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a week after the beating the king (for the last time, you remind yourself), you and your family get back on the road. you wanted to leave sooner, but mirabelle insisted you needed more rest. even now, you feel awful that it’d been a week since it had ended and you were resting a whole week. in that time, you could’ve already made considerable progress to bambouche.
everyone was aware bonnie was getting restless as well, asking every day when they would leave. finally, you all agreed everyone felt well enough to get on the road.
(you didn’t, really, but no point in making them wait for something that would never come.)
as soon as the news left odile’s mouth, bonnie was already rushing around the clocktower, packing all their stuff. the most important stuff, they clarified after shoving a frying pan in their backpack.
the rest of you packed at a bit of a slower pace, and you didn’t need to pack at all, really. everything you needed was in your cloak. shifting in your pocket, you quietly pull out your (loop’s?) silver coin, rolling it between your fingers before letting it pass over your knuckles.
you’re unsure how long you sit there, twiddling the coin between your fingers. playing with it only makes you think of loop (siffrin?) and your fight at the favor tree. your lips press into a thin line as you replay the events in your mind–
but you don’t have long to ruminate as a hand frantically waves in front of your face.
“frin! hello? hellooo?” bonnie’s voice makes you smile as you tuck your coin away, looking towards them. “hi, bonnie.” you say with a soft smile. not bonbon, you remind yourself. you haven’t earned that this loop.
(this is not your family, not in this loop. there’s no going back and doing it again.)
“are you almost done? if we leave now, i’m sure we could get there, like, super soon.” bonnie insists, and you snicker to yourself.
“yes, i’m done. and no, i don’t think that’s how it works. bambouche is a few days away on foot, and we have to take breaks too.” they don’t seem happy with that answer, huffing and crossing their arms.
“nuh uh. you’ll see!”
you nod, grabbing the last of what you had left in the clocktower, and looking towards your friends. (not family.) “we all ready?”
everyone makes some sort of noise of affirmation, carrying varying amounts of stuff. mostly mirabelle and isabeau take the actual camping stuff, bonnie carries all the food and supplies, you take essentials, and odile gets special privileges to not carry anything.
you go first, making sure everyone has their designated items before exiting the clocktower, and skipping over stones past the bridge. sure, you could just jump the bridge, but it’s fun to try and balance on the stones that poke out through the rushing water. everyone else takes the jump, besides odile, who lifts her pant legs up and just wades through the water, joining you all on the other side.
(you wish you could’ve helped someone jump the bridge. hold their hand, maybe, while they made the jump.)
as you get closer to the edge of dormont, you notice some of the people from your encounters in the village are waving you goodbye, and you all do your best to wave back at them. odile has to remind mirabelle that if she individually says goodbye to each person in dormont, it would take forever. she frowns, but nods, saying a general goodbye to the town as you all start your trek outside of dormant, and on the way to bambouche.
as usual, you lead the group. being out of dormont, seeing something other than the same damned town you’d woken up in hundreds of time, is like a breath of fresh air.
it’s hard to remember anything before the loops, but you vaguely remember the way to the nearest town outside of dormont. still a couple of hours away, probably. if you all make haste, you could get to the next town before sundown and avoid having to camp out again.
it’s hard to say how long you walk down a beaten path towards the next town, you find yourself blanking and just letting your body go through the motions.
it’s only when you notice the path starting to get darker and the sun setting that you start to actually take stock of what you’re doing. you must’ve been walking for awhile, for this much time to pass. you look back at your companions, eyes scanning over them as you bite your lip. is it worth it to walk the last hour in the dark to get to the town, or should you just settle down for the night?
“shall we stop here, for now?” odile’s voice cuts in, seemingly noticing your hesitation on what to do next. mirabelle nods in agreement, fidgeting with her cloak.
“i think we should. i know the next town is up soon, but it’s getting pretty dark. and i’d say we’re all a bit hungry, hm?”
the words put bonnie into motion, immediately sprinting to a clearing and emptying their bag. isabeau lets out a fond laugh (stars, you love his laugh) and slides his bag off his shoulder working with mirabelle to get the tents set up. as usual, odile gets her own, mirabelle and bonnie share, and… you and isabeau share.
(you wonder if it’s…different, now. now that you two are…)
you brush the thought aside, not wanting your face to turn a shade darker than it is thinking about isabeau.
as you often do, you drop your stuff near where the tents are, and start collecting kindling so bonnie can boil some water. you’re not sure what they’re making tonight, but you’re sure it’ll be good. you haven’t had much of an appetite, since the loops.
once you have a fair amount of kindling, you use your dagger to collect some heftier pieces of firewood. you drop them all off to bonnie, who inspects them before nodding vigorously.
taking the bit of extra time you have before bonnie finishes boiling their water and starts dinner, you find some firewood nearby that didn’t make the cut. you squat next to the pile, flipping some pieces over.
too dry, has rot, too wet, not big enough, too small…
eventually, you find a smaller piece of wood; a quick look at the rings inside and its bark tells you it’s from a chestnut tree. you flip it over in your hands a few times, testing it’s weight, before nodding to yourself and bringing it back to camp.
bonnie is watching over their boiling water, a set of ingredients stockpiled next to them. you’ve always told them watching over boiling water won’t make it go any faster, but they beg to differ. a fond smile comes over you as you watch them start to get to work.
a bit away from them, odile is resting against a tree. her book is in one hand, and her pen is in the other. more likely than not, she was writing a new supply list and a plan of action on the way to bambouche. now that you guys were traveling for leisure, and not the imminent end of the world, you had time to breathe.
mirabelle is setting up the last tent; she always insisted that it was a fun bonding experience to set up tents with the people you were traveling with. you’re sure everyone you know would disagree. but she seems proud of herself, and she moves to bonnie to question what they’re making for dinner tonight, and offers to help peel some fruits.
isabeau is sorting supplies laid out by odile, and you can’t stop a smile from creeping on your face. he just… makes you smile. you’re not quite sure why.
(because you love him, a part of yourself screams.)
you pointedly ignore that thought, going up to him and plopping on the dirt.
“sif!”
“isa!”
“sif!!!”
“isa!!!”
the two of you look at each other for a moment, before bursting it out into laughter. it’s…familiar, but not in the bad way. your eyes soften when you look at him, but as soon as he looks back at you, you look away.
(quietly, you feel your hands burn; the ghost of where he held them on the roof of the house lingering. oh, what you'd give to feel that again.)
“are you excited to get back on the road?” he asks, and you hum for a moment before nodding.
“yeah. i think it’ll be nice to travel without the threat of all the, y’know, imminent death curse and stuff. go a bit slower.” he lets out a soft exhale at that, nodding.
“tell me about it! i don’t know how slow we can go on our way to bambouche, though. i’m sure bonnie would make us run the whole way there, if they could.” that gets a snicker out of you, as you turn your gaze over to bonnie, who’s cooking rice and slicing some fruit.
“oh, they for sure would.”
a gentle hum falls between the two of you, and you don’t feel like filling the silence. it’s nice. your party has been treating you… not different, but more careful. like you were made of glass. it wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but you know they’re doing it out of care for you.
things hadn’t…changed, per se, between you and isabeau since he finally confessed. he assured you multiple times that he was in no rush from an answer from you, and you could take the time you needed, which you appreciated. it’s not even that you weren’t sure– you knew. sure as the sun would rise and set, you loved isabeau.
you don’t know if that realization scares you, or comforts you.
on one hand, you promised loop you would actually talk to your family. on the other hand, the mortifying ordeal of being known. a lose-lose situation, really.
one way or another, your eyes linger to isabeau’s hands. they were large– much larger than yours. when he held your hand, confessing to you, you felt just how soft they were. he was so close to you, he smelled of lilacs and softness.
(you wonder if his hands would still be soft now, if you were the one to reach out and hold them. you want to hold his hand.)
he seems to notice you staring, as he scoots his hand ever so slightly closer to you. an invitation, of sorts. you look up at him, seeing his nervous face turn a few shades darker than it was before.
with a shaking hand, you reach your hand closer to his, and gently lie your gloved hand atop his.
nervously, you glance towards him, and the two of you meet eyes for a second before looking away again, just…resting your hand on his. this is nice. this is…good.
(a disgusting, greedy part of you screams for more. selfish, selfish, selfish. you want to be in his arms, pressed close to him. fall asleep in his safety, let him card his hands through your hair–)
you feel your breath quicken, and you ignore the worried glance he shoots you as you shake those thoughts out of you. you need to learn to be happy with what you have, you remind yourself. this is more than what you deserve, so be content with it.
you open your mouth to say something, your eyes flickering from your hands atop each other to his face, when a voice echos across the campsite.
“IT! IS! DINNER! TIME!!!!!”
like you’ve been burnt, you quickly retract your hand to your side where it was before. you get up quickly, trying to calm the heat rushing to your cheeks as you watch isabeau trail behind you like a kicked puppy.
as usual, you gather around in a circle to where bonnie has started to put food into plates as they serve everyone.
(they’ve noticed you’ve been eating less since the loops; they have started to pile extra on your plate every time they serve you.)
“what’s on the menu for today, bonbon?” mirabelle asks, clapping her hands together with a smile as she hands plates out, then utensils. today’s dinner seems to be some sort of rice, with fruit slices around the sides.
“mango sticky rice!” bonnie declares, sitting down triumphantly with their own plate. “very delicious, very good. you may all eat now!” they say with a grin, and you all smile fondly.
“thank you for the meal, snack-leader.” you say, a smile on your face, and everyone parrots their own version to bonnie, who seems pleased with this.
carefully, you pick up the spoon given; with a fond smile, you feel a warmth knowing that the utensils and bowls you’re all using are ones you carved on the road to dormont. it just felt like the right thing to do, to give back to them.
bonnie lets out an indignant, “wah!” as odile ruffles their hair, smiling fondly. “this is great, boniface.”
puffing their cheeks out, bonnie makes a note of happiness. “well, of course it is. i made it.” a pause, and they look away. “…thanks, ‘dile.” they say, before digging into their plate.
you can’t argue with odile, it is great. bonnie has a natural talent, even at such a young age.
thankfully, you manage to get through half the plate before you have to stop eating.
(you used to have such a big appetite, before the loops. now it’s like a chore to you, no matter how good it tastes.)
you try not to look at bonnie’s expression as you push your plate away, folding your napkin. “…sorry, bonnie.” you mumble, looking away. “do you think you could save ‘em for leftovers for me? future snacks?”
they take this into consideration, before nodding and taking your plate, mumbling something under their breath about a secret plot to get you to eat more. they wrap it carefully.
not long after, everyone has finished their plate, piling them up to be washed later as bonnie gets up, to go do… mysterious bonnie things, you suppose.
with the time that took, it’s getting fairly dark out. and you’re sure you’re not the only one tired from the long walk out of dormont, so you stretch for a bit before yawning and getting up. “tent time?”
“tent time.” comes the agree of multiple voices, which makes you laugh a bit. you snuff out the fire, carding through the charred firewood. you help mirabelle with the nightly tasks of setting up some oil lamps outside the tents, have a breakfast station setup for when bonnie inevitably wakes up earlier than everyone else to make breakfast, and securing the tents to the ground.
“goodnight, mira!”
“goodnight, siffrin!”
it’s a comfortable hum of ambience as you unzip the tent and duck in, zipping it back up to see isa sitting on his bedroll.
“hey, isa,” you call, smiling down at him as you plop on your bedroll. he perks up, smiling at you with that wide grin of his.
“sif!” he smiles back at you, looking at you. “you enjoy dinner? you didn’t really finish it…” his voice trails off, worry filling his voice as he studies you with his eyes. it makes you feel… small, so you raise your hands.
“nah, i just wasn’t that hungry today. trust me, the meal was mesmericing!”
“HAH!”
isa barks out a loud laugh, a sound that makes your heart go two-timed, and you could drown in the sound of his laughter.
(that’s probably so weird, why would you even think that, you’re being greedy– selfish, disgusting, disgusting,)
“alright, alright, no more puns, no more puns!” he says, wiping a faux tear from his eye. “we’ll wake up m’dame odile, and well…” pausing, he makes the face. the face he always makes before you know another pun is coming.
“if she wakes up, well… there’ll be no more miss rice guy…”
there’s a pause of silence, before the two of you burst out laughing together. you… you missed this. just joking around with isa. it was nice; familiar.
“okay, seriously now. if we wake up m’dame, she’ll crucify us.” he says, stretching his arms above him as he hums lightly.
you avoid your gaze, out of not wanting to seem weird by staring at his arms or his face.
(you find your thoughts wandering to his face.)
nope, not going down that thought path.
before, you were all staying at the guest rooms in dormont; the head housemaiden insisted you all got your own spacious guest rooms. besides bonnie, who stayed with mirabelle.
unsure of what to do next, you stare down your bedroll like it has personally wronged you, gaze lifting from your spot on the tent to isabeau, who’s staring bashfully at you.
“uh–”
“sorry!” he squeaks out, his face turning a shade darker. “for, uh, staring. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. i was just, um, well,” you can’t help but look at him fondly as he stumbles over his words, waving your hand slightly as you motion for him to go on.
“well, i was, uh, wondering, if–” he mumbles something under his breath, covering his mouth for a moment before blurting it all out at once.
“iwaswonderingifyou’dwantoliedowntogether…?” he rushes out before immediately putting his hands up. “obviously we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i don’t want to force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” a pause, his face growing darker.
“a-and, i know you’re still, um, deciding what we wanna be–” he waves his hands. “which is totally okay! i’m more than fine with that, but, um, it could be, like, a trial…? to see if you like it– um, like…me? of course–”
“isa.”
your voice cutting him off makes him stop, looking up from his ramblings, his cheeks dark.
“y-yes, sif?”
carefully, you scoot forward on your bedroll, and move until your knee bumps into his. you try not to jolt– even though you initiated, it still overwhelms you at first.
“i’d like that.” you hum out, and he lets out a strangled noise, but the smile on his face tells you all you need to know.
“oh! okay, okay, um, awesome! that’s– yes, i’m– change, this is hard… okay, um,” he seems nervous, unsure what to do with his hands, so you tug at the back of his shirt until the two of you are lying down next to each other; as you normally do. but now, it’s… different. in a good way. you feel warm.
without thinking, you scooch closer, and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him to you. he lets out a squeak, like the air is being forced out of his lungs, which you think is adorable.
“oh, change… is this really happening?” he mumbles under his breath, and you find yourself smiling as you lean your head into the crook of his shoulder and neck.
(it burns. it burns, in the best way possible. you feel giddy, overwhelmed, and scared all at once. you feel greedy, like this. holding onto him so tight. a part of you thinks you’re being selfish. another part of you screams that you want this, you want his hold, you’ve been waiting for this–)
your thoughts are quieted as soon as he runs a hand through your hair, and you stiffen up. he stops, removing his hand which makes you almost want to cry.
“oh, um, i’m sorry– i should’ve asked, ah, so–”
you cut him off by pressing your head back into his hands, despite the part of you that screams that you’re being needy.
his smile, though. his smile makes it worth it, and you watch as his face turns into something so fond– like you hung the stars in the sky.
“aw…okay, i can’t say no to that, sif.” he hums, a faint rumble against your head as he cards his hands through your tangled hair. you really need to start brushing it more.
(maybe… maybe, he could brush it for you? no– that’s, that’s too much. greedy. you’re already getting all this, can’t you just be content with what you have? stars, siffrin, you’re so selfish–)
“sif?”
he notices you’ve stopped your steady breathing, and looks down at you with worry. it breaks your heart a little, to know he loves you so much. knowing you don’t deserve it.
“sorry– i got lost in my thoughts.” you mumble out, avoiding his gaze. his response is a faint hum, pulling you into him as he separates tangled strands of hair.
“it’s okay, sif. talk to me?”
you make a noise at him, unsure if even comes out as anything legible. you turn your thoughts over in your brain for a second, before shrugging.
“…i dunno. just…” you squirm a little, unsure if being vulnerable is something you’re allowed to do here. “worried. thinking about, uh,” you move your hands, trying to gesture. “the…loops.” looking away, you fail to meet his gaze. “i… i went a really long while without, um,” you feel your face heat up, and your expression scrunches up. can’t you just be normal and say it?
isa seems to sense your frustration, and brushes a piece of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. carefully, he looks at you, holding his hands in your head. “sif, i–” a pause. “you can let me know if i’m stepping in it, but,” he seems to decide on his words before speaking.
“how…how many loops did you go through? i know it was a lot, for you to…” a gesture. “but i… maybe we could understand the severity of the situation if we knew more specifics?” he asks, gently.
stars, he’s too good for you.
you swallow, scared he won’t like the answer. won’t like you. if he knew just how many times you re-lived the same day over and over again– used them, like puppets, like actors, to get your perfect ending, to–
he notices your breathing quicken, and immediately moves to ground his hands on your shoulders.
“sif– hey, sif. breathe with me, okay? in, and out. okay?” he guides you through your own words, and you take shaky breaths in and out until you feel like you’re ready to talk again.
“around two hundred.” you murmur after a while, and he pauses, his hands that were making gentle circles on your shoulders stilling.
“sorry?”
“you asked how many loops. around two hundred. i lost count after then.”
you don’t need to turn your gaze up to know he’s looking at you with shock and concern, so you just sit there quietly.
(you wait for the other shoe to drop; for him to let go of you, yell at you, ask how selfish you could possibly be–)
“oh, sif…” he mumbles, and you find his voice is watery as his eyes turn over you. “that’s– you said most of the loops were the full 2 days, right?”
you nod.
“you– sif, you were in those loops for over a year…?” he asks, and you flinch, but nod quietly. his hands on your shoulder burn, and you feel shame crawl up your face.
“i’m– i’m sorry.”
he makes an indignant noise. “sif, no– why are you sorry? i just… i just can’t believe it took us so long. to realize something was wrong. crab, i can’t… i can’t imagine how that must’ve been for you. no wonder you finally snapped under all that stress…” his voice is kind, gentle. he’s always been gentler than you deserve.
in lieu of a response, you make a small noise, trying to keep desperation out of your voice. “i– it’s– it’s okay, isa. really. i… i survived.”
(barely, you think.)
“i just–” you turn your gaze away, gnawing on your lip. “it was… a long time. to– to go without,” you stumble over your words. “any contact. and i– i know you guys do it because you don’t think i want to be touched, but–” you feel your throat tighten, squeezing your eyes shut. “i do! i do, i, yes, it’s scary, but i don’t–” your face screws up, and you let out a frustrated noise as isabeau gently runs his nails down your hair, to the nape of your neck.
“just because it’s not something i’m used to, doesn’t mean i don’t want to try. i like it. i–” your face flushes, you’re sure of it. “i really enjoy contact. it gets…overwhelming, easily. but i really do like it.”
isabeau nods, making a hum of agreement as he parts your hair with his hands, and you preen under the way his nails feel on your head. so soft… “that’s– it’s good to know, sif. i’m glad you told me, ‘kay?” he says, and you nod nervously, still waiting for the shoe to drop on you.
“still,” he says, a frown on his face. “a– more than a year? and…” he looks guilty, almost, his lips pressed into a thin line.
(you wonder if his lips would be soft?)
you shake those thoughts away quicker than you can even process it, looking back to him.
“and none of us thought you wanted to be touched. for us, it was two days with no touching you. for you, it was…”
“more than a year without being touched.” you confirm, guilt seeping into your voice. “it’s– it’s fine, though! i mean, i don’t– i don’t want to be selfish or anything. you guys have lives outside of me, and that’s fine! i don’t– i mean, it’s not a big deal, i was on my own for a while before i met you guys, and no one touched me then, so, i mean, it’s fine, i–”
isabeau cuts you off, cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. you never noticed how soft they are, under his fingerless gloves. you find yourself feeling the sensation prickly and uncomfortable at first, before you start to melt a bit into it, letting your eye close for a second.
“it’s not fine.”
the sheer sternness of his voice catches you off guard a bit, and you peek your eye open. he’s looking at you with a determined expression, his hands holding either of your cheeks with a soft smile. “it’s not. it was two days for us, but it was so much longer for you, sif. it– it didn’t happen for us, but it happened for you. it was real, for you.”
(he’s so much kinder to you than you deserve. if he knew– knew what a disgusting monster, selfish, greedy, you are, he would never say these things, never, never–)
he seems to sense you overthinking, and he squishes your cheeks with his hands, which makes you laugh a bit. “nope. nuh-uh. i can literally feel you overthinking. none of that. we can…address that later, okay?” he levels a look at you, squinting.
carefully, he leans forward, and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead.
(if you focused on it, you’re sure you let out the most pathetic noise ever made in the history the whole world.)
“there. okay?” he says, and you nod, your face heating up all the way to your ears as you cover your face, tugging your cloak over your face so you can scream into it a bit. he laughs at your reaction, but you can tell he’s just as flustered, if not more nervous.
slowly, you peek out from your cape, and stare him down. words aren’t really needed, so you lean your head against his shoulder, and hum thoughtfully as he runs his hands through your hair. feels…safe.
“i–” it takes him a moment to speak again, and he seems like he’s picking his words carefully. “i read… once, i think, that… that going that long, without touch,” he says, frowning slightly. “it can mess you up.” he pauses, backpedaling. “not– no, not saying you’re messed up! or like, your reaction to anything is messed up, like, um,”
his words are marked by him waving his hands around, his face heating up. “like, in a– in a i’m worried about you way. that’s what i meant.”
you mull over what to say for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. “i– i don’t know. at this point, i couldn’t tell you. i mean, yeah, probably. but i don’t know how much it matters in the grand scheme of the way the loops messed me up.” a shrug, and you wave a hand.
“i’ll be fine.”
(you will not be fine. you know that and he knows that too.)
instead of calling you out on your lie, he presses his forehead to yours.
it feels… nice, warm. comforting. you feel safe, in his arms, next to him. he bonks his forehead on yours, making you laugh, before pulling away. you try not to show your visible wilt at the loss of touch, tapping your fingers on your knee.
(you got more than enough. stop being greedy. stop. you’re using him, disgusting–)
“sif?”
as it often does, his voice breaks you out of your thinking, and you try to muster up a smile for him. “sorry, i zoned out. what’s up?” you say, and he looks at you with worry in his eyes. carefully, like he’s deciding what words are the right ones to use, he presses his lips into a thin line.
“i want you to talk to me.” he says, and it’s firmer than you’ve heard him in awhile. it’s endearing, if you weren’t scared of the vulnerability. “not– it doesn’t have to be now. i mean, it’s fine if you do! i’m here to listen. just– sometime, okay? it can be about anything. the– the loops, the touch, us, your home…” a wave of his hand. “just anything. not talking is how these things build up, and..”
“and i almost end the world?” you finish, and he winces, but nods. “i mean… yeah, kinda. but, still. you get what i mean?” with a slight nod, he smiles, eyes looking over you.
“um–” you make a little noise, and find yourself horrifically humiliated by the enormity of your own human needs. “do you, ah, think we could…cuddle?” you say, nervously fidgeting with the ends of your cloak. it is getting late, you would like some sleep for the travel you have set out for you tomorrow.
at his silence, you look up, and immediately start backing out? “that– that was a stupid idea, i’m sorry, i don’t know why i would say that, i’m–”
he cuts you off, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him on the bedroll. carefully, he moves so that you’re tucked against his chest, your head finding it’s spot in the groove of his shoulder.
“oh.” you mumble, face heating up as you wrap your arms around him back, curling up closer to him. this is…nice. you feel safe in his arms. his hands find their way to your back, running gentle circles and lines across the length of your spine. before you can stop yourself, you find yourself pressing into his touch, reveling in the way it feels.
he seems to notice this, and makes a noise of affection as he pulls you closer. if you were able to see yourself, you’re sure your face would be a shade darker all the way up to your ears.
even though a part of yourself screams that you’re being selfish, this isn’t right, you let yourself close your eye as you lean into his touch. maybe you don’t deserve it, but that won’t stop you. for now, at least.
he pulls away for a second, studying your face. you crack open your eye to look at him, watching as he analyzes your face like you’ve got something on it. immediately, you reach up, scratching right below your scar.
“uh? do i have something on my face…?” you ask, trying to find what he’s looking at.
within a moment, he moves your hand, cupping your cheek, and–
he kisses you.
oh. oh, stars, he kisses you.
before you even have a chance to do anything but let out a squeak, he pulls away, blushing furiously. “um!” he squeaks out, his voice higher than you’ve ever heard before. “i don’t know why i did that, i’m sorry, um, you just looked– really, really cute, i’m sorry, i’ll–”
you cut him off, and grab the collar of his tank top. looking at him with wide eyes, you lean forward. you… you can’t make the first move. not after what happened at the favor tree. he doesn’t remember, but you do. the way he pushed you away, the look on his face, the pit in your stomach.
(you’re unsure if you’ll ever be able to kiss him first.)
he seems to take the hint you’re giving him, and smiles. carefully, he leans forward again, and kisses you again. it’s slower this time– not as hurried, and you melt into it. you feel like your heart is exploding, and your hands shake as they find their way to his shoulders.
you’ve… never done this before. you’re not sure if you’re doing it right, at all, so you let him do most of the work as you lean into him. it’s better than anything you could’ve imagined, and his hand moves to cup your cheek.
he pulls away, probably to catch his breath, and he looks… so, so, unbelievably beautiful.
(it’s in this moment in time, looking at his giddy face after he kisses you, you realize. you truly love this man.)
you can’t help but let out a laugh, your cheeks hurting from smiling as you press your face into his chest. “pretty.” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you poke him.
“wuh?! me?!” he says, and you huff, looking back at him, squinting at him with your eye.
“yes. you. who else is in this tent?” you say, and he laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“ah… that’s true, i guess.” he mumbles, and you take the chance of him looking away to move closer to him. he radiates warmth, and it’s comforting. there’s a gentle silence, and you start to chew on the inside of your cheek. you look to the side, debating on your words.
“i don’t–” you stumble over your words, and make an embarrassed noise. “i’m scared. um. to kiss you first.” you rush out, and you flinch in anticipation. what if he gets mad at you? decides he doesn’t want to kiss you again, if you can’t even return the favor? stars, what’s wrong with you, why are you the way that you are–
“sif.” his voice cuts through your overthinking, and you open your eye you didn’t even realize you had squeezed shut. “that’s okay. i’m– i’m more than happy i can even kiss you at all.” he rambles, waving a hand. “do you wanna talk about it?”
you take a moment of consideration, before nodding hesitantly. you can do this. just be brave.
(if it goes wrong, you can always try to loop back.)
“uh. the…” okay. you can do this. “in the loops. i always… i always watched you try to put your hand on my shoulder at the favor tree. watched you try to confess at the clocktower, and then say you’d do it after we beat the king. and i always watched you chicken out after we bit the king.”
he nods, listening intently to your words, looking a bit embarrassed of himself.
“eventually– after so long…i.” you let out a shaky sigh, biting your lip. you’re not proud of what you did. it puts a pit in your gut, weighting you down every time you think of it. “i– we were at the favor tree and–” without realizing it, your hands have balled into fists, clutching at the ends of your cloak.
“i got frustrated. i just wanted you to say it already. i…”
(he’s going to hate you. he’s going to hate you. he’s going to hate you.)
“i kissed you. i– i didn’t ask, i grabbed you, and i kissed you, and you pushed me away, and you– you looked at me– and–” you’re panicking. logically, you know this. you know your hands are shaking, and yet, you’re still surprised when isa grabs them.
“sif. look at me?” he murmurs, and you carefully oblige, raising your gaze to meet his. to your surprise, he’s blushing a bit. “it’s– i was probably just…really surprised and pushed you away out of instinct. it’s– it’s not something to beat yourself up over, y’know? it’s fine–”
something snaps in you, and you jerk back violently.
“no!” you say, breathing heavily. “no. no, it’s not fine. i– i–” it feels like you’re being choked, each breath coming out ragged. “it’s not fine, i hurt you, i– i was selfish, greedy, i hurt you, i blinding hurt you, isa, i–”
your hands find their way to your hair, and you try desperately to tug at it to make yourself stop talking. distantly, like he’s a million miles away, you hear him make a noise of concern.
“sif, no– you’ll hurt yourself–” he says, and reaches to you. before you can stop yourself, you flinch back, fear in your eye. you can’t hurt him again. you can’t. you need to loop back. loop back, loop back, loop back–
“sif!” he raises his voice, and you snap your head up. “breathe. okay? breathe with me, sif.” he says, softer, and you find yourself copying his breathing.
it takes a few minutes, but you calm down after a bit. you tuck your chin to your knees, refusing to meet his gaze. he knows how– how disgusting you are now. what you’ve done.
he presses his lips into a thin line, and carefully brushes a bit of your hair away from your eye. “sif…i’m not mad at you. none of us blame you for anything that happened during the loops.”
(but you should, you think.)
you let out a non-committal grunt, looking away from him. you hear a small sigh come from him, and he runs a hand through your hair. “okay. i can tell you don’t agree. we… we’ll work on that, okay?” carefully, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “together.”
despite feeling the urge to scream and pull away and remind yourself you don’t deserve this, you didn’t earn this, you lean into his touch. “bed?” you mumble, and he nods.
it makes you blush a bit, that he can scoop you up with just one arm, and you let out an embarrassing squeak-like noise as he snuffs out the tent light, before placing you gently on your bedroll. carefully, he lies next to you, getting under the blanket.
that’s a good move on his part, because you would probably hog them if he let you grab the blanket first.
with a tired smile, you get under the blanket with him, and curl up close to him. he opens his arms as an invitation, and you quickly take it, wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulls you close.
you find yourself letting your eye close, and resting against him. this close to him, you can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. his hands comb through your hair, and you feel yourself falling closer into sleep.
“love you, sif.” he mumbles, quietly.
“…love you too, isa.” you respond back, ending your words with a yawn as you start to doze off.
in this moment, you are loved.