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Glass Half-Fool

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Not unlike the many cats around the monastery, Sylvain Jose Gautier stalked back to his room with his tail tucked between his legs. Stumbling into his dresser before feeling around for a lamp, his room was pitch black save for the pale moonlight seeping through the gap in the curtains.

The evening had been particularly rough, the woman he’d planned on wooing had a fondness for wine (accompanying an iron tolerance). The Gautier heir was no lightweight though he’d succumbed to the drink more quickly than anticipated; what transpired afterwards was mostly the routine acts of a drunken dalliance though he’d dozed at some point, waking up alone by the hostelry counter.

It was a miracle that he’d made it back to the monastery, let alone his own room given the state that he was in. He’d managed to locate his room by relying purely upon muscle memory as his legs languidly trudged along the same route he’d stumbled through many inebriated times prior.

Where’s that damned… lamp?  He mumbled aloud, haphazardly feeling around his dresser before moving stiltedly towards his desk. His fingers brushed and curled around cool glass, yanking what he assumed was the lamp pull switch.

A clattering sound caused the Fraldarius heir in the next room over to sit up, eyes snapping open as he strained to listen. Initially, he assumed the culprit was the boar Prince of Faerghus accidentally destroying another tea set in his drowsy state, however, it was too late in the night for the prince’s gaucherie. Felix closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore his conscious pleading him to reconnoitre the room next door.

Idiot. He thought, letting his weary head sink into his pillow. If you make any more racket, the boar is going to let you have it tomorrow.  

Before he had the chance to properly drift back to sleep, a loud thump followed by an audible groan roused the young man once more. He kicked off his duvet in frustration.


 

Head throbbing, Sylvain winced when he felt his shirt collar tighten around his neck. The floor spun around him while being pulled up by his collar, head tilting back to rest against his mattress, back hitting the leg of his bed. He was simply too tall for Felix to lift in the Gautier heir’s drunken state, so, he did the best he could, propping him upwards.

Sylvain chuckled to the ceiling before bringing his head forward to eye the young man in front of him. He reached for the hands around his collar only to be swatted away immediately.

“F…Felix, is that you?” He asked, rubbing his knuckles with his other hand. “Thanks, I really… really owe you one.”

Felix scoffed, shaking his head. “God, you reek of alcohol… this is sad even for you.” He ran an exasperated hand through his loose tresses, wondering whether it was wise to leave him propped up like that before heading back to his room. “Can you even get up?”

Sylvain stood with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, his knees knocking and legs wobbling before he’d managed to get halfway onto his bed, landing headfirst into the mattress, his right arm and leg dangled off the side.

Felix groaned.

It had taken longer than Felix presumed it would, but finally, all four of Sylvain’s limbs had made it onto the mattress. He made no effort in humouring his drunk friend as the hot-blooded heir recalled bits and pieces of his night in a stupefied blather. Felix didn’t care for any woman that abandoned his friend, especially those that left him in a vulnerable state like he was now. The way the fool was carrying on though, slurring his words with that lazy smile of his— Felix almost wanted to do the same.  

He stood up, dusting his knees. Felix leaned over his friend (still mumbling away incoherently), pulling up a corner of the blanket he’d almost kicked off to cover him. They momentarily caught the each other's stare; Sylvain’s eyes bore the sheen of copper in the dim lamplight and Felix barely managed to pry his own eyes away from them. Sylvain draped a languid arm around his back, breaking Felix out of the moment.

“What… what is it?” Felix snipped, chest lowering under the weight of his arm.

“Thanks, Felix.” Another lazy smile, Felix found himself lost for words, swallowing hard. Sylvain brought his other hand upwards, fingertips brushing against his cheek, he tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear. “You’ve been taking care of me this... this… whole time, right?”

Felix felt his complexion grow erubescent from his touch, he must have exerted himself lifting the fool onto the bed, there was no other explanation for it. His back had begun to quiver under the weight of Sylvain’s hold, still leaning over the man, now, only inches away from his face as his chest continued to lower, knee’s quaking. Felix relinquished the bunched corners of the blanket in his fists, pushing down on the mattress bordering both sides of Sylvain’s body to anchor himself from falling.

“Listen, you fool,” Felix exhaled through his nose, avoiding the lamplight in Sylvain’s eyes, “this is the last time I’m doing this sort of thing, understand?” Sylvain had begun tracing the edge of his earlobe causing Felix to shudder involuntarily. Catching himself out, he shook his head free. “W-what are you doing? Stop that...!”

Sylvain cocked an eyebrow, chuckling in his drunken mirth. “What are you doing…?” Redirecting the query back at the man with his elbows bent, only an inch away from his face.

Felix hadn’t the chance to answer, unsure of himself as to what was impelling him forward against the tipsy Sylvain who’d pressed his lips against his own the very instant they’d locked looks again. Arms giving out in shock, Felix fell further into Sylvain’s fervent arms, tangling himself in between them and the bed sheets draped around them. His body prickled with heat, giddy, chest pounding so hard he barely heard anything else. He tasted the sweetness of the wine on Sylvain's lips and the spice in his breath, it lulled him, bringing about an intoxication of its own.

Sylvain muttered something while kissing him, Felix heard nothing over the thrumming of his heartbeat. He’d almost accommodated him, fingers curling themselves around Sylvain’s loosely buttoned shirt collar... until it happened.

Semblance of reason struck like a sharp crack of thunder.

Felix baulked suddenly; vision becoming a blur of blue bed sheets and rugs as the man toppled from the bed to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, red in the face and breathless.

What the hell is wrong with you!?” He breathed, shaking, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

A mien beholden of dazed stupefaction, Sylvain barely comprehended what was being said, concurrently bombarded with drowsiness and bewilderment all at once.

Felix shoved a hand through his dishevelled tresses, pushing the hair up from his face. It took every ounce of restraint to keep him from slamming the door shut on his way out, waking the entire floor were he to do so.

Dropping into his own bed, he pulled the covers up to his chin, hesitating before pulling the covers further up over his head. He shut his eyes tightly, concentrating on steadying the cut of his breath and repressing everything that had just happened.

Grudgingly, a finger returned to his lips, touching where Sylvain’s had been. Felix curved his face into his pillow and allowed himself one muffled sob. Sleep would elude him tonight.