Felix listens quietly. And as he suspected, most of what Claude has to say makes sense. It sounds rational and sensible. But...it's a little too rational and sensible.
"You're making a lot of assumptions. Our jobs after the war will be harder, not easier. At least while we're fighting, Sylvain and I are...we see each other every day. War is simple. Everything is clear. When it's over, I'll be in over my head, hundreds of miles from both of them with a territory to rebuild and angry nobles to appease and--there's no way in hell I'll have a spare moment to think about any of this. To...to feel anything. ...I won't want to."
And isn't that the real reason he never said anything to Sylvain? It wasn't fear of rejection, not really. It was the same reason he used to keep everyone at a distance back at the academy; the same reason he always convinced himself that love and romance were distractions he couldn't afford. Getting shoved into his father's role to take care of the post-war mess of a suddenly united continent isn't going to make that better.
"And Sylvain...he told me himself, Claude. That if he had to go back to Gautier, he would..." His voice and his breath both catch in his throat and he sets the Gear down to lean it against the lamp the second he feels his hands start to tremble. Goddess, he wishes Claude were here in person, and he feels pathetic for needing that just to have a damn conversation. He forces the words out in a rough almost-whisper, without looking the other man in the eye. "He would find an excuse to fall to a Srengi blade. I've seen that look in his eye before on the battlefield. The closer we get to the end of the war, the more often I see it."
He clenches both hands into fists in his lap. Claude makes it all sound so easy, but he knows, he knows it never is. Felix shouldn't be telling him these things, shouldn't be slicing himself open and bleeding his feelings out like this. Not because he doesn't trust Claude with them, but because they're not all his to tell, and Claude hardly needs more to worry about than he already has. But he can't just pretend to accept a reassurance he doesn't believe in.
"Being forced to treat with you at some diplomatic function I can't stand isn't going to help, either."
Felix digs his fingers into his hair, trying to breathe in deeply and making a low, frustrated noise on the exhale. "Obviously, you're right. Living for the present is the only thing that makes sense. But...I don't know what Sylvain said to you when you told him all this, but he's barely spoken to me all day. He's...thinking too much. It feels like he's going to take off again any minute and--I don't know what to do or say to help him. And don't tell me to just 'be there for him' or 'give him time' or some other useless nonsense. Sylvain...if I can't keep my promise to fight for us and I leave him to his thoughts, he'll drown in them."
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cw: mention of suicidal ideation
Date: 2021-03-11 03:57 am (UTC)"You're making a lot of assumptions. Our jobs after the war will be harder, not easier. At least while we're fighting, Sylvain and I are...we see each other every day. War is simple. Everything is clear. When it's over, I'll be in over my head, hundreds of miles from both of them with a territory to rebuild and angry nobles to appease and--there's no way in hell I'll have a spare moment to think about any of this. To...to feel anything. ...I won't want to."
And isn't that the real reason he never said anything to Sylvain? It wasn't fear of rejection, not really. It was the same reason he used to keep everyone at a distance back at the academy; the same reason he always convinced himself that love and romance were distractions he couldn't afford. Getting shoved into his father's role to take care of the post-war mess of a suddenly united continent isn't going to make that better.
"And Sylvain...he told me himself, Claude. That if he had to go back to Gautier, he would..." His voice and his breath both catch in his throat and he sets the Gear down to lean it against the lamp the second he feels his hands start to tremble. Goddess, he wishes Claude were here in person, and he feels pathetic for needing that just to have a damn conversation. He forces the words out in a rough almost-whisper, without looking the other man in the eye. "He would find an excuse to fall to a Srengi blade. I've seen that look in his eye before on the battlefield. The closer we get to the end of the war, the more often I see it."
He clenches both hands into fists in his lap. Claude makes it all sound so easy, but he knows, he knows it never is. Felix shouldn't be telling him these things, shouldn't be slicing himself open and bleeding his feelings out like this. Not because he doesn't trust Claude with them, but because they're not all his to tell, and Claude hardly needs more to worry about than he already has. But he can't just pretend to accept a reassurance he doesn't believe in.
"Being forced to treat with you at some diplomatic function I can't stand isn't going to help, either."
Felix digs his fingers into his hair, trying to breathe in deeply and making a low, frustrated noise on the exhale. "Obviously, you're right. Living for the present is the only thing that makes sense. But...I don't know what Sylvain said to you when you told him all this, but he's barely spoken to me all day. He's...thinking too much. It feels like he's going to take off again any minute and--I don't know what to do or say to help him. And don't tell me to just 'be there for him' or 'give him time' or some other useless nonsense. Sylvain...if I can't keep my promise to fight for us and I leave him to his thoughts, he'll drown in them."