[Title: She Likes to Think]
[Music: Actually none]
[Disclaimer: You know the drill...]
[Summary: 'She likes to watch him from across the room. The way he moves, the way he talks, even the way he laughs sometimes reminds her of him.' Sylvie likes to think they are one and the same even when she knows they're really not. And sometimes she just doesn't know what to think anymore. A Standalone.]
She likes to watch him from across the room. The way he moves, the way he talks, even the way he laughs sometimes reminds her of him.
She likes to think that had he been given the chance Gretto would have grown up just the same. She likes to think he would have been just as happy, and just as strong. She likes to think he would have been just as care free, and just as loved. She likes to think that in another lifetime Firo Porchainezo was Gretto.
But Sylvie Knows better than to think like that now, because life has been cruel to her and she doesn't think she has the strength to think that way anymore.
He is dancing now, somewhere across the room, or something like dancing would be more accurate. It could better be described as spinning the red haired homunculus around the room aimlessly, and she is smiling, because he doesn't really know how to dance, and he doesn't mind making a fool of himself. And the childish hopeful part of Sylvie reminds her that Gretto couldn't dance either, but then there are a lot of people in the world who can't dance.
Gretto was always cautious about what everyone else thought of him, never as confident as Firo, swinging around the room harshly off time to the rhythm of the music playing around them. But again the child in her tells her that Gretto was proper not self-conscious, simply because of the harsh hand that life had dealt him, but then Firo's life was difficult as well. And she doesn't know what to think anymore.
Sylvie shakes her head solemnly, because there couldn't possibly be a time when the two boys are in sharper contrast to each other, and yet she can't help but think that it is so fitting that Firo was the one to devour Szilard, just as Szilard had taken Gretto from her so long ago.
And even though Sylvie isn't sure of the nature of their relationship, she still hopes, for Ennis' sake of course, that Firo doesn't end up the way Gretto did because she knows all too well how that sort of pain feels. She is watching them again and Firo has his head back laughing, and Ennis, despite her grace and years of training, has little control over her feet, and is stumbling slightly as he pulls her along.
Sylvie has said this all to Maiza before and she still remembers the smile on his face, and kindness in his eyes when he told her not to dwell on such depressing thoughts, and that the two boys could not have been more different. Sylvie knows all this, and yet she still likes to pretend that they are one and the same. And she knows that at one time, for a long while, Maiza entertained quite the same thoughts, and she assumes that is why they are still here with the Martillo family and not half way across the country like they would have been had Maiza not found Firo those ten years ago.
"Dance with me?"
Sylvie is suddenly startled from her thoughts by his voice, and his hand, and the boy that has been plaguing her thoughts is asking her to dance. And she is stunned into silence for minute just staring back.
"Come on, I know you like to dance." And at his encouragement Sylvie puts her hand in his and lets him pull her to her feet, stricken by the fact that he could possibly know this if she's never told him so, if she's hardly spoken two words to him in his 19 years of living. And it only strikes her now, in the second that her eyes meet Maiza's across the room, that all Gretto's thoughts are now a part of Firo. And she thinks it's all too ironic.
And Firo surprises her for the third time in that minute when his feet begin to move to the quick paced rhythm of the song as he leads her gracefully across the hardwood of the dance floor. He must notice her surprise because he grins now and says "Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't even know how to dance." And Sylvie remembers that Gretto was a gentleman too. And when he doesn't tread clumsily on her feet he breaks the illusion that he is, just for a minute, Gretto.
"Nothing wrong with having some fun every now and then, even if I do know how to dance." He presses on, still grinning. And Sylvie smiles at the boy that isn't Gretto but is, because she will never in a million years understand how making a fool of yourself could ever be considered fun, because Gretto would never have seen making a fool of himself as fun.