9 - TERMS OF FRIENDSHIP

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Felix

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When I return to my room after my dawn training session, I find Sylvain awake and reading a book in bed.

"Good morning, beautiful," he says with a dopey smile.

"If you ever say that again I will knife you."

He gives me a hurt look.

"I mean it," I say.

He mutters something under his breath and sets aside the book with a yawn.

"Fine. No compliments on your dashing good looks. I understand," he says.

"Good. I would rather die than listen to you flatter me like some pretty girl you are trying to charm."

"It's not flattery, it's- Nevermind. Coffee?"

"Sure."

He gets out of bed and but before he leaves, he comes over and kisses me softly. I put my hand on the back of his neck and kiss him back with more passion.

"Coffee first," he says breathlessly.

"Coffee."

He pauses at the door and looks back at me. "You've smiled more these past few days than in your entire adult life. I like it."

"Don't get used to it."

He laughs and leaves to procure us coffee.

While he is gone, I pick up the sheaf of papers on the table and read over them again, unable to let go of the lingering questions that remain in Inspector Agust's investigation.

Over the past five days we have learned the identity of the killer, the identities of his victims and a rough estimation of where and when they were kidnapped. But a name to put to his face is not enough.

Riordan Asmer. Age thirty-two. Employed as a forester for five years before joining the army. Purportedly died in the war, but he returned home under an alias.

I have read the report ten times already but the mysteries that have yet to be solved are eating away at me. I have left them in Agust's hands for it is not my place to take part in a police investigation. I shouldn't even have been involved in apprehending the murderer at all.

Sylvain has provided a wonderful distraction and sense of normalcy these past few days but I know if we don't get answers soon I will have to interrupt our pleasant days to get involved again.

What was the drug that Asmer used to induce such strong psychosis? All of my physicians, potion-makers and mages, dark and light alike, can't figure it out. They have identified the main ingredient as nightshade, but apart from that we are still in the dark as to how it is made or where Asmer got it.

And why the crest? Why did he have a vendetta against me? I never encountered him directly during the war. Perhaps I led his battalion into misfortune of some kind and someone he loved died. But wouldn't his anger be turned at the empire in that case?

I know there is more to this puzzle, but as no more bodies have turned up in the woods or anywhere else, it seems we have time and peace to get to the bottom of it. In the end it matters more that we stopped him than why he committed his atrocities.

"I have returned triumphant!" Sylvain announces, nudging the door open with his foot and carrying in a tray with cups and scones.

"One black coffee, bitter and miserable as your soul," he says, setting it in front of me. "And one delightful cup of bergamot tea because I choose to live a happy life and not be a wretched masochist."

He sits down and sips his tea with a smile.

"Thanks," I reply.

He notices the papers and says, "Have you gotten any more reports from Agust?"

"Not today."

"Hm."

"Maybe I have made too many enemies for it to be realistic anymore for me to know why someone would want revenge," I wonder.

Sylvain looks thoughtfully at the report. "Maybe we will never know."

"I need to know."

He finishes his scone and empties his cup of tea. "Come with me," he says, getting to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere new."

I follow him as he leaves the house and heads over to the stable.

"It will be a long time before we ever go back to the Lupine Trail," he says. "So we should find a new place to call our own. There's some hills east of here. Let's look for a good trail."

A ride sounds like a decent way to take my mind off the investigation, so I saddle my horse and we set out together eastwards, skirting around the town until we are in the vast, grassy hills outlying it.

We pass by some farmlands and settlements until we are left alone in the quiet, windy expanse of trees and grass and sky. It isn't the same as the woodland trail, where the towering pines created a private, hidden world of our own to escape from reality into. But these hills are beautiful in their way and being out in nature of any kind is soothing.

"I'm not made for cities," I say. "They're too crowded, even the small ones. It's easier to be myself out here."

"That's why I wanted to come here. I like you when you are in your natural habitat. You seem happier," Sylvain replies.

In a dell between two hills, we find a stream and stop to let our horses drink.

Sylvain lies down on a patch of grass and crosses his arms under his head, closing his eyes. But I am too wound up to rest. After pacing around for a few minutes, I sit down next to him and anxiously rip up blades of grass.

"You still haven't learned how to relax, have you?" Sylvain says without opening his eyes.

When I don't reply, he adds, "I hoped I might cure your insomnia, but I know you've been sneaking out of bed every night to go pace around the house. You're still not sleeping?"

"I've gotten a few hours each night. That's an improvement," I answer.

"Have I not been talking at you enough to exhaust you?"

"Oh no, you talk plenty. I never get a moment's peace. I guess whatever is broken just isn't so easily fixed."

"How can I help?" he asks.

"It's not your problem. Don't worry about it."

But when has telling Sylvain not to worry every made any damn difference?

He gets up and walks over to his saddlebag, returning with two books and a pen. He hands a book to me and says, "Keep your mind busy. It helps."

Opening it up to the first chapter, I see that it is a text on methods of weapon crafting through the ages, filled with diagrams and illustrations.

"I've never seen this before. Where did you get it?"

"I, uh, acquired it from Dimitri's library. I thought you might like it," he says.

"You stole it from the royal archives?"

"Is it really stealing when it's from a friend?"

I look at him suspiciously. "How many things have you 'acquired' from me?"

"Nothing."

"You're the one who stole my favorite jacket, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It was you! Give it back."

"I can't. Sorry. It was too tight in the shoulders so I gave it to Ashe."

"What?"

"I couldn't exactly give it back to you and admit I took it!"

"Why would Ashe accept stolen goods?"

"He didn't know. I just told him it was too small for me. Besides, he can't afford nice things like that. He was really touched. You should be happy for him."

"Good lord. You are the worst!"

"That's rich coming from the royal heirloom sword thief!"

"Hmph."

I return my attention to reading, both resentful and grateful. It is an extremely interesting book. Hopefully Dimitri doesn't notice it went missing.

As I read, Sylvain opens up a notebook and sketches something. I sneak a glance at it and see that he is drawing me.

"You've got my nose wrong," I say.

"I did not."

"It doesn't even look like me."

Sylvain grabs my chin, turning my face towards him and staring at my nose. "You're right," he says. "I also shouldn't have drawn you smiling. It doesn't suit you."

I scowl at him but after a second I can't help but laugh. Sylvain smiles, his eyes lighting up in delight.

He starts to let go of me then stops, cupping my cheek in his hand instead. His gaze moves to my lips and I hold my breath. Even after a few days, it still feels unreal when he kisses me and even the anxiety it provokes is exciting in a way. I've found, quite embarrassingly, that I can't get enough of it.

He leans in until his lips are an inch from mine and my impatience gets the better of me. Setting the book down, I tackle him onto the grass.

"You smudged my drawing!" he protests.

"It was shit anyways. Shut up and kiss me."

He laughs and wraps his arms around me as he kisses me. Without thinking, I sit up and take my shirt off, throwing it to the side. Sylvain runs his hands longingly across my bare skin and I reach down to unbuckle his belt. He looks up at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I ask.

"I just… I thought you preferred to take it slow."

"It's been a week! This is getting absurd! How fucking slow do you expect me to take it? I'm getting sick of kissing your stupid face."

"I don't know! I thought…"

"You usually sleep with someone immediately. What's going on? I've been waiting for you to make a move, but you just keep innocently kissing me. Do you not want me? Is that it? Are you regretting all this?" I ask, silently cursing myself as I feel my face flush.

"You think I don't want you?" Sylvain laughs in disbelief. "Of course I want you! But I'm terrified of messing this up. I was scared that if I rushed you and you thought I was only after your body, you would-"

I interrupt him by kissing him fiercely, my tongue in his mouth and my hand sliding up his thigh. Sylvain stops me after a moment to unbutton his shirt. His indecision is gone, replaced by a look of excitement that makes my heart pound.

But as he yanks off his shirt, the sight of the scars on his chest takes me out of the moment as guilt aches inside me.

"Stop," he says, grabbing my hips and moving me off of him and onto my back. He kisses my neck in a way that makes me forget about everything and focus only on the rush of nervousness and arousal provoked by his lips on my skin and his hand slipping under the waistband of my pants.

He pauses and leans his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips. As he feels me growing hard in his hand, he whispers, "You have no idea how much I have wanted you."

I don't know how to reply so I just kick off my boots and tug off the rest of my clothes. As he kisses his way across my body, my breath races and I tangle my fingers in his hair, closing my eyes in anticipation. I gasp as he starts to go down on me and after a minute, I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to silence a groan.

He reaches up and grabs my wrist, moving my hand away. And when I moan again, louder this time, he continues more passionately.

My self-consciousness fades away and I stop worrying and thinking, letting myself just enjoy the incredible feeling. God, he knows all too well what to do with his lips and tongue. I've always wondered what it would be like with him. I've imagined it countless times but still no fantasy could have come close to the way this-

"Oh fuck," I swear breathlessly. "Fuck…"

I glance down to see his big brown eyes watching me and the bright look of satisfaction in them just might be the most goddamn beautiful thing I have ever seen.

He slows down a bit to tease me and I groan. I hold out as long as I can, but every minute the heat swelling through my body and the aching desire to feel him go deeper makes it harder to be patient. Finally I put my hand behind his head and urge him to stop tormenting me.

After one more everlasting minute, he gives in and takes me back all the way in his mouth, his tongue doing maddening things to me. He fucks me harder and harder until I am swearing again and gasping for breath.

My body seizes up with the euphoric release of an orgasm and he keeps going until it has run its course, then he swallows and pulls back, kissing my thighs and hips with a pleased hum.

I sit up and plant my hands on the ground, leaning back and catching my breath.

Sylvain moves over to sit beside me and to my relief, he doesn't speak, because I have no idea what to say.

I reach for my clothes, but he snatches them up and throws them out of reach. "Don't you dare. I haven't spent all these years staring at your ass in those tight pants only to have you put them back on as soon as I get you out of them."

I open my mouth to reply, but he kisses me again. Then he jumps up and walks over to his saddlebag, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He uncorks it as he brings it back and takes a long drink, then holds it out to me. I grab the bottle and set it to the side, staring at him intently.

"Take off your clothes and get on your back," I tell him.

"Oh my."

"Shut up."

I give him everything I've got and after I am done with him, he sits up with a blissfully stunned expression on his lips and says, "Damn, Fee."

"Why the fuck do you look so surprised?" I demand angrily.

"I'm not surprised. I just didn't know whether or not you had much exper-"

"I will kill you if you finish that sentence or follow it with any kind of question on my sex life."

He holds up his hands and says, "Alright, alright. Don't kill me."

I pick up the bottle wine and we take turns drinking it. Stealing glances at his soft, hazy smile every so often, I can't help but feel pleased with myself.

When the bottle is half-empty, Sylvain sets it down and kisses me deeply. He slips his hands into my hair and pulls it free of its knot. As it falls down around my shoulders, he stops and smiles at me.

I glare at him and start to tie it back up, but he takes my hands and says, "No, I like it like this."

"Why? Because I look like a girl?"

"No, because you look relaxed and natural."

I leave it be and he tucks it behind my ears, kissing me again.

"Can I ask you something?" I say when he stops.

"Go ahead."

"I've never seen one of your flings last more than a month at best," I say, forcing my tone to stay casual and unconcerned. "How long do you think this will last?"

He looks at me searchingly. "You think this is a fling?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"I've been telling you I love you for years. Surely at this point it's sunk in," he says.

"That's just something close friends say."

"I know, but even if the terms of our friendship have changed, it doesn't mean I'd ever stop loving you. You know that, right?"

This really is a conversation I never wanted to have with him or with anyone for that matter. But I have to say it. I have to confront this before too much time passes.

You've faced down battles, Felix. Where is your courage? Damn coward.

"Look, I know you are pretty fast and loose with the word love. I imagine you've lost count of the amount of times you've said it to get in bed with someone. But me - I've never said it to more than one or two people and only ever in a platonic way. I've never said it in a…"

Goddamnit, Felix! Spit it out.

"... a romantic sense."

Sylvain brushes his fingers across my cheek and looks into my eyes with an earnest expression that I so rarely see on his face.

"I love you," he says, "in every sense of the word."

I stare back at him, too stunned to reply.

"Don't leave a guy hanging," he adds with a nervous laugh.

I kiss him and it gives me the courage to speak, although it is still difficult to find the right words. "I love you too, more than I know how to say. God knows why but I've been… in love with you… for a long time. Years. I just never thought you…"

Sylvain smiles at me when I trail off awkwardly. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it exactly that you love me?"

"Hell if I know. It doesn't make any sense to me either. Why do you love me?"

"For one, because of this," he says, running his hands across my naked body.

"Really? That's it?"

"No that's just a perk. Most of all I love you because I trust you."

"You don't trust anyone," I say.

"I trust you. Absolutely."

I smile slightly. "Is it because you assume I don't want to have your crest babies?"

He laughs. "You don't? I'm hurt."

"The last thing this miserable world needs is more Sylvains."

"Thanks."

Right as I am relieved the conversation has turned more light-hearted, his sincere expression returns and he says, "As much as it is a shame to have waited till now to find this out, I'm glad you didn't tell me sooner. When I was younger I just would have fucked it up."

"Don't underestimate yourself. You still might. Or I very well could."

"No, I don't think I will. Believe it or not, there are some things in life I take very, very seriously. And you're one of them."

"What are the others?" I ask.

"Choosing the right bottle of wine, maintaining my looks, throwing good parties."

"What an honor. I rank up there with all that nonsense."

"It's only fair. I know I'll always come second to your lifelong quest to be the best swordsman in Fódlan."

"Well at least we know where we stand. Now can we talk about something else? Or not talk at all?" I ask.

"Unless you distract me with conversation, I'm going to start kissing you again," he says.

"I suppose there are worse things."