Archive of Our Own

The darkened silhouette of the staff dormitories loomed above Byleth’s head like a grave monument as he walked past. The once lively hall had fallen to shambles in his time away, and this late at night the place look downright gloomy. He paused a moment in front of them, listening to the sound of the wind blowing hollowly through the once-grand monastery. Even the crickets had gone silent.

Byleth sighed deeply. He had hoped the cool night air might have been able to do something to clear his head, but so far that wasn’t turning out to be the case.

He closed his eyes, taking in another long, deep breath: willing the sharp smell of grass and damp soil to quiet the incessant buzzing in his head. It had rained earlier this evening. The sky was clear now and the rain had settled into a thin mist as the hours crept into the early morning.

With a long, low hiss, he released his pent up breath. Byleth still had a bit of a way to go before he’d reach the small dormitory that served as a permanent home for him. But he didn’t really feel like going back yet: Byleth that felt even if he tried, sleep would not take him at the moment. No matter how much he wished it. His mind was still too active, occupied by the intense war council that had been held earlier that night.

Shivering, Byleth drew his long overcoat tighter around himself, as if he expected that to do anything against the biting chill of early spring.

They’d been discussing what had remained a prominent elephant in the room for quite some time now. And after a recent ambush that decimated a scouting troop sent across the border into Alliance territory, the topic was no longer avoidable: there was a spy lurking amongst them. Who it was, or how they were leaking intel to the Imperial Army was still a mystery, but there was no denying it any longer.

Byleth shook his head, raising a palm to his temple at the striking headache he could feel resurfacing. Spies were tricky. It was hard to know whether the leak was coming from. It could be a lower-ranking knight or official that was particularly adept at eavesdropping, or worse yet, it could be one of the higher-ranking commanders. Possibly even someone within Dimitri’s inner circle, who had been in attendance at the council. And with no leads, frankly, the whole situation was a mess.

And of course, they’d all turned to him for answers.

Byleth had managed to escape several hours in, allotting himself some time to himself under the pretense of needing fresh air to clear his head. Which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. But here he was, hours later, wandering the grounds of the church aimlessly with no more idea of what to do than when he began.

So he continued walking, passing by his own room and beginning down the row of student dorms, now mostly abandoned. Only a handful of students once belonging to the Blue Lion House occupied the rooms.

It pained Byleth to no end how many familiar faces popped into his head as he passed room after room. How it was more than likely that half of these people wanted him, or his allies, dead. Byleth was unsure if his connection with Sothis had indeed faded entirely, but he had continued to pray nonetheless that he never have to cross swords with any of his former students on the battlefield.

Feeling hollow as he exited the row of dorms, and perhaps a little sorry for himself, Byleth stumbled vacantly into the darkened mess hall. He was unsurprised to find it empty: the kitchens had closed hours ago. The place looked dark and eerie at night, vacant of the warm candlelight and boisterous chatter that normally filled the room.

Now it just looked sad, and empty.

Despite the best efforts of the knights, the monastery was still far from the state it was in five years ago. Cobwebs still hung in abundance among the rafters, and several tables at the far end of the room sat in a state of rot or deterioration if they were not collapsed entirely.

The room was scarcely lit by several harsh frosty beams of moonlight that filtered in through the dusty glass windows, filling the room with pale shadows that seemed to move and contort in the dark.

It was so quiet.

Byleth silently took a seat at the end of one of the long tables filling the room. Maybe the dead silence of the hall would help him collect his thoughts. “Why must they always come to me for answers,” he muttered quietly to no one, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

Obviously, Byleth was more than happy to help. And he had never been the type to turn down someone seeking aid or advice. Quite the opposite in fact, he enjoyed making himself useful. 

But it unnerved him, really, how much of their trust was placed in him. He was only one man. He didn’t have all the answers. Even he felt lost sometimes, but when they looked at him so reverently, as if he were the solution to all their problems...it became hard to voice his own concerns.

What on earth was he going to do about this spy.

Byleth wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed since he’d begun his deliberations, but enough so that he failed to detect another presence enter the hall until they noisily clamored through the door, slamming the thin wood shut with a sharp clack that echoed in the empty chamber.

Stiffening, Byleth quickly turned in his seat to face the intruder. He relaxed as he immediately recognized the familiar outline of Sylvain, standing against the pale light of a nearby window. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, in the perfectly messy, yet perfectly manicured way he somehow managed to get it.

“Sylvain,” Byleth breathed in relief, fighting to calm his nerves after the sudden shock, “It’s only you. Sorry to jump like that, but you surprised me. I didn’t expect anyone to be out at this hour.”

When the other said nothing, Byleth shrugged, turning back to stare pointedly at the surface of the table. He folded his hands underneath his chin, leaning forward into them. Sylvain gave no indication of leaving nor joining Byleth, and the silence between the two began to drag out into something a bit uncomfortable.

Byleth studied the grain of the table, tracing the lines with his eyes.  “What are you doing out so late? It’s well past midnight, you won’t get enough sleep.” Byleth regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He sounded just like a professor, chiding his student. Sylvain didn’t need that, none of them did anymore. Mentor or not, they’d all done a lot of growing up since their time at the academy. He wasn’t a teacher to them any longer.

Still, Sylvain remained silent: instead taking a few loud steps forward. The fall of his boots on the old floor bounced noisily off the walls, warping until they sounded alien. He stopped at the end of the table, and Byleth saw him shrug out of the corner of his eye.

“Thought I’d wander around, see if anyone was still up.” There was an edge to Sylvain’s words, something rough and irritated, coated thinly with some emotion Byleth wasn’t attuned enough to make out. “Can’t say I’m disappointed with what I found.” His voice sounded raw and unlike any way Byleth had heard the boy speak before.

Byleth turned a mildly concerned look on him. Sylvain had propped himself casually against the table on one arm, his gaze turned towards the kitchens. His expression was cloudy and hard to read. Something was obviously bothering him, though. And he hadn’t been at the war council earlier.

“Are you doing alright, Sylvain?” Byleth tried.

Sylvain turned his gaze on Byleth suddenly, eyes piercing through the dark pointedly, boring into his. He seemed to consider something, the mental gears clicking in his head obvious on his face. Finally, he lifted his hand from the table, fingers lingering lightly on its surface, before letting it drop silently to his side.

Sylvain tilted forward as if he were going to moving closer, but at the last second, he altered his path: turning his back on Byleth and pacing towards the counters that lead to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you’re alright? It’s uncommon to see you out this late at night.” And more than that, Sylvain had been acting incredibly unlike himself from the moment he’d set foot in the mess hall. Something was amiss.

Byleth’s mind flashed momentarily to their spy problem, but he waved away the thought immediately. Sylvain was many things, but he was no spy. Despite how much of a jerk he could sometimes be, he was the most honest man Byleth had ever met. He respected him for that immensely.

“Why?” Byleth pressed again when Sylvain didn’t answer.

He shrugged. “No good reason.” He paused a moment, running his hand along one of the counters as he turned to face Byleth. “What about you? Didn’t expect to find you prowling around the mess hall, of all people.”

“Another late war council,” Byleth relented, unwilling to mask the small edge of frustration that entered his words. He knew Sylvain wouldn’t care, not if he was frustrated or upset or completely fed up with his duties. The man had never expected as much from him as the others: never needed him to be the end-all solution. Sylvain solved his own problems.

“Yeah, those suck,” Sylvain said with a small, bitter laugh. “Good thing I ditched tonight’s then.”

“I wish I could have,” Byleth answered honestly with an exasperated sigh.

Sylvain remained quiet, eyes intently focusing on the small circles he’d begun to draw with his hand on the surface of the kitchen counter. The silence that settled over them wasn’t quite as awkward as before, but there was an underlying tense air that Byleth couldn’t seem to shake.

“Hey professor, can I ask you something personal?” Sylvain broke the silence suddenly.

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever had your heart broken?” The way he said the words, as if they tasted bitter in his mouth, concerned the professor. They lacked sympathy or casualty, almost sounding like a demand rather than a simple question.

Sylvain pushed off from the counter, slowly drawing back towards the long table where Byleth sat, still enough he was hardly breathing.

Byleth was slow to answer. “That’s quite a bold question. But...no, I have not.” He turned his gaze up to Sylvain, who’d stopped to rest once again beside him at the end of the table. “Have you?”

“I lost the right to have my heart broken a long time ago,” Sylvain said, his voice a low gravel, biting with bitter irony. Byleth wasn’t quite sure he liked the way Sylvain was looking at him. There was something dark and primitive set deep in his eyes, far from the casual cheerfulness that usually occupied them.

It put Byleth on edge, although he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. When Sylvain spoke, it was as if the sharp edges of his words bled into his face, completely sapping it of its normally cheerful set. The professor had known Sylvain long enough now to know the boy often concealed pain, or grief, with a small smile and a few reassuring words. It was unlike him to be so openly negative.

Byleth rose steadily to his feet, watching Sylvain carefully.

“You’re pretty lucky then, you know. I know a lot of people with broken hearts,” Sylvain trailed silently around the edge of the table, inching closer to Byleth. The way he held himself, the unsettling tilt of his shoulders, was almost predatory. “Although, I suppose most of them were my fault, anyway.”

Byleth swallowed thickly at the dead silence that filled the room in the absence of Sylvain’s unsettling words.

“Not you though, no. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never even been in a relationship at all, have you?” He shook his head. “You’re odd that way. You’ve always been a bit strange though, professor.” The way Sylvain was looking at him now caused Byleth to shudder, eyeing him in a way that was no short of hungry.

The humidity clinging to the back of Byleth’s neck froze like ice on his skin as a chill traveled down his spine. He straightened, pulling away half a step. Sylvain was really starting to worry him. Byleth had never seen him behave like this.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Byleth voiced. “You seem...not yourself.”

“I suppose. Why wouldn’t I be?” There was pain in his words though.

“Really, Sylvain,” Byleth said carefully, “If anything’s bothering you at all, I’m always here to talk. You don’t need to suffer alone.”

Sylvain chuckled. “You’re too sharp for me, professor. Yeah, alright you got me. So maybe I got dumped tonight. So what? It’s not like I don’t burn through relationships like kindling. Besides, I’d been planning on ending things soon anyway.”

For a brief moment, the dark look left Sylvain’s eyes. But in a flash, it returned full force.

He took another step forward, fully entering Byleth’s personal space now. The tips of their boots were only a few or so apart, but Byleth couldn’t seem to drive himself to distance himself further.

“It’s whatever. Usually, I’m the one cutting people off though,” Sylvain mused casually. “She’s probably one of, what, maybe three or four girls that decided to be the one to end things. I guess I can respect her for that: at least I know she wasn’t dating me for my Crest.”

“Sylvain I...I’m sorry.”

Byleth felt a sharp pain in his chest. Sylvain was acting so strange because some girl had just broken up with him. Byleth vaguely remembered him saying something earlier this morning about plans to go out with a girl. It mustn't have ended very well, then.

But there was something else there as well, aside from the pain of sympathy, something incredibly confusing: relief. Which made no sense to him. It seemed almost a cruel reaction to Sylvain’s recent heartbreak. Although in all fairness, Byleth had never been very good at determining his own emotions, so he pushed the feeling aside.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Byleth tried hesitantly.

“Nah. No need to feel sorry for me either, I didn’t care about her that much. Not like I’ve got the luxury to fall in love anyway.” The skin at the back of Byleth’s neck prickled as Sylvain closed the distance between them, eyes heavy and dangerous. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to having a little fun,” Sylvain said lowly with an impish smile.

Byleth stiffened. He didn’t like the way Sylvain was raking his eyes up and down his body as if he were something to be devoured. He moved in closer until they were mere inches apart, a hand sliding forward onto the table just next to Byleth.

“You’re upset. That’s okay. But you’re acting irrationally.” Byleth said cooly. Obviously, Sylvain cared more than he was letting on, what other explanation was there? But he was really beginning to scare Byleth: a decently difficult feat to accomplish over the hardened mercenary.

“Nah. Not really,” Sylvain drawled thickly. “I’d wanted to break things off in the next week anyway, so it’s no skin off my back.”

Despite his mounting concern, Byleth couldn’t ignore the way each nerve in him seemed to fizzle just from being in such close proximity to Sylvain, nor the way the acids in his stomach churned pleasantly as if they were fluttering. At how close he was. At how he was looking at him, eyes full of obvious desire.

The back of Sylvain’s free hand carefully settled along Byleth’s jaw, and the professor didn’t remove it. Sylvain captured a loose strand of hair along the side of his face, twirling it through his fingers and tugging it gently so that it felt pleasant, not irritating or painful.

“Have I ever told you how much this new color suits you?” He marveled, gazing idly at the strand caught in his fingertips. “I have no idea what happened to make your hair and eyes change like that, but you really are beautiful this way.” The compliment came off as longing, almost desperate, his voice raw. “And your eyes...wow.”

Sylvain’s hand dropped, landing lightly at Byleth’s waist, deft fingers gently guiding him backward until he felt the small of his back press firmly against the edge of the table. Sylvain followed him swiftly, tilting forward so his hips were ever so gently pressing against Byleth’s, easily trapping him in place.

“Your eyes are something else entirely. They’re like tiny oceans. So deep, always brooding. I could stare into those eyes forever and never figure out what’s going on inside that head of yours,” Sylvain whispered fervently, “It drives me crazy.”

He leaned forward, eyes still locked on Byleth. So close now that their breaths mingled. Sylvain’s held the strong musk of pine and watered down cologne, accompanied by the subtle yet strong pull of alcohol. It didn’t seem to be enough so that Sylvain was inebriated, but enough that he was possibly a bit tipsy.

For some reason, the thought was calming. As if it gave Byleth a way to excuse the strange behavior.

Sylvain trailed his fingers lightly down Byleth’s cheek. He followed the movement of Sylvain’s hand with his eyes as it settled beneath his gaze, fingers resting softly under Byleth’s chin, angling it up slightly.

Byleth made no move to resist.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned, but I’ve always thought you were kind of cute, professor.” Sylvain smiled, but there was no humor in it. Just hunger. “Hmm. You said you’ve never been dumped, how lucky for you. I know at least half a dozen people that’d love to be in your shoes. So approachable, so desirable, yet completely untouched. Still, I find it puzzling, that something so pretty has never been broken.

“It’s unfair, really.” Sylvain’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Maybe I should be the one to break you.”

Smile still in place, Sylvain began to lean forward. Even for how dense Byleth was, Sylvain’s intentions were painfully clear at this point. But his mind was so hazy, drunk on the body pressed against him and subtly aroused, that Byleth nearly let Sylvain kiss him.

It took him up until the last second, when Sylvain’s lips had just grazed his own, that he pulled away. Managing to wiggle free of Sylvain’s grasp, Byleth turned and backed down the aisle. He could feel thick cracks beginning to take hold in the cool mask of his face, scraps of desperate emotion spilling through.

Bewilderment, frustration, surprise. Lust.

“Now where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?” Sylvain called after him sweetly.

Byleth swallowed thickly, steps gradually stalling to a stop. He felt as if a layer of ice had settled around him, freezing him to the spot.

Sylvain’s grin was smugly cat-like as he took several slow steps forward. His eyes shone glaringly in the dim light, challenging Byleth to move. To resist him. To deny that he wanted him. Sylvain approached him at a lazy gait, as if he knew full well Byleth was rooted to the spot.

“What’s the matter, teach?” Sylvain drawled with a smirk. “Really, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost look scared.”

Byleth hadn’t realized he’d been backing up until he felt the edge of a chair scrape the backs of his knees. He stumbled past it, nearly tripping backward in doing so, but Sylvain never wavered.

“Yeah, I know better by now than to think you’re good enough with your emotions to actually look afraid. You really are the image of calm and collected.” Sylvain chuckled bitterly, “You're even too dense to pick up on other people’s feelings. Or how they feel about you.” The words rang out bitterly in the empty space.

Byleth brushed up roughly against one of the faded stone pillars that scattered the hall, but he seemed to lack the energy to move out of its way. Backed up against a wall like this, watching Sylvain’s steady approach, he suddenly realized he should be putting a stop to this. He was -- had been -- Sylvain’s professor.

And...and he knew what the boy was like with women.

But a larger part of him wanted this, desired to see where this strange path led them. Longed to reach its conclusion, somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Like an incessant pull, drawing him towards Sylvain’s gravity.

Byleth, almost too easily, let Sylvain enter his personal space again. Even though the two were about the same height, Sylvain seemed to tower above him.

Pressing a forearm against the pillar above his right shoulder, Sylvain’s other hand gently grazed the back of Byleth’s. He pulled it away swiftly, a knee jerk reaction.

“Still?” Sylvain clicked his tongue. “What’s the matter, baby? Why do you keep fighting this?” He fell silent a beat, thinking. “Is it because we’re both men? Come now, professor, I thought you were better than that. Aren’t you even a little curious?”

Byleth forced his gaze away, opting to remain silent, snapping his mouth shut. He hadn’t even realized it had been open.

“Why resist it?” He purred, “I’ve seen the way you stare at guys around the monastery, hell, I’ve even caught you looking my way once or twice. You can’t deny it. All while remaining so obstinately ignorant towards your hoard of female admirers. Hmm, or maybe you were just being stubborn.” 

Byleth felt Sylvain’s hand catch the side of his face. He didn’t even need to press very hard: Byleth adjusted his gaze with the tiniest push from Sylvain. The redhead leaned closer, deep golden eyes burning up in the pale light.

“Why not have a little fun for once, Byleth?”

A shiver ran through him at the sound of his name on Sylvain’s lips. He wasn’t accustomed to hearing it much anymore: he was usually only addressed as ‘professor’. It felt good, personal, and Byleth could no longer withhold the complete look of longing that flooded his features.

The wolfish smile on Sylvain’s face broadened.

“Sylvain,” Byleth said quietly. He’d meant to sound strict, reprimanding. But instead, he’d come off as flustered and breathless.

“So stubborn,” Sylvain mused with a small laugh, beginning to play with a strand of hair tickling Byleth’s cheek. “In battle, in the classroom, in conversation...you just never know when to give in, do you? Why not just let up for once?” Sylvain was so close now, the smell of earth and pine once again filling Byleth’s airways. “You know you want me.”

Sylvain’s hand trailed tortuously slow down the side of his face, cupping his jaw and meeting no resistance as he pulled Byleth towards him. Half-heartedly, he tried to turn away, but Sylvain’s grip tightened, making it impossible.

“Really, love, you have nothing to worry about. I’ve had more than enough practice, on both genders,” he added quietly, “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

Wrong wrong wrong, this is wrong , Byleth rang out in his head, over and over. This was not how he had pictured this conversation ending at all. He was Sylvain’s mentor, leader of the church of Seiros. Everyone was depending on him, he should be focused, should be the one trying to set an example here.

Then why was there such intense heat behind his cheeks? His head so light and his vision so fuzzy? Why did his insides churn and flutter as if they were caging some angry bird? And for someone supposedly lacking much of a heartbeat, he felt as if the organ were rocketing around inside him as if it meant to free itself.

It wasn’t as if the sensation were unfamiliar, particularly when he was in Sylvain’s company. Although it had never been quite so intense. And before, Byleth hadn’t known where to place the emotion, although its source was undeniable now as total, undeniable attraction.

“Nothing more to say, then?” Sylvain chirped, voice mocking. He knew full well how tongue-tied he’d left Byleth. “No, I suppose not. You’ve always been the quiet type. That’s ok, you don’t need to say anything.”

This time when Sylvain leaned in, Byleth didn’t make any attempt to push him off.

But almost as soon as he felt the soft brush of Sylvain’s lips against his own, eyes fluttering shut, the warm body around him was pulled harshly away. Suddenly, Sylvain had disappeared from around him, leaving Byleth feeling cold.

Blinking his eyes open slowly, mind still hazy, Byleth turned a softly questioning look on Sylvain, who was slowly backing away. The man was nearly bent over himself, face distraught and ridden with intense guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, voice cracking, any hint of danger, of desire completely washed away, “Fuck, Byleth, I’m so sorry. Oh goddess, what was I doing? Shit, I shouldn’t have--what was I even thinking? Professor, I’m so so sorry. I’m despicable.”

“Sylvain--” Byleth began softly, taking several small steps forward.

Sylvain stumbled back, shaking his head fervently. “No, no don’t say anything. I know, I--I’ll leave. I’m so sorry Byleth, I just--shit. I’ll go.” Sylvain turned sharply on his heel, tripping on a chair in his hurry to leave.

“Sylvain!” Byleth called out, wasting no time in running after him. “Sylvain, wait.” Sylvain didn’t stop, ignoring Byleth’s pleas as he roughly pushed aside a chair.

Steadily increasing his speed, Byleth fell into a light jog, just barely catching up to Sylvain as he exited the row of tables. He caught him by the arm, the fabric of Sylvain’s uniform folding under his grip. Finally, he stopped, but still didn’t turn to face Byleth.

Sylvain let out a small, withering sigh.

“I’m sorry, by the goddess, I’m so sorry professor,” Sylvain said, sounding much more like his normal self. “I have no idea what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I...was kind of feeling down on myself, and when I saw you here, all alone something--I dunno something just came over me , but--no, that’s not an excuse. I’m such a sleazebag. Just...let me go, you’ll never have to see my face again, I swear.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Byleth responded cooly.

“Really,” Sylvain punctuated with a bitter laugh, “It’s alright. You probably hate my guts. I never should have come onto you like that.”

“Sylvain, I don’t hate you.” Byleth’s face softened.

With another long, heavy sigh, Sylvain finally turned in Byleth’s grip to face him. His eyes were glassy, and vaguely reminded Byleth of a kicked puppy. It made something deep inside of him ache. “I would never hate you,” he repeated.

Sylvain tugged against Byleth’s hold, and he released him easily.

“No, really, I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Sylvain said with another bitter laugh, “I’m complete scum. The worst kind of human being. And apparently, I can’t go two seconds being single without trying to hit on the next person I see, it's abhorrent.”

“Sylvain, I’m sure that’s not--”

“Don’t lie to me professor, you’ve been around me long enough by now to know how I handle relationships. I don’t. Not well, anyway. I like...I guess I like the feeling of being together, with someone, like that. But whenever it gets to be too much, or if we get too close, I freak out and pull away. But I’m so insecure, it’s like I can’t stand being alone, so I just move on to the next poor person.”

Byleth remained silent, giving Sylvain a chance to breathe. He raked a hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut tight as a look of anguish crossed his face. “And I’d always...always told myself never with you. To not ever go after you that way, because I didn’t wanna ruin--argh, just...I’d get it if you wanted nothing more to do with me after tonight.”

“That’s not true.”

“No? I...Byleth I tried to kiss you. I pressured you, I’m horrible.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.” Sylvain tried to interrupt him again, but Byleth kept talking over him, “Really. I mean, you can be kind of a jerk sometimes.”

“Exactly. See, I told you, I’m no good to be around.”

“Sylvain, please just listen to me. That doesn’t mean that I don’t--”

“By the goddess, I can’t even stand myself. How could I possibly ask you to tolerate me, when I can’t even...” Sylvain trailed off suddenly, “What are you--”

He didn’t have the chance to finish. In one swift movement, Byleth closed the distance between them, hands reaching up to cup Sylvain’s face as he drew him into a long, gentle kiss. He stiffened at first, surprised, but it took only a few moments before he’d easily molded into the kiss.

Sylvain’s lips were warm and surprisingly soft. It was as if they fit perfectly against Byleth’s, and he had to admit he’d never had a more pleasant reaction to anything in his life. He slid a hand easily around the nape of Sylvain’s neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Sylvain stepped in closer, eliminating any remaining space between them.

A moment later, Byleth felt a hand hesitantly linger at the cuff of his shoulder, hovering uncertainly. He wrapped his own over it, securing it there with a light squeeze. When Byleth gently removed his hand, Sylvain’s stayed firmly in place, fingers gripping tightly and bunching up the fabric of his uniform.

Byleth had never been with anyone before, not like this anyway. He hoped he was doing a good job: Sathos knew, Sylvain had more than a wealth of experience with partners Byleth was sure were much more practiced than he.

Oh, Byleth could only just imagine Sathos laughing her head off at the state of him: cheeks flushed red, mouth parted open wantingly, breaths ragged, and skin littered with raised goose flesh. It seemed that wherever Sylvain’s carefully roving hands seemed to touch him, electricity crackled and sparked just beneath the skin, causing him to shiver. Byleth broke down like clay wherever he touched him.

Perhaps that was one perk of her not occupying his head any longer: that definitely would have been a mood killer.

He barely withheld a soft whimper as Sylvain pulled away slowly. His eyes were unfocused and hazy in a way that Byleth had never seen them before. All he could seem to do was hold his wonder-filled gaze on Byleth for a long moment.

“You...don’t mind?” His voice was low and rough when he spoke but still managed to sound softly surprised. “You’re not just doing this ‘cause you feel like you have to, or anything?”

Byleth shook his head, reaching out with his hand to gently stroke Sylvain’s cheek. The boy leaned into the touch, eyes sliding shut as some of the tension drained from his features. He still looked troubled: his eyes bewildered and his brow knit together.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d minded,” Byleth assured.

Sylvain chuckled dryly, unwinding some. “Well, that’s a relief. Still...how are you not, I dunno, disgusted by me? Repulsed to be with me? I was being such a stupid jackass earlier, how could you possibly desire someone like that?”

“You may be a jerk on occasion, but you’re not a bad person, Sylvain,” Byleth hummed.

Sylvain straightened, and when his eyes opened again they looked dewey. His hands slid down Byleth’s form, settling firmly along his waist. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Byleth nodded. “I’d have run off sooner than this if it wasn’t.”

“Alright then.” Some of his usual swagger seemed to enter Sylvain’s face again, his lips pulling into an impish grin. “If you’re really sure it’s alright…” He waited for Byleth to affirm with another nod, before continuing, his smile widening a fraction. “I’d like to make good on the promise I made earlier, pretty boy,” he said lowly.

“And what would that be?” Byleth smiled softly up at Sylvain.

“I’m gonna take good care of you.” Sylvain kissed him again, drawing it out into something slow and languid. He pressed himself firmly against Byleth, hands moving to rest at the small of his back, pulling him closer against him. All the hunger, the desire, the raw lust Sylvain had shown earlier never left, but it was all wound up with a soft tenderness that hadn’t existed before.

This time, Byleth had to be the one to pull away.

“Sorry,” Byleth wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I just need a moment to breathe.”

“Whatever you need, baby,” Sylvain grinned. Byleth was a mess, yet Sylvain wasn’t even panting. A fact he seemed to be smiling smugly about.

“I suppose I’m not as experienced as you, I’ll need some time to catch up.”

“Mmm,” Sylvain hummed, “You know, I break off relationships like, after a week, right?”

“Well then,” Byleth said. Finally catching his breath, he pressed a chaste kiss against Sylvain’s cheek. “We better make this week well worth it.” Byleth’s arms snaked up Sylvain’s shoulders, tangling loosely around his neck, pulling him closer. “Though I have a strange feeling, that won’t be the case this time.”

“Oh really, aren’t you confident.” Sylvain grinned impishly, pressing his forehead softly to Byleth’s.

“Don’t think all those times you saw me ‘staring’, I didn’t catch you doing the same right back.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Guess you’ve got me there. You really are too smart for me.” He shook his head, “But who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one that turns me good.”

“We’ll just have to see,” Byleth hummed contentedly, wrapping Sylvain in another gentle kiss.