2 - A Friend in Need

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Felix

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Rubbing my wet hair with a towel, I walk into the bedroom, asking, "Have you seen my hairbrush?"

I freeze when I realize that it is Sylvain sitting on my bed not By.

"Have you tried looking in your underwear drawer?" he asks.

"What the hell?" I exclaim, hastily wrapping the towel around my naked body. "What are you doing here? Where's By?"

"She went out to find us some liquor," he says.

"Why?"

"To console me."

"Why do you need consoling?" I ask, then pause. "Wait, why would my hairbrush be in my underwear drawer?"

"Just look."

I roll my eyes and yank the drawer open. Sure enough, there it is.

"How could you have known that?" I ask.

"You're a methodical person. You always get dressed right after combing your hair. Sometimes you leave the brush there on accident. We've had this conversation about a hundred times over the years but you always forget," he says. "As for why I need consoling, does it matter? I don't come to you to vent my problems. I come to you to drink, hear you lecture me about getting my life together, and maybe if I'm really distraught, get a hug. By's on liquor duty, so that leaves you to lecture and hug. Go on. Get to it."

"Get your life together, Sylvain," I say simply.

"That's it?" he asks with a short, hoarse laugh.

I get dressed and sit down on the edge of the bed next to Sylvain as I brush my hair. "I don't know. What do you want me to say? You have your shit together for the most part. I have far fewer complaints than I used to. You're fairly tolerable now."

Frustration passes briefly across his expression before he masks it behind his careful smile. "If you're not telling me everything that's wrong with me all the time, how am I supposed to know what I need to change? Throw me a bone, Fee. Tell me why I'm so fucked up. I could use your keen insights on my failings."

There is something off in his tone and as much as it annoys me that I have to play this game with him to get him to spew his real thoughts, I know I'm not going to get answers from him with a direct question. But whatever has him distressed, it must be serious for him to look like this. I have no choice but to try to figure out what the problem is so I can solve it.

"Has someone been doing my job for me? You look like a kicked dog," I say.

"Nope. You're the only one who's allowed to be an asshole to me. Everyone else is pretty pleasant and polite," he replies brightly.

"Then why do you think you've done something wrong? Did you burn down the greenhouse on accident or something? What happened?"

He laughs again, nervously this time. "Don't worry - nothing is in ashes and nothing is broken that wasn't already burning wreckage."

Before I can ask the next question and take another tedious step in the process of forcing him to get to the point, Byleth opens the door to our room and walks in with an armful of ale bottles.

Sylvain jumps up and takes them from her. "Goddess bless you."

By gives me a look that says, 'What's wrong with Sylvain?'

I respond with a 'hell if I know' expression to which she raises her eyebrows in a clear 'why not? You're his best friend.'

I shrug helplessly. By sighs and uncorks one of the bottles, taking a long swig of whiskey.

"Well that's terrifying," Sylvain says, glancing back and forth between the two of us.

"What is?"

"I thought only I spoke the silent, secret Felix language. If both of us can understand him without needing to use actual words then he's going to get away with spending the rest of his life in silence and that just isn't psychologically healthy."

By laughs. "As if you would let him have a moment's peace."

"Aw, come on. He loves it when I chatter at him."

"He does? Well I suppose you know him better than I do. If it makes him happy, then you should stay and talk to him. Tell us about your day, Sylvain. Leave nothing out," she says.

I shoot her a 'I will throw fists; don't tempt me' look and she gives me an 'as if you could win' smirk.

Sylvain drains his bottle in one impressively long gulp and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He uncorks a second one and takes a drink. "Well, my day has had a fair share of excitement. But we'll start with breakfast where…"

This is right about the point where I usually tune out and just start nodding and saying 'really?' every so often. Byleth keeps listening to him with a fair share of attentiveness, so I silently hand off my friend duties to her for a few minutes and get up to make some tea. I'm not going to get drunk on a weekday night for no reason. I don't have By's shocking tolerance for liquor, nor Sylvain's complete disregard for the importance of sobriety.

As I move about in the kitchen, I can hear By laughing and I can tell that it isn't out of politeness. Whatever Sylvain is saying must be genuinely amusing to her. That's good. Now I feel less guilty for pawning him off on her.

But by the time I return to the bedroom from the kitchen with my tea, the mood has shifted entirely. There is a look of deep concern on By's face and Sylvain is staring at nothing with unfocused eyes and a haunted expression.

Oh Seiros. I know exactly what that expression means. Oh fuck.

Anger rises up inside me and I pause in the doorway before they catch sight of me so I can have a moment to constrain the emotion. My years of raging against Miklan and swearing to kill him are over now that he is actually dead. That anger only worsens Sylvain's mood now. I've had to learn to keep it under control and speak calmly with him.

But even if that bastard is dead, even if it has been five and a half years, my hatred for him has not faded. If anything, it has only gotten deeper.

What I would have given to be the one who cut him down. I did the right thing falling back in that fight to protect Sylvain who had been all but paralyzed with horror. But I wish it had been my blade that cut through the demonic beast's scales and ripped into his heart. Dimitri had killed him cleanly with a swift, precise stab. But I would have made Miklan suffer. Even if none of his consciousness even existed in the beast at that point, I still would have tried, just in case he could still feel the pain.

I take a deep breath and force my fury to settle. Once I have my emotions under control, I walk into the room and sit down on the other side of Sylvain, nudging him with my elbow. "You want some tea?"

"I'm good," he mumbles, raising his ale. Two empty bottles are at his feet. He is already on his third and it has been only a quarter of an hour.

By gives me a frightened look that says, 'It's bad. I need your help.'

I nod and glance at the door then back at her, signaling that she should leave and give us some privacy.

"I'll go find some more ale," she says, getting up and grabbing her cloak.

After the door closes behind her, I take the bottle from Sylvain's hands and set it down. With a sigh, I pull him into my arms, putting my hand on the back of his head and pushing it down to rest on my shoulder.

Now that I can't curse and rage at the injustice, I have no idea what to say when this happens. So I have learned over the years that the best thing to do is just suck it up and hug him. The simple gesture says much more than any awkward, clumsy words I could possibly come up with.

Sylvain is stiff and numb for a minute, then he puts his arms around me and clings to me for dear life. I feel a few tears on my skin and my heart drops. It must really be bad. I haven't seen Sylvain cry in years. He might be a lot freer with smiles and words than me, but tears are another matter. Even I cry more often than him. And the rare times he does break down, I know it is only around me.

It is good I asked By to leave. Sylvain is starting to trust her, but not like this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. For some inexplicable reason, he has decided that I am the only person who can see this unraveled side of him.

I rub his back in slow, soothing circles and hold him for what feels like an eternity until he pulls away and sniffs, scrubbing the tears out of his eyes with an embarrassed look.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Seriously, I can't believe I-"

"Stop it. Just tell me what happened."

"Claude and I ran into a demonic beast in the woods while hunting today."

"Oh shit. Are you injured? Is he?"

"We're fine. I held it at bay so he could fire at it. We managed to blind it and run away. But it… Fee, it looked just like-"

"It wasn't him," I say sternly.

Sylvain nods, taking a shaky breath and wiping at his eyes again. "I know. I know. It just brought everything back. And not just that battle… everything. I don't know why. What has it been - two, three years since I've had one of these breakdowns?"

"Maybe even longer."

"I thought enough time had passed that it just didn't matter anymore. I guess I was wrong." Sylvain laughs harshly. "Fucked up for good, huh? That's how it works. It's been ten years since he tried to drown me, but it still feels like it was yesterday."

I have to clench my jaw to hold the fury at bay. Sylvain might never forget the darkness and water he almost died in. But what I will never forget is Glenn and I dragging him out of the well and seeing him shivering and only barely alive, covered in cuts and bruises from the beating he'd taken before being thrown in there.

I obviously couldn't have killed Miklan back then - I was a twelve-year-old kid. Even Glenn couldn't, despite seriously wanting to and even going so far as to consider it once. He was only a teenager too. But I could have done it when I was older. If I had, Miklan wouldn't have lived to become so corrupted by his hatred and greed that he turned into a beast even worse than the one he had always been.

I failed Sylvain by letting that monster live as long as he did.

"Feeling pain is nothing to be ashamed about," I say, surprising myself with how wise and sympathetic it sounds. I'm getting better at this.

"Maybe if I could keep my shit together long enough to wait to break down until I was alone or with you. But this time I was weak. It caught me by surprise so much, I wasn't able to…"

"You had a flashback in front of Claude, didn't you?" I guess.

He winces. "It wasn't pretty."

"Did you explain things to him?"

"Of course not!" he says. "What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"So you what - had a mental breakdown then ran off like nothing happened?"

"No, I-" He sighs in frustration. "Yes, that's exactly what I did."

Oh for fuck's sake, Sylvain… No wonder you are a disaster. Being disturbed, scared and mortified all at once is enough to reduce anyone to a tearful mess.

"You know what?" I say. "Forget Claude. Claude can go fuck himself if he judges you for being upset by something that would disturb anyone. I'm sure he wasn't exactly unfazed by the whole thing himself."

But Sylvain doesn't reply. He just picks his bottle back up and takes a drink of the ale.

"Who gives a damn about Claude's opinions anyways?" I continue. "By is the one who calls the shots in battle. She knows you're strong and won't fail us. No matter what Claude thinks, By respects you and will keep trusting you in battle as she always has."

Sylvain nods vaguely. "Just put a good word in for me with her. When the whole army finds out I'm crazy, I'll need someone other than you on my side."

"You think he'll tell anyone?"

"Why wouldn't he? It's quite a story."

I jump to my feet and grab my sword.

"Where are you going?" Sylvain asks.

"To have a word with Claude. Stay here," I say.

Dropping the bottle, he lunges after me and grabs my arm. "No!"

"Look, I'm not going to hurt him or anything. I'm just going to remind him of the importance of keeping his stupid mouth shut. The sword is just for dramatic effect."

I try to pull away but he yanks me back frantically. "Fee, please! Don't."

"Why not? If you want this to stay under wraps, let me have a word with him. It'll fix everything and you can pretend like none of this happened. That's what you're good at. And bullying people into not talking shit about you is what I'm good at."

Sylvain darts in front of me, blocking my path to the door. He leans against it with his hand clutching the doorknob. "You can't go threaten him. It'll just make me look more pathetic."

"Who cares? The damage is done with Claude. Let me contain it from spreading."

"You don't get it! I don't give a damn what everyone else thinks. What I care about is what he thinks! And it's too fucking late to fix that. I just blew my shot with him. Nothing to do now but drink and try to forget that."

I stare at him in surprise. "You think you had a shot with him?"

The hurt look that twists Sylvain's expression with pain makes me realize that what I said sounded a lot different than the way it did in my head.

"I didn't mean it like that," I amend. "I meant that I didn't realize you were shooting for anything. I thought you were just fucking around like you always do."

He avoids eye contact and laughs nervously. "When you're fucking one person and one person only for a whole month with no thought of anyone else, is it even fucking around still?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"No," he says. "It's not."

Ugh. This is very swiftly heading into territory that I am wholly unprepared for. I might have learned to help Sylvain fight his demons, but I have never learned - nor do I particularly want to learn - how to comfort him over stupid heartbreaks. If this one wasn't so wrapped up in other much deeper issues, I would be throwing him out of the room right now and telling him to go complain about his love life to someone else.

Goddamnit. Should I go get By?

The idea of her trying to talk hysterical, heartbroken Sylvain through his relationship problems is amusing in a wicked way. I can just see her startled look and uncomfortable expression.

Sylvain sighs. "What am I supposed to do, Fee?"

"Why the hell are you asking me?"

"Because, hilariously enough, you are the only friend I have who is qualified to offer advice. You not only fell in love with someone, you successfully got them to fall in love with you too."

"You want Claude to fall in love with you?" I say in exasperation. "What the hell? Claude? Why?"

"Why not?" he says defensively.

"Because he doesn't deserve you!" I say before I can think the better of it. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and I turn away and stalk over to the bed, grabbing Sylvain's half-empty bottle of ale and taking a long drink.

Well fuck me. I just made this conversation more awkward than it already was.

Sylvain looks like I hit him with a lightning spell. He stares down at the floor and more tears glisten in his eyes.

Oh no. Oh goddess. What have I done?

"You really think that?" he murmurs.

Too late to back out now, I guess. "Yes," I answer. "Claude is a good leader. I'd maybe go so far as to say a good man if only because By seems to trust him. But he's nothing like you."

"What's so great about me?" Sylvain asks with a nervous laugh.

"Stop trying to get me to make sentimental speeches. You know I'm bad at them. Anyways, you know what."

"I really don't actually," he says quietly. "Other than my body and my smile, I have no idea what I have that's any good."

"If you're so horrible why the hell do you think I'm friends with you?" I ask.

"I don't know. Old time's sake? You've said yourself - you didn't have much say in becoming friends with me. We were kids."

I huff in frustration and say, "Shut the fuck up and listen to me. I'm only saying this once and I'm probably going to say it terribly. And don't come fishing for validation from me all the time from now on. Just believe what I say and don't ask me to repeat it."

He nods, treating this whole situation with more sincerity and seriousness than I expected.

"You are the bravest and most loyal person I have ever known. I don't have to look over my shoulder in a fight to know you're there. I trust you absolutely. And you…" How do I put this into words? "Underneath all that buffoonery, you're the most compassionate person I know too."

"Compassionate? What on earth would make you say that?"

"Duscur," I say uncomfortably. "You know I changed completely after that. Everyone pushed me to go back to the way I was, but you just… I never felt pressured by you. You took it in stride, adapted to this new version of me, and kept on loving me no matter how hard to love I became. No one else did that, Syl. No one. Not even my own family. Just you." I sigh. "Look, there are tons more reasons too. But I'm not about to write out a list for you. Just know that I think that if you loved someone, if you really loved them, you'd be the best thing that happened to them, the way you're-"

I stop and tell myself to get it over with. It's not like it isn't true. It's incredibly true. It's just hard to say. What if Sylvain laughs at me? I'm never this earnest with him. He's probably taken aback and maybe amused by it. I know I'm awkward as hell. Why did I even get myself into this?

"The way I'm what?"

That sad, vulnerable look in his eyes pokes at my sympathy enough for me to get over myself and finish the thought. "The best thing that happened to me."

Sylvain doesn't laugh. He doesn't say something dumb or flippant. He just gazes back at me silently until a faint, hopeful smile comes to his lips.

"Thank you," he whispers.

I shrug. "That's what friends are for. Now can I go punch Claude or what? I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing."

"You've done a lot," he says. He puts on his coat and runs his fingers through his messy hair, taking a deep breath and steadying himself.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To have some dignity and carry on about my day like nothing is wrong. I had some paperwork I was supposed to see to about wages for the Faerghus soldiers. I'm going to get it done, go to bed - alone - and leave you and By in peace."

I study his expression, wondering if he is retreating behind that mask of his or if he has truly calmed down. I think it's the latter, although I could be wrong.

"Syl," I say.

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and glances back at me. "Yeah?"

"When you get like this, don't… Just stop hearing in your head what Miklan used to tell you and hear instead what I just told you. Alright?"

He smiles again and it finally reaches his eyes. "I'll try."