abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] into an ocean

[ This time, his pace comes to an abrupt stop at those unexpected words, breath hitching softly in his throat. A throat that suddenly feels tight and a little too choked off. He swallows around it, and then gives a little laugh, trying to brush it off. ]

What’s not to like?

[ But it falls hollow even to his ears. An answer more befitting the person he’d always pretended to be, forced himself into to survive back home. He stares at the ground, shoving his hands a little deeper in his pockets. ]

Maybe it wasn’t all pretend.

[ When does the mask you wear become more real than the face you’re trying to hide? When everyone forgets what you looked like without it? When they actually believe it’s the real thing, and forget there was ever another face beneath it?

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable for a moment. ]

Or maybe this one’s the pretend one. Trying to be a person outside of my Crest… that would have been a fairy tale back home. I still… don’t even know who this person is.

[ But he spent far less time here drowning in shame, in resentment and bitterness for a cage he couldn’t slip free of. Crushed under expectations he could never meet and ambitions he never wanted to fulfill.

He gives another low laugh, strained and resigned. ] It still sounds pretty terrible of me though, right? Not wanting them here because I’m still afraid of how they’d see me. Or if they wouldn’t see anything different at all.

[ No, it probably wasn't all pretend. Not when there's all those indicators Claude's come to sense over the past couple of years that all those things Sylvain said he was, all those things he'd wield like a shield in front of him to keep anyone from looking too close: it was far more likely that the line had blurred at some point in there to where he'd started to believe some of it. That much was clear if Claude takes a second to consider a time on the rooftop when he and Hilda had pointed out everything good about Sylvain and the clearest brightest shining response in that was the discomfort as if they couldn't possibly be true.

He lets Sylvain stop and comes to a halt still beside him, still studying whatever's warring beneath that when it's not so hidden now. He wonders if the Sylvain not long after arriving would've shown any of this or would've kept laughing it off like that half-hearted attempt of a few seconds ago to dodge whatever else might be implied - or said - afterwards. Some of that retreat can still be found as Sylvain fumbles around the outline of several thoughts at once, and it's that which has Claude turning to place his hands on the other's shoulders to make him focus again. ]

No, it makes you someone who knows they deserve better than what awful hands they've been dealt. And on top of that, it certainly doesn't make you terrible, afraid, or selfish for wanting that or a chance to be free of it. [ In case that was coming next just to ward it off, though perhaps the intensity in Claude's voice now stems from experiences all his own in those firm denials. ] Look at me, Sylvain.

[ A trick he's used before and one he doesn't feel any guilt for doing now, and he'll stand there in stubborn silence as long as it takes until Sylvain does look at (or somewhere nearby) him before continuing. ]

You aren't your Crest, and there's no limits on who you can be if you decide on something else for yourself. But if you ever need a reminder of who you are beneath it all, you don't have to look very far: it's who you are here, no matter who's here or isn't.

[ Actually, he’s pretty sure it makes him terrible, afraid, AND selfish. But he doesn’t think Claude would appreciate that answer.

There’s a bark of a leader’s command in those words and Sylvain responds automatically, eyes coming up, only to get caught and pinned in place by the intent look Claude gives him. The hands firm on his shoulders.

Even if those words make him want to squirm away again, uncomfortable to have that focus so fixated on him. One corner of his lips quirks faintly, but it still falls far short of the smirk he might have once fallen back on at such a statement. ]

Well. I guess the fact that you haven’t kicked me out of your bed yet means I’m not a complete failure at being… whoever this is. I must be doing something right.

[ Sylvain looks at him, but it doesn't take Claude long to recognize signs of being uncomfortable again over something told to him that he feels is a truth. All of it is true to him even if there's an ache over what's in Sylvain's past to make him not believe it. To think this is too good to be true, and --

To think all of this might be too good to be true, Claude realizes with something which feels a little like being punched in the chest. He doesn't move as he continues to stare at Sylvain unflinchingly, not even when it feels like the ground sinks beneath him with the weight of it. The signs were there; he'd just chosen to look over them in denial. ]

And why would I do that?

[ It's a deliberate question asked with nothing else accompanying it. No convincing, no arguments ready to be made to bend belief back to what Claude wants it to be. He wants Sylvain to answer this without any guidance - just to find whatever honest response he has and to give it. ]

[ ‘Why wouldn’t you?’ are the words that come immediately to mind, springing to the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back at the last moment. He doesn’t think that’s the answer Claude wants to hear.

Not that he knows what answer Claude does want to hear, but he’s still pretty sure that’s not it.

Even if it is his first and automatic response. Because making yourself not believe something is too good to be true is easier said than done. And it doesn’t change the fact that Sylvain’s never been able to maintain a relationship this long before. Inevitably, he’d done something, said something, or just plain failed to be something worth enough to keep sticking around for.

He’s still watching for it. Waiting for it. The other shoe to drop. Knowing it’s looming out there somewhere but having no idea when or where it will hit.

But that’s a him problem. Not Claude. Honestly, he doesn't even understand why Claude’s already stuck around this long. Yeah, the sex is amazing but… ]

Common sense?

[ It’s a weak answer, accompanied by a faint grimace, just because he doesn’t know what other answer to give here. ]

[ As Sylvain considers it, there's nothing but dread felt by Claude in the silence. A strange sensation as it's one he rarely humors for longer than a second before brushing it off, but this? It feels like the same level of foreboding when he'd realized too late that was something was wrong before he and Hilda leveled each other with destruction they'd never turned on each other before or since.

An answer comes. As much as he wants to pull away right then and there, Claude feels frozen. Common sense. It answers nothing while also answering something: that Sylvain doesn't have an actual answer for his question, but that doesn't feel like it's anywhere near good enough.

It takes a couple more moments but he remembers to move then and withdraws his hands to put down at his sides. He doesn't step back though; asking what feels like a rather awful question when he'd thought it was straightforward enough only to find out it must have been anything but. If it hadn't been, there'd be no doubt now. Would there? ]

What exactly did it mean to you when I said I want you?

[ It's asked evenly. Almost tonelessly like there's not significance behind that he's holding back, and like it's not a question he won't let Sylvain escape from this time as he's allowed on so many others. ]

[ That… had apparently been the wrong answer, too.

Not that it was really an answer. Even he knew that. But he didn’t have a better one to give.

Claude’s hands drop away but even though he doesn’t move back, that distance between them suddenly feels like a canyon gaping open at his feet.

Maybe that shoe was dropping after all.

A hand lifts to rub at the back of his neck and he halfway turns away, if only to the side. He doesn't like that tone of voice, either. It’s uttered in the same final way he’s heard ‘we need to talk’ and other, grimmer statements. No heated emotion in it, just the resolute note of… what? Resignation? Finality? Empty. ]

Exactly what you said, I thought. [ It’s said around a small huff of air as he stares at the pavement. ] It’s not like you’d been all that subtle about it, for once. The flirting, your interest.

[ Being wanted, at least, is something he’s all too skilled in recognizing. ]

[ Claude's only vaguely aware of the tension running through him as he remains in place where he is past the one movement he'd made. It stays coiled, like he's going to suddenly indulge in his old pastime of fleeing when convenient, but these days: backing down isn't an option.

Not even when Sylvain shifts too in a motion he knows and avoids looking at him like there's something inevitable on the horizon, though he doesn't understand what it could be until it hits with those next words. This time it's a familiar pain which washes over him like a tidal wave. It's the same when Hilda pointed out something he'd said which he thought was so clear had been taken a very different way - one that'd caused her pain, and it doesn't take much to see that's the case here where he'd repeated it yet again.

A mistake. He's made many between both of them with a list to be made up for, but it doesn't feel like his choice to decide if he gets to do that here. This time when Claude speaks it's with a roughness around the edges even he can't smooth away. ]

And if I still want everything else beyond that, too? Just as I did when I said it?

[ Those aren’t the words he expected.

But that doesn’t mean he knows what to do with them, either.

The confusion is writ plain on his face when his head turns back in Claude’s direction, eyes searching his face. Uncertain what that means, or what he should be saying back. ]

What else is there?

[ If it wasn't for that look on the other man's face, Claude would've had his own (yet another) question to fire right back: what do you mean?

But it's crystal clear that Sylvain genuinely doesn't know what he means by that; it's as if the possibility, even with that all important talk between the three of them and saying that they wanted this and each other, had never once crossed Sylvain's mind. Unnoticed, his fingers curl into his palms as if wishing they were still on Sylvain's shoulders to complete the action or something else there. ]

You, Sylvain. All of you, and you for who you are. [ He means to keep talking, but instead a laugh of disbelief dulled at the edges with a bit of sadness sputters out of his mouth and Claude has to take a second to inhale and exhale before continuing. ] That's what I thought we were doing all this time, and what I want hasn't changed from the first or the last time we talked about it.

[ That didn’t really clarify things any, although he’s torn between the feeling of needing to apologize - even if he doesn't know for what - and to bristle a little defensively. Though he stuffs down both urges, because neither one of them are going to be of any help here. ]

And what part do you think I’m not giving here?

[ Because he doesn’t think he’d been holding anything back? So he’s still not sure what Claude is looking for here.

Even if it’s pretty obvious by now that whatever it is, he’s not finding it.

He should really be used to how that stings by now. ]

[ It's fair for a question to be pointed back at him after how many he's asked himself, but with it comes something else. A warning bell rings in his mind: this is spiraling. There's a point at which asking, trying to be certain can do more damage than turning up any answers. One thing has become abundantly clear, however, and it demands one last question. ]

Do you believe I want you for something more than sleeping with you?

[ Though he's careful to ask it neutrally, even that sounds too much like an accusation when he doesn't mean it as one but an extension of the point he wants to make or to know. Keeping it just at that like it's some kind of ultimatum without being voiced as one and throwing down some sort of endpoint or what might be perceived as another prong of an elaborate trap isn't anything close to what he means to do. Quite the opposite, actually, so Claude's quick to shake his head after and keep speaking to swallow an ache he's ignoring back down. ]

It's alright if you don't because I understand I haven't exactly given you many consistent reasons to. But for me, Sylvain, all of this changed from being that a long while ago.

Well, considering we've lived together for almost a year now and I'm pretty sure I've cooked almost every meal, cleaned up after you, and didn't burn all those books you keep trying to murder me with in my sleep, I think I should be entitled to claim the title of trophy wife at some point soon here. Unless Hilda wants it, and I'm not about to tell her no while I still hold some semblance of sanity.

[ The neutrality isn't as reassuring as Claude probably thinks it is. It just means Claude's choosing his words very carefully and Sylvain doesn't want to think about why.

He's pretty sure it's a bad sign that Claude is still asking for something more than he's already been giving, because he's not even sure what he's been failing at that has brought this conversation up a couple times now, each one ending in such a way that leaves Sylvain feeling like he's still falling too fall short of... whatever he's supposed to be doing. Or who he's supposed to be. Whatever Claude keeps claiming to the contrary.

Because there's clearly still something missing here and he's usually better at figuring out where he's fucked up long before this. ]

[ Being presented with a blunt truth like that by way of a list rather than the yes or the no he was expecting is a surprise it takes him a second to absorb without showing it. It's not lost on him that actions are a more than fitting way to vocalize care without saying the words. Hadn't he convinced himself for years it was the best way to show the meaning behind his affection to Hilda?

Hadn't he rationalized the same for Sylvain?

Still - another short laugh leaves him, this one more tired than anything else. ]

I suppose this is where I take that as a solid no to what I asked.

[ He needs a minute to think through where to go from there, and Claude drags a hand through his hair while studying the other side of the street. It feels like there's something missing in what's going unsaid from them both, but he's at a loss as to figure out what without asking so many more questions. Or maybe that's exactly what he should be doing with something far more direct, and he looks back to Sylvain after puzzling something over. ]

If I flat out asked you how you felt right now, would you answer?

[ Still asked with an out, though - as always. ]

Confused.

[ The answer is dry as Sylvain shakes his head, huffing out a breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. Not quite defensive, but not exactly at ease, either.

Fuck it. Maybe being bluntly honest will work in his favor for once. It could happen, right? (ha. he doubts it.) ]

I don't know what you're looking for, Claude. What aren't I doing? I'm obviously not giving you something that has you keep asking things like this. What answer is gonna be enough here? I don't... I don't know what you want, apparently.

[ And anytime he started thinking he did, Claude would ask him questions like this and make him doubt everything all over again.

It just kept reinforcing his belief that he was shit at actual relationships. Maybe he'd been right not to try. There was an entirely different set of rules here that he apparently didn't know, and he had no idea how to even learn them. ]

I thought... I thought were doing good. But I'm guessing you see it differently.

[ Maybe at any other time he would've laughed over that first answer, and especially so since it's clear enough to him that's the case without it being said aloud. But what Claude can't figure out is the why behind it with that unknown being what makes him want to take flight - away from this conversation, away from the realization which feels like it's flying towards him as fast as any arrow that the longer this goes without any answers the more likely it is it's going to end in nothing but hurt.

Hearing again that Sylvain doesn't know what he's looking for could've felt like the twist of an unseen knife if it wasn't for one of those missing puzzle pieces slotting into place blocking it from happening. Surprise hits again, but this time with it comes a sliver of clarity into something he hadn't grasped before running through both that final set of words. ]

What? No, Sylvain. I'm trying to say the exact opposite.

[ There's no avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of having to peel off a mask or two for the sake of this even if he'd been doing his best to avoid it up until now. Time to take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh he doesn't bother to hide since it's not even just a bit too late to pretend like he's unaffected; the time for that ended several months ago. He's lost count. ]

So much so I might've laughed at that if I wasn't afraid saying the wrong thing now wouldn't cause you to leave and take part of my heart with you.

[ Well. One step at a time towards honesty, anyway. ]

[ The look Sylvain shoots him is utterly bewildered, as if those are the craziest words he's ever heard come out of Claude's mouth.

Maybe they are. ]

Why would I leave?? Claude, this is... it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Ever. So much so that I keep pinching myself, expecting to wake up. Or maybe for you to wake up. I'm not going anywhere. Not until you get fed up with me, anyway. [ Not if, but when. It's always when. ] I thought I'd made that clear.

I mean, I know things got muddled with Hilda, but the only reason I would have walked away then was because I really thought me trying to hang on as I was, was only making everything worse. For both of you. That's the last thing I want.

Edited 2024-04-22 02:43 (UTC)

[ That look isn't reassuring in the least. Not even when it's negated, sort of - no, mostly by what follows. The sort of words that are a balm to sore spots, but while Sylvain speaks Claude can do nothing but stare. Whatever expression is on his face is probably more confused than he wishes it would be even as this continues to click several things into place.

There's much he trusts Sylvain with in that slow building of trust since the other had arrived in ways he never could've guessed at that chance meeting in the tavern and from how it had only grown from there. And he doesn't, perhaps, entirely trust Sylvain with his heart after all, and perhaps that's mutual if this conversation is anything to go by.

It's not a good feeling of recognition, and it's incongruous with what he'd believed before. What he's said before, and certainly what he'd meant. It only takes a second for chagrin to seep in while he considers the mistakes made to make that so and whether outright responding to that might also somehow (and accidentally) make something worse. Unnoticed his gaze had drifted to the busy street again as he pulls it back to Sylvain once more with something else in mind. Hilda's voice echoes through it with the insistence of those unknowns Sylvain needs to know. If they're clearing things up, there's more to go yet. An explanation - of sorts. ]

There's probably something else I should tell you first before anything else, if you don't mind listening to a bit of a story for it.

[ He frowns because… that doesn’t sound good.

But he shrugs, spreading his hands to the side in a small shrug. ] I didn’t have any other plans today. My time is yours.

[ He’s not exactly going to protest pushing off this last letter delivery just a little bit longer either. ]

What’s going on, Claude?

[ Sylvain doesn't back down from what even Claude is willing to admit is hardly the most promising way to open a conversation. Especially so when they've been meandering their way around the current one and he's about to detour it again with a nod before he starts, but it'll be a necessary one rather than the loops he so often steers a conversation around in.

This particular explanation begins much the same way as how he'd once told it to Marianne: the truth, mostly, of how he'd grown up to confirm what hints Sylvain already knows of it from when they'd talked before. How it had become a driving force and one that'd brought him leave Almyra and to arrive in Fodlan with hopes which weren't realized with some things entirely in common with his home, and how it confirmed the dreams he had for what the future might look like. It isn't the full picture given it's not yet to what Hilda knows, but it's more of a complete picture than Marianne once heard when he told her he understood having burdens to carry.

But there's something else the two of them share, and it's some of what the birds revealed in the Nether as that also deserves explanation amidst everything else. ]

Who you heard there was my brother, Shahid. We've never exactly been friendly, as you might've gathered.

He was one of the ones that made your life… before. So much hell?

[ he listens quietly though all of it, although somewhere in the middle, he’d reached out and twined his fingers with Claude’s as he told his story. Talked about a past he spoke of exactly never. The warmth of his hand against Sylvain’s is solid, grounding and he hopes it feels the same for the other man as they walk and he talks.

It fills in a lot of missing pieces. Oh, Sylvain had assumed a great deal of this by now - not the finer details, but they had far too much in common for him to not pick up that Claude understood him on a deeper level than most. An understanding that only came from experience, in his opinion. And there were hints, if you knew where to look. In what Claude had said. In what he hadn’t.

He commits the mention of Claude’s brother, the man’s name, to memory as he glances over and searches his face, waiting patiently for his answer. Letting Claude pick and choose what he was comfortable telling him. ]

Sort of since that was more like whenever we crossed paths as we weren't close. Same for with the rest of our siblings since none of us are close as collateral damage thanks to inheritance always looming over everything.

[ Something he's neglected to explain in any of that, though he has to wonder if Sylvain's picked up on it. Along with everything else he clearly has when a familiar hand had slipped into his while speaking, and Claude hadn't hesitated in holding onto that warm grasp. A comfort, just as it's always been when they've reached for one another out of this reason or that one, and more so now while letting some of his masks fall away as it quiets some of the vulnerability he so dislikes showing on any given day.

There's further explanations which await first given that they're what he truly meant to explain. While he's told Sylvain slivers of it at other times, perhaps it'll give them the context behind it that wasn't there before when he'd intentionally withheld it. ]

It was more than just that, though, and it wasn't limited to my siblings alone though they certainly didn't make anything easier for me. Friends were in rather short supply for me as a kid so I learned to cover up weaknesses and keep them hidden. I made sure I was always a step or five ahead of everyone else, and part of that was making sure almost no one ever knew what I was thinking.

Rest of…? Just how many siblings do you have?

[ He blinks a little, because that’s a lot of family Claude’s never once spoken of. Then again, if they were all more his enemies than his siblings, he could understand. One Miklan had been plenty all on his own, after all.

The rest of that, however, was something Sylvain had already put together, just from watching him over the years. Especially the most recent few. He gives Claude’s hand a faint squeeze. ]

At least you were uniquely equipped to be tossed head first into the Dukedom and all the Alliance’s politics, then, with that sort of mindset. Over-equipped, I would guess. At least you did find friends there.

[ He hadn’t missed the mention of that inheritance, but he’s not sure if Claude is referring to the Duke or something else entirely. Was this a Crest thing? Something else? ]

Several.

[ It's not exactly a satisfying answer to a valid question for Sylvain to ask, but it ties into what's not yet revealed rather than being something he's dodging. Something they're getting closer to than they've ever been before in circles around this or that but ones which never touch upon things they both brush away, and the urge for Claude to simply spit it out as he'd done with Hilda is getting louder as the best course of action to take. The squeeze to his hand is returned with one right back, that quiet bit of support and comfort very much appreciated even as a wry smile crosses his face at what comes next. ]

I don't think anything could've prepared me for Fodlan even with what my mother told me, but you're right that it was far from the first difficult situation I had to untangle.

[ Which leads to where he wants to go next in the conversation rather well, and Claude stops walking to look at Sylvain with his full attention. ]

My mother is Tiana von Riegan. She left the Alliance to marry my father - the king of Almyra.

[ What a vague answer. Careful, Claude, he'll start making up numbers here to fill in the blanks. There's no way that can go well.

He doesn't miss that Claude specifies 'Fodlan'. Not the Alliance. Which already has his steps slowing, because he'd suspected something of the sort for a while now, but this is the first time Claude is confirming it aloud.

And then the man fills in the rest of it and it takes a moment to sink in. Two, even. And then he trips over his own feet to blink at Claude with wide eyes. ]

The king of Almyra?!

[ CLOSED ] into an ocean

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