"You really aren't upset with me?" It's less a question, and more a wide-eyed wonder. Felix looks softer and happier than he can remember ever seeing him in the past decade or so. He feels stupid for even asking: Felix would just say if he was mad, hell, Sylvain feels like he'd be able to feel the anger even through the screen. But of course logic is easy to suggest, and so much harder to execute. The painful notion that somehow this is entirely his fault is hard to sway.

So when Felix suggests they talk about things that will be, instead of things that were, Sylvain feels a little tug of a smile at the corners of his lips. The guilt isn't gone, he doubts it will be for awhile, but at the very least Sylvain's the only one blaming himself.

"Thanks, Fe. Sorry to get so down on you like that. Just, y'know, overthinking it I suppose."