theidlemaiden | inbox

[ His fingers let down her hair before wetting it and starting to massage shampoo into the long locks, massaging her scalp at the same time. Trying to get her to relax, because he can practically feel the unhappiness radiating from her right now. ]

You’re thinking very loudly for someone who’s supposed to be relaxing and enjoying themselves.

[ Once the shampoo begins being worked into her hair and the faint smell of peonies joins the medley of scents, Hilda finds herself getting lost deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. Sylvain's words rouse her from them. And while they don't startle her, what he says earns a small genuine gasp of surprise as she cranes her neck around to look at him. ]

Since when could you read minds?

[ In another scenario she wouldn't be so earnest with her question. After all, as far as she's aware he can't but her imagination is already in the habit of spinning silly possibilities that aided with the help of drink, drags her towards an endless vortex of 'what if's'. Belatedly her question more or less gives away that she had in fact been thinking about things and she's quick to try and cover it up. ]

I'm not thinking anything at all. You said there wasn't supposed to be any more apologizing tonight so what else am I supposed to do?

Clearly I’m a master of it now.

[ He retorts this back lightly, teasingly. Were his two closest friends here not currently fighting, he would have made a joke about how it had become a necessity in translating Claude - which it was - but he has a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that humor of that right now.

His fingers continue to work against her scalp, persistent in trying to get her to relax, even hen he could feel she was still spiraling. ]

Since when are those the only two options? Apologizing or brooding? Neither of those seem much like your style.

[ Even with the teasing lilt, that certainly doesn't stop her delving down a rabbit hole of what if scenarios – but it does slow the thoughts down briefly. She gives him a click of her tongue. ]

And you say that you aren't smart.

[ Her words are softened with the faintest of affectionate smiles before she turns her head back around so that he can continue his work. Turning around serves another purpose though: it hides the lamenting expression on her face and the way she worries her lower lip. ]

I know it isn't me. But I haven't really felt like me lately.

[ It felt like pieces of her had been dislodged over the course of several months and instead of doing something about it she had tried to patch them up with stickers and bright things that would distract her from that fact. ]

...I don't know what to do about it.

[ his fingers hesitate a moment before continuing as he leans over her where she’s curled in the tub. He lets the comment about his intelligence slide, because any joke he makes about that at the moment has too high a chance of upsetting her again, so instead he focuses on the rest of what she says. ]

Well. Maybe you should start with what you want?

I want...

[ Her voice trails off, the pause of his hands noticeable. Had she said something wrong again?

There's too many thoughts jostling for attention in her mind, too many things that she wants. She wants her best friend back. She doesn't want to feel like a burden. She doesn't want to be an awful person that lies to people that she cares about. She wants to be as graceful and pretty on the inside as she is on the outside. She wants – ]

You.

[ Her voice is quiet but it's no less certain and unwavering. "You" doesn't seem adequate enough however, doesn't encompass everything she wants to say to him. That she wants him for more than just his body, that she wants his heart as selfish and scary as that is. But all of her words seem to get caught just behind her teeth and nerves. ]

[ Sylvain has to blink at the back of her head for a moment, not expecting that answer.

Just how drunk is she right now?

But he just tugs her hair lightly, tipping her head back until he can peer down at her, upside-down. ]

You have me. I’m right here, remember?

[ The gentle tug of her hair and her world view turning upside down successfully draws her from her thoughts. Immediately her lips twist with displeasure.

Sober Hilda would have realized what she had said, tried to deflect, agree with what he's saying instead of doubling down on her truth. But drunk Hilda can't help but feel a pang of hurt that she's being questioned. That it sounds like he doesn't believe her.

Her words leave her mouth in a whine, hands reaching behind her to push his cheeks together, spraying water in her wake. ]

That's not what I mean. I really – [ She buries her face into her arms, cheeks suddenly burning. Why would be believe her, she had told him she didn't. Her voice grows quiet again, retracting her arms and curling into a tighter ball than before. ] nevermind.

Hey.

[ He’s quick to interrupt that, hands sliding down her arms before tugging her back against his chest from where he leans behind her in her tub, where he’d positioned himself to wash her hair. His hands continue to stroke soothingly up and down her arms uncaring that her wet hair is soaking his shirt even more now. ]

I’m listening, Hilda. You don’t have to hide what your thinking from me. Talk to me.

I don't want to.

[ She sounds petulant and she knows it, but she can't bring herself care. All of her annoyance is aimed at herself, none of it aimed at him.

Her embarrassment makes its way down her neck, fuelling her hold on her legs. Her voice wobbles. ]

I shouldn't have said that. Of course you wouldn't believe me after what I said to you – it's so selfish of me.

[ She's tired of being selfish, she thinks. Of being so greedy and thinking that her life would always be the way it would be if she were home. ]

[ Scooping a handful of water up and over her hair to start rinsing out the shampoo, he makes a quiet sound of disagreement. ]

I was the one that asked. If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have.

[ A pause, because he realizes that applies to more than just now. His lips quirk slightly, but its more melancholy than a true smile. Easier to hide when he’s still working behind her. ]

Both times. It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but I wasn’t surprised by it either. Saying what you want - or don’t want - isn’t selfish of you, Hilda.

It normally wouldn't be.

[ She has no problem admitting that truth when she's already admitted so much this evening. All of her faults are thought about more than she'd like to admit, especially over the last couple of months. Being vocal about what she wants and doesn't want comes easily, but it's not often she faces the consequences of doing so, rarer still for her to regret it so much that it shakes her to her core, coating her tongue in bitterness. ]

But it is this time. Because it's you.

[ Another thought flashes through her mind and she turns around in the tub to look at him. ]

What did you mean when you asked me if I wanted you?

[ He blinks down at her when he spins to ask him that question letting one eyebrow arch upwards. ]

Uhh. Is there more than one meaning to that question that I’m not aware of? I thought I was pretty straightforward. It’s not a complicated question. Is it?

It has different meanings! Why would I ask otherwise?

[ The apples of her cheeks flush further as her brow furrows. ]

Did you mean physically or you know – [ She places her hands over his heart but her eyes look right into his, oddly serious. ] here.

[ His gaze drops to where her hand presses over his heart and she might feel the way it lurches beneath the surface. Or maybe that’s just his imagination.

He swallows thickly for a moment before giving her a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach anywhere close to his shadowed gaze. ]

I learned a long time ago to not ask for that. You don’t have to worry, Hilda. I wasn’t trying to make things more complicated.

[ Hilda doesn't feel the lurch of his heart. Had she been more herself, her attentiveness might have picked up on his heart beating a little faster. But as it stands she dismisses it as nothing more than the rise and fall of his chest.

And even though she can't quite decipher the look on his face, it weighs her heart down all the same. Fills it with a heaviness that she had been trying to drown in drink. But this weight is different – what did he mean by learning not to ask for that? ]

Ask for what? To be loved by someone else?

[ His grin stretches a little wider, but it’s an old act. One he’d worn for years when they were in school and after. It comes as easily as breathing, even if that doesn’t make it any more real. ]

I’m not who people come to when they’re looking for that. Usually, I’m who they come to when they’re trying to forget or ignore that. Or just never cared about it in the first place.

[ He reaches out and tugs on a damp lock of her hair before attempting to nudge her head back around so he can finish rinsing out her hair. ]

I know things are complicated between you and that person I’m not allowed to mention. But I also know you both have very deep feelings about each other you’re going to need to work through at some point. You’re both just breaking your own hearts at each other right now and it hurts me to watch you keep doing this to yourselves.

[ His thumb swipes along her cheek as he meets her gaze, turning a hint more genuine now that he diverted to topic off himself. ] I hate seeing you so sad. I miss your smiles. Your laughter.

[ Wriggling from his grasp in order to stay facing him is easier with alcohol and determination. And after seeing this new smile replace the one that hadn't reached his eyes only spurs that. Even she doesn't have to be sober to recognize that. She doesn't have to be sober to think that she hates seeing that smile.

If she's being honest she doesn't want to move away from the topic they're on. She feels like she's accidentally stumbled onto something that Sylvain will never want to talk about again. The rational part of her desperately tries to dig her heels in but her breath catches in her throat when he brushes his thumb against her cheek. His care and his softness has once again taken her by surprise. Hilda stumbles over it, her heart soaked in disbelief because she can't understand how he doesn't see himself the way she sees him.

Her fingers fist the fabric of his damp shirt. ]

But I'm not talking about me and him. [ There's determination to her voice. ] I'm talking about you and me.

[ She pauses. Maybe he had been so quiet afterwards because he didn't have feelings for her - maybe he had sensed it. Not that she'd blame him. She isn't Claude. She isn't some intriguing puzzle to be solved, not some bright mysterious moon that still sheds brilliant light. Maybe she should just let it be. Despite the uncertainty that fills her, words continue to tumble over her tongue, lubricated by drink. ]

Because I don't want you just for those things you said.

[ There’s the faintest hint of a flinch around his eyes before that mask of a smile turns into something more wry. Resigned. ]

I know, Hilda. I haven’t forgotten your answer. It’s okay. I’m not going to push anymore. Let me just finish getting you cleaned up, okay?

It's not okay! [ Her brows furrow, a spike of hurt rooting in her heart. ] My real answer or the one I told you before?

[ The possibility that he doesn't believe her makes her heart sink a little deeper, her fingers grip a little tighter. It doesn't matter to her that her intoxication might make this seem less sincere. She just wants him to know. Wants him to believe it. ]

I'm not letting you until you tell me. I want you for all of you. Not just your body. [ Her fingers smooth over the fabric she's bunched up, the one just over his heart. ] This too. I want this.

Edited 2023-08-05 05:20 (UTC)

[ He’s still not convinced that her first answer hadn’t been the more truthful of the two. This one, he reluctantly suspects, is more likely brought on by too much alcohol and guilt and the complicated feelings for Claude she’s still trying to avoid. But that’s not an answer she wants to face yet either.

So he lets one hand slide down to cup over her own, resting against his chest, while the other comes up to cup against her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against the flushed skin there. ]

Sweetheart. I believe that’s what you want right now. But you’ve also had a lot of alcohol and a hurt heart, and neither of those things are something I’m going to take advantage of tonight. [ Or ever. She deserved better than that. Than something like him.

He lets his other hand drop until he can cup her face between his warm palms, cradling her gently. ] Let’s put a pin in it tonight, okay? We can talk about this again when you’ve had some good sleep and you’re sober again.

[ Or maybe he’ll luck out and she’ll forget this entire conversation. He can hope. ]

In the meantime, let me finish rinsing your hair so you can get into your comfortable pajamas. We can even go out and snuggle on the terrace a while if you want or I can tuck you into your bed if you’d rather. Whatever will make you happy, sweetheart. Let’s save the serious talks for another day, when there’s not so much alcohol involved. That never helps make good decisions, no matter how it feels in the moment.

[ The feelings that follow his response shoot so rapidly through her that she barely has time to comprehend them herself. To Sylvain it's probably a cacophony of emotions all at once: indignation at being told what to do, petulance at not being believed despite saying that he did, lingering sadness because she couldn't get that image of his smile that didn't reach his eyes out of her mind, and hurt.

Hurt layers on top of it all, permeating everything else until it's the emotion that stands out the most. Of course it is; it had been following her for months now hand in hand with this fear that everyone would get bored of her being a pretty little thing the way Claude had. That they'd re-evaluate her place in their lives and leave her behind. Even Sylvain's hands cupping her face, telegraphing the care that she didn't think she was deserving of, can't dispel it.

But this isn't about her. In other circumstances she'd toss said pin out the window, demanding that they talk about this thing she had stumbled upon now. But she's weighed down by hurt and the knowledge that she's been too much of a burden already. Too selfish. Too greedy and naive in her thinking. Hilda's lower lip trembles and her eyes mist, but there's stubborn determination in her voice. Her hands stay over his heart. ]

Promise we'll talk about it tomorrow.

[ Because she will remember it tomorrow, she thinks. She must. He needs to know she means it even if he doesn't reciprocate any of it. She'd be okay if he didn't so long as he starts to believe that he's worthy of being adored and cared for and that he's wanted for more than whatever people have used him for in the past. Her eyes flutter closed as she memorizes the feel of the callouses on his hands against her cheeks. ]

I want to snuggle in bed. That will make me happy.

[ He feels the riot of emotions that wash through her, but it’s the depth of that hurt that stabs through him. Has his movements stuttering before he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. That was the last emotion he’d wanted to cause, so of course that would be the strongest.

He silently curses himself even as he strokes a thumb against her jaw. ]

We can talk about anything you want tomorrow, sweet. I promise. [ Although he’s still pretty sure she won’t remember any of this, after the amount of alcohol she’d consumed tonight.

He finishes getting her cleaned up and her hair done before getting her up out of the tub and wrapped thickly in soft towels He pauses to strip out of his own pants and soaked shirt, leaving them discarded in a pile on the floor for now and him standing there in a dark pair of boxers.

Scooping her up into his arms, he moves to carry her away from the bathroom and down the hall towards her bedroom. ]

One late-night snuggle in bed, as the Princess wishes.

[ The hurt lingers even with the alcohol. It lingers even as the shampoo is washed from her hair. What doesn't linger however is the determination with which she had so fiercely told herself that she'd hold fast to tomorrow once sleep had come and gone.

The voice telling her that she's been all the awful things she fears rears its head; that even if she will be okay when he doesn't reciprocate her feelings, it is what she deserves. It is what she'll deserve until she becomes less of a bitter, jealous thing that shouldn't touch the happy, soft thing he and Claude are creating. The soft negative voice chips away bit by bit as the water cools and her hair is cleaned and washed until her determination is nothing but a whimper.

The softness of the towel rouses her and her fingers gently grasp the edges of the towel to hold the warmth of the bath to her as long as she can. Weariness weighs her down and she rubs her eyes gently. ]

Just a short one. I'm supposed to go back to the Old Public Hall. And then you can go snuggle with Claude.

[ That's the way it should be after all, she thinks. This small happiness will be enough, one last selfish act and she'll try and be better tomorrow. ]

[ He presses a soft kiss to her forehead as he carries her down the hall towards her room. ]

He doesn’t snuggle nearly as well as you do.

[ He can feel the lingering hurt, doesn’t know how to take that back without venturing into topics that are just going to cause more pain first. For both of them. He knows that without the alcohol talking, she’d remember that he’s not what she wants but that Claude’s still painfully out of reach until these two can sort out their emotions.

Were they anyone else, he wouldn’t feel so bad about taking advantage of that. But he hadn’t been lying when he said he hated seeing her so sad, that he missed her smiles and laughter. He missed Claude’s too. They’d both become a little dimmer in the weeks since their fight, like they’d doused too much of that inner warmth that shown so brightly from both of them. He wanted to see that back more than just about anything.

He nudges her door open with his foot, her room clean and tidy and just as she’d left it. Carrying her over to the bed, he lays her down and crawls in beside her, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her closer. ]

Come here. I’ve missed this, too.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject