Chapter Text
Sylvain fiddled with the faulty dial of the A/C, praying to Sothis it would actually blow out cool this time and not just stale air as it had been for the past week, right in the heat of summer.
“Come on Lucy baby, you can do this.”
Petting the dusty dashboard rewarded him with a blast of cold on his feet. Sighing with relief, he pushed sticky red bangs from his forehead.
“Love you too babe,” he cooed at the car, savoring the welcome chill.
Tapping an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel, he waited at what had to be the longest red light in existence, the golfers across the road flashing streaks of sunlight with iron clubs swinging. Fuck. If this light didn’t turn soon he’d be late. Again. If he missed even a second of the finale, he was going to revolt.
He watched the golfers a while longer before his eyes roamed along the shimmering road, the treeline, and then lazily up into the rearview mirror—a habit he’d picked up during frequent multiple-car road trips with his friends.
He froze. There, through the windshield behind him: a pair of smoldering red-amber eyes, and the face of the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.
He stared into the tiny rectangle in fascination and watched the man quickly check his phone before looking up at the road with a scowl. (He seemed just as impatient as Sylvain was, and it made him grin at the thought). As if on cue to Sylvain’s smile, the man rolled his eyes, and Sylvain saw him let out a huff before pressing on his steering wheel. The next second he was jolted to reality by the loud honk of a horn.
Oh. The light was green and he’d just been idling dumbly in the road. He pressed the gas a bit harder than he usually would and his car shuddered forward, protesting by blowing warm air out of the vents.
“I thought you loved me,” he grumbled at his car, but was heartened when the car behind him followed in the same direction.
Sylvain took his time, not quite reaching the speed limit so he could continue observing the man through his mirror. Oh, he was definitely annoyed, mouth in a tight line and eyebrows close together as he was forced to drive below speed. Sylvain smirked and impulsively took his foot off the gas.
As his car slowed to a leisurely 20 miles an hour, he saw the man sigh and run his hand through his hair, catching in its tie and causing midnight strands to cascade over his shoulders. Lucy swerved dangerously, Sylvain struggling to keep his eyes fixed on the road as he took in the downright sensual scene behind him.
Another blast of the horn brought him back to his senses. Right. Places to be. He stopped screwing around, speeding up and watching the tension bleed from the man’s shoulders. A wave of disappointment flowed through him when he caught the signal blinking behind him, the slate gray Ford peeling away down a side road.
Just like that, he was gone.
There wasn’t time to lament over it now—only time to speed the remaining distance and squeal into the familiar driveway of Ingrid’s apartment. He checked the dash clock—1:58p.m. Perfect. Two minutes early.
He grabbed the champagne and family-sized bag of popcorn from his passenger seat, throwing himself from the car and giving Lucy a tender pat on her hood before rushing up the old brick steps, not bothering to knock as he barged in. Annette and Mercedes were already comfortably tucked onto the couch while Ingrid was flitting about her tiny kitchen, arranging crackers and cheese arbitrarily on a plate.
“About time!” she exclaimed, rolling up pieces of salami and sticking them in any available spaces, “we were just about to start. What took you?”
Sylvain reached around her, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth and giving Ingrid a half hug, the popcorn bag crunching between them.
“The red light of death had me in its clutches for a full two minutes, Ing. Also, the driver behind me was super gorgeous so I totally drove slow to watch him longer.”
Ingrid slapped away his reaching hand from the cheese and rolled her eyes.
“ Wow , Sylvain. You know, I shouldn’t be surprised by now, but somehow, I still am.”
Sylvain grinned cheekily. “I’m glad I can still surprise you after all these years, Ing.”
He followed her into the living room, popcorn bowl tucked under his arm, four glasses and the champagne bottle balanced precariously in his hands as he settled in the overstuffed armchair next to the couch. Annette managed to tear her excited gaze from the paused screen to greet him.
“Hi! What’s this about a cute guy?” she asked, leg bouncing.
“Not cute—gorgeous,” Sylvain said pointedly, setting the glasses on the coffee table before unwrapping the champagne foil.
“And you didn’t follow his car? That’s so unlike you, Sylvain,” Mercedes joked next to Annette.
Sylvain exhaled dramatically, removing the metal cage over the cork. “Um, I know, except he was behind me and not the other way around. Which is kinda hot, I don’t mind switching,” Sylvain added with a wink, making all three girls groan, Ingrid throwing a pillow at his head. “But he did turn off a side road kinda nearby, so who knows? Maybe he lives or works around here. Never seen him or his car before, and trust me, I’d remember him.”
The cork was worked out with a loud pop, Sylvain tipping the fizzy liquid into their glasses. He passed them around and held his glass up to the room.
“Cheers! To finales! And friendships. And hot boys! And girls! ...And Dedue and Ashe not being able to make this one so we have actual space for once.”
He ducked another pillow thrown by Ingrid, grinning as they all drank to his toast anyway. Ingrid leaned forward for the remote, and the room grew quiet as she pressed play. As it started, Sylvain snuck a glance at his friends: Ingrid staring unblinkingly at the intro screen as though she’d miss something in the credits, her hand a death grip around her champagne; Annette humming in increasing volume to the epic music; Mercedes’ eyes crinkled as she tapped in time to Annette’s humming, sipping her own drink.
Usually Dedue and Ashe joined too, making a comical sight as they’d try to squish with the girls on the couch, which always ended with at least two of them almost forced onto Dedue’s large lap (much to Ashe’s delight). His smile grew fond at the thought—he savored their weekly watch sessions immensely, glad that even through graduating and job switching they’d all managed to live close. It was honestly amazing that an actual positive outcome could stem from Sylvain’s negative past. Not now, he scolded himself, fingers rubbing subconsciously at the line on his palm.
Turning his attention back to the TV, he settled in for the much-anticipated finale.
☼☼☼
The screen faded to black and the room went silent, a sharp contrast to the duration of the episode which had them shouting at multiple points, and all crying from the major character death ten minutes before the end. Annette turned to look at them all, her giant blue eyes still brimming with tears.
“That was terrible. ”
Ingrid was nodding furiously, her glass empty beside her. “What were they thinking? That makes no sense! And what about the entire season four and five side plot?” Sylvain snorted, knowing Ingrid was only this upset because her favorite character died.
Mercedes only sighed in disappointment, finishing her glass of champagne and gently setting it on the table. Sylvain knew she was most heartbroken about the main male protagonist; she’d wanted him to take the mantle of king, and instead he left to basically live in exile.
“I personally loved the part where the guy that goes against the queen ends up deciding who wins, that was a nice, totally logical touch,” Sylvain added, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth to hide his disappointment. His favorite character had betrayed everyone, and while the character didn’t die at the end, Sylvain felt like his potential was thoroughly wasted.
They sat for a while longer in disbelieving silence, with one of them breaking it every so often with a random outburst about something else they hated so they could discuss in detail. Eventually, after two more in-depth debates and a half dozen exasperated sighs, Annette and Mercedes stood up, carrying their glasses to the sink and gathering their things.
“Thanks for having us, Ingrid! We had fun, aside from the terribleness that was this finale,” Annette sighed as she hugged her.
Mercedes giggled. “Well, now we have to decide on a new show. Whose turn is it?”
Sylvain cleared his throat as he slipped on his shoes. “Ahem, ladies, I believe that’s me. I haven’t picked one out quite yet, but trust me, by next week I’ll have a few options ready so we can get started.”
Ingrid paused from where she’d started washing out the glasses and gave him a look. “As long as you don’t choose anything… you know. You .”
Sylvain put on a look of mock offense. “Ingrid! How dare you insinuate something so awful. As a matter of fact I consider my show choices quite dignified and varied.”
Ingrid only rolled her eyes, flicking water from the sink at him. “Yeah, that was quite dignified, the day I came over and walked in on you binging Bachelor in Paradise—absolutely not!” she added, as Sylvain opened his mouth to ask if that could be considered an option.
He closed it and threw an arm around Mercedes in farewell, smiling over her shoulder at Ingrid.
“Fine, fine. Don’t worry, I’ll pick something good. Although I’m sure whatever I pick will top that ,” he mocked, ducking behind Mercedes as Ingrid looked for something else to chunk at him (This past show had been her suggestion, and Sylvain wouldn’t let her forget it).
They said their goodbyes and Sylvain slumped into the driver’s seat of his sky blue sedan, opening the window to allow the now cooler air to permeate the interior. As he drove home, his mind continued to assess the finale, imagining all the characters and their lame storyline endings. It was almost disheartening, he thought, that after so much investment and growth, so many of them ended up right back where they started. Like… like there was no point to their pain at all; no satisfying conclusions to their stories.
It hit a little too close to home. Faded leather pulled at his skin as he leaned back in his seat, lost in memory, winding Lucy along the darkening streets towards his apartment.
☼☼☼
Even with his eyes peeled —almost getting into numerous accidents and freaking out a good number of people who, from the back, could’ve been his guy—it took a full month before Sylvain spotted him again. And by him, he meant the familiar dark gray sedan with the familiar GDF plate (which he’d totally not memorized creepily or anything), sitting innocently a few spots down from where Sylvain had parked in front of the local market. Eyes lighting up, he scanned the rest of the parking lot for the driver, but it was empty.
It was a touch ridiculous how he all but sprinted into the store, snatching up a basket and roaming anxiously through the rows—not caring at all that he was basically stalking some random guy and had no idea what he’d even say to him if he found him. He passed the produce section close to the registers and heard Ashe’s familiar voice call from close by.
“Hey Sylv!”
His friend began to step over, retying the apron he was wearing behind him as he beamed. Sylvain raised a hand in greeting and walked forward, his eyes casually searching the cashier’s line. They widened when they landed on dark hair, pulled into a ponytail; a strong slender frame connected to strong slender fingers swiping a credit card through the reader; a face dour as they stared at the tiny screen.
“Sylvain! Watch it!” Ashe cried.
It was only when he heard the display of apples collapsing around him that he realized he'd walked right into it, rows of Granny Smiths tumbling and bouncing along the floor.
“Ah, fuck! Ashe I’m sorry,” he said, trying fruitlessly ( heh ) to stop any more from cascading down the pile and only making it worse.
Flushing, he risked a glance up and started when he saw the man staring directly his way, smirking as he watched apples roll in every direction. Sylvain grinned bashfully, rubbing at the back of his head in embarrassment.
“Sylvain?! A little help?” Ashe said desperately, flicking his eyes over to where Sylvain was looking. Sylvain forced himself to break eye contact and bent down, filling his empty basket with the apples until it was full. Ashe sighed as Sylvain passed it to him, defeatedly beginning to stack them back in order.
“I’d just finished with these,” he said, biting his freckled lip in annoyance as he tried to pile up a particularly dented one. He gave up and went to choose another, sifting through the basket as he spoke.
“What was that about?”
Sylvain handed him a better apple absentmindedly, turning back to see if the man was still there. He thought he caught a swish of hair passing through the automatic door, but it was hard to tell. Sighing, he turned to watch Ashe work.
“Hey, did you know that guy? I’ve never seen him here before.”
Ashe paused his fixing, looking up at Sylvain in mild surprise.
“The one at the register?”
“Yeah, him. I didn’t recognize him.”
Sylvain had worked here, along with a few of his friends, and recognized most regulars. But he’d never seen him here before— that he was sure of.
“Uhhh,” thought Ashe, tapping his chin. “Actually now that you mention it, I think I’ve seen him a few times, but only recently. I don’t think I saw him before last month—then again, I’m usually in the back or making arrangements, and I’m never in Fridays and Wednesdays anymore, so maybe he’s been coming in and I just haven't seen him.”
“Hmm,” Sylvain mused, his wheels turning. Today was Sunday, and Sylvain usually shopped on Sundays and he’s never been here. Or maybe he has and Sylvain never bumped into him, or they came at different times, or maybe—
“Uh, Sylvain? Are you even listening?”
“Huh?” He blinked down at Ashe, the other just rolling his eyes as he balanced the last apple on the stack.
“I asked, ” he emphasized, stepping back from the display and nodding in satisfaction, “Why do you want to know?”
“Oh!” Sylvain grinned. “Remember that guy I told you about, the one in the car? That was him.”
Sylvain had wasted no time the next week at Ingrid’s, telling both him and Dedue about his newfound car crush.
“That was him?!” Ashe’s mint eyes went wide as saucers, and Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. His expression quickly morphed into consideration.“Well. I can see why you’d be thinking about him I guess. He’s really cute.”
“As cute as Dedue?” Sylvain teased, and Ashe flushed darker than the red delicious apples nearby.
Sylvain left Ashe shortly after to do the weekly shopping he’d originally come here for (he’d almost forgotten entirely). He found himself drifting to the back, perusing the selection of hot foods prepared by Dedue, who he could just make out working behind the doors. Ashe and Dedue had really kept this place going, with Ashe as the florist, Dedue as their hot foods and produce line, and Mercedes in the bakery. The rest of them had helped out through the years, Sylvain finally leaving the deli and meat counter (to everyone’s relief, there were only so many sausage innuendo jokes a person could take) for a more degree-related job he’d nabbed after graduation. He had to admit, he missed working so close to his friends.
He paid for his groceries, waved a goodbye to Ashe, and headed into the parking lot. The spot where the Ford had been was now vacant. Not that Sylvain had randomly hoped that the mysterious man would be there waiting for him, eyes blazing, arms crossed as he leaned against his driver's side door and smirking slyly as Sylvain approached, or anything. But Sylvain felt heartened—even though the first time they’d made eye contact was while he knocked into a pile of apples—he’d at least been noticed. Seen. And next time, he was going to be ready.