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(fic) fire emblem: three houses (felix/sylvain)
G, 600 words, in which they're ex-bandmates.
Sylvain hears Felix before he even sees him, or fully registers that he's here. It isn't a conscious thought, it's something that settles in his bones and awakens something that has always been in his blood: Felix is here. It makes him feel the same way it used to when they were in high school, when Sylvain would walk into the music room and see Felix sitting in there already, long hair pulled up into a bun and the oversized sleeves of his brother's old hoodie pulled up to his elbows. His heart settles. He feels the warmth spread from his chest all the way to his fingertips.
Except this time, the feeling recedes just as quickly and leaves him feeling cold.
It shouldn't be possible to recognise anyone by a single bar of drumming but that's part of the problem here. Felix has never just been anyone to Sylvain. He used to be the only one in the world who mattered. He used to be everything.
He's not any more, and that's Sylvain's own fault. It's been years but even that time isn't enough to erase the memory of Felix slowly finding his rhythm for the first time behind the drum kit in their school's music room, of watching the way Felix's foot would tap to an unheard beat when he didn't realise Sylvain was watching, of Felix's fingers tapping out the same beat against Sylvain's sides as they kissed.
It's been years but that hasn't once changed the fact that when Sylvain keeps time in his head, he still hears it in Felix's voice, his soft one, two, three, four, until Sylvain's heart has learned to beat to it too.
"Stop dragging your feet," Dorothea scolds, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging. "I know it's our first music festival back in your home town but I've never seen you get nervous before. Don't you start now."
"Right. Coming." Sylvain tightens his grip on the strap holding his guitar to his back and keeps walking.
They round a corner and walk into the main area of the festival. The stage is already set up and just as Sylvain already knew, Felix is up there behind the drums as his band does a sound check. He's not playing any more, in the middle of a conversation with a cute redhead. He's smiling at her in the fond sort of way that Sylvain would have to pull out all the stops to see, back then. Now, it looks effortless and whoever that redhead is, Sylvain can't help but dislike her a little and hate himself a lot more.
"Sylvain?" Dorothea prompts, already having left him behind. Her voice carries, loud enough that Felix hears.
It feels like it happens in slow motion: Sylvain gets to watch the way the smile drops off Felix's face like it was never there at all. The way his shoulders go stiff, the way the corner of his lips turn down. He watches, as Felix looks across the open area, at Sylvain, and then right through him like he isn't even there.
"Sylvain?" Dorothea is frowning now, concern clear on her face, and Sylvain mentally kicks himself for it.
He's a good liar but Dorothea is already too good at seeing through his bullshit. If he's going to avoid talking to her about this whole thing, he's going to have to do better. He takes a deep breath, turning until Felix isn't even in his periphery, as if that's going to help him ignore the fact that he's there.
"Yeah, 'Thea. Coming."
Sylvain hears Felix before he even sees him, or fully registers that he's here. It isn't a conscious thought, it's something that settles in his bones and awakens something that has always been in his blood: Felix is here. It makes him feel the same way it used to when they were in high school, when Sylvain would walk into the music room and see Felix sitting in there already, long hair pulled up into a bun and the oversized sleeves of his brother's old hoodie pulled up to his elbows. His heart settles. He feels the warmth spread from his chest all the way to his fingertips.
Except this time, the feeling recedes just as quickly and leaves him feeling cold.
It shouldn't be possible to recognise anyone by a single bar of drumming but that's part of the problem here. Felix has never just been anyone to Sylvain. He used to be the only one in the world who mattered. He used to be everything.
He's not any more, and that's Sylvain's own fault. It's been years but even that time isn't enough to erase the memory of Felix slowly finding his rhythm for the first time behind the drum kit in their school's music room, of watching the way Felix's foot would tap to an unheard beat when he didn't realise Sylvain was watching, of Felix's fingers tapping out the same beat against Sylvain's sides as they kissed.
It's been years but that hasn't once changed the fact that when Sylvain keeps time in his head, he still hears it in Felix's voice, his soft one, two, three, four, until Sylvain's heart has learned to beat to it too.
"Stop dragging your feet," Dorothea scolds, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging. "I know it's our first music festival back in your home town but I've never seen you get nervous before. Don't you start now."
"Right. Coming." Sylvain tightens his grip on the strap holding his guitar to his back and keeps walking.
They round a corner and walk into the main area of the festival. The stage is already set up and just as Sylvain already knew, Felix is up there behind the drums as his band does a sound check. He's not playing any more, in the middle of a conversation with a cute redhead. He's smiling at her in the fond sort of way that Sylvain would have to pull out all the stops to see, back then. Now, it looks effortless and whoever that redhead is, Sylvain can't help but dislike her a little and hate himself a lot more.
"Sylvain?" Dorothea prompts, already having left him behind. Her voice carries, loud enough that Felix hears.
It feels like it happens in slow motion: Sylvain gets to watch the way the smile drops off Felix's face like it was never there at all. The way his shoulders go stiff, the way the corner of his lips turn down. He watches, as Felix looks across the open area, at Sylvain, and then right through him like he isn't even there.
"Sylvain?" Dorothea is frowning now, concern clear on her face, and Sylvain mentally kicks himself for it.
He's a good liar but Dorothea is already too good at seeing through his bullshit. If he's going to avoid talking to her about this whole thing, he's going to have to do better. He takes a deep breath, turning until Felix isn't even in his periphery, as if that's going to help him ignore the fact that he's there.
"Yeah, 'Thea. Coming."
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