifting all the blame onto themself.
You don't continue, until Siffrin gives you the meekest of nods. You sigh, relieved. “Thank you.”
“Siffrin. I'm so, so sorry for everything. You didn't deserve to be slapped. You’re not useless, or a horrible person, and whatever else I called you. None of what I said was accurate or nice. I should've given you a proper chance to explain. You didn't deserve to be cut so thoroughly, nonetheless by such extreme lengths. And… I'm sorry that you believe you did.”
Siffrin stares and stares and stares, breath caught in their throat. Their eyes shine with some emotion, one you struggle to parse. Swallowing, you squeeze their hands and let go, returning your own to your lap.
“If… If you don't forgive me, and would rather stay distant, or swap feelings buddy titles with someone else, someone better… I-I understand. It's… it's only fair.”
Siffrin shakes his head, but can’t seem to find the words he needs.
“...” The grass sways in a slight breeze. Dirt crunches under your feet as you shift. “I know what I did can't be fixed in a day. But- I’d like to try and remedy my mistakes, prove myself to you once again. To Change into someone better for you. If- If you’d be willing to give me another chance."
Siffrin raises his head up, hesitantly looking at you. Not in the eyes, but he’s clearly trying. And that’s more than you can ask for.
“I wouldn't ever want to stop talking to you, Mira. I…” they shift, leaning closer. “You do help. A lot. Yelling at you…” they trail off, clenching their hands on their knees. “I could never forgive myself.”
But yelling at the rest of your party is fine…?
You just don’t understand. “Why? What makes me so different, then?”
“...”
(“You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything.”)
“...” Resignation already washes over you.
(“I don't want to see you until tonight.”)
“...because…” They grit their teeth, clearly fighting a major internal conflict. Are they… will they finally-?
An audible swallow escapes them.
“You wouldn't- want to see me again.” Siffrin whispers, in the tiniest voice.
(I don't want to see you unless I have to.)