When Felix stepped into the room, he saw chaos.
The room was dark except for the small light that slipped between the closed off blinds. He knew there use to be a curtain to prevent that light from creaking in, but when he saw the curtain rod torn off the wall, he kept his mouth shut.
He then looked over to the corner of the sitting area and saw the turned over chair in the corner of the room and bit the inside of his cheek. The closet door was opened and shoes were spilling out, though there seemed to be an infinite amount of room inside. The long-haired man noticed a pair of bright red shoes and looked away.
Sylvain said nothing, did nothing, as he laid on the right side of the unmade bed. His gaze was focused on the empty wall across from him. There was an awful silence that hung in the room, so heavy and pernicious that Felix was almost scared to speak.
"It's been too long." His voice was loud, his tone sounded like an accusation. He never was one to sugar-coat his tone and intentions, after all, and it seemed counterproductive to try now.
Sylvain's lip turned up but his eyes remained on the wall.
"Has it?" His voice was cheery, his smile was almost convincing, but the redhead man did not meet his friend's gaze.
To anyone, Sylvain would have looked like an average guy, even with some semblance of unrefined beauty underneath the grime of a menial existence, but Felix knew better. His hair was grown out, the curls he usually had tamed neatly to the side, laid messily over his head. He looked as if he had not shaved for months, and his soulless smile made his heart heavy.
"Yes." Felix answered, his voice softer, tamer, under the weight of his own grief.
"It feels like…" Sylvain stopped and let out a small laugh. It was empty and it stabbed through the stuffy room unpleasantly. "Like it skewed time. A day passes by so slowly, the sun goes by the window as if it's being dragged. A-And yet it just hasn't been long enough."
Sylvain smiled through the words even as his eyes brightened with what Felix swore were not tears.
"Look at me." Felix asked, his voice light.
Sylvain looked up at him. His smile was there. Felix wanted to shake him.
"It'll never be long enough, will it?" Sylvain asked, his voice broke just enough for Felix to notice.
"You need to get up." Felix said, instead. "She doesn't want you like this."
Sylvain lazily looked away, his smile strained, "When have I ever done what she wanted?"
The words left his mouth as his smile fell completely. Yeah, he never did what she wanted, it was the reason he was there, alone and struggling to keep himself together, wasn't it? He let out a small noise and Felix pretended not to hear.
"You have to get up. Go out and live."
"I did," was his quiet answer "But she's gone now."
It sounded like a rehearsed line, like something he had told himself a thousand times before.
Felix stared at him. Sylvain Gautier was laying on an unmade bed, his waves of blood-red hair greasy and unkempt, his mouth turned into a painful smile, and his eyes staring at the empty space beside him. He shut his eyes and gave out a small laugh.
"She was mine, Felix." He rubbed his eyes with too much force. "She was mine, and they did not even… They did not let me."
There was a pause.
"We used to joke" Sylvain said, his eyes covered by shaky hands. "She'd laugh and tell me how she wanted to be buried."
"I want to be buried, not in a cemetery surrounded by grey tombstones, but in a meadow filled with flowers and…"
Sylvain had laughed then. "A meadow? Who's going to find us a meadow to be buried in?"
"Us? I thought you were immortal." She would tease, recalling all the times he had found himself in trouble.
She would scold him when he found himself in trouble, she would say she was worried sick for him, and he always answered with a snicker about not being the type who died easily.
"You're not getting away from me so easily. If you die, I die." He had shrugged then, as if it were the simplest thing.
"But then who is going to plan my funeral?" She had sounded so offended.
"Don't count on me." Sylvain had said, his voice a little too strong.
"Lady Rhea won't look for a meadow filled with flowers to bury me in, she'll burn me up and keep me in a vase."
"Lady Rhea can't plan your funeral from a grave." Sylvain retorted. Byleth had sent him a glare. "Just how long do you think your grandmother will be around for? Sorry to break it to you, Byleth, but you're going to outlive Lady Rhea."
Byleth glanced at the flowers in her hand and traced the petals with her finger. "You never know."
Sylvain sucked in a breath. He held back the urge to roll over to the other side of the bed and let himself go.
"She was mine and they did not even let me…!" He could not finish his sentence, he ran a hand through his hair and sat up, wanting to get a hold of himself. "She was mine and I was hers, and now she is…! She planned her future with me. I believed every fucking word of it. I believed her when she said she'd never leave me and she… She fucking left me. She's gone and she's not coming back, is she? I fucked up. I fucked it up so bad and she's not coming back anymore."
Felix felt a scratch in his throat, he was not sure where it came from, but he looked at Sylvain, and words left his mouth before he could think. "Let's get her back then."
Sylvain's eyes were wide, if he blinked, the tears would spill and he would have to face what he was feeling. He would have to come to terms with how fucking devastated he still was, even after so much time.
Felix smiled warily. "You're Sylvain fucking Gautier and you say you love her, so do it. Take her back."
Sylvain swallowed the knot in his throat.
"Go clean up," Felix said gently. "Get dressed, fix your hair, try to look a little decent. We'll get her."
Sylvain felt the hole in his chest try to drag him back into bed as he smiled back at Felix. After an encouraging nod, Sylvain stood up and made his way to the bathroom.
"I'm going to clean this place up a little…"
"Don't!" Sylvain said quickly. He looked at Felix and opened his mouth to say more. "Don't do it. I'll be right back."
The blue-haired man looked around. There were running shoes stuffed underneath the bed, a book tucked underneath a pillow, a bookmark still placed between two pages, an empty cup on a nightstand. He knew there were other things. A curtain torn off its rod, clothes thrown from its hangers, shoes scattered by the closet, glass shards by a light blue wall, cookie crumbs by the bedside. Everything of hers was where she left it, and every other thing was displaced in a moment of anger.
"Please. Don't do it." Sylvain struggled to keep his voice even.
Felix nodded, "Alright. I'll go make some tea, then."
Sylvain felt the knot in his throat as he said, "There's some tea leaves on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge. It's in a little box with weird looking flowers and…"
He laughs, suddenly. His tone was rough but not forced.
"Goddess, I have no idea where she found it but she insists it's healthy and, but she… I don't know where she got it and I…" He swallowed. "Just don't get that one, please. There's, uh, there's some chamomile tea on the counter. We should drink that."
Felix nodded again, letting Sylvain walk into his closet with a lost look in his eyes.
In the kitchen, Felix busied himself with making the tea. He noticed a note on the fridge with a list of groceries they needed.
Eggs, but not the organic kind bc you're getting a little too pretentious about that.
Cheese, the cheap kind! We can splurge on the wine
Milk
The cereal with the little marshmallows! Still have some of the raisin kind (you were wrong, not a fan)
Chicken (if you want me to make some pie again, Ground Beef if you want spaghetti!)
Veggies. The ones you like. Who are we kidding? I always slip them on your plate.
The writing was not Sylvain's, it was written neatly and signed with a heart and an B. Felix wondered if Sylvain had actually grabbed any of those things. When he opened the fridge, he was met with a few brown organic eggs, bottled up condiments that looked too old for use, and an empty carton of milk.
Felix wondered how Sylvain had not yet starved to death.
Instead of thinking it over, he went to sit by the counter, waiting for the water to heat up. He expected Sylvain to be there to meet him quickly, he was never one to take long in getting dressed. After what felt like an hour, Felix had already fixed up two cups of tea, drank all of his with small sips, and left the other to turn cold.
He was just about to go and check up on Sylvain when he heard footsteps. Said man was behind him, the same smile on his face as before. He looked cleaner with newly washed hair, and what seemed like clean clothes. His sleeves were rolled up, and his shirt neatly tucked into his slacks. He wore brown shoes and Felix held back his comment about them not being the best to wear with those black pants.
He knew they were her favourite.
Her laughter was his favourite sound in the world.
"You should get these!" She held up a pair of brown wingtip shoes.
Sylvain had let out a laugh at the sight of them.
"They'll look good." She insisted, handing them to Sylvain as if he had a closer look, he would love them. "You can wear them when we go out and I'll buy that dress that makes me look like a numb housewife and people will look at us and think 'now that's a pretty couple. Bet that lady can cook a mean meatloaf.' And they won't know I'm the one who fixed the flat tire of your car the other day."
"You're never going to let me forget that are you?"
She raised the shoes up to her grin. "You'll look so good. Like a proper marquess."
Sylvain laughed.
"What is it with you and this fetish for noblemen?" He took the shoes from her and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Do you just like me for my surname?"
She smiled against his lips. Her kisses were always warm and soft. He really would do anything for a kiss of hers.
"Let's go?" Felix smiled.
Sylvain nodded. "Yeah."
The drive up was harder than Felix thought it would be. He figured getting Sylvain to actually get out of bed would be the toughest part, but as Sylvain sat in the car, rigid and tense, he rethought it.
They drove past an endless number of houses, all different colours and shapes, filled with people and lives that were still going. Sylvain tried not to think about how his own life seemed to stop, and when he could have sworn that he saw someone pedal down the street in an old bike, azure blue tresses flowing in the wind, he closed his eyes.
"It's good exercise. You should try it."
"I'll stick to driving." Sylvain had scrunched up his nose at the thought of bicycling with her. "If I want to exercise, I'll go for a walk, I'll buy some weights and keep them in the garage all year."
"But it's fun." She pressed. "I'll sit on the handlebars and we'll go down the hill by my grandmother's house."
"On a bike?"
"It's fun!"
"You'll fall over and then the bike will run you over and..."
Sylvain flinched.
Felix pretended not to notice and tried to start a conversation. "Rhea always goes out around this time. Nobody should be at home."
The redhead did not answer.
It was not until they were parked in front of the old brick townhouse that Sylvain seemed to react again. He laughed to himself and gave Felix one last look before unbuckling his seat belt with shaky hands.
The sight was surreal. Sylvain Gautier was nervous.
His hand reached for the car door and it stayed on the handle for a minute. He seemed to whisper something to himself before he opened the door opened quickly. He did not say anything as he pushed himself out of the car. His strides to the front door were stiff but determined.
Soon he disappeared into the home.
Felix tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited.
He wondered how the man was doing in there, he thought maybe it was a bad idea to come. When too much time passed, he thought he should not have waited in the car. He was only really beginning to worry when he heard him coming back.
Running back.
Felix stopped tapping his fingers.
Sylvain handed Felix what he had in his hands through the window and said, "Give me a minute."
He rushed back inside and Felix cursed under his breath.
"Shit." It was all Felix said.
He did not have to wait long before Sylvain was back. With a bike.
"That doesn't fit in…"
"I'll hold it through the window." Sylvain's eyes were so bright, Felix answer stuck in his throat.
He only nodded. "Okay."
Felix tried not to feel guilty about what they were doing. He tried not to think about what Lady Rhea would think when she noticed what was missing. He tried to remind himself that the old coot managed to single-handedly alienate every member of her family, from her mother to her brothers, her only daughter and even her granddaughter. Byleth would not want to be on her mantlepiece forever, regardless of the old woman's lost loves and regrets.
"Should we go up to…?"
"No, I have to do something first." Sylvain then directed Felix on where to go.
They were given odd looks as they saw the car with two men, one driving with a vase in his lap, the other with his hands sticking out the window to roll the bike along with them.
"You can park down there." Sylvain said, dropping the bike as he tried to get out of the car.
"Shit." Felix gave the street a wary look. "Is there a reason you told me to park in front of Lady Rhea's alley gate?"
Sylvain did not answer, only took what he had handed to Felix, tucked it under his arm and took the bike in his hands. "I'll meet you down there alright?"
Felix sighed and nodded. He started the car and drove down the street on the hill. He had not really expected to see Sylvain on a bike from his side mirrors.
It was a weird sight. Sylvain Gautier, dressed in a plain white button up, nice black slacks, dressy brown shoes, and an urn tucked in the basket of a bicycle as he rode down a hill.
Felix had to turn around to look as soon as he parked.
The other man's face was calm, placid as he had never seen before. He did not fake a smile, and tears did not threaten to spill. He gripped the handlebars with ease and about halfway down the hill, his brown shoes left the pedals to hang over the air.
He expected Sylvain to pedal over to him once he was done, but he did not. At the bottom of the hill, the redhead placed his feet back on the pedals and made them stop, He got off the bike and turned it around. He faced the hill for a bit before he tugged the bike beside him and made his way to the top again.
Sylvain repeated his actions, he rode down the hill, let his feet float beside the pedals, stopped the bike, and made his way up the hill again. Every now and then, he touched the urn in the basket and seemed to say something.
Felix had to look away.
It was startling when the passenger door opened after some time. Sylvain looked better. He looked at Felix and nodded.
Felix started the car and began to drive.
He did not ask Sylvain where he left the bike, and he did not mention how tightly he was holding the urn.
He only drove. He drove back up the hill through the back of the row of houses and made his way further up away from the city. The houses began to disappear, and more trees surrounded them.
"Isn't it brilliant, Sylvain?"
"It's beautiful." He replied. "There's so much green."
"I want to be buried here."
"Don't start with that again." He had scolded.
She smiled as if she were joking, "I'm only letting you know. It's important to talk to people about those things."
"What if I die first?"
She paused.
"You won't. If you died before I did." She shook her head, "I can't even think about that. I wouldn't be able to live without you."
"We still have a long time before we have to think about those things."
"Yeah?"
Sylvain wrapped an arm around her, "Yes. You should be saying things like, 'This is where I want to be married to you, Sylvain.'"
Byleth laughed. "Will you wear those pretty brown shoes if we get married up here?"
"When we marry," He whispered in her ear. "I'll wear whatever you want me to. You just have to promise to love me forever and I'm yours completely."
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled gently.
She leaned up to kiss him. "I promise I'll love you forever."
"I'm yours." He murmured against her lips. "Completely."
"And I'm yours. Forever and ever."
Sylvain squeezed his hands around the urn.
"Right here." He told Felix.
Felix stopped the car and looked around. All he could see was trees and bushes, but he stepped out just as Sylvain did. His friend did not wait, he walked through the trees, and tried to find a good place to stop.
It seemed almost magical, the way they found a small patch of wildflowers growing just below the cliff-like space they were on.
"Here?" The blue-haired man asks.
Sylvain nodded. His hands shaky as he took hold of the urns lid. He looked onward, towards the flowers on the ground, and in the direction the wind was blowing.
It was almost sudden when he undid the urn and raised it. He shoved the contents out and felt his hands shake more as the cloud of black floated along with the wind.
Her laugh filled his thoughts.
"Maybe that dress was not a good idea." He comments, as she tries to keep her skirt from showing too much skin.
Not that he minded either way, they were alone there.
She grinned, extending her arms up to her sides as the wind blew at her dress.
"It was a great idea." She replied. "I feel like I'm going to float along with the wind."
"I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"It's perfect. Makes me feel like I'm in peace with myself. Like I'm a part of this all."
Sylvain kept the urn up until nothing was left inside it. He felt a punch in his gut, and stinging in his eyes.
"She's a part of everything she loved, now." Felix said.
"She'll smell the grass and the leaves, and she'll see the flowers and the sky." Sylvain's voice cracked.
There was a sudden strong wind that seemed to circle over Sylvain. It was not like an average gust of wind. It was warm and filled with an energy he remembered.
"Goddess!" He groaned. "Go to sleep, Byleth. Tomorrow is a long day, and I swear that you should be the one reminding me of that."
"I'm trying!" She murmured back. She tossed and turned again, like she had a dozen times that day. "I can't find a good position."
Sylvain had been too tired that night to even joke about her wording. He was just about to scold her again when warmth enveloped him.
"That's better." She muttered, one arm swung around his, the other over his head, and a leg enveloping his.
He only grumbled in return.
"Should I stop?" She asks, loosening her hold.
She was warm and her closeness put him at ease. She gave out a sort of happiness, a sort of energy Sylvain had not known before.
"No." He replied, curt.
She smiled; her cheek pressed to his back. "I love you."
"I love you too." He had said.
Sylvain closed his eyes. When Felix looked at him, he saw a chaos of emotions. It was not a smile, and it was not tears. It was not a look of peacefulness but rather acceptance.