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Private my least favorite you

Discussion in 'Crystal Vales' started by Sylvain Gautier, Sep 22, 2019.

  1. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    september 23, 109
    @Felix Fraldarius

    Days turned into a week.

    Everyone seemed glad enough that Sylvain was there. Already trying to help him figure out this new place, explaining the changes within apparent different timelines. And despite some... Pretty major differences, everyone seemed to be just as he'd remembered.

    Sure, the less alluring figure on the professor and Claude's aging backwards was new; but at least Dimitri and Felix appeared to be the exact same as he'd been used to. Dimitri was even not… What he had been for a while, without that feral look in his eye. If he'd been taken from then, it'd probably make this whole transition into a new world a lot more difficult. Sure, he was still having troubles with his king after all that had happened, but there was no denying how relieved he was to see him. Almost exactly as relieved as he was to see that his other childhood friend was there.

    Not that he'd even gotten that good of a look at Felix. It was like he arrived and Felix was already tired of his bullshit. Well, he likely was. But he hadn't even spoken to Sylvain yet, which was... Odd. Not completely out of place, seeing as he did kind of deserve it from time to time, but it was definitely odd.

    No. Actually? If he was being honest with himself, it felt plain wrong.

    Wouldn't he have normally returned by the end of the first night, when everyone was gone, to let Sylvain know he was glad to see him? That's at least how it went usually, once they were alone Felix would be... His best friend. Behind closed doors he was still an asshole, but he was his asshole. One that wouldn't just let him sit there confused without insulting some information into him.

    Sylvain attempted to speak to him multiple times, to practically no avail. It was always short. He expected to get Felix in a room by himself within the first day or two, but… He was being actively avoided. He knew better than to fling himself at someone that he could’ve possible scorned without realizing. Especially when he knew they could hand his own ass to him.

    But he could really use some familiarity right now. Maybe if he waited a few more days, this world would help him out. Maybe it would complete the set. If Ingrid could be right there insulting him at this very moment, it’d probably make him cry tears of joy.

    Whipping from what was likely to be the final, hardest battle he'd ever have to fight... If to a place where everyone apparently lived in harmony was, in no other way to put it, a lot. What he wouldn’t give to have his friend’s ear, even if it was attached to that scowl and those piercing eyes.

    Somehow, he was going to figure out what the fuck he did to make him hate Sylvain so much. Maybe, and he hoped that it was just his anxiety… but maybe they hadn’t even been friends where he came from? Was it possible Felix could’ve been from a time where he was completely irrelevant to him? He certainly hadn't come from a time where he kept that carefree, sensitive about everything personality he had as a kid, at least. And it was hard to tell if he was avoiding Sylvain in his normal ‘Felix doesn’t talk to anyone if he doesn’t have to’ way, or the ‘you’ve pissed me off you insufferable dumbass’ way. If he just had an idea, if he pushed for some information, maybe he could make amends.

    And then he heard the door - Felix finally returned from somewhere.

    He didn't want it to look like he'd been waiting all day for him to come back, but Sylvain was terrible at acting like he wasn't desperate when he was. There were just so many questions he had, and it felt weird to get every bit of information from the professor when he was under the same roof as his own best friend. Felix was definitely trying to make a run for it; Sylvain, being an idiot as per usual, placed himself in his way. He opted to take a step in the same direction to block him every time he tried to pull himself from him, like a child intercepting someone to play with.

    "Alright, you haven't even looked in my direction since I got here." He wasn’t expecting eye contact, but he was expecting… well, some sort of acknowledgement. Again, Felix tried to evade - and again, Sylvain used his difference in size to his advantage. "What's going on? I can understand why you would want to avoid me, but this is excessive. Cold, even for you. I need to know what I did this time."

    No teasing. He offered Felix no smile, no wink. But he couldn't hold him back forever, and let him continue inside with a sigh. "Fine. But you can't just push me away forever, you know how persistent I can be. I... think you do, at least."

    Barely a beat later.

    “Hey, wait, Felix -" He chased after him, just like every time he did this. Sylvain wanted to keep acting tough, like it didn't matter if Felix left him out to dry. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't mask how it always did sting. "There has to be something we can do to settle whatever I did. I mean, there was that thing with the girls at the bar we met up at a while ago, did you just get here from then? My luck. Look, I'm just a little rusty. And I didn't mean for you to get that involved, so -"
     
    #1 Sylvain Gautier, Sep 22, 2019
    Last edited: Dec 4, 2019 at 7:18 PM
  2. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    Seeing one of them alive had been bad enough.

    Felix still had a hard time wrapping his head around this Pandora bullshit. He'd been here for ten whole days, and as it were, things around him seemed to just... unravel further as time went on. There were a number of people here who were not meant to be. All of them claimed to be from different 'timelines'. Claude, in particular, was somehow younger. Dimitri was missing an eye. None of their stories matched or synced up anywhere, and to be completely and totally honest, it was getting on Felix's nerves. He was still somewhat convinced that all of the people around him were somehow fabrications, no matter how many times Dimitri had tried to convince him otherwise. Things like this simply were not possible. They wouldn't be possible. They couldn't be. He was just slowly slipping into insanity and had to accept it.

    Felix spent most of his days alone. In the woods behind their shared house, or otherwise secluded. Being around people was difficult for him, especially after spending most of his time during the ongoing war isolated. The sheer amount of human beings crowded under one roof in that building unnerved him. So he did his best to avoid staying around. They didn't need one more body to crowd their space. He wanted to be alone. Being with his thoughts and his thoughts only was likely to be... actually, more detrimental than beneficial. Whatever. If he wanted to swing a sword at some trees and pretend he didn't feel anything for the next week, he was going to do it. Nobody was going to tell him no, and more importantly, he wouldn't listen to anyone if they did. Broken wrist be damned, he needed to do something that felt normal.

    Sylvain being transplanted in had been the icing on the cake.

    Dimitri was one that he had always expected he would have to face. One way or another, being on the Empire's side meant that he would have to fight his former King. That made sense to him. It was what he was going for. He wanted Dimitri to see that his motives were wrong. He hadn't necessarily disagreed with his childhood friend's ideals; not in the slightest. The only reason he had wanted to join the Empire was to hurt him. To get back at him, to cause him the same sort of suffering that Felix himself felt watching Dimitri destroy himself over things that weren't his fault. He knew his reasons were stupid and petty. Oh, he was fully damn aware. But he had been a teenager when he had made his decision, and it was too late to turn back. For the single time in his life that he had let his emotions cloud his judgement, he had never stopped regretting it. It'd been the worst damn decision of his fucking life.

    That was made very apparent on the day that he'd met Sylvain on the battlefield.

    Opposite himself. Branded the traitor that he was. The one out of their group that had broken off. The one who'd strayed away to follow his own path, for his own stupid reasons, far from the watchful eyes of the ones who had taken care of him his entire life. They were no longer required to watch him. He wasn't a child. He no longer needed somebody to hold his hand and tell him what to do, and he especially didn't need that somebody to be Sylvain. That's what he told himself over, and over, and over, and over, and....

    Remember when we were kids and we made a promise about dying together?

    The question plagued him, day in and day out, looming around him like some kind of ghost. The ghost of Sylvain's memory. Of who they were and had been in a lifetime so different from the ones they were leading now. Memories of a happier time. Before Glenn's death, before Miklan had been exiled, before Dimitri had transformed before Felix into the boar that he always knew the blonde had been. Memories of when they were children, and they swore that nothing would ever separate them. Not even death.

    Felix had taken that promise and shattered it in his hand without so much as a second thought.
    He was following orders.
    He shouldn't have followed orders.

    Killing Sylvain had destroyed him. Killing Sylvain might as well have been killing himself. Though Felix had not died that day physically, he had mentally. He wasn't the same. He couldn't be the same, and he would never be the same. He had grown more reclusive, more spiteful, in the weeks following -- and only a single person had noticed. His savior in the form of Bernadetta von Varley, who sat beside him as he cried it out, lamenting the loss of his best friend by his own hand.

    Every night since, if Felix didn't dream of killing Dimitri, he dreamt of killing Sylvain.
    Over, and over, and over, and over. His blade plunging through the other's chest. The ever-present twinkle in his brown eyes fading away as his life left. The blood that stained both of them, leaving Felix with one last reminder that his best friend would be impossible to get rid of.

    He had to stay away from the house.
    Sylvain was in that house.
    And Felix could not bear to face him.

    He was alive here. He was well here.
    And he hadn't a single fucking clue of what Felix had done to him.

    He had spent the entirety of the day outside, sunup to sunset. Yesterday had been... interesting, to say the least, and he needed to eject himself from the house more than usual. He didn't want to think about what the others had seen while he'd been drunk. He didn't want to think about how he'd woken up next to Dimitri, and how much he'd liked it, and how much it'd reminded him of home. He didn't want to think, period. Felix wanted to be as far away from anything that would provoke any kind of emotion as he could be. If that meant he'd have to find some kind of woodland that wasn't mere steps away, he would. He'd do anything to keep himself from having to think about the consequences of his actions.

    He'd only returned to grab his jacket. As it was nearing the end of... whatever they called it here, the air once the sun had set grown colder. It was certainly indicative of autumn, and the beginning of Wyvern Moon. If he were to stay out here all night like he'd planned to, he at least wanted to be some degree of comfortable. His wrist forbade him from being totally comfortable, but it was easy to work around. His opposite hand was beginning to grow calloused in the other's stead from overuse. Though it was uncomfortable to be training with his weaker arm, it at least provided him the excuse that he wished to become better with it. Staying away from training because he was injured wasn't like him anyway. It wasn't like a man of Faerghus to do so, regardless of social standing.

    Felix had supposed that at some point, Sylvain would attempt to corner him. He'd always been good for that. Going so far as to trap Felix into corners to weasel information out of him, using his taller stature to his advantage. If Sylvain wanted information out of him, he was going to get it, and he was going to use every trick in the book to do so. Felix should have known that coming back to get his jacket would be a mistake, but he wasn't going to risk compounding his injury with illness. He was sorely regretting that now, as the older incessantly babbled some excuse as to why he thought that Felix was avoiding him.

    He wasn't interested. He wasn't going to listen. He wanted to be warm and get the fuck out.
    Eject yourself. Act like the coward you've always been. Run, run, run away.

    Felix turned his head toward Sylvain. He was made uncomfortable by the serious tone that his friend had taken on. Like he was desperate to know the answer. Like he really, truly, sincerely wanted to know why Felix was avoiding him, instead of letting it blow over and heal itself like the open wound that it was. He knew damn well the open wound would never heal. His mind refused to let it, instead keeping it open, letting it fester untreated in the open air and turn his stomach every time he looked at the redheaded man.

    Sorry, Sylvain. You'll die first.

    "Leave me alone," were the only words that Felix could manage to get out, spitting them toward the ground as his mind reeled through it's never ending nightmare over, and over, and over again. Just the sound of Sylvain's voice was enough to set them off. To make him feel sick all over again. To make him want to cry, just like the little baby that he was, right back into the arms of the boy that had always comforted him. The boy he'd stripped of his soul. The boy who had done everything he ever could to protect him, and the one he had crushed without thinking.

    He needed to get out.

    Felix pulled the door open once more, not caring enough to pull it shut. If Sylvain wanted to talk, he was going to have to follow him. He wouldn't put it past the other to do so. He just really wished that he wouldn't.

    Off into the woods he went. Now, more than ever, he needed to hit something.
    He just needed to fucking hit something.
     
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  3. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    In… aaaaand then right back out. Okay.

    He really did something. Beyond the bullshit they did as kids. Beyond the way he annoyed Felix when they were at the academy. Beyond anything he could think of past that, save a few times where Sylvain had gotten the other giggly-drunk and pushed too many boundaries.

    The look on Felix’s face was so unfamiliar as he left, it almost caught him off guard. He was so used to the younger guy’s scowl, the annoyed glare, the scoff. Sylvain wasn’t so used to… whatever that was as he turned around. He wasn’t even sure what it was. It didn’t seem exactly like hostility, or like he was looking through him as though he wasn’t there.

    Whatever it was, it pierced through his heart. It was physically painful.

    Felix would always say how he wanted to redhead out of his sight, verbally abusing him to the point where he’d definitely sat down and questioned the degrees of reciprocation on their friendship. A few times. Or a lot of times. Sylvain would wonder if he should stay friends with someone who was always trying to convince him and those around them that they weren't actually friends when they were surrounded by others.

    He always arrived back at the same conclusion, though. Sylvain wasn’t going to throw away a lifetime of memories just because his friend didn’t control his mouth or his temper. Even if it were in different ways, he had the same problem, anyhow. It might’ve been different parts of his body that he was ashamed of, it was still comparable. His friend’s tongue was just sharper than his, and Sylvain was an idiot. He babbled constantly just to fill the silence most times, aware that he was just spouting bullshit.

    His friend had gone through… a lot in his life.

    And Sylvain was one of his closest friends, he had been there when he was the cheerful, friendly, curious, cried at any sign of injustice or anger baby blueberry. And he watched as his brother’s death warped him. He didn’t want to think too hard about it, especially because of how depressing the implications could have been, but…

    It wasn’t until Glenn was gone that Felix began to act like him. Sylvain was close to Glenn's age, so maybe they should’ve been the ones that were best friends.

    But Glenn was a lot. Too much. There was a lot in the sense of being too uptight and literal, like Dimitri. He could deal with Dimitri! He liked Dimitri.

    Glenn was different. He would randomly declare that they had to fight with no warning, would hand him his ass until he bled, and then gloat about how much stronger he had been than Sylvain as he lied crumpled up and bruised on the ground. It wasn't just him, either, though everyone else almost seemed thankful for the opportunity. He was the coolest guy around, no doubt, but it's all that he was. Through all the time he could remember, there was no soft center he could get to and love with that guy. No hidden, beautiful personality or secret love of anything fun or interesting besides being a fucking prodigy.

    He far preferred Felix, even when Glenn was alive. Not kissing his ass was like doing him a disservice and would probably cause him to get a lashing back home, but enough was enough. He was a good knight. A hard worker. But he was so perfect or whatever that he outshined everyone and everything so much - it was as if, when life went to hell, people forgot the younger sibling. No one provided him comfort in his sorrow. He became jaded. Quietly fading from who he was to what he is, emulating that strength and the hunger to be the best of the best no matter the cost.

    It was like he was waving his arms in the air, begging for everyone to look at him. He could be good at things too! He could be interesting, and strong, steely-eyed, disciplined, never cry over a stepped-on flower, void of joy or those grabby hands, never do anything stupid like enjoy music or cute animals. Completely forget the taste of sweet things bringing childish joy and training until his hands, his body, his heart was completely calloused.

    Glenn was gone, Ingrid was recluse, Felix had changed, their families were torn apart, their kingdom experiencing grief, poor Dimitri was never going to be the same. And Sylvain was so caught up in the mess that was the tragedy and all that came with it for his young friends to think about his own problems.

    So even if he was decent at pointing out Felix’s issues at this point, he was still shit at sorting out his own. To this day. He could see himself fucking up royally, just to run away from something else. He could figure Felix out, help him somehow, but he was a different story just because he didn't feel like he was ever going to be as important as any of his other friends.

    At least, he was confident in understanding his Felix.

    This one… he’d have to be careful.
    Or he wouldn’t be. Even if he knew he had to be.

    Without thinking, Sylvain was after him like always. Ever since he started pulling himself away, Sylvain would run after Felix. He was sure there were times when the other would scoff, look away, and smile - but this one wasn’t doing any of those normal “I’m only pretending that I don’t like you” things and he was not as into this chase.

    But it was necessary. This needed to change. He needed those answers. He might’ve fucked up down the line somewhere, maybe he had betrayed his younger friend somehow, or Felix could be possessed or something. If he could just get his attention, rattle him a bit, he could get it all out of him. If he had to fight him, so be it. They’d talk it out, figure out their problems like always.

    “Felix, where are you going? Are you really making me follow you all the way out into the woods?” He was still asking questions, mostly just to let him know that Sylvain was still behind him. Maybe the things they had to talk about had to be really, really private. Felix was one of those people that would think of things like that without telling him, or at least, that’s how he thought it was. Guy was just trying to get rid of him this time, most likely. But lucky for no one, he wasn’t one to give up easily.

    “Okay, we’re in the woods. Far away from everyone. Just the sound of the trees and the birds, just little cracks of sun through the canopy. I’d almost call it romantic, if you weren’t looking at me like I was the last thing you wanted to see.” He gave Felix his best smile, a wink, just in an attempt to drag some sort of memory out of him. Remind him who it was that followed him this far. “You know, this reminds me of one of the girls I dated back in the academy. I dragged her all the way out there just to tell her about the way we were never going to be more than just two…”

    He stopped, dropping the act again. He’d tell the story if he had to, but it appeared as if he actually had Felix’s attention. And it wouldn’t last forever, so he had to act fast. “You want to hurt me, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He was starting to guess what that look was, even if it seemed to be pulling at the younger man’s face in ways that almost started saying the opposite. The more he stared, the more it became familiar. Somewhere, in that hardened gaze, lied a challenge of some kind. His eyes were so tired and almost sad.

    The pair were out where there was no one to see if Sylvain was hurt. No one to see if Felix wanted to go against what most likely everyone was telling him and not fighting when he was injured. Sylvain knew better than to ask him to stop training. He knew better than to believe that this was anything else.

    “Do your worst if you have to. I probably deserve it. But after that, you tell me what it is that I did." If he didn't want Sylvain dead, of course. He hoped that's not where this was going, but again, he couldn't blame him.
     
  4. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    Shut up.
    Shut up.
    Shut up.

    The only thing Felix wanted was for everything to shut the fuck up.

    Sylvain's incessant babbling, his mind's constant reeling, even so much as the crunch of leaves underfoot while the two of them walked deeper out into the woods. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted to be alone, and not even here in this stupid fuck of a pocket universe would he ever be granted that luxury. When would everyone understand? When would they understand that he deserved to be alone, to be ignored, because he was vile? It wasn't like he was what they wanted, anyway. They either wanted a Felix that he had no memory of or a Glenn he couldn't emulate. Nobody ever wanted just him.

    He had said it before, to Mercedes, before he had broken off to join the Eagles. That he was Felix Hugo Fraldarius and no one else. He was not her baby brother, Emile. He was not his own brother. He was not anyone else but himself. As if everyone around him couldn't see that blatant lie, or how desperately he was trying to copy his buried sibling in order to get someone to fucking notice him.

    He liked to conveniently ignore the fact that Sylvain and Dimitri knew Glenn nearly as well as himself. It was easy for him to pretend that he was always the one full of glares and over-confidence. Like it wasn't at all uncomfortable for him to slide into the persona that pointed swords at people and demanded that they challenge him. That was what his older brother would do. And everyone loved his older brother. Even now, Felix could swear that he felt Glenn's spur in his pocket burning a hole through it. Demanding everyone look at it, because it was the most important thing about the person carrying it around. Felix was not important, but Glenn was.

    The perfect knight. The true knight. The hero. The savior. Hard-working and determined, as opposed to his flower of a younger brother. There was no spot in the Fraldarius royal lineage for a child who was so timid. One so easy to cry and whine and pout, who cherished music, who liked to make flower crowns and reach up on his tiptoes to put them on his friends' heads. There was no spot for him. He was the useless second child. The backup, only there as a replacement for if something happened to his brother. Someone to carry on the lineage just in case.

    What good that'd done Rodrigue. Not only was his second child emotionally weak and a subpar fighter, but he was also gay as the day was long. He really was useless. It was no wonder why nobody loved him.

    Nobody loved Felix, but everyone loved Glenn. It was easier to just be Glenn in order to get people like like him. Slide into the shoes of someone already so well-loved instead of wearing your own shoes of somebody rife with neglect because of how weak they were.

    Weak. Weak is the one who kills his best friends for nothing more than the stupid satisfaction. Weak is the one who spends his nights seeing the scenes again and crying into his hands. Weak is the one who runs. The one who ignores those around him. Weak is the one who retches into the grass when he remembers his sins. Weak is the one he'd always fucking be, no matter how much of a face he put on.

    Part of him wanted nothing more than to listen to Sylvain's voice. It, at the very least, meant that he was here. He was alive. His idiot mouth running off about nothing was a clear indicator that he was at least alright. It felt like a stupid, soothing part of home that Felix knew he couldn't afford to get attached to. Not when he was the one who rid the world of it in the first place. For every word that sounded like home, there was another that sounded like a knife to the stomach.

    He couldn't stand listening to it.
    He wanted to listen to it for forever.

    He had no idea how far he had dragged the two of them into the woods. More so, he was dragging himself. Sylvain was just insistent on following him as he always had been. The poor man had played babysitter his entire life, it was only to be expected that he'd chase after his youngest problem child. That in itself made Felix want to scream. He didn't need anyone's help calming down. He didn't need anyone's help at all. He was an adult, and he'd deal with his problems as he had for the past ten years. He would isolate, he would get to some space where he would be uncomfortable but just angry enough to talk, and they'd deal with it that way.

    But Sylvain was insistent. Insistent and grating. Clearly concerned. He wanted to know what was going on. Why Felix was different. Why he, presumably, wasn't the same as he was in the timeline that he'd come from. He found it odd, to be jealous of himself. At least Sylvain's Felix got to go through the war with his best friends. The way it should have been. Instead of being some stupid fuck that regretted every single decision he'd ever made.

    You want to hurt me, don't you.

    There it was. The single sentence that got him to stop moving forward.

    He stopped dead in his tracks as if the older man had struck him. He did not turn to face Sylvain, instead preferring to stare straight ahead while his vision glossed over.

    Felix had already made a fool out of himself by crying in front of Dimitri.
    He would not cry in front of Sylvain.

    He wanted to shout back. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to do anything but keep it inside anymore. But how could he? He had dug this hole himself. The weight of his sins crawled up his back, settled in his shoulders like an uncomfortable blanket. He had to pay for what he had done. This burden was his to bear alone. He had made his bed. He had to lay in it. Alone and cold, suffering like he was meant to.

    No, he wanted to shout back.
    I want to do anything but hurt you.
    Everything you're doing is hurting me.

    Selfish. Selfish.

    "When will you fucking understand that when I tell you to leave me alone, I mean it?" His voice did no better at betraying his emotions than his wet eyes did. Weak. Weak.

    Don't leave me.

    At last, he turned to face the other, fingers closing their tightest around the grip of the sword dangling off of his side. Even that small motion caused pain to shoot up his arm, twisting his stomach up into so many more knots. The pain did something to quell some internal numbing, but it was nearly impossible to fight with. Not like he was going to fight, anyway. He could barely stomach the implication of that thought. The real thought that Sylvain assumed that he wanted to hurt him.

    "You didn't do anything. I did. Now go away."
     
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  5. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    Sylvain knew he didn’t mean it.

    Felix was trying to convince himself just as hard as he was trying to convince his friend. He was used to that tone. The I swear I’m not trying to stop myself from crying, stop looking at me and either fuck off or come closer quiver in his otherwise venomous words. Sylvain usually went for the latter rather than the former option, and he might have usually gotten an elbow to the gut a thousand times and an embrace only a few. It was hardly ever possible to tell what Felix may do, but he almost felt as if he was the one that needed to help work out whatever it was that was causing this version of Felix to be so off.

    As he turned to face Sylvain, he saw that he was right in thinking the way he was. He was distant, and different, but he was still Felix. Sylvain might’ve smiled at the thought, if it wasn’t so apparent that things were still wrong. It would’ve been one thing if he had just accepted his invitation to fight.

    But he didn’t.

    Sylvain watched Felix’s hands, his wince, unsure if it was from the pain from his wrist or from the pain in his heart. He wondered which might have hurt worse with that look.

    You didn’t do anything. I did.

    That was pretty close to some sort of confession of guilt, at least as close as Felix was going to come to it. It caught him off guard again as if he was surprised at how unpredictable he was. Sylvain always believed he understood his friend better than anything, he was convinced that he did, but there were… times like this, too.

    Unpredictability was attractive, one of the things he looked for in a girl. One of those things to help keep him on his toes. One of those things about Felix that kept him running after him.

    His actions wildly swayed from Sylvain being able to time the seconds before the expression fell from contentment to contempt, or the accurate guess in the words he’d spit in his direction. They went from Sylvain being able to prove that he understood Felix beyond a doubt, to being floored when he pulled something like a ‘don’t leave’ or a ‘come and give me a hug’ out of nowhere. Surely, if something did happen out there, and it wasn’t Syvain that did it…

    Felix wasn’t good at talking. Maybe Sylvain wouldn’t find out what happened exactly, but he was still determined to figure out what the hell was wrong.

    Sylvain, though Felix had very clearly just told him to fuck off, took a step forward.

    “You know I’m too stupid to even begin to know what you’re talking about.” Not a matter of stupidity. As much as he used that, everyone probably figured out by then that it was an excuse and nothing else. It was just a simple issue with communication, and no matter how well they know each other it simply just wasn’t going to get better like this. “I’d offer to take you out so you can just talk my ear off over some food, but I’m still pretty confused about this place. If it can wait, I’ll leave and we can meet up later? I’m sure somebody knows where we could find a place like that.”

    He wasn’t going to actually leave. Unless Felix insisted, again and again, Sylvain was out here in the woods for the long haul. The redhead was merely being polite, doing what he always did and fill the weird silence with bullshit.

    It was like one of those times that they snuck out at night again, where they were dragged out there by the other just to argue over nothing. But it was away from everyone, one on one, where Sylvain could call his friend out on some of the shit he needed to hear, and Felix could spit back the verbal abuse that would give them a reason to fight again. They’d fight, they’d make up, they’d be best friends, rinse and repeat.

    That's just how they worked. It was a constant battle of one-upmanship, of I will be better than you one day, though ever since they were children - Sylvain would let Felix win. He needed to. Even though Felix ended up being much stronger than he was, by far, there were times when Sylvain would still have to fail on purpose. He’d let him win whatever fight this was going to turn into, too.

    “Things are just really awkward. If you don’t want me to know what happened, that's fine. But whatever you did… I’m not going to hate you forever, even if you really messed up and we’re not talking or something anymore. Promise, I’ll come back around like always. You just have to give me some time, and I’ll forget anything ever happened. You know how much I care about you, right?”

    Maybe… none of those words were the right ones. They felt like they didn’t hit Felix the way he thought they would. What could Felix have done that would make him this distant? What kind of mess did he get himself into that he couldn’t look directly at one of his oldest friends?

    “That isn’t going to change. No matter where we come from.”
     
  6. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    If words were physically able to cause pain, Sylvain's last little monologue would've delivered their final blow.

    I'm not going to hate you forever.
    I'll come back around like always.
    You know how much I care about you, right?

    He felt sick.

    Of course, he wasn't stupid. He couldn't ever hope to make Sylvain understand the magnitude of his actions. It'd been... how long, already? and he still barely understood them himself. They hit him in waves. Harsh, oppressive waves. Ones that took him by the hand and dragged him under their surface, that made him open his eyes up to red. To the overwhelming smell of viscera and the nagging whispers of you did this, you did this.

    Nobody would ever understand. Not Sylvain, not Dimitri, not anybody. Nobody would understand just how stupid he actually truly felt. Just how well aware he was that he couldn't do anything to fix what he'd done. It was weird, he thought, how much he felt like the boar in times like these. It was like he was constantly blaming himself for things he couldn't control... except this was something he very much could control. Something he had very much had power over. He'd made a conscious effort to slaughter those closest to him. It wasn't as if someone had held a blade to his own throat and forced him. He had simply been given the orders, and made the decision to carry them out. Like a good little slave. A good little dog, coming to his master.

    Not only are have you become the Emperor's lapdog, the Dimitri in his head shouted.
    But you have turned against your own people.

    Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could almost feel Glenn making fun of him. Mocking his wet eyes and shaking form. Telling him that at least they died for their own country, Felix. You know. Like true knights. Maybe you should try being more like them, huh?

    What Glenn didn't seem to understand was that he didn't want to be a fucking knight. He didn't want to be a goddess-damned soldier. He never had and he never would. As natural as fighting was to the men of Faerghus, Felix had never enjoyed it. Fighting, to him, was to be done out of necessity. His talent for the sword and his interest in it were not correlated until his brother had died, leaving him behind with nothing but a chestplate, a spur, and a world full of responsibility on the shoulders of someone who had never been spared more than a passing glance. He had never wanted to be the same knight as his brother and even Ingrid had. The way a soldier's face would twist up with glee after a successful battle had never failed to sicken him. Or anger him. How they'd praise each other for taking the lives of those with so little a difference as a 'wrong opinion'.

    A 'wrong opinion'. Like those who had sided with the Church, and those who had sided with the Empire.

    Felix had turned to weaponry to build himself up. He would make himself stronger and protect what his brother couldn't. If the world wanted a fighter out of him, he would give the world a fighter, albeit one out of spite. One who knew what he was doing. One who would dedicate his entire life to the blade with the sole intention of spitting back at the world who'd spat on him. He would give the world the best fighter that he could. A brutal, miscalculated overreaction. Become the best that you can be so that others will not have to suffer in your wake.

    Funny how all he had caused was suffering.
    Funny, it was, how every single plan of his managed to backfire in some way.
    Funny. Right.
    Hilarious.

    As far as Felix was concerned, the only thing he wanted to be was buried. Deep, deep, deep into the earth, alongside the corpses of the only two people he'd ever cared about. As close to Hell as he could get. That was where he belonged. Where the Goddess would see him fit. Where she might maybe be able to forgive him for being such a useless, terrible human being. For going against her teachings, or doing whatever the fuck else she felt like punishing him for. He wanted to be buried. He wanted to be dead.

    It was all too much.
    All of this was too fucking much.

    Sylvain could say that he'd care for Felix forever, but Felix knew that his words were empty. He would not care at all after learning the truth. He could not care after learning the truth. And if he wanted the truth so badly, well, why not fucking give it to him? What difference did it make at this point? And, really, who was Felix to deny him that luxury?

    A smart man would turn on his heels and run. Sylvain was a smart man. He could only hope that his best friend would drop his stupid bitch act for the five seconds required of him to realize that this was a mistake. That chasing after him would be, and had always been, a stupid fucking mistake.

    Felix Fraldarius had never been a patient man. He would likely never be a patient man. At least he had evolved from throwing tiny tantrums and stomping his feet to full on forcing people to get to their point. As far as limits went, his weren't very high. He could only tolerate so much skirting around. Stepping around the truth failed to help anyone. He'd been stepping around the truth for a full fucking week now. He was tired. He just wanted Sylvain to stop.

    So, he exploded.

    "You say that now." His words sounded alien to even himself, distant and off somewhere, dissociated from the body they were emanating from as if someone were speaking through him. The venom, however, was ever-present. The bark of a laugh that pushed it's way out of his mouth was stilted, jagged and angry and full of the emotion he was trying to desperately to prevent from dripping from his eyes.

    "You expect me to believe that you'll still care about me? That you're stupid enough to forgive me after I killed you?"

    The crack in his voice evident, Felix let a beat pass before he swiveled around to face the forest once more.
    The crunch of the leaves beneath his feet felt almost deafeningly loud in the two men's shared silence.

    "Give yourself more credit than that."
     
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  7. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    “I… Well, that would make it more difficult for me to come back, wouldn’t it.”

    It also didn’t make sense at all.

    Unless they were sparring and there was some freak accident, that seemed well out of the realm of possibility. There was no way that Felix would’ve killed him out of cold blood, or because he pushed him too far. They spent enough years together to know when a limit was met and where the other drew their line. Sure, it was true that Sylvain danced about said line like Felix wasn’t capable of blasting him backward with a glance or a nice spell, but he wouldn’t ever push him like that.

    Maybe it was his Crest. It had a tendency to make him stronger at… basically all times, it felt like. Felix’s power made his own look like nothing. He was pretty sure it activated just during random fucking chores about the academy. That might’ve been it? If that were the case, he could definitely get over it. Felix was fucked up in the head pretty good by it, so it was the least he could do. Unless… Felix was from farther in the future, and there was no getting away from it or something. Oh well, he knew he’d die by his side somehow. No wonder he'd be so unhappy to see him after being so clumsy. Silly Felix.

    It’d just make it a lot more understandable, why he’d handled this meeting so awkwardly, or why he wouldn’t be able to look at him. Things were kind of falling in place now! There wouldn’t be a moment in any timeline where Felix would want to hurt him so badly, so it was all making sense. It was fine. It was all fucking great!

    At least, that’s what he wanted to believe. That's what he was going for.

    It was silent.

    Neither of them took another step, and Sylvain’s mouth was shut. He wasn’t immune to the poison he spat with that laugh, still wondering if he got the words out for real as he centered himself and pulled his mind back into reality. Had moments passed? Minutes? Hours? It felt like hours. It was probably just a few seconds, just a couple of heart beats, but there was still something… off about Felix’s delivery. He sounded more like a mad villain about to start a monologue than his oldest, closest, softest friend.

    “If you told me why, I would be able to tell you if I could start to forgive you or not.” No jest. No grin. He’d started it off, if he actually did speak, with his normal and flowery voice with the dumb wink. Positivity was really the best way to deal with things, of course! People he loved had been trying to kill him all of his life, how ironic it was that Felix may end up doing the same.

    The look on his face, as Sylvain blinked dumbly to get the image burned out of his eyes, didn’t say ‘accident.’ His word’s didn’t spell ‘I didn’t mean it!’ It was all the same, like it had been throughout the war. Maybe he was so desensitized to murder at this point that he was losing touch with himself… but the quiver in his voice was always his tell. He couldn't hide it from Sylvain. There was a reason this hardened, brutal killer couldn't face him.

    Felix was in tears, just like always.

    “What did you do, Felix?”

    Did he want to know? Did he need to know? Would it fix anything? Could they just leave it at that?
    Could they just pretend it was an accident? Could it have been on the battlefield?

    Could Sylvain have let him win, just like when they were kids? Just because he, himself, didn’t want to hurt Felix?

    His friend was very much still alive. Felix didn’t lie, so there was no question whether Sylvain was dead or not where he came from. No wondering if any of this was genuine.

    But they promised to die together. Sure, they swore it when they were kids, but they grew into adulthood with every intention of honoring that pact. In fact, it had only been a few weeks since the last time they lamented about their past together. Since the last time Felix reminded him not to throw himself into danger for him, because he didn’t want to live a life without him. Since Felix's blush on his face, and Sylvain pulling him back into his quarters before he could completely leave.

    Sylvain didn’t have to ask if he remembered what kind of an understanding they shared. He knew. He definitely fucking knew. Felix understood the weight of his words, and they both carried them wherever they should have gone.

    “What did you do.”
     
  8. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    Tell me what you did.
    What did you do.
    What did you do.

    "I defected, you idiot."

    Felix wanted to turn. He wanted to run.

    Run away from his problems, like he always had, whether they be physical or mental. If he kept running, they'd never catch him. If he kept running, he wouldn't have to face them. He could continue living his life, making his stupid decisions, and hope that one day, one of them would be bad enough to kill him on the spot. He had always been a runner. Running from the problem. Running from the truth. He was too sensitive. He was too weak. Felix could not handle the consequences of his actions. So he would turn, and he would run, and he would deny. Every single goddess damned time.

    Except this one.
    Because he knew that he couldn't run from Sylvain.
    He knew that he would never be able to run from Sylvain.

    Somehow, some way, he would always catch up. Grab Felix by the wrist and force him to talk. Insist that either no one would be mad at him, or that nobody was making fun of him, or that everything would be okay in the future. The older man was essentially his shadow, and had been since he was born. It had always seemed that if Felix took a step backward, Sylvain would be right behind him. He was always there to make sure that he wouldn't fall, or that he wouldn't be able to back out of things. He was a wall. A safety net.

    Sylvain was the only person that Felix hadn't begun to outright reject after his brother died. He'd pushed Dimitri into a corner with his insults. He'd made a point of deliberately mocking his former sister-in-law to be, so that her oppressive personality would be directed toward someone else. He'd pushed every damn person away with his fits of rage. Or with his own withdrawal. He wanted every single person to just go away... except Sylvain. His best friend was an idiot, sure. He dragged the two of them around on useless midnight excursions. Most of them for the sole sake of glimpses at pretty ladies. Or to spy on people they'd met earlier in the day. They'd always get caught by an angry Ingrid, but it'd always been at least sort of fun. Felix would never admit that it was fun, of course, but it had been.

    Sylvain was, above all else, the only person that Felix could say with confidence did not care about him because of Glenn.

    Even with Dimitri, he'd been unsure at some points. But Sylvain didn't care for Glenn at all. He never had. He'd always stuck by the younger Fraldarius brother, even though he was whiny, and weak, and had nothing to offer. Whiny and weak was preferable to Sylvain over gallant and strong. Even though they were far closer in age, his best friend preferred to tote Felix around instead of playing along with Glenn. Sylvain was the only person who had, throughout his entire life, made Felix feel like he was the more important brother. He'd made Felix feel like he was something more than just a backup for the throne in the event that Glenn kicked the bucket.

    It only made the flashbacks hurt worse.
    It made the nightmares more vivid.
    Every night that he woke up, shaking and alone, was a reminder.
    A reminder that this hell he was in was nobody's fault but his own.

    Remember when we were kids and we made a promise about dying together?

    The phrase stung. It stung every time he remembered it. The dull cadence of his best friend's voice. The way he'd said it was in a tone that Felix had so rarely ever heard directed at him: disappointment. Not anger. Not contempt. Not in a voice red with rage, demanding answers from him like everyone else he'd faced had. It was disappointment. The feeling of seeing someone you'd cared about so much go against everything you'd stood for your entire lives. Maybe he was angry. Maybe he was full of rage. But the look on his face in that moment -- one of his final moments -- was that of disappointment. His features'd been fallen with betrayal. Sylvain had not put up a fight. He had merely accepted his fate then. Felix had known that it was because, like always, he was letting him win.

    All he had wanted was a better future for them. The two of them. For all of them. And the only thing he had been met with was the empty stare of a coward, and a blade plunged through his chest, with not so much as a simple apology.

    Felix pressed the back of his non-injured wrist to his mouth, making an attempt to stifle the cough that tore it's way out of his chest. He didn't know when he'd started actually crying. His cheeks felt burnt, his head heavy. All he wanted to do was run. Run like they were still kids again, and like Felix had just said something benign but stupid because he'd always been bad at articulating his feelings, and like always, Sylvain would be right there to catch him and bring him back. Remind him that things were okay. That nobody was mad at him.

    But things weren't okay.
    And everyone was mad at him.
    Because he'd made the conscious effort to side with the Eagles. And when he had the chance to come back, he'd stuck his heels firmly in the ground and said no. All because he couldn't stand to be around the two men that he loved most. All because he hadn't ripped the bandage off soon enough. All because he was stupid.

    Another cough forced it's way out of him, the byproduct of doing his best to keep the tears inside.

    "I defected. I joined the Eagles, and I killed you. I can't look at you because I watched you die. Are you happy?" The pain in his voice evident, Felix stopped himself before he could start spouting the apologies running on repeat in his head.

    I'm sorry.
    I'm sorry.
    I'm sorry.
    I don't know what to do.
    Please help me.
     
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  9. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    There. Happy now?

    That was usually following a finished glass, a failed attempt at wooing a woman while half-drunk, or showing up in their normal meeting place for something that wasn’t sparring.

    And yeah, usually he was.

    Not this time.

    Killing Sylvain was one thing. Alright! That’s fair. Probably doing Fodlan a service. One less asshole to wave his dick around like some kind of fucking magic wand, ending his bloodline and effectively doing what he wanted to do anyway.

    He could believe that somewhere out there in this vast clusterfuck that was time, Felix would have killed him. His fate was tied to the raging, tiny blueberry in some way no matter where they came from. He understood, accepted it, already taking steps to moving on from finding out.

    Edelgard had very much said that even Sylvain had defected, left his house, and fought for the other side. With enough bribery (if professor had those tits he’d probably join the first day) and a promise of crest-centered political reformation, he’d be easily swayed. He was stupid. Very much so. Sylvain made dumb mistakes his whole goddamn life, and they could very well snowball out of control and turn him into something that he hated more than he hated himself already. He would probably throw himself at Felix’s blade in such a situation, smiling up at him as he bled out. Or he’d happily die at Dimitri’s hands, with a possible apology on his lips. His king mattered, his friends mattered, but something would have to be fucking done about the corruption of the way the world worked. Maybe he’d go against what was right, but he was sure he wouldn’t make it to the end if that was the case. He just wanted to help future generations not have to deal with the burdens he was born with. He wanted there to be less children that got thrown down wells just for being born with 'gifts' that their siblings hadn't gotten.

    But Felix.

    He didn’t have a vision like that, he only cared about getting stronger. That was it. That was probably all it was that swayed him from his timeline, and his bloodlust kept him there. The Felix he knew couldn’t have turned his back to… everyone. Felix hated “the boar” on the surface, sure. Hell - he hated everyone. On the surface. He would prattle on and on especially about how Dimitri was a merciless and terrible monster beneath his soft politeness, even before the guy showed any signs of being the feral shell of himself that had been found in the monastery.

    But Felix had been relieved to find him, even in that state. Beyond relieved. ...as in, he cried. Everything was a rouse, his disdain for everyone merely a way to make himself appear hardened, stronger than he truly was. As if being a dickhead made him more desirable or something.

    There was only one thing Felix ever lied about, and that was his feelings.

    No Felix in existence would ever lie about this.

    There had never been a time in Sylvain’s life where he wanted to hurt Felix. Even when they fought, in the off chance that he’d beaten the other guy, he’d run to double-check that he was alright. He knew how sensitive he was beneath that hard exterior, especially after being bested. He’d definitely raced to him on the battlefield despite running in the line of fire to heal him if he was wounded. He’d take a hit if Felix’s back was turned. He’d carry the younger man back if it had been too much. He would have gladly died for him the time he truly almost lost his life leaping in front of an enemy to be his shield when it was too late for Felix to react.

    But now, things were different. His head was swirling with the possibilities as he pictured Felix standing with her, at her side opposite Hubert von Fuckface. He would just become a pet, a pawn to command.

    For his family, for his King, for the Felix he knew, something in him wanted to hurt him. He needed to suffer more than he had already. Fuck his wrist, fuck his trauma, fuck his stupid goddamn tears.

    This was a stranger.

    No best friend of his would have dishonored everyone he knew in such a disgusting, treasonous way. Whoever this was, who bore his most precious friend’s face and embodied everything he’d loved about him… he wasn’t anyone Sylvain knew. He refused to acknowledge him.

    Filled with rage, and confusion, still beyond upset at this new world on top of everything he’d ever believed about the one person he truly thought he knew as well as himself… He moved without thinking.

    As he took the first step, he wondered if this was divine punishment for all the girls he’d screwed over. All of the hearts he’d broken throughout the years. It had to be. This was his hell. There was absolutely no way he deserved this for any other reason. Other than to the women he’d used, he was loyal. When he made a promise, he kept it no matter what. Even if he knew the other party wouldn't see through to their end… or Sylvain knew it would kill him.
    He’d made plenty to Felix over the course of their lives.

    As he took the second step, his mind grew dark.

    Maybe he’d break the big one in favor of getting rid of this husk, in hopes his own version would arrive in his place. Felix had a broken wrist. He could easily just hit him with fire to distract him, take his sword, get the job done. He couldn't be on top of his game with the injury, and Sylvain was much better at fighting than he let on. Usually he'd let Felix win if he wasn't a hundred percent into it, but that was another time. Sylvain could leave him to rot in the woods. Set the evidence on fire. Let everyone know an accident happened. Pretend he was somewhere else. Cry for him, make them believe it could never be Sylvain that killed him.

    He took the third step, and he noticed the dark circles around Felix’s eyes were… a lot more harsh. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Like he hadn’t stopped crying in months. Like he needed Sylvain’s help. His expression very much was pleading for the redhead to be soft, to understand, to take his hand and listen to his heart rather than his words. To throw everything away, and help him heal. There was regret carved into his features, practically etched from his ever-flowing tears. If Sylvain asked for an apology he very may well get it! He could probably get anything he ever wanted from him!

    But fuck that. He didn’t want an apology. He didn’t want Felix’s friendship. He didn’t want things to be right. No healing required, no time to figure it out together, no promises that this would never happen.

    Sylvain had a hand on Felix’s shoulder, his face not hiding the burning questions on his tongue.

    As he came close to him, he remembered how much he loved his best friend. How deep their bond went, beyond words or weapons. A love that was forged by time, never severed by the harshest of conditions. There had been misunderstandings, piercing words, tragedy, injuries, passionate stolen nights away from the rest of their team, and as always, those promises… Sylvain always wanted to keep it. He truly did, though it was never about dying.

    Sylvain didn’t want to ever know a world without Felix.
    He couldn't live without him.


    He realized that even if this version of him was a fraud, Sylvain couldn’t live with his blood on his hands. He’d have to keep the promise after all. No matter, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Even if it was by his own hands, it was still keeping the promise.

    “What of our other friends.” It wasn’t a question. He already knew. He didn’t know how to ask specifically, but somehow he knew. “If you were okay with cutting me down, then you must have had a very easy time with everyone else.”

    Unless… Fuck, the possibilities were all terrible. Anything painted Felix a monster in his mind at this moment. But… he knew one thing would really drill it in. If he was able to look past how much he loved Sylvain, then was he able to look past how much he loved...

    If you say you killed Dimitri, I’ll see through our promise.
     
  10. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    "Everyone is dead."

    They'd made him do it all. Those were his orders. He'd been made to follow his orders. He was a soldier. A knight. He was not somebody who'd been given the luxury of working things out with someone who wanted to better the world. Felix was told what to do, and Felix did what he was told. Saying that he didn't support the Empire's decisions now would be a waste of breath. Who would believe him? Who in their right damn mind would believe that he had stuck around only because of prior affiliation? Nobody. Nobody was stupid enough to believe that he had been stupid enough to do something like that in the first place.

    "Ingrid. My father. Your king."
    The names left his lips in quiet hiccups.

    Sylvain wasn't the only one who was stupid.

    The hand on his shoulder stilled him, grounded him in an uncomfortably familiar way. It reminded him of when they were children. Of when Sylvain would place his hands on Felix's shoulders and talk to him, face to face, to prevent him from running away like he always did. It felt like a learned behavior, to buckle down and stand there. All he was fucking good for these days was doing what he was told, after all. What was 'doing his own thing'? He didn't know. That had always been a trait that he'd stolen from his brother. His 'lone wolf' attitude, someone who operated entirely on their own schedule? That was all Glenn. Felix was, and always would be, nothing but a disgusting follower, padding along behind whoever would give him the most attention. Whoever made him feel like he was worth something. Nothing but a disgusting, vile creature, working for platitudes.

    The sounds of the screams still rang in his ears.
    They were deafening. They were sharp.

    He couldn't forget watching Annette struggle to stand, telling herself to keep fighting.
    How Ashe sobbed, because no, he had to make it home, to his little siblings who thought him a hero.
    How Ingrid screamed at him for his betrayal before she hit the ground, calling out to Felix's own dead brother.
    How Dimitri had struggled through his last breaths, proclaiming that he absolutely couldn't die there.

    How Sylvain himself had said that he had always assumed it would end up like this. That he wasn't afraid.

    Felix remembered every single god damned word. The struggled, labored breathing. The metallic scent of their blood. He remembered everything, down to the minute details. They haunted him. Everything fucking haunted him. The knowledge that he could have saved so many. He could have done so much. He could have fought for what he believed in, alongside the people that he loved. Instead, he was selfish. Selfish and stubborn, pawning himself off to the opposing force all because he couldn't handle his own stupid feelings.

    The touch on his shoulders burned.
    He wanted to run.
    He had never wanted to run more.

    If Sylvain wanted to kill him, he was more than welcome to. It was only fair, after all. He'd served his time. He'd fucked up enough. The least that he could was offer an eye for an eye. Though, part of him believed that he shouldn't have the luxury of being killed by someone who clearly cared for him. That would be too good an end. Sylvain deserved better than to stain his hands with the blood of a traitor. He deserved so much more.

    He deserved everything, and this was what Felix had given to him.

    He coughed again, sharp and painful, into the back of his wrist, pointedly ignoring the gag on the tail end of it.
    Upset enough to make himself sick.
    Weak.
    Just another way to show that he was powerless.
    Useless.
    Controlled primarily by emotion instead of rational thought.

    No matter how hard he tried to hold on to all of the sharp edges that Glenn had left behind, he would always be soft, rounded Felix. He was no tougher than he had been as a child. If that weren't obvious in any instance before this one, it surely would be now. He stood here not as a soldier being reprimanded, nor as an adult being chastised. He stood here as a child, feeble and weak. The only difference between then and now was that he understood the gravity of his actions.

    Felix missed when they were young. When Ingrid would be the one who had them by the shoulders, trying to talk some sense into the two of them for stalking around at night. How, when she'd finally left them alone, Sylvain would shoot him the biggest grin his tiny little face could make, and he would roll his eyes back in turn with a soft smile. How the two of them swore to her that they'd never do anything like this again... before going out to do so the very next night. Their actions didn't have consequences then.

    A strange, long-buried emotion in the back of Felix's heart yearned to see that same smile once again.
    He knew that he never would. Not in his universe. Not in this one.
    He'd ruined every chance handed to him.
    He'd never see that happiness again.

    "Do what you want."

    The words croaked themselves out from his mouth.
    An order, as they ordinarily were, instead of a request.

    Sylvain could let him go. Let him sit here and suffer. Let him hit at the trees with his swirling stomach and force him to stew on the thoughts that had been haunting him for months. Or he could beat him within an inch of his life. Felix knew that he had it in him. He had always been bigger, always been stronger, and the only reason Felix won any fight against him was because he was allowed. Sylvain never gave it his all when it came to Felix. It was easier to let him win. That wasn't to say that he didn't try. The man certainly held a lot of power. He just chose not to use it on his friend.

    Felix could only wish to be half the man that Sylvain was.

    "If it'll make you happy, kill me."

    End the useless life before you.
    End the pathetic thing standing in your way once and for all.
    Don't let him win this fight.
    Finish what he started.
    Give him what he deserved.

    "I don't fucking care what you do."
     
  11. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    It was as if Felix had taken his blade and was stabbing Sylvain straight into the gut. Every syllable literally caused the redhead to shudder, as if Felix were dealing physical damage.

    Ingrid.

    One of his best friends. One of their best friends. Someone Felix grew up alongside and shared a lifetime of memories with. He had his reasons to dislike her, but they fought the same battles and looked out for one another no matter what - at least where Sylvain came from. She may have been clinging to Glenn’s ghost, but respected Felix as a fighter and as an individual. She cared for Felix, though she tried steering him towards her own ideals which was impossible, but he was always looking out for her anyway. He was downright nasty to her sometimes, but there was no doubt in Sylvain’s mind that somewhere behind the mask he cared for her just the same.

    My father.

    How many years had Rodrigue looked past his younger son to see Dimitri? Well, nine. If one was to get technical. Even so, Felix’s father was important to him, no matter how much he’d say he wasn’t. So much of what Felix had become was just to try and get his approval, to step out of the shadow Glenn left and beg for attention. He would spit insults in Rodrigue’s direction, but when he was killed everyone saw his true feelings. He really didn’t hold back how much value he put on him, even if he stood by the fact that he was a less than desirable father. It was his family. Who raised him, cared for him, helped him train. Felix loved him, as he loved a lot of people he refused to admit to loving. And he mourned for him. This Felix even could have felt the sting of his death more so.

    Your King.

    That was the final blow. As if Felix had stuck him with his blade and twisted it. As if spelling out how wrong he was, screaming out that he was an impostor.

    He was so shocked by the admission that his grip on his friend’s shoulder loosened.

    Above all else in the world, Felix loved Dimitri. Since they were children, he followed him around as he followed Sylvain. Yet he’d cry when Dimitri left. Sylvain wasn’t sure if the younger one did that when he left. Felix was quite literally raised to be ever at Dimtiri’s side, and there was no way that would ever change. He looked up to him in every way, with love in his eyes. Sylvain knew exactly what it looked like, as he was almost sure it was something that Felix had flashed him a time or two. The pretending he hated Dimitri, the acting like he didn’t give a damn what he was doing and that he was difficult to look at in general, goddess he was so obvious to Sylvain.

    He took Felix’s demand just like any other he would give, without thought. He absolutely would do what he wanted. And what he wanted was nasty and hateful. He didn’t want to hurt Felix, but he wanted him gone. He wanted him to die. He wanted him to just say that he was lying. He wanted to wake up and have his own version of the snappy asshole barking half-asleep orders at him from the other side of the bed. Sylvain wanted to end his own life so that he didn’t have to watch Felix suffer through his trauma. He wanted to end it for him. He wanted to hold his hand through it.

    “Everyone.” He repeated, voice far away.

    Sylvain let him go. Then he shook his hand as if he’d touched something dirty. He couldn’t look him in the eye, not wanting any version of his best friend to see the burning hatred that must’ve been building within his gaze.

    “You really don’t know me, do you?”
    Do what you want. If it makes you happy. Whatever. They were all ways that Felix expressed he wanted Sylvain to take the lead, to grab his hand, to eliminate the space between them. And so he would. Would it make him happy? Absolutely not. Did he owe it to his home, to his friends, to his own Felix, to his King? Absolutely.

    He stole Felix’s sword from its sheath, quickly, not giving him much time to react. The smaller guy was too busy with his sobbing and wallowing in his own self hatred to react as well as he usually would anyway, and Sylvain took advantage of it. He knocked Felix to the ground, kicking his legs out from underneath him and forcing him to fall flat on his face. Making sure he could go nowhere, the attacker used his size to his advantage and pinned Felix down with his weight, sitting on his back. There wasn’t much of a struggle, anyway. He must’ve been serious when he said that he would allow Sylvain to do what he wanted.

    Sylvain had every intent on pushing the blade down through his spine, letting him go quickly. Maybe he’d sever his head, so that he could feel nothing. He had both hands on the hilt, knuckles white already, winding back to put as much strength as he could into a single fucking stab. It fell to the ground with all of his might, his own power possibly even kicking in to this attack that meant everything.

    But as he brought the blade down, it bit into the soft grass and sunk into the earth beneath it. Felix was sure to have seen it do so if his eyes were open, as he only “missed” by a few inches. He had to have been able to feel the force that he put into that single strike, and if he didn’t, it would be evident with how far into the ground the sword was stuck.

    As much as he told himself that he wanted to, Sylvain couldn’t go through with it.

    He sat, still gripping the sword, hunched over and pulling in a ragged breath. Maybe Felix could feel the tears that fell from his eyes, as he was still directly above his head. No sign that he would move from where he was perched. Nothing could separate him from the death grip he had on the sword, knowing that someone that had been raised to kill his enemies and been bent by war should be able to take out one single fucking weakened opponent.

    For the first time in many years, Sylvain did not stop at a few silent tears.
    His barriers broke down, the floodgates were open, and he openly wept.

    How could he possibly kill anyone that even slightly resembled the man he loved above anything else, let alone a version of him that had forced himself to suffer through his own nightmare?
     
  12. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    "I'm sorry."

    He knew his words meant nothing.
    Useless, empty platitudes. Pretty little words of forgiveness.
    They never meant anything. They never would.
    Felix was stupid, but he wasn't stupid enough not to realize that.

    There was nothing that he could say to properly convey the deep-seated grief that he felt, nor the immense self hatred as a result of his actions. Nothing he could possibly conjure up would ever make up for what he had done. This wasn't as simple as a minor slip up. This wasn't rushing into the heat of battle to protect a friend and nearly mortally wounding yourself in the process. It wasn't stepping on someone's toes.

    This was murder.

    Careful, calculated murder. He had taken the lives of every single person that he had ever cared about. The people who had cared for him his entire goddess-damned life. Those who had stood by him through everything. They'd picked him up when he'd fallen down. The people who valued him, who had let him tag along even though he was too weak, too spineless, too useless to ever be worth their time. Those who had given him the light of day when he deserved nothing more than a passing glance. He was the useless second child. The backup. The defective spare in the event that the main needed to be replaced. He would never be worth anything, never be enough for anyone. Yet still, they had seen past that. Ingrid. Dimitri. Sylvain himself. They'd all cared for Felix more than his family ever had. They'd watched out for him. Cared for him. Cared about him.

    And he had taken every single one of them out.

    Plunged his blade through them. Heard them scream, curse him, fall to the ground lifelessly before him. Felix had sprayed the earth with their blood, reducing them all to nothing. Laid waste to them. He had never even given them a chance. All at the orders of someone he couldn't give two shits less about.

    His face hitting the ground felt freeing. Pain radiated through his nose, his jaw -- wherever had made contact with the ground. Instinctively trying to break his fall with his already-broken wrist likely did him no favors. There was no cry of pain, nor protest; he took his fall as he deserved it. Silently. This was not his time to grieve. He didn't deserve to say another damn word, and he wasn't stupid enough to try. This was Sylvain's time now. This was his friend's time to think, to grieve, to mourn. Mourn the loss of the man that he thought he knew. The man that he had grown up beside. The one that he'd spent so long protecting. Felix wasn't so selfish that he wouldn't let him have this moment. He deserved it. After everything that Sylvain had gone through, he deserved it.

    Fuck his own feelings. Fuck his own self hatred, his own pity and misery.
    Everything Felix had done was by his own design.
    He did not deserve to grieve, nor to mourn, nor to be forgiven.
    He did not deserve to sit here and wallow like an insolent child who'd been dealt a bad hand.
    That luxury was no longer his to afford.

    He choked another word of forgiveness into the grass like the coward that he was before he finally fucking shut up.

    The sword plunging into the grass beside him did not scare him. It was the promise of an end. One far too good for him, but an end nonetheless. Or, it would have been, had the metal bit into him rather than into the ground. Felix understood. Sylvain was a better man than he, after all. Sylvain did not have the level of depravity that he himself had. He could not kill a lifelong friend, even after his admittance of such a severe break in trust. As if he couldn't admire his friend anymore. Sylvain would not stoop so low. Not even if he'd been asked to. Not even if he'd been commanded to.

    Sylvain had morals. Sylvain had self respect.
    Felix had neither of those things.

    The hot, wet tears of another stained his back, and Felix felt his stomach drop. For the first time in his life (or, at least, his vague memory,) he wished he had the words to console. Ones that weren't all edges and annoyance and spat out through Glenn's long-forgotten voice. He wished that he had something to say that would make this right. Something to take the sting away. Something to put an end to all of this. Felix couldn't remember a time in which he'd seen Sylvain cry. Part of him was very glad that he was face down in the dirt, skull throbbing, because he wasn't sure that he wanted to see it. If there were anything to cement the true extent of his failure, it'd be that.

    "I'm sorry."

    Warped, hasty, and sincere. He wanted the sound to stop.
    He wanted to make it right. He wanted to make it better.
    He couldn't make it right.
    He couldn't make it better.
    He deserved this.

    "I didn't want to. They made me." A hesitant pause as he tried to gather his thoughts. "You don't have to believe me."

    Maybe the submissive attitude would make it easier. Or maybe it would make him seem all the more pathetic. He didn't care. It wasn't like it was any secret to Sylvain that he was pathetic, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. They'd been friends for far too long. They'd been friends for far too long, and they didn't know each other at all.

    That was Felix's fault. For not listening. For being distant. For shutting himself off and hiding.
    Hiding and running away were the only two things he'd ever been good at.
    Maybe he should add 'begging like the useless piece of shit he was' to his list of talents.

    He choked another senseless apology into the grass, his body heaving. He made no effort to hide it. Felix had always been good for working himself up in tears to the point of sickness, and he'd be damned if he let that happen now. The cough that passed from him was ragged, strained, hoarse. Mindless, childlike blubbering for forgiveness. The only thing he was missing was tugging on a sleeve and wiping his nose with the back of his arm.

    "Do what you want to me," Felix repeated. "I don't care."
    Another short pause.

    "I'm so fucking sorry."
     
  13. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    You always… always…

    He let it go. He always let it go. If Felix didn’t want to open up about something that personal, he wouldn’t pry. Be it about the war? Sure, he’d prod endlessly. Be it something that made him unhappy? Yep, would try cranking that out of him too. But matters of the heart were different. Much more personal to Felix, much more difficult for him to put into words. It’s the way it had been for years, and he had become very much used to it.

    I don’t care. Do what you want to me.

    They were the same fucking person. It was difficult to process, it was flooding him with emotions that just didn’t want to make sense. This was an impostor, but he was the same. He spoke the same. He looked the same. He acted the same. It was… it was the same person whether he wanted him to be or not. Was that what he wanted? Did he need to know this truth? Is that one of the reasons he’d been brought into this fucking weird dimension?

    Was he supposed to open his eyes to who his friends, who his enemies really were? Was he supposed to learn this truth about himself?

    Perhaps it was a chance to act upon things that he wanted to but never did. Things he thought of, desires he had that were never going to come to pass.

    He had just been given permission to do what he wanted, and the last time he said those words, they… Damn, it was hard to think of such a tender moment when he was still perched on top of Felix, gripping the sword in his hands until his knuckles had become white. Still sobbing quietly, confused at the noises that his own body was making. They were foreign. They were strange. His body was suddenly sore, his heart was aching, his chest heaved and his tears wouldn’t stop.

    He heard little apologies from beneath him, and though part of him wanted to console his own friend, to pretend that everything was fine as he always tried to, Sylvain just couldn’t muster up the strength. The words wouldn’t come, and the both of them were at an impasse. But Felix had told him he could do what he wanted…

    And so he did.

    It wasn’t appropriate timing, and it wasn’t the best possible thing to do out somewhere where someone could find them, but he did. Felix wasn’t exactly hinting to it, but as he opened his mind to the idea with his hands, his body didn’t protest. Sylvain whispered something about stopping him, but there was no response.

    He stayed quiet. And so did Sylvain.

    Maybe it wasn’t the best way to solve any problems, but it was one of the only ways Sylvain knew how to. It was ill-prepared. It probably hurt like hell. He couldn’t tell if the tears were still from their ‘fight,’ or from the pain, but either way they were there and it still hurt him regardless. Sylvain was still in tears too, though his sobs had subsided as he held his breath.

    Eventually the conversation had ceased to exist in his mind, and the only thing he knew was Felix. How his body reacted. Just the same as the body he knew. And he had forgotten that this was an impostor, helping him to situate himself so that they could see each other properly, so that he could help him ease through his own mind. To distract him from the rest of the world. To rip his mind from the things he’d done and bring him into the present, at least just for a few moments.

    It would heal nothing. It would numb nothing. The fact that there was any sort of pleasure between them blurred no lines, did not excuse the fact that he had betrayed his trust. That it had opened Sylvain’s mind to the possibility that Felix was someone else entirely, somewhere on the inside. Sylvain was, as well, though - perhaps Felix would’ve never expected to hear that he’d go to the other side, either.

    But at his core, he could see that Felix was the same. He still wept the same. He still clenched his teeth and reacted the same to a kiss just where his jaw met his ear. The longer they lie like this, the more he felt closer to Felix. Not only the one he knew, but this one, as if they were one and the same.

    If the final battle had gone the way they planned, if everyone survived somehow, Sylvain would have had the courage to voice what he wanted. He constantly skirted around his feelings and would speak around the truth; the times they’d spent like this was only because of physical desire, of course. He would drop hints that it was more, but Felix would never take them, and so he assumed that it wasn’t ever mutual. Perhaps he was just blinding himself because he was terrified of truly being in love with someone, perhaps he was just afraid of what would happen when his father found out that he wanted to spend his life with another man. Sylvain would likely be abandoned just as his brother was, with their bloodline ended… which didn’t sound like the worst possible thing that could happen, but he had a duty to see through whether he wanted to or not. And so did his Felix.

    Spent, exhausted, and filled with conflicting emotions, Sylvain laid a hand upon Felix’s cheek - forcing him to look into his eyes. It was like he was searching his face, any traces that he was hiding anything. It was much too late for it. His thumb wiped away one of the trails of tears that were etching into his face, just a bit of softness after whatever they’d just shared. Confused and conflicted, he acted on impulse, leaning down to connect their lips for the first time since entering Pandora. It was only a moment, and feather-soft, as if he wasn’t sure if it was wanted. As if he would shatter Felix with something so delicate.

    “I’m not forgiving you for betraying our trust,” He murmured, though his face showed no signs of hatred now. “But I believe you.” He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to offer him up some sort of confession, to give him an admission of feeling. As if the moment he was staring down at him with love in his eyes was anything but, as if he couldn’t see it. Sylvain would say nothing, still sure that it was secret, despite… what they had just done.

    Of course the other side would use Felix for such a horrible job. He knew everyone’s weaknesses, he knew exactly how to take them down. And quickly, most likely. Just as Sylvain possibly was used for the same thing. To provide his old friends some sort of false sense of security, while he cut down his own King without so much as a personal greeting. If he had the blinders on, if he kept reminding himself of his need to see change in the world, perhaps he could drive his lance through his own found family’s bodies. Maybe he’d ask one day if he had been able to do something so disgusting, though he really didn’t want to know the answer.

    “Can you stand?” He asked, fixing himself back up and getting to his feet as Felix situated himself back into his own clothing. Sylvain held out a hand for him, just as he always did when Felix tripped, or when he was obviously not doing well enough to stand on his own without letting the others see just how bad it was. He was sure to be alright, but Felix was probably… sore as hell. If he needed help he’d provide it. It was how they were supposed to be, anyhow.
     
  14. Felix Fraldarius

    Felix Fraldarius Fire Emblem

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    Do what you want to me.
    I don't care.
    Do what you want.

    It was something he'd thought about for years.

    Felix could not remember, for definite, when the first inklings of feelings more than friendship had blossomed. He was young. That was about all that he could remember. They had started for Dimitri first, and Sylvain second. It wasn't like there was a large gap between the two of them, however. They were damn near concurrent. Just as the two of them always been in his life. There had been a time, shortly before the entire world fell to shit around them, in which Felix could pinpoint the exact moment that one of Sylvain's sly smiles turned him into absolute putty. Into a disgusting, red-cheeked mess. Even a small glance from one of his closest friends made him feel short of breath. Made his head feel dizzy. Made him violently uncomfortable.

    It was weakness.

    Weakness. Horrible, omnipresent weakness. A telltale sign that he just wasn't fucking good enough. One more thing to add to the seemingly-endless laundry list of problems that came along with being him. Not only was he too delicate, too gentle, too soft, but now this? His sole purpose in life was to be on backup to continue the Fraldarius lineage. His life served no other purpose. He was the backup sperm donor in the event that someone needed him. Now Glenn had ended up dead, and Felix had turned out gay, and nothing he could ever do in his life would ever be right, and-

    The sobs that left his throat as he gripped tighter into the back of Sylvain's shirt were not ones of hatred, nor forgiveness.

    They were of pain.
    Emotional pain.
    Physical pain.
    Mental anguish.
    Every sort of pain lashing out at him at once. Twisting inside. Eating him alive.

    Unlike the redhead atop him, this was not something that he was experienced in. To absolutely nobody was that a surprise. Felix avoided people like the plague, both as a teenager and as an adult. He cared not for other people. He did not seek comfort in their physicality. He did not need to make himself feel better by engaging in things that were so... barbaric, baseless, animalistic. Maybe he would, but not in the company of others. If things needed to be taken care of, they were to be taken care of alone. Just as he did with everything else. He didn't need sex. It only got in the way. People in general just got in the way.

    But now,
    Every hitch in his breath.
    Every little cry, or choke, or mewl.
    Every shudder, and shake, and crack, and
    Goddess he was good at this, but why should Felix be surprised, of course he was good at this-

    It never was a woman's face behind Felix's eyelids at night.
    The face behind his eyelids at night was the one staring back at him now.

    Twin tears dripping down each of their faces. Bodies pressed together with need rather than with desire, or with love. Something to do, the need to silence -- all of it at once, bundled together into one disgusting, messy package. This would fix nothing. It would heal nothing. There was no reason for them to be engaging in this, other than for the obvious: a display of dominance, or a need to connect. A need to feel something together. To share something together. To come together, both in a figurative and literal sense.

    This could have been their life together.
    If Felix had not left. If they had stayed on the same side. All of the feelings that Felix had tried so hard to avoid... would get him here. Hands tangled tight in the shirt of another, shaking and whimpering and sobbing under his control. Stretched, and messy, and gasping, and crying for forgiveness into Sylvain's shoulder as he wept and shuddered and shook. White lights danced behind his eyes, and he saw stars, and... it was over.

    It was over.

    It took Felix a solid minute to catch his breath, and an even longer minute to free Sylvain from his quivering grasp. He hated, hated, how his body instinctively wanted to pull the other's close. Like he deserved it, in some way.

    The delicate skirt of a thumb across his cheek, and the even more delicate press of lips to his own, was enough to make him want to start crying again. He hated that, too. He hated how such a gentle act could drive him to tears all over again. How weak he was, how stupid, how...

    I don't forgive you. But I believe you.

    That was all that he could ask for.
    He didn't want forgiveness. He didn't deserve forgiveness.
    All that Felix asked for was to be believed.

    He was far too tired, too spent, to care about getting into his clothing properly. All of the buckles and straps served more to annoy him than they did to protect him, at this point. His hair having half fallen out of it's ponytail from being pushed around did him no favors, and it was likely that he looked as destroyed as he felt. A part of Felix -- whatever part of him still had pride, which was to say, not a very large part -- did not want to take Sylvain's hand. He didn't want help up. But... he was fairly certain that no, he could not walk without assistance.

    Fuck, it burned. It burned, and it hurt, in all ways that were embarrassing now that the moment was over. His inexperience was clear in his pain, though it wasn't something he wanted to admit out loud. Not ever, but especially not now. Walking back on his own would be difficult. The soreness of the act combined with the soreness of being pushed into the ground came together in a nasty, all over ache.

    He hated, hated how okay some of that aching felt.

    With much reluctance, Felix took the hand outstretched to him, using it to pull himself up. The ache rippled through his body, forcing his face to surge with an unsightly pink color. Of course he'd blush now. Right when Sylvain could properly make fun of him.

    "Yeah."
    He answered the question at last.
    He figured that he should, at least, maybe do that.
    "... I don't know how far I can walk."

    His face burnt as bad as his ass did at this point. Goddess, this night couldn't get any worse, could it?

    Because...

    Now what? With these kind of emotions, with what had just happened...
    where the fuck were they supposed to go from here?
     
  15. Sylvain Gautier

    Sylvain Gautier Fire Emblem

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    "Yeah, I didn't think you'd be able to," Sylvain knew that Felix was new to this. The more he thought about it, the less likely it was for his friend to have ever had a chance to experience what they'd just done. He wasn't on the same side of the war, so there was no way that Sylvain would've flung himself in front of that blade and Felix would've never raced into the room, commanding him not to die... and seeing that he'd already been almost fully healed by the time they were able to see each other again.

    There would be no rendezvous, despite them being as close as they were, as the war raged. There was something romantic in the idea that they would somehow meet up with one of them on the other side. It wouldn’t be impossible, even if Sylvain knew how badly Felix messed up he’d likely respond to a letter asking him to be met alone, even if it meant that he would likely lose his life.

    Maybe if Sylvain defected, there was a way the two of them could have happened. Maybe if they both somehow went, one after the other. Sylvain first because of Byleth just to attempt to use them as he intended in the beginning; Felix next after he saw their prowess in battle. But if Sylvain was as willing and as loyal as he was where he came from, he wasn't about to go anywhere with the enemy.

    Did he even... truly consider Felix one over there? He certainly felt the betrayal here, and he felt the hatred, the anger, the disgust... But even when given the opportunity to rid himself of Felix, he couldn't do it. There would be few repercussions in Pandora. People just leave. He could just say that it had happened to him, and no one would be the wiser. But he could not. As much as it showed how weak he was, Sylvain still loved Felix somewhere within him, no matter what he'd done. Even if he were to kill everyone he loved, even if he were to take Dimitri's life, Sylvain could never stop loving his friend.

    At any rate, it was time to stop thinking like that. There was more to it than what he processed it as in the beginning of their talk. The more he thought about it, the more it would make sense for any of them to fall to the other side's ranks. There were things they were promising that appealed to everyone, usually with the professor at the top of that list.

    If they were who they were where he came from, and they’d somehow been assigned to a different house, he’d leave in a heartbeat. Not only to try striking first against a woman that he resented as a way to make himself feel more powerful… but as a way to finally pull away from his family. He’d been looking for the courage his entire life and especially when he first came to the academy, telling no one of his plans. Byleth had gotten it out of him only a few moons ago, though by then, it had been much too late. And he’d accepted his duty. He'd accepted his fate. He'd even learned to respect what must be done.

    But again, that’s not where his mind should be. His duty didn’t matter here. No one was to call him back home in an emergency while they were stuck inside Pandora. The Lance of Ruin wasn’t needed to keep any kind of peace. No one knew where the hell Faerghus even was outside of their own house. He just needed to find his own peace with himself, and with the friend who had his arm slung over his shoulder.

    It was time to think of more pressing matters, like how the hell they were going to get back when Felix was still... not quite having a good time walking. Sylvain was simply helping him just as if he'd gotten injured. That's probably what he would say if anyone asked, at least. They got into a fight, because Felix likes to fight! No one had to know a damn thing. As much as he joked around and flaunted his constant ‘scoring,’ he wasn’t about to let the whole damn region know that he and Felix had just let out their frustrations in such a way.

    It was cathartic; and hopefully Felix was feeling just as exhausted emotionally and as tired of the world as Sylvain had become by the time they got back to the house. Because Sylvain literally just wanted to lie him down and let Felix fall asleep. They were done talking. He almost wanted to be done talking about this forever, but knew it wasn’t going to end there. They had much to discuss, much to make better, but it was time to be done. To turn the page, and just stop.

    Sylvain helped him through the door and into an empty room, lying him down as gently as he could. Felix might've protested all of the help, but it was much too late. Sylvain had already decided he was going to share the bed with him, at least for now. "I'm not leaving," he whispered as he noticed the look he was given.

    And without any other words, Sylvain held Felix in his arms. As if nothing had changed. As if he didn't know that his best friend was capable of killing his own family and friends, as if it didn't open Sylvain's mind to the possibility that he would be able to do the same. As some sort of aftercare, Sylvain idly messed with Felix's hair... wondering what would've drove him to chop it off if it hadn't been that day someone had mistaken him for Rodrigue before the professor had come back into their lives. Things must somehow stay the same, to a point, throughout every possibility. Perhaps he'd ask another day.

    But it was time for him to shut his goddamn mouth for once, and let his friend drift off to sleep. Maybe it was still the remnants of the day that had told him to, or the instinct not to stay longer than he must to get sex out of someone, but he slipped himself away from Felix. Sylvain was ready to leave completely, though he hesitated before his hand reached the knob. Did... he not want to leave?