[paris] friends don't. [tag; sylvain]

What the… Sylvain looked at Lyra, feeling unable to say a lot. He watched her gestures, noticed her discomfort and while he'd have liked to pull her into a hug had she not spoken, he felt like disapparating right from the balcony as he listened to what she had to say.

This was beyond complicated. He knew drama, knew plays with unrequited love, forbidden love, suicide as a consequence of unhappy love but in the plays it was different. There was some kind of beauty and dignity in the breakdown of the characters in a play. In this situation there was nothing beautiful. It was just torture to listen to Lyra, to see her struggle and struggling himself more than he had ever deemed possible.

Why did Lyra have so much power over him? Why could she make him have feelings so intense and inscrutable? He stared at her, his mouth slightly ajar, his eyes wide as he listened to a seemingly incessant flood of words. It felt to him that none of Lyra's sentences were complete. She burst out with things but it felt like she did not really say everything that was on her mind anyway. It was confusing and irritating.

Then she said that she had thought they could start over and for a brief moment there was some hope reflected in Sylvain's eyes. He could not object when she said that she was acting like a crazy person because, quite frankly, the young wizard felt like she was acting pretty crazy indeed.

“You don't know how you feel about me,” Sylvain echoed quietly. He could actually say the same. He knew he adored her, he wanted to be with her but she was the most frustrating person he had ever encountered and he wasn't quite sure that he was up to the task of dealing with her.

Nonetheless, he felt like it was all or nothing, now or never as she asked him to finish his earlier sentence. “Oh ugh...” he began, still unsure if it made any sense to talk to her now that she was so agitated. However, they needed to talk this through, they needed to find out if they could keep living under the same roof or if they had to part ways. It wasn't good for either of them to drag this out any longer. They were both suffering and he now knew that.

Taking a deep breath he looked at her, bracing himself for what he needed to say. He had a lot on his mind, some of his earlier thoughts and feelings now being kinda foggy because of what Lyra had said though. He wasn't usually a brave guy; not when he was properly himself anyway. He could act of course and play the role of a braver and bolder version of himself. If things went badly he'd have to move out either way so it didn't really matter too much or so he at least reassured himself.

“I thought that maybe the shared flat would bring us closer together. I didn't want you to feel pressured though and so I kept my distance. I felt that things would sort themselves out if they were meant to be…” He paused, exhaling loudly. He knew he was failing at playing a confident version of himself now.

“Lyra, don't you understand that I played this role in front of Anne to make you get the flat of your dreams because I want you to be happy?” he lifted his hands into the air in a desperate gesture and let them sink down again a second later. “This place is lovely but the real reason why I played the role was never because of this flat but because of you...” He wasn't sure if he had said too much now or not enough yet. Nervously he ran his hand through his hair, messing it up some more. “Listen, I can move out tonight, I don't mind. If my presence doesn't feel good to you I'll go. If you…” he took a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “If you want to start over, if you want to give us a chance though, I'm here. I won't ever leave you unless you want me to.”

You don't know how you feel about me he'd said. Terrified of making a bad situation worse, she simply shook her head. Anxious, she began to bite on her lower lip as she tried to sort out the mess her head was in. She did know that she liked him. Sylvain was warm, funny, soft, smart and supportive. But he didn't really understand her. That much was evident when he offered to get her a job in the Ministry when she graduated. It was a sweet gesture but it just didn't fit her and she'd been upset that he hadn't noticed.

Sylvain was a fundamentally good guy. He didn't do anything wrong. He paid his bills, he went to work on time, he was well-read, they just...didn't like the same things. He'd know if Lyra was lying, he was an odd sort of sixth sense about it. She'd lied when she said she'd liked the Magic Flute. It was basically an opera for children and she still couldn't get her head around it. All of these little, unimportant things began to snowball into something huge.

Lyra wiped her nose with her  napkin as she set it on her lap, suddenly losing her appetite for the enchiladas. She nodded to show that she understood because she did. If they hadn't gotten the flat, there was a high chance that they'd never see each other again. Paris was a big city so the chances of them meeting in a bar seemed slim to none. "I'm sorry," Lyra whispered. They'd both moved here without friends or family and they didn't have anyone else. Maybe she'd simply held onto Sylvain too tightly.

"If you love something, set it go," she blurted out, mixing her metaphors. She hadn't let Sylvain go, she'd basically abandoned him in the atrium after that kiss. But then she stopped.

"Wait, what?" Lyra said sharply, her head jerking upwards as her bright blue eyes widened in surprise. He did this for her. "You --" she folded her lips together in a thin line as she  tread delicately. "You didn't really want to live with me? You just did that so I'd get what I wanted?" She was touched and flattered but also annoyed. She shifted in her seat as she picked up her wine glass and drained the contents.

Sylvain mentioned a role and something sparked inside of her. He'd said that, several times. He was playing a role because of two things - firstly, he was a pathological liar or secondly, he was unable to deal with his emotions like a normal person. "Why don't you play the role of yourself sometime?" Lyra asked him, her tone accidentally sharp.  She felt like she'd been lied to. Yes, maybe she was hard to keep up with and she confused him at times but he was hiding behind a character. Had he ever really, truly been honest with her?

He'd been playing a part when they kissed. She had too, to a certain extent. But she wasn't pretending when she'd been the one to close the gap. Lyra's stomach turned as nausea washed over her, causing her to push her barely touched dinner away from her. Stupid girl, she scolded herself.  This was the problem. Things were lost in translation. Sylvain's head was in the clouds and he relied on imaginary people to get his point across. Who was she talking to this evening? Romeo or Macbeth?

She watched his hand card through his hair and she quickly looked away. It looked soft and she folded her hand in her lap to quell the urge to reach out to him. Him moving out was not an option. Contrary to what she'd said previously, Lyra didn't like being alone. She found comfort in the sound of him showering in the morning and seeing his books open, knowing he'd been there. He hummed when he was distracted and needed to focus. Sylvain sometimes talked in his sleep. She'd heard him once through the crack in his bedroom door. Lyra has used his shower gel once, just to see how it would feel if she got close enough to actually have his scent cling to her clothing. Him leaving her was not happening.

"I don't want that," she said softly but clearly about him moving out as she nervously clenched and unclenched her fists. She needed clarification but she was frightened in case "starting over" meant as friends, not lovers. But she did want a fresh start. She wanted to prove to him that she wasn't insane, that she could have a conversation and share the sofa with him without running away. It was totally fine. She could do this.

Gingerly, she reached out across the table. Wordlessly, she slipped her fingers into his and marvelled at how warm they were, squeezing gently as she nodded. Lyra had a big lump in her throat. Sylvain's words were heartbreakingly romantic and exactly what she'd longed to hear for almost three years now. He wouldn't leave her unless she made him. "Okay," she finally admitted with a shaky laugh. "Let's do it."

No, she didn't understanding what he had just said. Why did the things he said never get through to her unfiltered? It was as though she was twisting his words to make them look like he was actually doing something wrong. After all though, he just wanted to do what was best for her. He couldn't see how that was a bad thing.

“No,” he said, feeling exhausted. “You got me wrong. I did not say that I didn't want to live with you. I just…” his voice trailed off as he tried to work out how to make her understand him. “I saw how much you wanted the flat so I wanted to make it possible for you. Because it mattered to you.” He felt that he still didn't articulate himself precisely enough for her to get what he meant.

He looked down as she asked him why he didn't play the role of himself sometime. She was right, of course. However, this was clearly not the direction he had intended for their conversation. He couldn't be himself because he was a weak and vulnerable young man and Lyra would clearly destroy him, willingly or not, if he was his real self. He couldn't allow her to gain even more power over him.

Somehow he felt like a moth that was attracted to the flame. He knew that if she didn't send him away he'd never leave her side, he'd always hope and yet feel hopeless. It was tough. He wanted her to accept him and yet he was afraid of letting her any closer than she already was. He wondered if he could be happy if he moved out and tried to live a life which didn't include her.

Had it been fate that they'd seen each other again the day when they had both been looking for a place to live? Somehow it had felt like it. Sylvain had felt like this was the right way to go. She'd get the flat of her dreams and he'd get to spend time with her. However, they had basically avoided each other. They both had felt awkward. He now knew it for sure. It hadn't been solely him. She hadn't got to enjoy the flat of her dreams because he was there, too.

“You do not?” Sylvain asked, looking up and feeling quite surprised. He had already seen himself pack his things and spend the night below one of the bridges of Paris. It would have been like a scene taken from a play, tragic, romantic… He knew he would have pulled his role off well. He did well when it came to playing a rejected lover. It was as though such roles were made for him. Now, however, there was a hint of hope flaring up inside of him.

As she reached across the table and took his hand, Sylvain's expression softened. He felt the warmth of the touch and it felt good, soothing. She wanted to start over? Did he really hear this right? Was this actually happening? An incredulous and happy smile spread across his face. He was lost for anything to say. She wanted to be with him?! After all this time he'd get a proper chance with her?!

He laughed shakily, feeling entirely overwhelmed with his own true feelings now. “Do you really mean it?” he asked tentatively, almost fearing that Lyra would once again change her mind. “If you do, know that I'll try everything to make you happy.”

Oh, this whole thing was completely messed up. They both spoke the same language, so why was she unable to understand him? Lyra let out a short, frustrated sigh. Maybe she was doing this on purpose because she was scared. She'd never really had an actual boyfriend before. Just dates, a summer fling, nothing serious. Sylvain scared her. It seemed silly but that was all she could think of that would explain how mental she'd been lately.

She watched Sylvain carefully, nodding at the appropriate moments. He'd wanted her to get the flat. He'd pretended to be her fiancee so she could secure the flat. But he'd stayed. Was he into some masochistic stuff? Or was he just method acting? "Oh," she added stupidly as the truth finally filtered in. Lyra hadn't wanted this conversation. She'd honestly thought that this would somehow just click back into place, like they had been in school, before all of the horrible stuff had happened.

"Of course I don't," she was quick to clarify, blinking quickly, irritated that out of everything, him moving out was the one thing he'd fixated on. "I'm pretty hard to deal with but I'm not going to kick you on the street," she admitted with the hint of a smile. Lyra had seen the seedy underbelly of Paris by night - Sylvain would last about twenty minutes.

But then he looked at her like he'd seen some sort of marvellous sunset and she blushed, the pad of her thumb running over the backs of his knuckles. Snorting with laughter, she rolled her eyes. "No," she told him sarcastically. "I'm only joking."

"I am happy," she insisted to Sylvain as she looked up at him. He was so close, she could still smell whatever cologne he was wearing. "But," she ventured unsurely. "I don't want you to play a role," Lyra told him, her full lips down turning into a frown. She knew the parts he played were for a reason, whether to protect himself or her. "I want to know all about you," she went on, her eyes wide. "Not Romeo, not Mr. Darcy, not Don Quixote," here, she offered him a grin. "Though I do like that," she admitted with a blush.

She sighed again, wanting to get this all out before she decided against it. "I want to go to that cafe at sunset with you. I want to introduce you to my parents. I want to make dinner with you. I want to do dumb couple stuff, like holding hands and doing one of those silly little love lock thingies on the Pont Des Arts." Here, she stopped to take a breath. "But I want to be with you," she admitted with another blush. "Sylvain, I want to be your girlfriend," she finally admitted, flicking her eyes up to his with an unsure smile.

She meant it. She really meant it.

Sylvain couldn't hide a huge stupid grin. He was overwhelmed by his feelings – Lyra did not want to kick him out of the flat; Lyra wanted to give them another chance.

When he had come home from work not so long ago he had not in his wildest dreams believed that he'd have to go through so many emotions tonight, had not even considered it a possibility that Lyra actually liked him. Since they had moved in together things had been so awkward and Sylvain had never been sure if it was his fault or hers or if they just didn't work together.

Lyra laughed and she looked so pretty when she did. While Sylvain still felt some insecurity he laughed with her anyway. Her laugh was infectious.

She insisted that she was happy and he was happy to hear it. His smile only faded a little when she said that that she didn't want him to play a role. All his roles were just some sort of precaution. He didn't know how to really be himself. Admittedly he had stopped trying a while ago when his family situation had been too painful. He had felt he could hide behind a role to protect himself, his real feelings. Besides he really had no clue how to charm a girl when he was his own pathetic self. He felt that almost any fictional character did a better job there. He wanted to feel these intense feelings described in the plays he knew and he thought that he could make them his if he slipped into such a role.

He smiled sheepishly now and turned his gaze down. “I can try it for you,” he said quietly. “It won't be easy though so, please, be patient with me.” Hopefully Lyra was aware that he didn't know how to be himself, that he didn't really know who he was.

As she went on, telling him what she wanted he looked up at her again, his eyes widened and his lips formed a happy smile. As she said that she wanted to be his girlfriend his mouth opened but he couldn't think of anything to say for several seconds. It felt as though, finally, after all this time, Lyra was actually willing to be with him. All their struggles paid off. She wanted to be his girlfriend. They'd be a couple.

'Don't play a role now', Sylvain told himself as he tried to think of a reaction that was solely his.

“And I want to be your boyfriend,” he whispered. “Oh Lyra, I want to do all these things and many more with you. With you by my side I feel I can do anything, even be myself.” He let out a nervous laugh.

The table was in his way. He did not want to let go of her hand but still got to his feel to get to her side of the table. Gently he pulled her up, ran his hand through her hair. “You just made me so happy,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

They had kissed before but this time was the first that they both wanted it. He closed his eyes, finally not worried that she'd push him away. His hand ran down her back to pull her closer to him. It was a perfect moment and Sylvain didn't want it to ever end again.

[out]

Everything felt like it was hanging on a knife edge. Lyra changed her mind several times a day about several kinds of things so it made sense if Sylvain might want to change his. She couldn't blame him, she hadn't presented herself in the most alluring light. Instead, she smiled and gave a shrug. "I've got nothing but time," she admitted with a nod. He wanted her to be patient, she could do that. It'd been three years already, a little more time wouldn't hurt either of them.

It seemed strange that they'd known each other for years but they didn't really know each other. It was silly but knowing trivial things about him seemed incredibly important. After all, wasn't it the little things that counted? She wanted to know how he took his coffee or where his favourite place was or what scared him or what sorts of movies he liked - she wanted to know everything but it came with a risk. If they got close, she'd never be able to escape him but if that was her fate, was it really so bad?

"You do?"

The words were out before she could realise it made her feel stupid. Instead, she offered him a wide and dimpled grin, just about containing the urge to fist pump. Blushing, she let Sylvain come to her and when asked to, she stood up.

She stepped into his body, her hands resting on his forearms as she grinned up at him, a delicate shiver running down her spine as he stroked her hair. Swiftly, she was on her tiptoes as she kissed him back, her grip on his arms increasing, partly to keep her balance but mostly to make sure this was actually happening. Her fingers carefully crept up his arms to his shoulders where she laid her palms flat, accidentally letting out a giggle as Sylvain almost picked her up.

"You made me happy too," she whispered between kisses, her hands on the back of her neck as they touched the spot where his hair met it and all she could think was I'm allowed to touch him like this now! Lyra slid her hands down Sylvain's back, stepping into his space again to force him backwards a little, past the long forgotten enchiladas (she could reheat them) and towards the sofa.


[done!]