Sylvain tilts his head. His eyes narrow in a mix of confusion and suspicion. Is Felix trying to joke? Emphasis on try, because Sylvain doubts the man could joke even if he wanted to. And Sylvain's sure he'd never want to...
So that leaves-
Oh.
Oh.
Sylvain isn't sure if he blanches or blushes. His cheeks immediately heat, but his palms go cold and clamy. His whole body feels like it lurches to a stop. Nothing seems to work: not his mind, his mouth, anything.
Together?
It should be such a dream come true; Sylvain's been utterly in love with Felix since they were young teenagers. He's thought the scenario out a hundred times, too. He should be prepared for this-
Yet being on this end of the confession was never part of the plan. It was always easier to imagine himself confessing, and most certainly being shot down. Because how else could it go? Felix wasn't supposed to like him. Felix was strong and courageous, dedicated and forward. And Sylvain was none of those things. Why would he ever want-
Except that's just it. Felix wouldn't say something like that if he didn't mean it.
"I- I, um..." Where's all that smooth, silver-tongued confidence he's always relied on? Why is it suddenly so hard to spit it out? How can it fail him now when he needs it most?
"Okay." No. No, no, no-
"No, what I mean is I... I'm really happy to hear that. More than just happy, I'm elated. I know it may not seem it. I think I'm just in shock right now." Sylvain drags a hand down his face to try to knock himself out of the haze of disbelief. It seems to work. He suddenly brightens as it all hits him. Felix like likes him.
"Together. Saints, Felix, I'm over the moon- you and me. Us." Now that he has the words finally come out there's too many to string proper sentences together. Sylvain really can't win here. So he settles for probably the most genuine smile of his life.
no subject
So that leaves-
Oh.
Oh.
Sylvain isn't sure if he blanches or blushes. His cheeks immediately heat, but his palms go cold and clamy. His whole body feels like it lurches to a stop. Nothing seems to work: not his mind, his mouth, anything.
Together?
It should be such a dream come true; Sylvain's been utterly in love with Felix since they were young teenagers. He's thought the scenario out a hundred times, too. He should be prepared for this-
Yet being on this end of the confession was never part of the plan. It was always easier to imagine himself confessing, and most certainly being shot down. Because how else could it go? Felix wasn't supposed to like him. Felix was strong and courageous, dedicated and forward. And Sylvain was none of those things. Why would he ever want-
Except that's just it. Felix wouldn't say something like that if he didn't mean it.
"I- I, um..." Where's all that smooth, silver-tongued confidence he's always relied on? Why is it suddenly so hard to spit it out? How can it fail him now when he needs it most?
"Okay." No. No, no, no-
"No, what I mean is I... I'm really happy to hear that. More than just happy, I'm elated. I know it may not seem it. I think I'm just in shock right now." Sylvain drags a hand down his face to try to knock himself out of the haze of disbelief. It seems to work. He suddenly brightens as it all hits him. Felix like likes him.
"Together. Saints, Felix, I'm over the moon- you and me. Us." Now that he has the words finally come out there's too many to string proper sentences together. Sylvain really can't win here. So he settles for probably the most genuine smile of his life.