A/N: So, it's been a year since I posted my very first fic to this account. I hadn't written much in about a decade, but I played FE3H and Sylvix brought me back to life. The last year has been absolutely wild. I've dipped my toes into many fandoms. I've had the chance to be a part of so many zines. I've written so many works for whatever I've wanted to.
Thank you so much for everyone who's supported me here; It truly means the world.
What better way to celebrate than a sequel to the one that started it all.
Cats are solitary creatures by nature and Felix is no exception.
It feels as though he's been alive forever. He doesn't truly know. Time is a skewed thing when you live your life as a cat, diving into dumpsters and waiting out the cold seasons until they bleed into spring.
One thing is for certain— Felix isn't human, though he wears the skin of one sometimes. He works odd jobs here and there to raise a bit of money so he's not always starving. It feels wrong, though, this strange fleshy meatsack that walks awkwardly on two feet.
But it's a cat that he's always been, wholly and utterly feline. A furry, four-legged creature with a propensity to be quite snobbish. It's ingrained into his being; instinctual, if you will. He doesn't know where he comes from, Felix just is, always has been.
It suits him just fine.
Life isn't bad. It isn't great either. Felix isn't a pet. He's never had the drive to be owned or live with a human. So, instead, Felix does his thing day-to-day, scrounging up whatever he can just so he finds the next morning.
It isn't fulfilling. But it isn't empty, and really, there are days that he rather likes. Warm spring ones where he lays out on a park bench, belly up and soaking up the sun. Chasing pigeons that are far smarter than they should be. Yowling at children who deem him cute and fluffy.
Because he certainly isn't.
And then comes Sylvain, the redheaded bastard who ruins everything.
#
Felix hates that he loves him because now things are complicated.
As a cat, things are simple. He eats, sleeps, and lounges around. He preens and cleans himself, and he rinses and repeats. Even when working part-time, Felix lived a rather simple life. Until now.
He spends most of his days as human-like instead, and it's a strange thing that he isn't more annoyed by it. It feels relatively normal now, even if sometimes wearing this skin is a little bit itchy.
Sylvain doesn't care. If Felix were to choose to stay as a cat instead, he'd take it with aplomb and pull him into his lap without question. He'd scratch at his ears and underneath his chin. Rub at his belly and let Felix sleep on his chest.
And really, that'd be the life. Soft, simple, and blessed.
It isn't enough, though, for the burning need that Felix feels from his ears to his tail. Every time he looks at Sylvain, he's overcome with the thought of it. This love. What a strange thing, how casually he falls into it.
Felix hates people. Except for this man who stubbornly carved a home into his chest like persistent heartworms.
Sylvain's hand suddenly drops into his vision, waving in front of him. Felix is sitting at their kitchen table, thinking furiously, his chin cradled in his hands. There's a cup of now cold coffee before him and he frowns.
Just how long has he been sitting there, zoning off?
"Morning," says Sylvain quietly with a cheeky grin. "What're you thinking about?"
Felix considers lying for a moment because it's too early for heartfelt commentary. But, Sylvain will know, he always knows. He can read Felix like an open book.
So Felix says, "It's been a year." Since he realized that he loves this stupid man.
"Has it?" murmurs Sylvain, pink-cheeked and embarrassed that he's missed their anniversary.
"No—" starts Felix, but then he clams up. "I didn't mean that. You have time to plan whatever ridiculous affair you want."
Sylvain's brow furrows, but not in judgment. Curiosity. "Then…?"
Felix scoffs. "A year since I realized how insufferable you are."
It takes a moment and then Sylvain laughs. "Oh," he says, amused, "A year since—"
"Yes, you imbecile."
Most would flinch at the insult. Sylvain knows that it's a compliment, and his smile widens. Then, he leans down and presses a kiss on Felix's forehead. "I love you too," he says.
When Sylvain pulls away it's like life is leeched from him. Felix watches as he goes about the kitchen and makes them breakfast. His nose curls at the smell of hardboiled eggs. He keens softly at the fresh cup of brewed coffee that Sylvain brings him without a word.
Sylvain takes his time because he knows that Felix isn't going anywhere. He sits in the chair next to Felix instead of the one directly across. Eats his eggs and toast one hand, while the other stays pressed against Felix's knee, squeezing it gently. Does his morning crossword with his glasses perched on his nose because he hasn't yet put his contacts in.
Felix has never wanted domesticity. He's always been a wild and feral thing, roaming the streets as though he alone owns them.
Things change. Time changes, too. Perhaps it's because he's older. Perhaps it's because the world has moved on beyond him, and all Felix has done for the longest time is watch it through tired, feline eyes.
Felix has been around long enough for nine lives, but he doesn't think he's ever really lived until now. He stares at Sylvain's hand on his knee before curling his fingers around it. Then, Felix pulls it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against Sylvain's knuckles. A rare show of affection that makes Sylvain's face crinkle in pure delight.
When Sylvain smiles, it's kind of like the sun; soft and warm, and radiant as it glows. It filters kindness into even the shittiest of Felix's days. He wants to curl up into it forever.
Felix thinks that Sylvain knows that.
"I've always wondered," says Sylvain quite unexpectedly, "Where exactly did you come from?" He's always been too hesitant to ask.
"I don't know," says Felix, truthfully. "Don't remember."
Sylvain just hums, thinking about it. Never questions it. Just lets it be.
Then, Felix says, "I don't really care."
Sylvain smiles again and this time it's something soft and tender, and it's then that Felix just really, truly knows.
This is where he's meant to be.