When Matt moves to Portland to foster Ben and Griffin, Sylvie is fine.
Really.
She means it when she says it.
But she sees the way her friends look at her when they think she won't notice—cautious and concerned, like they think she is one second away from a breakdown if they say the wrong thing. It's hard to miss the pity in their eyes.
It's a little infuriating, honestly, that no matter what she says, they don't believe her.
It's whatever.
Ben and Griffin need Matt right now, and Sylvie understands unequivocally why he has to be there for them.
Just as he understands why she is not in a position to upend her life and move across the country for a relationship where weeks is still an acceptable measure for the passage of time.
But they support each other in their respective decisions, even if it means they are essentially putting their relationship on hold for longer than either of them would like.
And they might be crazy—thinking they can make this long-distance thing work.
Because, you know, weeks and all that.
But she is head over heels in love with Matt and wants to make this relationship work. More than anything.
Matt is it for her. She's sure of it.
They both know it will take a lot of work to maintain such a new relationship while they are separated by thousands of miles. It won't always be smooth sailing, and it might get rough at times, but they're optimistic.
There are plenty of couples who have prolonged and successful long-distance relationships.
So, with the right amount of dedication and communication, they can too.
... ... ...
The first time Severide invites her to hang out at the loft is three days after Matt has left for Portland, and Stella is in Boston—five days into a ten day trip.
Their shift has just ended, and Sylvie is in the locker room, stalling while she waits for the other members of second shift to clear out so she can leave alone.
Violet is talking with Gallo and Ritter a few spaces away—something to do with the microbrewery they're starting, she assumes.
But she can feel Violet's gaze burning into the back of her head, and Sylvie refuses to look her way.
Violet's lingering, and Sylvie knows she's waiting to catch her on her way out. Sylvie doesn't want that, though. Violet means well, but the constant questioning about how she's holding up is wearing at Sylvie, and the concern is starting to feel a little suffocating.
So she leans forward on the bench, acts like she is digging for something in the depths of her locker.
She can wait Violet out.
Finally, when the locker room is clear, Sylvie straightens and lets out a breath. She slides her station bag over her shoulder, zips it, and just about has a heart attack when she closes her locker and Severide is there leaning against Matt's old locker beside her.
"Damn it, Severide," she admonishes and shoves at his shoulder when he laughs. She places a hand over her chest to try and slow her heart's rapid rhythm. "Announce yourself!"
"Sorry." He laughs again, pushes off the locker, and slips his phone into his pocket. He lifts his station bag onto his shoulder then, and says, "I didn't mean to startle you."
But there's this stupid lopsided grin on his face, and somehow, she just doesn't believe him.
Her heart rate returns to normal, but then her eyes land on Matt's locker. The locker hasn't been claimed yet, and no one can bring themselves to remove the name tag. The tape is old, yellowed with age, and curling at the edges, but it's the sight of Matt's handwriting that has her heart twisting in her chest.
Severide catches her look, and understanding dawns on his face.
He doesn't say anything, though, and she appreciates that. Instead, he holds out his hand, motions for her to go first, and falls into step beside her a moment later.
They go the long way around the locker room, bypassing Stella's locker completely. She doesn't know whether that is a conscious decision on his part. But she doesn't call him out on it. Because even if she did, she knows he would never admit to it.
So they walk through the halls and out of the firehouse in silence.
Severide holds the door to the apron open for her, and she can feel his eyes on her.
He's staring at her as if there's something he wants to say to her, and she swears that if he's about to ask how she's doing, she'll scream.
He doesn't say anything, though, and it's a little awkward.
Once they reach the end of the apron, he tugs on the strap of her station bag, stopping her in her place.
She draws a deep breath before turning to face him.
He gives a cursory glance down the street. Left, then right, and finally back to her again—like he's checking they are the only people around.
"You free tonight?" he asks. "Got any big plans?"
"No," she answers slowly and narrows her eyes at him, gives him this skeptical look at the question. "I think I'm going to have a quiet night in."
With an audible sigh, she shakes her head. She's not entirely sure the direction Severide is trying to take this conversation, but if he is about to ask if she wants to go to Molly's tonight because he thinks she needs to get out or whatever, her answer will be a resounding no.
She is not feeling up to being social tonight.
And despite what she told him, she does have plans, actually.
Not big plans. So, technically, she isn't lying to him.
But it's the kind of plans she'd rather keep to herself, or the pitying looks will be back in full force, and she has had enough of those to last the rest of her lifetime.
Because her plans are to sleep the day away and spend the night cocooned on her couch watching a Fixer Upper marathon on HGTV.
Ideally, with a pint of ice cream and a bottle of rosé, and then, if they can finally sync up their schedules, she's hoping she will have a chance to facetime with Matt.
"Did you..." He stops, looks nervous, takes a breath. "Did you want to come over later?" he finally manages to ask, runs a hand over the back of his neck. "We can order food," he's quick to add. But it's quiet, and it almost sounds like he's uncomfortable about asking, and he's trying to cover that fact with the follow up.
And she gets it. It's a completely out of character invitation for him.
Look, she's not stupid. She knows exactly why he is doing this.
Because he made some absurd promise to Matt—possibly Stella, as well—to look out for her while Matt is in Oregon. To make sure she doesn't shut herself off from the rest of the world, bury herself in paramedicine and mope around until she has a chance to see Matt next.
Which has never been her plan anyway!
And okay, so that might have, quite possibly, been her plan for tonight. But Matt has only been gone for three days! So Sylvie thinks that allows her a little room to wallow in her own self-pity while they adjust to this new normal.
Besides, she is a grown-ass adult. What she chooses to do with her time is her own damn business.
But she gets it is all coming from a good place. That Severide is trying to look out for her and make sure she is okay. And that is the only reason she isn't offended that he made the stupid promise in the first place.
Even if it is a little overbearing, and it seems like they don't think she can handle a few hours alone.
She purses her lips, stares for what feels like a long time.
"You don't have to do this, Severide," she says.
She'll be fine on her own.
She always is.
She isn't some fragile little thing and she won't break if she is left to her own devices for more than a few hours.
"I don't need you to babysit me," she says. Severide looks confused, and she continues before he can try and protest. "I know Matt asked you to look out for me, but I'm fine." She inclines her head toward him and takes a step in the direction of her car. "I'll see you next shift, okay?"
When she tries to walk away, Severide follows after her, and she isn't sure why she assumed he wouldn't. Even if he isn't following after her specifically, their cars are in the same direction, anyhow.
But she only makes it a few steps before he reaches out and wraps his hand around her wrist to stop her in her tracks. His grip is firm but not harsh. "Hey, I'm asking because I want to."
Sylvie sees his jaw clench. She's upset him, which hadn't been her intention. He shakes his head, and his grip tightens on her wrist momentarily before he drops it.
"Not for any other reason, all right?" He's stern when he speaks but gives her a small smile then. "I know you don't need a babysitter. I get it."
Tilting her head, her eyes search his face. The sincerity behind his words surprises her, but she believes him when he says he's asking because he wants to and not because he feels some obligation to do it.
Now, she kind of feels like a jerk for immediately jumping to that conclusion.
But she also knows Severide well enough to know that, while yes, he can't be forced to do something he doesn't want to, he also wouldn't have had the idea if not for an outside influence.
Namely, her boyfriend and his fiancée.
She realizes she still hasn't given him an answer. The expression she finds on his face—wide eyes and a singular brow raised just so—makes him seem almost hopeful.
"Damiano's?" he coaxes, lifting his chin. "Your favorite, right?"
She stops, squints at him.
Because he's right.
But that is beside the point.
Severide looks at her again, casually slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and lifts one shoulder slightly, like he's pleased with himself for knowing that fact or whatever.
As if he wasn't there three weeks ago when they were having dinner at the loft with Matt and Stella, and they'd decided to try the Italian place that just opened around the corner, and once they'd finished, Sylvie had declared the restaurant a new favorite.
Shit. Had that really only been three weeks ago? How has so much changed in such a short amount of time?
And damn him for using her favorite restaurant against her.
Severide shrugs again then, his mouth stretching into a grin. It almost looks sheepish. Almost. But also a hell of a lot like he doesn't feel bad about it at all.
And yet, the corners of her mouth start to curve, too.
In the end, she agrees to go.
"For Damiano's." Of course, is what she tells him, and shoves at his shoulder as they continue walking.
She knows if she really wasn't up for it, he wouldn't push the matter. And that does contribute to her decision.
But, really, she agrees to go because when she looks him in the eye, she sees through the front he's putting up.
He is breaking a little, too.
Stella is out of town, and he is also missing his best friend. And this is his way of trying to mask it.
She realizes then he needs this just as much as she does.
They reach her car first, and Severide walks the few extra feet to his mustang. Sylvie unlocks her car, but her hand hesitates on the handle for a second.
"You know..." she starts, casting a sideways glance at him, her voice nearly singsong.
Severide leans against the side of his car, folds his arms across his chest, and raises a brow at her while he waits for her to continue. He's looking at her like he knows she's about to ask him something he'll immediately shoot down.
And while that should possibly deter her, it doesn't. He lifts his chin then, waits for her to finish. She flashes this saccharine smile his way, and she thinks it might just be enough to get her what she wants.
"There's a Fixer Upper marathon on TV tonight."
His lips twitch. But then he sobers and regains his composure, shakes his head dismissively. "Yeah, nah. We ain't doing that," he says.
"Fine." She huffs, lets her shoulders sag a little. She narrows her eyes at him and points a finger in his direction, tries her luck. "But it's your shout."
He lets out a laugh—this short, surprised sound, and then he says, "I'll agree to that."
As she slides into the driver's seat, Sylvie smiles to herself.
For the first time in days, the sadness that has been pressing on her doesn't feel so heavy.
And while she may have relented in front of Severide, she isn't ready to admit defeat quite so easily. Because she thinks she might still be able to guilt him into watching the Fixer Upper Marathon with her.
She isn't above using the pity he feels for her to her advantage.
Besides, what's he going to do? Toss her out of the apartment if she puts the damn show on anyway?
Actually, yeah. She can totally see him doing that.
Still, she is willing to try her luck.