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Of course, Isabeau is the first one to notice it.
The night had been quiet inside their homey little tent, aside from the occasional cricket chirp or frog trill. Nature never annoys Isabeau; the bugs and animals live here just as much as they do. It’s a nice reminder that the world around him is still alive and not paused in time. The company is comforting, no matter how big or small, or how noisy or quiet.
The noise of the night isn’t anything new. Isabeau had been having a rough time falling asleep as it was. Listening to his surroundings is seeming to be an effective method of drowning out his thoughts. That is, until a new noise disrupts the orchestra of the forest.
It stems from the small form of Siffrin bundled up in his arms. Isabeau can barely make it out as he tilts his head sideways to listen, so he’s a little surprised that he managed to catch it in the first place. He can make out a faint sound of murmuring coming from his sleeping partner. A squeal of cuteness-aggression threatens to bubble up from his throat, but he bites his tongue and tries to calm himself. He’s learned that Sif is hyperaware of any human body near him, even in their sleep. Any change in his rhythmic breathing and Siffrin will stir. An endearing, curious fact though, is that all Isabeau needs to do to coax him back to sleep is card his fingers through their hair.
Isabeau bites his tongue again at the thought, but harder this time.
What was he so focused on again? Right, he was listening to the cute Siffrin noises. Now that he thinks about it, that isn’t really any different than staring at him, motivation wise. Any sound coming from a sleeping Siffrin is still unusual and worth investigating.
Isabeau shifts his body incrementally, so that his chin is against his chest, and his nose is now pressed into Sif’s hair. It tickles. Twisting his neck, he feels his stiff muscles protest as he angles his ear into a spot where he can better listen. The words he can make out are super faint, squeezed out between Sif’s gentle breaths like they are words that simply can’t go unsaid.
Isa remembers reading somewhere that sleep talking is not actually the person revealing their deepest darkest secrets, but is instead caused by anxiety, lack of sleep, or simply the brain replaying a memory. Siffrin experiencing it now of all times actually makes perfect sense. His body is finally readjusting to be able to process new memories. Not to mention, his body is also still healing physically and mentally from his most recent ordeal at the House in Vaugarde. Though Isabeau knows that Siffrin’s brain is simply reacting to whatever is going on internally, he can’t help but wonder what sorts of memories Sif may be revisiting in the night. If they’re bad, then Isabeau can help as best as he can! If they’re good, then he can help with positive feelings too.
Isabeau really just wants to be there for his partner, and even though his partner is currently asleep, he’ll take any opportunity he can to do so.
Sif takes another breath, and Isabeau squints in preparation, anticipating any words that may tumble out.
“... ove…”
Isabeau blinks, caught off guard by the half word. Did Sif just try to say the word love? Heat rises up his neck and to his face, the rush of embarrassment flooding through his veins. Change, he can’t even control himself for one second! He’s definitely overreacting. He has no way of knowing for certain if that was the word-
“…love… them…”
Oh. That’s… a little heavier than where he thought it was going. His throat feels as though he’s swallowed a rock. If this is connected to the loops, and how Sif feels about them at all (especially Isabeau), he really shouldn’t be listening. It feels… wrong. Wrong to listen to Sif non-consensually spill out the feelings he’s buried deep inside of him for so long. They all agreed to go at Siffrin’s pace when it came to this stuff! How can Isabeau ever think that it’s okay for him to just eavesdrop like this? He knows that sleep talking isn’t for spilling dark secrets, but why does it feel like that’s what’s happening now? It’s because he knows that this is something Sif would be hesitant to share on his own. This is something deep and personal. He’s disgusting for even being awake right now to listen to this.
“Won’t… let… go…”
Isabeau’s guilt spiral cuts itself short as he processes Sif’s next words. It’s those same three desperate words that Isabeau has heard them utter before. His heart is skillfully torn in two, broken at the mere imagination of Sif’s nightmare of homelessness. If Sif still thinks he’s trapped in the loops subconsciously… if he still believes that he will be abandoned… have they really been doing the best they can to reassure him that his fears will never happen?
“…forget…. you…”
Isabeau starts, eyebrows scaling up his forehead. Crab, he didn’t even think about that. Sif’s memory… if they’re apart for too long, the idea that Sif could forget them is incredibly valid and terrifying to grasp. It’s no wonder he has such a severe hold on the family. Isabeau really wishes Sif would have said something sooner. Except…
… odds are, he never would have said anything if it weren’t for his sudden habit of sleep talking. At this point, the guilt is gnawing a crater in Isabeau’s stomach lining, and suddenly he can’t take it anymore. He puts aside his worry and guilt and touches Siffrin gently on the cheek. He continues to apply light pressure, then squishes their cheek upwards, and their face scrunches.
“Siffrin,” Isabeau keeps his voice low. “Sif.”
“… Isa?” Siffrin mumbles, reaching to rub the side of his face with the back of their hand like a crabbing cat, right where Isabeau poked them. The warmth in his chest soothes the heartache until it fades, and he reaches up instead to stroke his hand through their fluffy darkless locks. “S’it morning?”
“Nope,” Isabeau says, continuing to talk quietly so as to not wake anyone else. “Just… you were sleep talking, and-”
“Stars, sorry,” Sif immediately apologizes, a little more alert now. “Didn’t know I did that. Um… do you… need me to leave? I could sleep with Bonbon or Odile?”
CRAB. NOT THE ENDING THAT HE HAD INTENDED! ABORT, ABORT!
“NO!” Isabeau blurts out. He covers his face with his hands, scrambling to undo what he’s just done. “That’s not what I meant! I actually think it’s cute and I was just listening… not in a creepy way though.”
Better. Still not great, but better.
Thank Change, Siffrin is so understanding. They’re looking at him with adoration, not judgement.
He’s not so sure how well they’ll handle this next confession, though. Isabeau looks everywhere but at Siffrin, until eventually Sif seems to have a realization. They wriggle out of Isabeau’s grasp so that he is face to face with him. For some reason, being mere inches from touching noses makes Isabeau’s face warm.
“Isaaaaa…” They call.
“Sif?” Isabeau responds on autopilot, then blinks. It really does not take much from Sif to get his attention, does it?
“Something’s wrong,” Sif squints at him. “Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s just… you said some things I feel like I shouldn’t have heard and now I feel bad-” Isabeau speeds through it like he’s ripping off a bandaid.
After squeezing his eyes shut for a few moments of silence, Isabeau spares a peek, and watches as Siffrin’s face transforms into one of… suspicion? Apprehensiveness? It’s definitely more on the suspicious side, but that conclusion makes him nervous.
“What sorts of things?” Sif inevitably asks.
Here he goes. “Erm… I think they were loop related? Lower-case loop. You sounded really afraid that you were going to lose us. You haven’t talked about those feelings since the day we defeated the King, so it felt gross of me to just listen to them when you didn’t even know you’d been saying them. I- I panicked, and that’s why I woke you up. I'm sorry." He tags the apology at the end of his half-decent explanation quickly, the two words barely distinguishable from each other.
Sif lays on his side in silence, a little stunned. He seems to be reflecting on what words to say next, the crickets chirping distantly in the background, until finally he says: “You’re silly, Isa.”
What?!
“I’m the one who said those things while sleeping. Did you make me fall asleep and confess all my problems?”
Well. No. Isabeau admits to himself. “It’s still not okay! I may not be able to explain why it feels so icky, but it does! It was wrong, so, so, wrong-”
Siffrin cups his face in his hands, swiftly saving Isabeau from creating his own train wreck. Their hands are warm, contrasted by their usual tendency to be frozen to the touch. He probably had a hand in that. Ha! Hand. That’s a good one! Too bad Siffrin can’t read his thoughts.
“Isa.” Siffrin utters firmly.
“Sif?” Isabeau answers.
“Do I look upset?”
“No.”
Siffrin smiles softly. Change, help him. “Good. You need to know that I’m not. It’s okay, Isa. If anyone’s going to listen to me sleep-talk about my problems, I’m glad that it’s you.”
Isabeau wants to kiss him so, so badly. He needs to resist, though, because pacing in this relationship is important to them both. They are important to each other, including their needs, desires, and feelings. To Isabeau, that’s what makes this a partnership: they share each other’s burdens, help one another to breathe a little easier. That’s why Isabeau wanted to check in on Siffrin in the first place!
“Speaking of sleep-talk problems,” Isabeau segues. He glances sideways to the lumpy tent floor, pondering on what the right way to approach this subject is. “You… you’re still worried. About losing us.”
Siff’s face falls, and they pull their sleeping bag covers up to their chin, embarrassed. Ashamed. “... Yeah.”
“I’d ask why, but I think I have some sort of idea,” Isabeau reflects. “Do you feel like you’re still trapped?”
Siffrin takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, it comes out shaky. “Not quite? I don’t really… feel safe anymore?”
“Because of the loops?”
“No- I- urgh,” Sif is getting frustrated now, their hands reaching up to tug on the tufts of their hair. Isabeau frowns. Maybe he should just sit back and listen to what Siffrin is trying to tell him instead of guessing. Siffrin may have a hard time communicating feelings, but trying to fill in the blanks for them could prevent them from being able to process their feelings at all.
Still, it’s not like Isabeau’s going to let them stay frustrated. He wants Sif to know they have all the time in the world to feel what they need to. Wordlessly, Isabeau reaches up to Sif’s hands tugging their hair, and takes them into his own. Sif stills, eyes gazing at the way Isabeau’s hands cradle their own. Their eyes flicker up to Isabeau’s, before returning to look at the hands between them. Then, Isabeau feels them give an experimental squeeze.
Cute. Isabeau beams, and squeezes back.
“My memory… my home,” Sif mumbles. “All of it was taken from me against my will. What if it happens again? I can’t let it happen again. I won’t.”
“Your home…?” Isabeau starts.
“My home… is you guys, now.” Siffrin slumps forward, creating a hunch in their back. “If blinding Wish Craft was enough to take away my fa- my old home… What's stopping it from happening again? I need to make sure that it doesn’t.”
“Sif?”
“Hm?”
“Can… Can I hold you?”
Sif looks at him like he’s been waiting all night for Isabeau to ask. He instantly wriggles
close to him once again, only this time, taking up space in the cavity between his chest and his hips. Compared to the rest of Isabeau, Sif is the size of a small cat. They curl up like one, too, tucking their face in the pit of Isa’s arm, and burrowing his legs up to their chest. Isabeau’s face burns.
His large hand reaches to cup Sif’s cheek, their feather soft bangs falling gently on top of it.
His arms envelop Sif completely around their shoulders and back, and he pulls. He pulls them even closer, somehow, but leaving room for Sif to breathe. He needs them to know that they’re not alone, and that Isabeau is never letting them go if he can help it.
“I don’t think that you could forget us if you tried,” Isabeau says softly, watching the light in their eyes shimmer. He’s so close to Sif that he can see himself reflected in their eyes. “And I won’t forget you, either. Not now, not ever.”
“But what if you do?” Sif asks, voice cracking.
“Then you find us again,” Isabeau tells him firmly. “You find us, and you tell us who you are, and what we’ve been through. You say you aren’t letting us leave you? Well, we’re not letting you leave us. You’re our Siffrin, and we love you.”
“...Okay.” He hears Sif whisper. “I love you, too.”
“No way?” Isabeau mocks surprise, then smirks. “Need the covers? Before you fall asleep?”
“You’re enough.”
Isabeau hunches his shoulders and nearly screams. Crab, not the cuteness-aggression again! But he manages to regain his composure in time. He wriggles down a bit so his head is resting on their pillow, shifts Siffrin until his arms are comfortable, then relaxes and takes a deep breath.
“... night, Sif.”
“... night, Isa. Thanks for listening to my sleeping baggage.”
Isa grins and snorts while Siffrin snuggles into his arms, and as Isabeau’s eyes close, the stress of the night fades away.