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There were few things that truly terrified Sylvain Jose Gautier. Those centipedes with the millions of hair-like appendages, being alone for the rest of his life, commitment— just to name a few. All in all, there wasn’t really a whole lot he was afraid of, but that list was subject to change at any time. Including—
“SYLVAIN!”
—right this very moment.
Now, there were a few things— plus one— that truly terrified Sylvain Jose Gautier, the newest being the sight of a very angry Felix Hugo Fraldarius all but barreling down the hall toward him just as Sylvain had made a daring escape from all the fretting healers swarming the infirmary. All that white magic all at once made him nauseous, and though the attention from many a cute girl and the occasional handsome guy would normally be very welcome, he just felt stifled. The world was rocking as if he were on a boat, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the healing magic, the heat of the room, or the blood loss he’d experienced on the battlefield. Maybe all three. In any case, he wasn’t in any position to flee from the beyond-peeved noble currently making a beeline for him with teeth bared and fire in his already stormy eyes. Though Felix spent most of his life in a constant state of low-simmering irritation, this was probably the most irate Sylvain had ever seen him in all his years knowing him.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, eyes wide and flicking between Felix and the door of the infirmary. Suddenly, the cot his unconscious form had been dumped on the previous afternoon looked extremely inviting. So much for stretching his legs after nearly twenty four hours of laying down. Given, he’d slept about thirteen of those away... but it was the principal of the matter.
“You’re goddamn right,” Felix hissed, stopping inches from Sylvain with his trembling hands balled into fists at his side, boots practically stomping holes into the ancient floorboards with such force that it was a wonder they didn’t splinter. Sylvain wouldn’t at all be surprised if those loose dark locks fanning around the other man’s head suddenly transformed into dozens of hissing serpents— it would suit Felix, actually. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Sylvain blinked owlishly. He didn’t expect a royal parade as a greeting after nearly dying, but he also certainly didn’t expect being scolded. “Uh. What?”
“You idiot !” The other man growled, those hands lifting, hovering over Sylvain’s chest as if he wanted to shove him, to hit him, but he seemed to think better of it as he averted his gaze and dropped his arms without making contact, letting them hang limply by his sides. He was still seething, though; Sylvain could see it in the furrow of his brow, the storm in his dark eyes, the tremor in his fingers. It might have been a trick of the light, or simply Sylvain’s swimming vision, but it appeared as though dark shadows lay under the other’s eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. Sylvain was about to open his mouth to ask his friend to elaborate when that dark gaze trained on him once more, looking as if it could pierce right through him; and perhaps it could.
“Why did you do it?”
Apparently Sylvain’s gaping mouth was enough for Felix, as he seemed to lose the reigns on his temper a bit more, hands clenching into fists. “Why did you block that hit for me?” he gritted out.
Oh. Oh .
“So that’s what this is about?” Sylvain began, narrowing his eyes. He’d cross his arms if it didn’t hurt so badly— apparently when he collided with the ground, he’d popped his arm right out of socket. He hadn’t been awake when they’d popped it back in, but he sure as hell felt it now. “That’s why you look like you’re gonna snap my neck right now? Really?”
“That wasn’t your battle to fight. I’m not for you to save. Does that make you feel like a hero?” Felix retorted, voice low and dripping with venom. The heat was shallow, though, Sylvain knew. He’d known the other man long enough to tell when he was loading words with sharp edges specifically to hurt anyone they were aimed at. He didn’t really mean it— he rarely did.
“Are you kidding me?” Despite knowing better, he couldn’t help the irritation that bubbled up from his chest. A product of being cooped up in near constant pain for almost an entire day, no doubt. He’d known Felix long enough to know not to rise to the bait that his stinging words provided, but he was exhausted. “I’m not asking for recognition for my heroics or whatever you think I want. I was trying to save my friend . That’s all.”
Felix curled his lip in disgust. “Tch. That wasn’t your decision to make. I can handle myself.”
Sylvain couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him, regarding Felix with a raised brow. “This is a pride thing isn’t it? This shouldn’t even concern your pride! You could be dead right now, Felix. Dead . I have no doubt you can handle yourself, but I think you should still be able to ask for help, especially if it concerns your damn life .”
They’d had this argument (or some semblance of it) countless times throughout their lives, starting with the time that Sylvain caught Felix as he fell from a precarious stack of boxes in their ninth year as he attempted to pick an apple from a tree. It resulted in a broken arm on Sylvain’s end and Felix attempting to scold him through tears. The scolding didn’t last for long, as the other fussed over him the entire walk back to Felix’s home. Sometimes Sylvain missed the days where Felix wasn’t so hardened by grief, but he wouldn’t trade his friend for the world.
“Why did you catch me?” Felix had demanded as fat tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks, still a firecracker even though he had always been a bit of a runt. Sylvain also distinctly remembered that he was missing a tooth. “You— your arm is broken now!”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Sylvain had replied, holding back his own tears because it hurt. “Let you fall? I had to help you!”
“ I didn’t need help! If I needed help, I would have asked. ”
“ But you didn’t, and you still needed it. So there! Sometimes you don’t gotta ask. I’ll be there anyway, okay? ”
“ You’re so dumb, Sylvain ,” Felix had muttered, defeated. “ Let’s go home .”
Sylvain was wrenched from his reverie by a growl from his friend. Still the firecracker.
“I could be dead? You’re telling me that when you’ve got bandages covering a fucking stab wound on your stomach.” Felix’s eyes were burning coals threatening to ignite at any moment, his lip snarled and his jaw set dangerously. “I’m sick of cleaning up your messes. That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t jumped in front of me. If I had just—...” And then, the dark haired man cut himself off so abruptly it was as if he were choking on the words themselves, eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Sylvain felt rather like one would feel if they’d prepared for the massive tornado they could clearly see heading for their home only to watch it dissipate into nothing before their very eyes. All the sudden, the pieces were clicking into place, and Sylvain softened, guilt from snapping at the other man settling heavy in his gut. Felix was all barbs and pointy edges aimed to hurt those around him, to push them away, until he felt like he was strong enough to protect them. After all, they couldn’t get hurt at a safe distance. Sylvain sighed, letting his entire frame relax as he regarded his closest friend with brows furrowed in concern. He knew Felix hated pity more than nearly anything else, but this wasn’t pity, per se... Just melancholy stemming from the fact that his friend was so adamant on getting stronger that he’d rather put his own life in jeopardy than accept help from a friend, warranted or not.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Felix spat, eyes darting like a caged animal before settling defiantly on Sylvain’s face. “I don’t want your—“
“Pity,” Sylvain finished for him softly, “I know. Which is why it isn’t pity. I’m just—...” Now, how would he word this without possibly ending up back in the infirmary by Felix’s hand? Good thing he was right beside it... “What’s so different about this from all the other times I’ve blocked hits for you? I mean, remember that one time that chick’s scythe got me so badly that I—“
“Yes,” Felix interrupted quickly, waving his hand in the air as if attempting to dismiss the image. “Yes, I remember. But that time, you didn’t—... That time, I didn’t watch you...” His reply was halting, voice ever so slightly strained as he searched for the right words. Sylvain was nothing if not patient with Felix’s particular demeanor, so he kept his mouth shut, also a bit selfishly eager to hear his answer. Felix seemed to steel himself then, chin tilted up defiantly in contrast to his wandering amber eyes which adamantly refused to directly meet Sylvain’s. “That time, I didn’t watch you fall. That time, I didn’t watch you get carried off the battlefield only to hear no word of your condition until the following morning. That time... I didn’t think you were dead.” Felix’s voice broke on the last word, as Sylvain watched as he flinched, as if the involuntary action had physically stung him.
Sylvain wanted nothing more to assure his friend that it was alright to show some semblance of weakness, goddamn , but he knew all too well he’d get smacked if he tried.
Sylvain sighed, opening his mouth to reassure Felix that he wasn’t going anywhere, and to perhaps toss in a joke that would earn him a particularly vicious eye-roll, but he faltered at the sight of Felix’s fists, trembling harder than before. Suddenly, the other man was taking a step forward, and in a flash, there were arms around his ribcage and fingers grasping at his bare back, a face pressed into the crook of his neck. Sylvain was stunned into silence, arms hovering awkwardly above Felix’s eerily still form before wrapping around him to return the embrace. His old friend was squeezing him just this side of tight, but seemed to be carefully avoiding making contact with the wound to his abdomen. He was speaking as well, Sylvain could feel his breath ghosting against his neck, but he couldn’t catch the muffled words. He allowed his hand to carefully rub at Felix’s back, waiting for a reaction or violent outburst, but when he got nothing of the sort, he upgraded to tracing soothing shapes across the expanse of his friend’s back. “What was that?”
Felix sucked in an unsteady breath, and Sylvain wasn’t sure if the audible shudder in it was due to irritation or whatever emotion had possessed Felix to finally hug him like he’d always teased that he would. Sylvain had missed the hugs they’d both liberally doled out to each other as children, but this one felt different— like he shouldn’t be enjoying it so much as he should be using it to provide for his friend.
“I don’t want you to die,” Felix finally managed, voice uncharacteristically quiet and lacking any sort of heat, edge, or condescending air. Sylvain felt his heart clench and his stomach drop, his hands stilling on Felix’s back. “I can’t— I can’t lose you, too. I’m... I’m not strong enough.”
Sylvain felt all the fight he’d ever had drain out of him, instead letting himself squeeze his dear friend tighter, ignoring the ache of his wound. “I’ll be honest,” he began, voice wavering ever so slightly. “I was scared. I was so damn scared.”
“Stop,” Felix said weakly, hiding his face once more. Sylvain duly ignored his plea.
“But all that fear was gone as soon as I knew you were okay. I mean, it was all gone once I was unconscious, but— not the point. I can’t lose you either. Which is— which is why...” He was beginning to lose himself, quickly dissolving into a blubbering idiot. He took a shuddering breath and cradled the back of Felix’s head with one palm, fingers threading into silky crow feather hair. It was unbound, which was strange; Felix never left his hair down unless he was bathing or going to bed. It was just a testament to how worried he’d been for the past day, which only made Sylvain’s heart clench even more painfully. “Which is why I protected you. We made a promise, right? When we were kids.”
Felix was quiet and still in his arms, the only indication that he wasn’t asleep or otherwise gone was the clenching of his fist in the part of Sylvain’s bandages that wrapped around his back. Sylvain directed his gaze to the support beams of the ceiling, eyeing the wood grain as he blinked away hot tears. He was wrenched from his reverie by a gentle thump to his chest, eyes wide as he took in the sight of Felix’s hand curled into a fist resting just below his left collarbone.
“Selfish,” Felix hissed brokenly. “Selfish, selfish, selfish. Sylvain...” Every word was punctuated by another gentle thump to his chest before the utterance of his name wrenched an awful noise from Felix’s chest. He immediately clamped his mouth shut, but it was no use. His shoulders began to shake, and Sylvain wrapped him up in his arms once more, combing through his hair. The other man didn’t put up a fight. Sylvain could count the number of times Felix had truly cried in front of him on one hand. He used to be quite the crybaby when they were much younger, but that was different, at least in Sylvain’s opinion. He’d cried when Sylvain broke his arm, he’d cried openly into Sylvain’s shoulder when Glenn died, he’d silently invaded Sylvain’s room the night when his father died only to let himself sob when he’d thought Sylvain was asleep in bed beside him, and... now, when he thought he’d almost lost Sylvain.
They stood like that outside the infirmary for so long that Sylvain’s feet began to ache, that about a dozen healers and visitors to the infirmary had given them curious looks, but both of their tears had long dried before Sylvain forced himself to pull away only just enough to get a look at Felix’s face. The other man’s cheeks were ruddy, dark strands of hair falling into his face and across his cheeks, pooling at his shoulders. He was stubbornly looking away, gaze turned down and to the side as he refused to give any indication that he even knew Sylvain was standing right before him. He was beginning to pull away himself, but Sylvain caught him with a hand at his lower back, halting his movements. Eyes wide, Felix faltered for a split second before gathering his bearings and preparing to scald Sylvain with his words before the red haired man made up his mind, swooped in, and captured his lips.
Felix was stiff for a moment, lips unmoving against Sylvain’s, and for one brief, terrible moment, he believed his horribly impulsive brain had made a grave mistake. Maybe he’d lost more blood than he originally thought if he actually believed he could act on his long-standing crush on the man he’d grown up with. He was moving to pull away when thin fingers found their way to his face and made him startle, cupping his cheeks almost desperately as soft lips began to move against his own. Sylvain could have cried in relief, but instead, he allowed himself to enjoy kissing his friend— no, that wasn’t quite right. Friends didn’t kiss each other and like it, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine a world where he and Felix weren’t friends even if they were... involved . Eh, whatever— Sylvain wasn’t one for labels anyway.
When they finally parted, Sylvain’s gaze gravitated to Felix’s reddened cheeks, the color that was already there intensified by his apparent bashfulness. It was a good look on him, and the red haired man couldn’t help but grin. Felix scowled.
“Is this funny to you?”
“Nah. I just think you’re cute.”
Felix sputtered before the crease between his brows deepened. “You say that to everything that moves.”
“You know this is different,” Sylvain said softly, and Felix seemed to deflate a bit, barbs and pointy edges retracting.
“Shut up,” Felix said lowly, and Sylvain nearly flinched, but his eyes widened as soon as the other man’s fingers threaded into his hair and pulled him down to slot their lips together once more. This kiss was a tad less chaste than before, hungry but still full of things unspoken. Sylvain knew Felix would rather let his actions speak for him, and he was definitely getting the message, melting against the other man.
Once they’d separated a second time, Felix sucked in a breath, letting his hand fall from Sylvain’s hair. “You have no idea how tired I was of running after you.”
Sylvain blinked owlishly. “Wait. What?”
“Are you a moron? Scratch that. You are. You were too busy chasing skirts to notice the fact that I’ve been staring at your stupid face since we were thirteen.”
“Th... Thirteen..?”
Felix seemed to misinterpret Sylvain’s shocked stammering as discomfort, cheeks ablaze as his scowl turned into a full-out glare, arms crossed over his chest. Sylvain wasn’t about to let the other man put distance between them, so he tugged him closer by the waist, and he allowed himself to be pulled without resistance. “You heard me.”
“I... I mean... Wow,” Sylvain breathed, shaking his head with an airy, incredulous laugh. His brain was scrambled— what was he supposed to say? Would Felix believe him if he told him he’d had a silly crush on him since they were fifteen (coincidentally the same year he’d had an identity crisis) that had snowballed into full blown love as soon as they’d entered the academy? “I... I think I realized I liked you around then, too. Um. Fifteen. For me. That’s... when I realized, I mean. Yeah.”
His pathetic stammering made Felix’s lips twitch into something that looked like a tiny smile if you just squinted and turned yourself upside down— or just knew what to look for, like Sylvain did. “You never cease to surprise me with just how dense you are. ”
Sylvain replied with a goofy smile of his own, one that made Felix shove him for real this time, and he began to laugh in earnest even though it hurt. Before he could gather his bearings, Felix had snatched up his wrist and was leading him back into the infirmary.
“We can talk about this later. Right now, you need to rest, dumbass. What were you thinking, getting up when you still look like that?” He motioned to Sylvain’s entire form with a grimace.
“Wh—What’s that supposed to mean?” He squawked indignantly, though he allowed Felix to lead him to an empty cot, the one surrounded by piles of his now-clean armor.
“You look like you just saw a ghost, got in a fight with a wind storm and lost, and haven’t slept in twenty years, all at once. I have to say; that would be impressive if you didn’t look absolutely awful.”
Sylvain, feeling thoroughly roasted, merely grumbled as he allowed himself to be pushed into his cot, watching Felix scrutinize the thin blanket he’d been provided with. He must really be exhausted, because he couldn’t remember ever formulating the words that spilled from his mouth next in his mind: “Stay with me.”
Felix blinked, then blinked again, and Sylvain had to delve back into his (terrible) short term memory and retrieve exactly what he’d just said, because it looked a little like he’d told Felix he’d never eat his favorite food again. Then, Felix’s expression clouded for a moment before being replaced with something softer than Sylvain thought the other man capable of. It made his stomach flop and his heart jump to his throat. “Okay,” he said simply, and moved to settle on the floor beside the cot once Sylvain had settled on it.
The red haired man shook his head, reaching out to Felix’s arm and giving it a tug, to which the other man narrowed his eyes warily. “I meant with me. Up here.” Felix didn’t move, his scowl deepening, so Sylvain resorted to bringing out the big guns: his award winning pout. “Please? I’m cold, Felix. So very cold... If I am not warmed by the body of another, I might perish in the night!” He punctuated his dramatics with a swooning hand over the forehead. Felix groaned and gave the hand currently attached to his arm a fierce flick, grumbling and red-faced as he heaved himself to his feet.
“Do you ever shut up? And... are you sure this cot can hold both of us?” The other man asked skeptically, but Sylvain could sense no hesitance from him, and he couldn’t help but feel smugly triumphant.
“I don’t care. Just get in. It’s all warmed up for you.” He shuffled over and patted the space he left with a grin. Felix’s resulting disgusted expression was absolutely hilarious, so much so that Sylvain made a point to commit it to memory.
“Stop that. Goddess, you’re so... weird.” Even so, Felix managed to cram himself into the cot with Sylvain, pressed flush against him even as its frame creaked and groaned in protest. It really wasn't made to hold two fully grown men, but Sylvain didn’t really give half of a shit at this point, because damn , Felix really was warm. He duly ignored the curious, amused, and even soft looks the many occupants of the room were giving them, focused only on Felix. He was squirming around as he attempted to get comfortable, eventually slotting himself firmly into Sylvain’s side, blowing out a heavy breath. “How did you manage to sleep in this thing last night?”
“I didn’t,” Sylvain hummed. “I was completely passed out, so I didn’t really have a choice.”
Felix winced, lip curling. “Right.” His lips parted to say something else, but he thought better of it, instead pursing them. Sylvain had rarely seen him look so unsure. “You... You should get some rest.”
Sylvain blinked. That wasn’t quite what he was expecting... “I... Okay,” he relented, voice soft. “But... One more thing. Really fast.”
Felix made an affirmative noise.
“Kiss me one more time?”
It was hilarious and endearing all at once to watch Felix’s face bloom into vibrant color, amber eyes widening comically, and Sylvain has to restrain himself from stealing that kiss preemptively.
“Fine,” Felix replied tightly, and what followed was the gentlest press of soft, dry lips to his cheek. Sylvain felt himself melting, grin playing at his lips, and it felt like everything would really be alright for the first time in years.
“Thank you,” Sylvain murmured, his eyelids already feeling heavy. Exhaustion hit him like a brick as soon as he allowed himself to relax with Felix. As much as he wanted to stay awake at Felix’s side, it was way too comfortable, and he couldn’t help but want to drift off in the safety of his presence. He stopped fighting his drowsiness, letting his eyes close, and he was dimly aware of the feeling of that thin blanket being spread over his form. Just before he truly drifted off, he felt an arm wrap around his waist, fingers carding through his hair, and... peace. He was at peace.