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Sylvain’s late, much late. Actually he’s not supposed to be out at this time of the night, but he had promised that girl – what was her name? Clarisse? Florence? – that he would’ve taken her someplace nice, and he would never back down from such promises; besides, it isn’t the first time he sneaks out at night to have some fun outside.
What can he say? There aren’t many occasions to have fun around, and if he has to look for it outside these boring walls, so be it.
He wasn’t expecting to hear sounds coming from the training grounds, but still it doesn’t take him too much to put two and two together: he knows who this is.
He’s careful not to make any noise as, instead of going straight to the dorms, he walks towards the training grounds, barely leaning over a column to see whoever could be out at this hour to train.
Of course, the one destroying training dummies left and right is Felix. Oh joy.
He suspected it was him, but being right doesn’t feel good for Sylvain, not at all; what the hell is he doing still up? It’s impossible that he’s catching up on some lost training, since he basically lives there and leaves only to eat and sleep, so… Sylvain is at a loss of thoughts.
One thing is certain, however: he won’t let him keep going. He already works a lot – too much even he’d say – during the day; he doesn’t need to lose sleep over this as well.
Sylvain won’t let his friend destroy himself like this.
Felix must’ve noticed his steps getting closer because he freezes, only to relax as soon as he realizes it’s him – and he didn’t even need to turn around.
- What the hell are you doing? -, he asks as he brings his sword down on the training dummy. Ouch, he’s barely acknowledging him.
- I could ask you the same thing -, Sylvain retorts. As if he’s going to let Felix’s rude manners make him falter now.
- I’m training as you can see, and I bet you went having fun somewhere didn’t you? -.
- Training? In the middle of the night? Not even you can be this careless -, Sylvain says, ignoring Felix’s question. He’s not there to have a conversation about his escapades, but to drag his ass to bed.
This time Felix turns to face Sylvain; to say that he looks pissed off would be an understatement.
- So what? -, he says in fact, with an angry tone of voice, - I don’t bother with your personal affairs, so why should you bother with mine? -.
- Felix, it’s unhealthy… -.
- Shut up you’re not my father! -.
The air around them freezes as Sylvain comes to a realization.
Ah, this is what it’s all about.
Rodrigue – Felix’s father – has just left the monastery today, not before having the umpteenth argument with Felix, and of course his friend must be still sore about that.
He knows that Felix’s family is a touchy subject for him, and he knows already that he’ll try his best not to go there… but he can’t stand still and watch his friend self-destruct because this is the only way he can cope with his feelings.
Sylvain has tried, has tried so hard to let him understand that he can lean on him, that they can share this burden together, but Felix is too stubborn to listen.
Oh well, there are people who throw themselves into training and others who dwell in hedonism in an unhealthy way.
In the end, they’re both fucked up in their own way.
This doesn’t mean Sylvain won’t try to help his friend though.
It’s with a newfound energy that he grabs a spear, surprising both himself and Felix, who’s watching him with a surprised gaze.
- Then let’s spar -, Sylvain says then, his voice harsher than he intended to, but it’s late and Felix is being his usual stubborn self, - If you win, you keep training until you pass out, but if I do, I get to drag you to bed -.
- What makes you think you’ll win? -, Felix asks, already getting in position to strike, - You never train -.
True, but Sylvain is clearly less tired than him, and this time he feels determined too; this isn’t just a stupid sparring match between friends, it’s his only way to help.
- I have a hunch -, is all he replies with, before lounging at Felix.
His aggressive stance takes Felix by surprise; he’s locked on defending without any chance to counterattack.
It’s exhausting, but Sylvain keeps going; he knows Felix will be the first one to give up – he has to.
Then, with a swift movement of his lance, he manages to make the sword fall from Felix’s hands, too far for him to try and reach it, then he goes for the legs, making him fall to the ground.
Felix has barely the time to notice what is happening that he finds himself lying on his back, with Sylvain on his lap and the training lance pointed at his throat.
Neither of them moves a muscle, indulging in this moment maybe too long as they catch their breaths.
Felix is still stunned and surprised, while Sylvain is enjoying the sensation of having won for once, but he quickly gets over himself – although he can’t stop thinking about how pretty Felix looks like this, about how he wouldn’t mind watching him like this again, maybe in some other context…
He begins to get up, brushing that thought aside, and after having discarded the lance aside to take a hold onto Felix’s wrist, helps him up as well.
- Since I won -, he begins, - It’s time for bed -.
He ignores Felix protests, even when the other points out that they’ve left their weapons on the ground. Who cares, someone will come and pick them up at morning.
Felix needs to go to bed and he needs it now.
Sylvain doesn’t take him to Felix’s room, but to his own, and this doesn’t escape Felix who asks him what he’s doing.
- If I leave you there, I know you’re just going to get up and go to the training grounds again -, he explain, letting Felix enter before closing the door behind him with the key, something he doesn’t usually do, but this is an emergency. Thinking about it, should he hide it somewhere?
- Don’t worry, I’ll give you some of my clothes -, he suddenly says there, sensing that that was something Felix was about to speak about.
- But I’m sweaty -.
Sylvain would’ve never expected something like that to come out Felix’s mouth; he must be really trying his all to escape from this situation.
- Well, Felix, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am too -, he replies, because yes, he’s not in a better condition, - We can always get cleaned up tomorrow morning -.
- Umpf -.
And with that Felix doesn’t add anything else. Sylvain decides to consider this a victory.
He tries to give him so privacy looking through his closet to find something that he could give Felix while the other begins to undress, tossing first his shirt, then his binder, on the ground pretty unceremoniously, something that Sylvain notices.
- You can put them on the chair if you want -, he proposes, but Felix shrugs just as Sylvain has finally found an old shirt that he used to wear. It’s too small for him now, so it should fit Felix well.
- I don’t care -, Felix replies, accepting Sylvain’s shirt and putting it on. Although it’s small than what Sylvain usually wears now, it still is a bit too big for Felix’s frame, but Sylvain would lie if he said that he didn’t like this look; if only he could see him like this more often.
A moment passes, then Felix seems to recognize it.
- Wait, this shirt! Didn’t I give you this? -.
Oh, so he remembers.
- Yes, it was a birthday present if I recall -, Sylvain replies, even though he actually remembers that event quite well. He’d been so happy that Felix had given you a gift, and he always wore it whenever he could.
- What are you doing with this, here? I doubt it fits you anymore -, Felix asks.
Sylvain shouldn’t be surprised that Felix wouldn’t know why he keeps it, but c’mon, would he really throw away such a precious gift?
- Because I still like it -.
He’s not lying, but there’s something more to it as well, something that he would usually not talk about, but for some reason, this time it’s different, and Sylvain continues:
- It reminds me of old times… I don’t know, I’ve grown attached to it -.
- I know, it’s silly, but… -.
- I’m glad you kept it -.
Sylvain’s mouth is agape as he stares at Felix, who only now seems to realize what he just said, and he looks away, his face suddenly blushing. It’s the cutest thing Sylvain has ever seen – not that he’ll ever tell him of course, he wants to live after all.
- I-I mean… -.
Felix seems at a loss of words, and Sylvain decides to take pity on him.
- Don’t worry about it, I got you -, he says, to which Felix shoots him a questioning glare, as if to say “do you really?”, but at least he doesn’t reply, instead he heads straight for the bed, climbing on it and getting inside the covers.
Sylvain would really love to go on with this subject, but he knows that he would just make Felix angry like this; oh well, he can always talk about something else.
- Hey is it ok if I get undressed too? I usually sleep just in my underwear -.
Felix’s voice sounds almost amused as he replies:
- Not a chance, what if someone sees us and makes the wrong assumptions? -.
- Oh, so you can be stripped down to a shirt and underwear, but I can’t? The world is really unjust -, Sylvain laments, only half-joking, as he changes his clothes into something more comfortable.
He tries not to think about the fact that he wouldn’t mind turning those wrong assumptions into correct ones.
- Besides, who the hell should see us right now? -, he asks, more amused now than anything else, as he makes his way to bed, lying down beside Felix who’s suspiciously silent, something he does when he’s being put in a corner.
- Weren’t we supposed to sleep? Sleep then -, he manages to reply then, and the only reason why Sylvain doesn’t burst into laughter is because he’s pretty sure Felix would kick him out of the bed and he doesn’t want to sleep on the ground.
- All right, all right. Sleep it is -.
He would’ve expected Felix to try and put some space between the two of them, but actually he was pretty close, lying on his side facing him, his nose that almost brushes against Sylvain’s chest.
Despite how much he barks, he’s human too, and humans sometimes need comfort even when they don’t act like it – actually, especially when they don’t act like it. Sylvain knows this too well.
He knows he’s taking a risk when he slowly moves his arms around Felix, pulling him closer into a semblance of a hug, but he does it anyway and he’s rewarded for it; Felix lets himself be moved, pressing his body again Sylvain’s, though he makes a point of hiding his face in the crook of Sylvain’s neck – but still he can feel his arms stretching out, returning the hug.
He doesn’t cry; they both don’t do that anymore – even if Felix’s breath has become quite shaky.
Still, this closeness is nice, and there’s comfort in being together.
At this point Sylvain’s more asleep than awake, but he hears a voice… nah, it must be a dream he’s having.
There’s no way Felix would have said:
- Thank you, Sylvain -.