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[ At that quiet confession, he releases his grip on her wrists in order to slide his hands back down to cup to either side of her face. ]

I should have told you. I’m sorry I kept it a secret. I kept telling myself I didn't know for sure, but… I think that was just an excuse I was telling myself, even when I didn’t fully believe it either.

[ The trail of his hands leaves a wave of goosebumps in their wake. With her hands free, it provides an opportunity to loop one loosely over his neck while the other is left free to explore the curves and strong lines of his chest. Her back arches ever so slightly to bump their noses up against one another.

Her voice still holds that apologetic quality to it, eyes trained on his. ]

I can't say that I blame you especially after how I reacted at the loft. I would have been hurt too. [ Her eyes suddenly fill with regret. ] I don't think there's anything I can do to ever make it up to you for hurting you like that. But I want to try if you'll let me.

[ Her soft regret prompts a slow, gentle kiss from him, lingering in the contact as one hand slides to cup against her jaw, tilting her face up towards him. ]

I shouldn’t have pushed you that night. I forgot myself for a bit, but to be fair, you’re very distracting.

[ Hilda can’t help the embarrassed laugh at his compliment. Flattery regarding her outward appearance had never had much of an effect on her. Dressing up, looking pretty, charming those around her were some of the few things she knew herself to be good at. But with the way he’s holding her, the way he’s looking at her, she can’t help but suddenly feel shy under his gaze. Like she’s melting under his touch and taste of her mouth.

Her eyes flutter as she savours the taste of him, keeping him close so that their lips are inches apart even after they part. Her free hand settles just over his heart, committing the warmth of his chest under her palm and the steady but gentle heartbeat to memory. ]

I meant it when I said I want all of you, Sylvain. I was scared. It was so much. But I mean it, and I hope you believe it. [ She brushes her nose against his again. ] You don’t even have to return my feelings. I just need you know that you’re so deserving of being wanted and loved.

I don’t want you scared of this. Of me. That’s the last thing I want, Hilda.

[ There’s a soft note of regret in his own tone as he brushes a kiss against the tip of her nose. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against her own again, even as one hand comes up to cup over hers, cradling it against his chest. He breathes out a quiet, uneasy sigh. ]

I don’t know how to do this. To do something more than just casual sex where there’s safety in it not meaning anything. I don’t want to hurt you when I fuck it up.

[ What he’s describing is how she had approached any potential relationship that threatened to crest into genuine feelings. Flirting is fine, well and good. But trying harder than that with the possibility of expectations terrified her. Caring to the point where she could feel it so viscerally in her body was something she never thought possible.

Hilda wants to reassure him that he can’t hurt her. That he won’t hurt her. But if this experience with Claude has taught her anything, it’s that feelings are hurt all the time whether intentional or not. That’s not something anyone can guarantee. Perhaps it’s how they handled it after is what mattered the most.

She feels bare, bearer than how they’re practically naked pressed up against one another now and that feeling in itself is terrifying. Her fingers thread through his against his chest, curling lightly over his heart. ]

I don’t either. Caring for people is so scary - scarier than war sometimes. But I don’t think you’ll fuck it up as badly as you think you will.

[ The fingers tangled in his hair stroke the back of his neck softly. ]

But have you considered that if we hurt each other than we’ll patch it up together too? You aren’t at fault for everything. This involves the both of us.

[ He gives a soft, disbelieving laugh at that, his hand tightening slightly in his grip around her much smaller hand. His eyes slide shut again as he feels a pang of regret. Especially at her words, because it’s clear she understands why he’s holding back here.

He wishes he could be as optimistic as she was. It’s been a long time since he’d thought anything like that. He feels far too cynical for that now. ]

Sweetheart, I think you’re underestimating my singular talent of spectacularly fucking up just about anything I get my hands on. That reputation I had wasn’t just gossip when we were growing up. I’m no good at this. Pretty sure I bring bad luck to any relationship I even consider taking beyond casual. Not that there’ve been a lot of those, either.

Prove it then.

[ The immediate response is past her lips before she can stop herself. There’s defiance there that rears its head. Despite her own chronic aversion to feelings and things of a serious nature, Hilda still so deeply believed in those that she cared for. Maybe her abilities weren’t much to write home about, but it was hard for even the hardest of cynics to dissuade her from her optimism. ]

Who you were at home doesn’t matter. You’re here. The Sylvain I knew then isn’t the same Sylvain I know now.

[ She probably wouldn’t have developed feelings for a younger him beyond that of casual sex but she was smarter than some gave her credit for. Dabbling back then would have caused some sort of trouble. But people were capable of change, and she had seen glimpses of what she suspects he had been hiding during their time at the Academy.

Her hand slips from his neck to brush her thumb against his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips pleadingly. ]

At least give yourself the chance to try.

[ If there’s anything more terrifying than allowing yourself to hope that a ‘chance to try’ would result in anything different that history repeating itself, Sylvain can’t think of it. Hope was more dangerous than any emotion he could allow himself to feel, and he’d forbidden that one along with all the others.

What was that line about doing the same thing but expecting different results leading to insanity? He didn’t think Hilda would appreciate that reminder right now, but he can’t help but think it all the same.

Giving himself a chance to try opened up a far darker void than Hilda realized, and one he never wanted to expose her to. Her or Claude. There was a reason he’d been struggling so stubbornly to keep emotions from getting involved here but he was beginning to suspect that these two were far more like those gravity wells Garrus had been telling him about. And he kept getting sucked deeper in no matter how hard he tried to keep himself free.

Plus, it as getting harder and harder to keep reminding himself why he was doing it in the first place.

But Hilda’s words had been a challenge, and he hasn’t changed enough that he’s not completely susceptible to one of those. Even beyond having a hard time denying her anything. So he gives a quiet exhale and presses one more kiss against her lips. ]

I promise I’ll try. I just hope I don’t make you regret it.

[ Before he can pull back her fingers grasp his chin, holding him fast to her. ]

You let me worry about what I’ll regret.

[ It’s so unlike her to say that, to take on such ownership of something so serious but in the moment it escapes her completely. Most of them time she cares little for decisions being made for her when they involve some iota of responsibility. It goes against every cell in her body because her position in life denotes that she’s meant to follow and following to Hilda meant never taking accountability for any matter of importance.

Yet here she is. Trying. Hoping that Sylvain will do the same.

He often said he was a lover and not a fighter, but all of that love often felt directed at everyone but himself. All she wanted to do in that moment was take his hand so they could experience all the joy, all the terror, in accepting that love together. She wanted to walk beside him as much as she wanted him to find refuge in her.

Her eyes become liquid, practically molten pools of adoration as she relinquishes her hold on his chin to hold out her pinky towards him. ]

Pinky promise it, Sylvain.

[ His gaze drops to her outstretched pinky, because those are the last words he'd expected to ever hear come out of her mouth. He knew her well, knew that that admission was beyond anything she would normally make. It is this that finally nudges him over the edge into giving in to her, even as he reaches out and hooks his own pinky with hers. ]

I pinky swear.

[ ...Even if he feels a little silly in the process. ]

[ Silly, sure. But when has the real her ever been anything but that?

Sylvain hooking his pinky around hers fills up with her such childlike joy that as soon as he does, there’s a split second where her expression is caught between something tender and reverential. Untangling her hands from his, she pulls him close. Her legs tighten around his waist as she closes the very small gap left between them to kiss him again.

Having his lips on hers has her her heart banging in her chest, lips parting in a happy rapture. She’s warm all over. Warmed by him, by a potentially terrifying hope that even she runs from but one that she trusts they’ll try to face together. ]

[ He lets her pull him down for a kiss and he goes willingly, caging her in with his body as he presses her down and captures her mouth. Deep and slow and lazy, his tongue teasing against her lips. One hand comes to tangle in her long hair, fingers working lightly at her scalp a moment before he tugs her head back and grins down at her ruefully. ]

I’m still not going to do anything you might end up hating me for in the morning when you’re sober again.

[ This is what she should have become drunk on, she thinks hazily when she feels his tongue asking for permission to enter and she grants it to him. The taste of him is so heady, so lovely that the loud voice that had been dissuading her from doing more of this can't properly break through the haze of content that she finds herself in. No wonder Claude enjoys kissing him, she thinks. No wonder he looks at Sylvain the way he does. There's more than just how he kisses of course. Sylvain is more than his body despite his determined dodging of that fact but that doesn't change the fact that he kisses so well that she could cry.

And while she doesn't cry right now (that would simply add to more of her despair in the morning when she wakes up to realize everything that has transpired this evening), she does whine when he pulls away. The whine is partly directed at the distance and then at his words. ]

I won't hate you. I just told you how I felt, didn't I?

You did.

[ His grin is fond and indulgent in response to that whine as he gazes down at her. ]

And if you remember enough of this conversation in the morning to tell me again, then we can do whatever you like. Deal?

I'm going to remember it.

[ She seems determined to, as she bunches her hands into fists against his back. He can take that as her agreeing to his deal though. ]

Just like how I'm going to remember to ask you why you're wearing an earring all of a sudden. An earring I didn't make.

[ It's not clear if that's her way of saying that she wants to table the topic for the morning as well, but it is clear that she seems mildly annoyed at the last part. ]

[ He blinks at her a moment while giving a very emphatic mental oh shit. ]

Uhh. It was a very spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment decision?

[ The pout she gives him is so potent that it feels very much like she's never pouted this strongly in her life. People could wear whatever they wanted and she knew that. Not everything had to be made by her nor did she have a monopoly on what Sylvain did but her muddled drunk logic can't help but feel so deeply that this is somehow an affront.

She's already crossing her arms, a whine edging into her voice. Surprisingly her protest has less to do with the fact that she has a sneaking suspicion it has to do with Claude and far more to do with how she feels about Sylvain not asking her. ]

I know. But you could have asked me to make it for you. You didn't need to spend money on it! [ She goes quiet, eyes flitting from the earring to his face. ] Why green and gold?

[ Oh. This is. Awkward.

He makes a face, his nose scrunching up slightly before he leans in to kiss her again apologetically. ]

It was… sentimental. And technically I didn’t spend money on it, it was a gift. But if you would like to make me an additional one, I wouldn’t say no. I could put it in the other ear. Or maybe down the curve? What would look better?

[ The pause before sentimental pulls at something in the back of her brain, like this is important. Like she should pay attention to this because maybe her hunch was right. He's playing to what will appease her and while it would normally be enough to distract her, the questioning of the earring has pulled everything into the forefront for her.

Hollowness begins to take root in her chest, eating away at the buoyancy from before, slowly bringing her back down to reality. She'd tell him she had feelings for him, but then she'd leave it at that, she thinks. This is an answer in and of itself. How could she possibly compare, how could there possibly be room for her when this feels like a decision that's already been made and solidified? That's just how life worked when it came to matters of the heart, didn't it? The difference now is that with the hollowness there's acceptance too.

Her arms stay crossed over her chest but instead of it being in protest, it looks like it's a shield as if this will somehow make her feel less small than she feels at that moment. ]

Is it for Claude?

[ He mentally winces at that, because he can feel that sudden distance now opening up between them. But he has no idea how he could have evaded this one, short of not wearing his earring. Which wasn’t going to be an option.

So he cups her face in her hands, holding her in place as he meets her gaze with a firm look, frown lingering on his lips as he searches her expression. ]

Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like that look in your eyes. Or that I put it there. Yes, it’s for Claude. [ He wasn’t going to lie to her about it. He’d promised not to. ] It was a memento of our first date. He wanted to get me something to make up for my birthday and I chose this while we were at the beach a few weeks back.

[ When he cups her face whatever uncertain expression she has on her face turns into a defensive pout. He's not a mind reader. How would he know? ]

I'm not thinking anything.

[ The answer makes her heart sink in a way that it's been sinking ever since she had gotten wind of this new found affection between them. But this time, plummeting despair doesn't follow. After everything that had happened, it had no where else to go. It simply became heavier and heavier, making her remember part of the reason why she had been drinking in the first place. Hadn't she said that she wouldn't be so stubborn though? That she wouldn't be so greedy? Something else emerges from the sinking feeling in her heart: a bittersweet happiness that he and Claude had allowed themselves to open up to one another as much as they had is a good thing. It bodes well. And while she is glad, a greedy jealous heart doesn't change overnight.

Maybe with time, she thinks, with some level of grace that she doesn't possess, she won't feel the bitter sadness that coats her tongue. They didn't have to keep being kind to her like this, offering to wear something just because she was around. Sadness is inevitable in an ending. Maybe that's what the last several months have been culminating into and her body had known it was in some state of mourning all along. Her mind was just catching up to it now. As she brushes away Sylvain's hand, an understanding smile flutters to her face but it doesn't reach her eyes. ]

Good. I'm glad he made it up to you. And it's sweet that you're wearing it.

[ And she means it. There's genuineness to it. But that doesn't dispel the lingering sadness that had permeated her bones. Her gaze lingers on the earring and then his face ever so briefly before she lets out a yawn, stretching like a cat. ]

I guess if that's the case then I won't be too upset that you're wearing something I didn't make.

[ Her sadness is so deep and choking that for a moment, all he can do is blink at her before he’s drawing her in close in his arms once more, wrapping around her and cradling her against his chest. He brushes his lips against her hair in a gentle kiss. ]

I’m glad you’ll forgive me for it. But that just means I’m going to be extra annoying until you make me one from you, too.

[ She whines as she's pulled into his chest mid-stretch. Her struggles don't last very long before she gives up at the brush of his lips against her head. With her face pressed into his chest he can't see how the sadness lingers there, whatever trace of happiness she had felt earlier quickly dispelled. It's a blessing, really. ]

You don't have to wear it just to be nice. It won't have anything sentimental attached to it. [ Even that tastes bitter on her tongue and she has to follow it up with a put on pout - ] And besides you didn't wear the hat I made you.

[ He pulls back enough to boop her nose chidingly before tipping her head up in his direction, fingers catching her chin between them. ]

Hilda Valentine Goneril, you listen to me. It will have everything sentimental attached to it, because it will have been crafted by you, by your own hands. We’re not going to talk about the hat, we’re going to let it rest in peace wherever it ended up. This is different. I want to wear a piece of your jewelry. I want something to symbolize both the people I like.

Besides. [ He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose now before playfully nipping at it with his teeth. ] I am not nice.

Edited 2023-08-23 04:21 (UTC)

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