Archive of Our Own

Felix grunted, staring daggers at the door across from him. After what felt like an eternity the knocking ceased, and he heard footsteps disappear into the distance.

Good.

He gave it a few minutes before he shot up from his bed, opened the door ever so slightly and peeked his head out.

The coast was clear.

He looked down at the wooden box sitting at his doorstep and sighed in relief.

The note that came along with read it was from his father. Of course it was, he knew that very well, although he did not understand why he even wasted his time to deliver it on his own. It was easier to just have it delivered by one of the servants.

Before anyone decided to make an appearance in the hallways and pry into his business (not that there was anything special behind this), he grabbed the box and tossed it to his bed in annoyance.

Wondering if the maids had gotten the correct things he had requested, he opened the box nonchalantly, breaking the seal keeping it closed with a small blade he usually kept at his bedside.

Upon a first glance he just had to scoff. Not something he had requested. He felt like tossing the box aside and heading to class, but this was not the only item in there.

It was nothing but a pity gift, he thought. He took out the dark blue coat from the box, a new coat. He did not need it. The thought of his father getting this for him irked him. He tossed it aside, not wanting to deal with that trail of thoughts. He turned back to the box and finally found what he had actually requested. His old light blue coat he had left behind in his closet. He took it out and smiled lightly as memories instantly sprung of the times, he wore it. Upon further inspection he found his old navy blue sweater he used to love wearing, leather gloves, daggers he’d received as gifts from his father (an unnecessary gift but he was rather fond of them), old toys he barely remembered playing with and was fairly certain he had not asked for. The last items seemed to be picked out at random. None were to be of any use, and yet a sense of nostalgia overcame him, if only in a small amount.

As he continued to move around the last few things from the box, he came upon an item dug deep at the end, mixed in with old drawings he’d made of his family and friends long before he could even properly swing a sword. Moving a drawing of what he could faintly remember was him, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri, he found a crumbled-up letter in rather messily written words. He tried to clear the creases with his hand so he could properly see the blue ink scattered across the page.

Somehow still legible, he noticed how the light blue paper had begun to yellow at the top corners as the years progressed, and how the dark blue ink he had written with had smeared at some spots. He searched for a date of when he had even created this, as memories of himself sitting at his desk crossed his mind, late at night, writing this in a moment of vulnerability. A part of him cringed at the memory. Another could recall the wave of emotions that surfaced that night.

As his eyes scanned the page, he couldn’t help but think himself naïve, weak, foolish for even have written such things.

“Dear Sylvain…” he scoffed at whom the letter was addressed, feeling embarrassed and unable to continue. He skimmed over a few of the words before abruptly folding it, ears reddened in embarrassment of his child self. ‘What the hell was I even thinking back—’

“Felix, hurry up, we’re going to be late!” Sylvain’s loud voice shook him from his trail of thought. Instinctually, he crumpled the paper in his fist and pushed his hand to the bed, out of sight of the meddling Sylvain who waltzed into his room like he owned the place. The redhead rose a brow and watched Felix skeptically. “What are you even doing?”

“Don’t just walk in here you idiot! Have you no decency to knock first?” Felix retorted, irked.

“Well your door was open so if anything, you should be more careful if you want some privacy,” Sylvain smirked at Felix smugly.

Felix growled, but said nothing as he shot up from his bed and swiftly pushed the paper into his pocket. Sylvain continued eyeing him as he did so. “What’cha got there?” he motioned to his pockets curiously.

“None of your damn business,” he growled as he walked past Sylvain. How meddlesome, he thought. Out of all people that lived in the dorms, he had to be the one walking in. The last thing he needed was for Sylvain to read his letter. It was idiotic, foolish. There was no need for him to read it even if it was addressed to him. He walked towards class wondering where he could dispose of the letter.

Perhaps tossing it to the bottom of the lake for the fish to feed on, or casually throwing it into the fire of the oven at the kitchen would be a good idea.

Anything to dispose of it.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Sylvain chuckled as he closed the door and rushed to his friend’s side. “Wait up, Felix!”

 There wasn’t exactly a sitting arrangement set by Professor Byleth. Usually Felix would opt to sit at the back of the class on his own, but had no problem taking a front seat if need be. What was important was to attend to his responsibility of assisting class, paying attention and getting good marks. What was most important: training and enhancing his skills in battle.

So no, sitting anywhere was no problem for Felix. And sitting next to a person was nothing as long as they weren’t a nuisance. The one problem was Sylvain, and sitting next to him was never a good thing. Luckily no girl was beside him for him to swoon over (they’d all seemed to catch on to his skirt chasing antics and opted to sit elsewhere). But the fact he was just sitting there, giving him a look once in a while; Felix was on edge, or perhaps he was paranoid. He had yet to dispose of the letter that rested at his pocket. Unfortunately, no trash can was found in sight. But even that was not a good idea to dispose of the evidence.

An incinerator. That’s right. Something like that would be ideal.

“Felix!” for a second time he found himself being brought out of his thoughts, and again there was Sylvain, giving him a bemused look. He had scooted over closer, at hands reach of the letter, Felix noted. He seemed to be looking from the professor to Felix as to not be caught talking in class.

Felix gave him a dismissive look.

“Hey, you seem weird today,” he noted in a whisper.

Felix kept a poker face, ignoring his comment.

When no reply came, Sylvain sighed and tried again. “So, are you going to tell me about that box you were opening up at your room? You even got a letter from it? Was it from a girl?” he smirked deviously.

Felix gave him a glare that could kill if looks could do so. He felt heat creep up his neck.

“It was from my father, if you have the need to pry into my personal affairs. To think it was from a woman,” he scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

The redness reached his earlobes. It was from no woman, but that letter…the thought of it embarrassed him to the core.

Sylvain folded his arms at the desk and lowered his head into them, staring at Felix in amusement. “Hm…I’m sure the box was from your father, but I doubt he’s a man of writing letters to his son. Especially when said son despises him so much.”

Felix grumbled, but did not give him the pleasure of turning his way.

“So, what was that letter about? A secret admirer? Come on, you can tell me anything. And if it’s from a girl I’ll even set you guys u—”

“It’s not from a girl, idiot!”

The looks he suddenly got from around him told him his voice had been pitched a tad louder than he had anticipated. The frustration had taken over him. Sylvain simply drove him crazy, he had to admit. Now, more than his earlobes, his face burnt in embarrassment as the professor, along with the students of the blue lion house, eyed him from across the room.

“Is something the matter, Felix?” the professor asked, a brow rising as they stared him down from across the room.

Felix grumbled. Sylvain seemed to be having the time of his life, holding back his laughter.

“N—No.” he stuttered regretfully. “I apologize.” He wanted to just combust right there and then. Damn Sylvain.

The professor remained silent for a moment, eying him and Sylvain, before turning their eyes back to the class notes and walking back to the board. “Very well. As I was saying…” they continued on with the class, not wanting to turn the situation into a whole ordeal. Felix was glad.

Sylvain was crackling right next to him. Felix’s fists were balled, ready to gut him in the stomach as soon as the professor turned away from their sight.

“Wow, that letter sure has got your man bun in a twist,” he commented with a muffled chuckle.

Felix tried calming his breath, attempting to just ignore the teasing idiot. “Had we not been in class, I would’ve beaten you senseless,” he commented back, giving him the side eye.

“Woah, woah, let’s calm down Fe. I’m just teasing you,” he grinned.

Felix rolled his eyes.

Sylvain finally decided to shut up.

Finally.

 With class over, Felix decided to get some training in before his stomach demanded him a trip to the dining hall. He managed to bolt right out of the classroom before Sylvain could attempt his idiotic teasing once again.

Just as he had turned the corner out of the class, he heard a voice call out to him. Thinking it to be Sylvain, he didn’t even bother to stop, but a pair of rushed steps had him look over his shoulder, wondering who he had brought in tow.

Turns out he was just being paranoid. Out of the classroom came Annette and Mercedes, rushing to catch him before he could go any further.

“Wait up, Felix!” Annette called out, reaching her hand out to wave at him.

Damn it, he did not need his name to be shouted so loud as to have Sylvain know of is whereabouts. He rushed towards them and lead them into the golden deer classroom that had been evacuated with only a few students standing around.

“Uh…why are we in here?” Annette asked, dubiously.

“I’m…. just avoiding someone. Anyway, what is it you want?”

Both girls exchanged looks before turning back to him with soft smiles. “Well, we were wondering if you’d like to train with us today?” Mercedes said.

Felix rose a brow in surprise. That was unusual.

“Yeah, the professor told us you’ve been practicing magic recently. Mercie and I thought we could help you out,” she gave him a warm smile.

They were worried about him after that dumb outburst, weren’t they? This was foolish.

Felix sighed and scratched the back of his head, relaxing. “That’s right, although I’m still world’s off from being good at it.” He gave the girls another look, who watched him expectantly with a pair of puppy dog eyes. He couldn’t resist. “Alright, alright. I suppose this could be some useful training.”

And so, Felix somehow ended up at the training grounds with the two girls, honing his magical skills, and, completely forgetting about the letter he had written long ago.

Not even when Sylvain walked into the training grounds with a bright smile on his face and asking to join in on the magic training did he remember. If anything, Felix remembered how annoying Sylvain had been during class before his thunder spell went out of hand and landed across the room, right past the redhead.

He smirked, triumphantly.

“Well, I suppose I’ve enhanced my thunder spell. Thank you, Annette, Mercedes,” he said, eyeing Sylvain daringly.

Sylvain frowned and crossed his arms. “Not cool, man.” He stepped towards Felix, arms at his hips. “Seems you’ve gone back to your usual self. Did you finally confess to that girl from the letter?”

Felix popped a vein, suddenly becoming very self-aware of his left pocket. His hand subconsciously traveled to protect it.

Mercedes and Annette lightened up suddenly at the thought of Felix being interested in a girl. Before he could even defend himself, Annette chimed in, “Oh, Felix. You’re interested in a girl? I’m so happy for you! Do we know her? Is she in our class?”

“Oh wow, who could it be? This is so exciting!” Mercie commented.

“Yeah! She even gave him a letter. He’s been carrying it around all day. Isn’t that right, Felix?” Sylvain smirked at him deviously.

“Didn’t I already tell you not to meddle in my affairs!” Felix exploded. “And besides! It’s not from a girl!” he growled, fingers digging into the clothes were the letter was hidden securely.

“Oh my. Well I’m happy for you whether it’s from a girl or not, Felix,” Mercedes smiled kindly.

“Ugh,” Felix just face palmed, feeling the need to just walk away. The thought of having to correct them, to explain what the letter was even about, it was daunting. A letter he wrote as a young, naïve child to no one other than Sylvain. No. He was not about to go into that.

“Come on, Felix. You can tell us anything. Or just me! I’m your childhood friend!” Sylvain smiled, stepping closer.

A thought came to Felix. “Don’t tell me…did you set all this up just so you could corner me and have me show you the letter?” he frowned in annoyance.

“Well…” Sylvain scratched the back of his head. “It sort of just…happened, y’know? The girls were worried about you and so I suggested—”

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible!” he’d reached his patience limit. Felix just wanted to be out of there immediately.

“Now now, let’s calm down…Sylvain, I do not believe it was right of you to set this up just so Felix could show you a personal letter he received. If he’s not comfortable sharing, then we should best leave him alone.” Thank Seiros for Mercedes, Felix thought.

Sylvain looked rather disappointed. “Well that’s no fun,” he sighed, looking to the ground.

“Sorry Felix…had I known…” Annette began.

“It’s fine,” Felix said after a breath. “Sylvain is to blame. You’re always meddling in my affairs, it’s irksome.”

“Hey, I just wanted to…” Sylvain stopped himself, feeling rather attacked. He stepped back and sighed. “Never mind….” he muttered, before walking away.

The hell was that, Felix thought. He seemed disappointed. Felix worried for a second, only one second, before remembering all he surely wanted was for Felix to be with a girl. It was disgusting. Idiotic. All he needed was to train, to become stronger. He did not need love in his life. He’d locked those wishful thoguths long ago.

He did not need to convey those feelings from that letter any time soon. 

 It was now or never. Felix held the letter one last time, watching as the wind carried leaves far far away from the concrete railing. He hoped, as soon as he ripped those pages, the wind would carry the pages as far away, and along take the feelings they conveyed.

Because somehow they were still true even to this day.

He did not care to read it again. He felt he could remember every single word from memory if he gave it a go. But he refused, even as the words began flooding his head. He folded it once, twice, before grabbing it by the center and—

“No!” a hand clasped the top of both of his and ripped the paper from his hands. He heard the sound of paper ripping and saw as Sylvain held on to it in his hand.

“What are you—”

“Why would you do that?” Sylvain asked, looking to the side as though he could not meet his friend in the eyes. “How could you just…”

Felix chest tightened as he watched Sylvain’s troubled expression. He didn’t understand, why would he care? Why would he care when he already told him the letter was not from any girl? And if he somehow assumed it was from a boy, why? He didn’t know the true contents of it. The emotions waved into every words of a young Felix that didn’t know better; in his wishful mind where he came up with a happy ending that could never be. Sylvain didn’t know any of that. So why was he so adamant on this? “It’s none of your…”

“It is. I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Sylvain chimed in. He looked up. “So why won’t you just tell me?”

“Tell you…?” Felix muttered, struck with confusion. Tell him what? There was no possible chance he knew the truth.

“Tell me that this letter isn’t from some girl. I know that at least. I…was just teasing you. I wanted you to just tell me, but you’re not that easy to crack, I know that…”

This was foolish. Who was he to ask for an explanation? A friend, yes, but he did not need to tell every single detail to him, he didn’t….

And yet in that moment, why did he suddenly want to just spill everything?

Surely it was the night’s breeze. The cold. The atmosphere. But Felix was no fool, he wouldn’t give in to it, to those emotions he'd buried long ago.

“I need not give you any explanations,” he said, eyes closing, arms crossing over his chest. “I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about this—”

“You wrote it, didn’t you…?”

Well he hit the nail in the head, nothing to fret about, though. Felix remained silent.

“You wrote it….for Ingrid…”

Felix’s eyes shot open the instant he said that. He was not quite sure the expression he was making, but his face was surely that of utter disbelief where he looked like a complete idiot. “What?” just spewed out of his mouth like Sylvain had just grown a second head. It was almost laughable. Almost. “Are you sane right now?”

Sylvain deadpanned. “Am I…..what? I remember you…you were saying her name! You were writing it…for her! I remember that colored paper!” Sylvain accused, pointing a finger to the culprit.

“You….what? I did not write this today! You surely saw me reading it in my room! Which came from the box my father left with the items I had requested from home!” Felix was just in utter disbelief.

“No! No, I know that much! I mean I saw when you wrote it! One day when we were staying over! When Ingrid and I stayed in your room! You were at your desk writing, and you kept looking back over at her! You even muttered her name!” Sylvain did not back down, waving the letter around in his hand.

Felix frowned even deeper, if possible, feeling his irritation reach its peak for the third time that day. “It wasn’t for her, moron!” he went to grab the letter from Sylvain’s hand, but the taller boy brought it higher above him, out of reach. Felix growled, grabbing Sylvain’s arm and pulling it down, but the boy wouldn’t budge. “Give it back! You’ve no business reading it!” he continued as he jumped in futile attempts to get it. Sylvain stepped back, and Felix stepped forth, hand anchoring to his shoulders for support of his jump. Sylvain moved his arm to his side and Felix reached to grab it. Again, a futile attempt.

“Stop it, just admit it already!” Sylvain complained as he tried prying Felix off of his body. The swordsman wouldn’t budge, stepping on him, pulling the sleeve of his jacket, anything to get that letter back in his hands.

“Admit to what? I’ve got nothing to admit! You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Felix pushed Sylvain with enough force that he took a step back forcibly in order to not fall.

“Just admit you’ve always been in love with Ingrid!”

It was right then Felix pushed hard enough for the redheaded boy to topple back, right onto the ground behind him, but even then he still obnoxiously held onto the letter.

“Just give me the letter! I’m not in love with Ingrid. What the hell is your problem?” Felix fought, legs locking around Sylvain’s as he reached for the paper. But Sylvain was much bigger and managed to grab Felix by the shoulders before he could reach for the letter and push him to the ground, laying his whole body weight on top of his back. He managed to restrain his movement, grabbing his one free arm with his left hand before bringing the now unfolded letter to his face. “If you keep denying it then I’ll just have to read it to you and remind you!” he grumbled as he eyed the first words.

And it was right then and there Felix knew there was no going back.

“Dear Sylvain…” Even as he uttered his own name, Sylvain felt disbelief wash over him. His own name, staring back at him in blue ink, only that for some reason some lines had been traced upon it, as if someone had fruitlessly tried hiding the receiver of said letter. There was no mistaking though, that Felix had been the one to write his name. He could not forget the particular curvatures of his handwriting, rather messy and yet elegant for such a young boy.

Dear Sylvain,

No, you are not dear. That sounds odd, especially coming from your best friend, right? Well, it is not like you will even come across this letter in any way, so I can freely address you however I please, similar to that dream. That dream I had before I woke up just now and started writing this…it felt so real. I truly wish it were to become so.

The words were right there. Sylvain felt like he was holding his breath with each word he read. His grip on Felix’s hand loosened, and that was when he felt the breath he’d been holding leave him in a sweep as his body was lifted upwards and he fell to his back, Felix landing right on top of him. He’d forcibly lifted his body and toppled the redhead back. Felix grunted before rolling off of Sylvain before once more attempting to pry the letter from his hand.  

“No,” he grunted, rolling to the opposite side of Felix, but the swordsman was quick and instantly was on him, locking his legs around his back and trying to pry Sylvain’s right fist open. “Felix…” he grunted, his mind running with the infinite ideas of what Felix’s dream had been.

Desperate, Felix tried digging his nails into Sylvain’s skin. Sylvain hissed in pain but refused to budge. Felix grunted. He did not know how far Sylvain had gotten into the letter. What he knew. What he could already deduce with the information he got. He would not risk the redhead reading any further than he already had.

“Felix….just….let me finish it. Please,” he begged as he tried prying his hand away from Felix’s forceful grip. It was barely possible as he could hardly breath with Felix’s whole weight at his back.

“No,” Felix responded simply, his hold tightening even further.

“Stop, I—” Sylvain tried pushing himself up from the ground. “I just need to know…”

“Know what? If I’m in love with Ingrid or not? Give me a break. I’ve had enough of--” Felix’s words were cut short as he felt Sylvain finally muster enough strength to push himself up, toppling Felix backwards. He fell on his back but was quick to get to his feet before Sylvain could run off. He reached his arms forward and grabbed onto Sylvain’s which held the letter, now much more tattered than before, he noticed.

“Just stop being so stubborn, Felix!” Sylvain grunted, watching Felix’s quickened breath, his hair a mess from rolling around on the ground. “I just want to know what you feel!”

“Wha I feel?” he asked, darkly. “That letter, I wrote it years ago. I was just a naïve child that didn’t know a thing about the real world. It is none of your concern—”

“Don’t say that!” Sylvain insisted, pulling on his arm. “What you wrote in this letter. What you wrote to me. I have to know Felix. You—You can’t just throw that away without letting me know. How can you say your feelings for me are none of my concern?”

At that Felix’s whole countenance flushed, warmth spreading throughout his whole face, sneaking to his ears and neck. His feelings for Sylvain. Must he have put it that way?

“What are you say—”

Sylvain pulled on his arm so roughly he had not expected Felix to come linked with it. Felix yelped, tumbling forward and right onto Sylvain who was unable to keep his balance and once more toppled back, his back hitting the ground, knocking the wind right out of his lungs.

Felix felt out of it as well, face landing right on Sylvain’s chest. He felt his already messy hair fall off of its loose tie and fall all around his head. “Dammit,” he hissed. “Sylvain! What the hell?” he lifted his throbbing head up and tried bringing a hand to rub at his head, but found he could not move them. “Wha—”

Sylvain had grabbed on to both of Felix’s hands with his right hand, keeping them above his head as he held the letter he had been trying to save with his life up to his face. How long had he been reading? Had Felix been knocked out? The fall had been rather brutal. He was shocked, out of it, and froze up as he watched the letter a small distance from him .

I know I usually tell you of the dreams I have, but this one I am sure will only serve to make you grow apart from me, and that is why my selfish desires can only be told it in this format.  

As he watched the old light blue letter, and watched Sylvain immersed in it, he ceased his struggle. His head lowered into the redhead’s chest, losing all will to fight for it. He knew it was futile at this point. He knew there was no hiding it at this point. He sighed in frustration, heated face pressing to Sylvain’s chest further, hoping this was nothing but a dream.

It wasn’t. Sylvain was reading his childhood fantasies, raw and unfiltered.

In that dream our promise came true. We stayed together. I was really happy. We were grownups. We became the respective leaders of our houses and we united our territories. Together. We were together together. I do not think you would understand since you would only see someone like Ingrid that way, but in that dream you did. And we were happy. I have been wondering for a while what that feeling meant, it is like a stab to the chest like when we used to train with Brother. It sometimes hurts too, and sometimes I feel lightheaded. And now I understand it is because I like being next to you. You make me really happy. You always comfort me when I feel sad. You always make me laugh and smile. And after what happened with Brother, I have not been feeling like doing either of those things. Except with you. I want to be with you until we grow old. If only that were allowed. But I cannot convey those emotions to you right now. I do not think you would understand. Maybe when we grow up. I will try my best. I will not let go of my feelings for you. They make me feel warm and happy and I never want to lose that. I never want to lose you. Sylvain. Even as I trace the letters of your name I am consumed by that emotion. This is wrong, is it not? This feeling I have, because our fates are to be decided by our fathers, our partners, not by ourselves. But I am selfish, and I want you, not some random maiden my father picks for me. Perhaps in the future it will be alright, and it will all work out. Or am I being too naïve to dream of that?  I am not sure. In any case, thank you for being my friend, my family, and maybe, when we are older, maybe something more if fate allows it... 

Minutes felt like hours. At some point Sylvain had released Felix’s hands, and the swordsman brought them to his face in shame. He stayed there. He had no perception of time. He’d become consumed in his thoughts, in the smell of Sylvain’s shirt. He indulged this last moment before he’d lose the idiot for good.

Sylvain had finished reading every inch of his naïve self’s dream. That foolish dream he’d once had. It was not worth discussing.

And yet his heart ached and longed for whatever words would come out of his childhood love’s mouth.

He had not expected, though, to hear sniffles come from his direction.

When he looked up, he felt like now he was convinced this was nothing but a twisted dream.

“I’m…sorry, Felix.”

A few tears escaped Sylvain’s eyes. Pity, that had to be it. Of course. Here it came. It was so idiotic it had even come to this. Rejection was a fact he knew as the first thing to pop up when in some alternate universe Sylvain read the letter; it seemed like this universe was that alternate one. Was this even necessary? He wondered. “Don’t be foolish,” he sighed, pushing himself off of him, regretfully. He instantly missed the warmth, but he needed to escape. “Keep whatever pity you have to yourself. I told you not to read it, did I?”

He felt a hand hold onto his arms. “But what you wrote…”

“Was a long time ago. Those words mean nothing now. I was a kid. I didn’t know any better. There’s no need to get worked up over the past.” Lie. It was the only way to get away, fast.

“You’re….saying you don’t…feel this way anymore?”

“Exactly.” It was frightening, the way he lied like he almost believed it himself.

A dream where they could be together. A dream where they grew old. He wanted it so. But he knew it was not possible. So there was no point in even having such a dream. Those were the trail of thoughts that had been reverberating throughout his mind.

“You can keep the letter if you please. I have no use of it.” Why did it hurt to say those things?

“Felix…”

“Let me go…”

“No,” a firm grip help onto his arms and Sylvain would not budge. Felix would not look his way.

There was silence, and just when Felix thought Sylvain had finally given up, he heard a muffled chuckle coming from his direction. This time he did meet his eyes, and watched as his friend just laughed, right at his face.

Felix grunted. “What’s so funny now? Making fun of me? I told you it was a stupid—”

“No, no Felix. It’s—” he laughed, holding a hand to his mouth. A tear escaped his right eye, Felix saw. “It’s just, this is so dumb, you know?”

Felix blinked. “…Dumb?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain smiled. “I mean…all this time I thought you had the hots for Ingrid. But…” he chuckled. “Turns out you had the hots for me,” he beamed.

Felix whole face burst in a deep scarlet red.

“W—What nonsense—”

“Hey, just admit it alright. No use in hiding it now,” he waved the letter between them.

“Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me this letter means nothing now. That you don’t feel this way anymore,” he paused, a small smile plastered across his lips. As he watched Felix’s troubled red face, his hand mindlessly wandered up and his fingers brushed the dark blue strands of hair behind his childhood friend’s ears.

This was harder than he had anticipated, because when he looked Sylvain in the eyes the wave of the same emotions, the same pang to the chest and heat wave across his face reached its brim. Lightheaded. Almost intoxicated. He was so close. At arm’s reach. His fingers brushing his hair, ghosting close to his cheek.

“Felix…tell me,” Sylvain pressed. Felix turned his head to the side, teeth gritted. That lie he’d uttered so easily; it was like he could not muster up the courage to lie to Sylvain right to his face. It was impossible. He was not that type of guy.

“It—It’s best if we leave this be…” he mumbled, defeated. “That letter, you need not worry yourself over it. It’s wishful thinking. I know that very well…”

Sylvain breathed in, frustration taking its toll. He brought his wandering hand to Felix’s face, and brought him inches from his, their eyes meeting in an instant. “You call me an idiot and yet all along the biggest fool has been you, Felix,” Sylvain chuckled sadly. “I won’t just leave this be.”

Felix was paralyzed by Sylvain’s sharp stare. He was caught red handed. Sylvain was getting closer, he had to get off, but he was unable to properly process an escape route.

“Tell me,” his eyes trailed down to his lips, and Felix felt his stomach do a backflip. This was happening. Somehow, he’d gotten into this mess. He wanted to run, to forget, but why weren’t his feet moving. And why the hell was Sylvain so close? How had he even ended up on top of him?

Felix shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself.

A hand brought his face up, and against all the voices in his head telling him to punch his childhood friend in the face, he stayed put and he let it be.

When he felt something soft at his lips, he had thought Sylvain had pushed something to his face as a jest, but when he opened his eyes and saw the closeness between them, his heart did a double take. He felt it, all those childhood emotions unfurl and his body melting like never before. His defenses lowered and his eyes closed. It was foolish. He knew that well, but in reality, it was all he’d been repressing for years.

When they parted ways and Felix blinked, he still mused upon the idea this was a dream. He was more than convinced.

“So, will you admit it now?” Sylvain grinned.

Felix grunted, but the smile on his face said another story. “Shut up,” he mumbled as he leaned in for another kiss.

He did not need to say what actions could show.