Chapter Text
Yesterday smelled like hope; fresh air and leaves and sunlight. Today…
Today smells like burnt sugar.
It starts when you wake up next to Isabeau, looking at the clocktower ceiling. You really shouldn’t have slept here, but your family was too tired to leave Dormont yesterday, and the tower's easy, and everyone’s non-castle-crawling items are still strewn about the dusty floor. You reassured them that it’d be fine — anyway, the loops began in the southern field, so you really did think you wouldn’t panic. You were wrong. You slept fitfully. When you wake up, there are tears crusting your eyelashes. Not wanting to have a meltdown in company, you sneak out while everyone else is still asleep to do some predawn fishing. You don't manage to take a deep breath until you finally catch something.
By the time your family finds you, you're… fine. And you’ve caught breakfast, to boot. After a peaceful (or just quiet) meal of fish and rice, everyone sets off, heading north and out of town. You trail behind the group, preferring not to lead. Mirabelle can see well enough — better than you, surely. Yesterday, you'd been too exhausted to really keep track of her travel plans. Now, in your wish-tired mind, you barely have enough brain power to keep the emotional impact of the last year from hitting you. You'll cry later, maybe. Until then, you can only walk. Every once in a while, when you stub your toe on a rock or have to sneeze, the memories clouding your vision clear and let you see the scene in front of you. It's a bright day. The darkless fields outside of Dormont are full of fat little birds, hunting bugs in the windswept grass. The path itself is gravelly, occasionally cobbled, and always uneven. It's nice to be forced to pay attention sometimes.
Ahead of you, the other adults talk while Bonnie dutifully supplies them with a steady flow of gorp. Something about Bambouche, and inns… does it matter?
Yes. You only get one chance to listen, now. You focus on what Odile is saying. "Mistralville is farther from Dormont than our first choice. It's going to be hard on my poor old woman joints if we go there today."
"I know." Mirabelle pats Odile's back apologetically. "But it's only a few kilometers longer! And there's that big market, right?"
The older woman grumbles. "…We do need more food..."
Bonnie pipes up, loud as ever. "I HAVE FOOD! I have a million foods! 'Dile can rest her old lady joins—"
"Joints," corrects Odile,
"—joints at the closer one! See, I'm so smart." The kid bounces along in their clunky boots, teeth glinting through their smile. You avert your gaze from them, fixing your eye on the ground instead.
"Mhm, mhm!" Isabeau's voice is as warm as it's ever been. "But we don't want your culinary genius to be wasted on such a limited supply. Think of all the totally epic ingredients you might get to use!"
"And CONDIMENTS!" Bonnie roars.
You could say it'd be…
"That'd be awesome sauce, Bonbon." His bubbling laugh and the chorus of groans that follow is enough to break your frown, for a moment. You glance up to find that he's looking straight at you, his eyebrows raised hopefully.
You blush and look back down. You miss your hat.
Your family spends a few more minutes talking about routing before the conversation breaks down into games and gossip. As soon as things derail, Isabeau falls back, taking his place at your right side. You thought he had been loud in the House, but walking next to him on the gravel, you could mistake his footsteps for a bull's. It feels good to be reminded that you're not in the loops.
Isabeau breaks the window of your mind palace and climbs inside. "Heyyyy, Sif! Enjoying the scenery? You look so, uh, peaceful back here."
You look around. When did it get so flowery? "Yes, the scenery. It's nice. I'm so zen," you say flatly.
He chuckles, earrings swinging with the bob of his head. "Haha, yeah, yeah. I'll be more direct. Are you okay? You've been staring into space and making faces this whole time."
"Um- what?" You blink, taking an inventory of how you feel. Are you okay? "I'm… good? I'm good. I can't wait to sleep later."
The man smiles fondly at you. The sun must be making your skin extra warm right now. "Good ol' Sif, always looking forward to the next nap. I'm glad you're doing well."
You nod, and the two of you fall in step for a while. A smile plays at the corner of your mouth. You got your wish. For now, at least until… well, for now, everyone's together. Hm.
"How long until we get to Bambouche?" You look up at Isabeau.
He shrugs. "Mira says a week, now that the sadnesses are gone. Don't worry! We'll have time to rest and stuff."
Only a week? Your brow furrows. "What happens when we get there? Where do we go next? Do we-"
"Whoa, whoa, Sif, buddy. It's okay." Isabeau puts his hands up, offering a comforting smile. "Well, Bonbon's sister has to let us know whether they can stick with us on more adventures. Hopefully they can, and then we'll figure out what to do next. Together! As a family."
You hide your mouth in the high collar of your cloak, peering up at him doubtfully through your hair. "What if they can't? Or something happens?"
His hand hovers over your shoulder. Just touch me. It lands, and you relax. "Aw, it's okay. Maybe we can stay in Bambouche for a while- and we'll always use that port when we go other places."
You think of leaving Odile behind in Ka Bue. Stars. Your face sours.
"Siffrin… You don't have to worry. I'll stay with you for as long as you need."
You breathe in, and out. Isabeau wouldn't leave you. He loves you, so he won't. You reach for his hand on your shoulder, interlacing your fingers and holding on. He blushes, and his eyes snap straight ahead.
You take some time with him to calm down. After enough awkward hand-holding has passed, the two of you jog to catch up with the rest of your family, still engaged in their pleasant conversation. You try to stay with the group for the time you have. You play with Bonnie, let Mirabelle rant about her books… Everyone is talking about things you could have guessed. Still, it's spontaneous- sentences and jokes and laughs you haven't heard before are a balm to your soul. Walking is painfully slow, but it buys you precious time with your family, so you make sure to drag your feet.
Your family was quick to rent rooms and settle down after a day that must have been exhausting for them. Save for last night, you haven't had meaningful sleep in a year. Walking is just as restful to you- nice and slow and easy. Still, you find yourself collapsing into a surprisingly comfortable bed, watching Isabeau change his dangly earrings for studs by lamplight. You suddenly realize you've never really had privacy with him. Alone in this timeless room, he's… quieter, softer, more relaxed — or maybe he's anxious in a way you just haven't seen. For some reason, you feel vulnerable. You turn your eye to the ceiling and stare intently at the rafters.
Moments pass and your weight shifts as he lays down next to you, pulling a thick blanket over himself. He offers you half to sleep under. You shake your head- you're not ready. You figure he's as drained as everyone else, so you just turn over, bundling up in your cloak and trying to put your mind to rest. You try not to think about the sick nightmares you'll have, or how restless you really are, or-
He shifts. "Hey… hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffa-"
No! You turn over quickly. Whatever he has to say, he's saying it. Tonight. "What?"
"Oh- uh, hey, Sif. Are you okay?" He looks a little startled. Stars. You already messed it up.
You take a deep breath in, and out. "Yeah. Sorry. Is there something you wanna tell me?"
He grips the blanket tighter, sort of curling in on himself. "Well, yeah- um, there was, but I think it's stupid, actually. It's a bad time." He yawns, like a dog does when it's nervous. "I'd rather know how you're doing. I know the last couple days, uh…"
You frown.
"Oh, yeah. Heh. You must have been in there for weeks…" His bashfulness melts into shame. Nobody wanted to know about the loops, yesterday — you can tell they still don't. His gaze returns to you. Quietly, he asks, "…How long were you looping?"
You feel like you're a cloth doll, and somebody poured lead beads into all your limbs and made you weigh a thousand pounds. "A year, I think. I lost count."
A silence heavier than you settles over the room. Isabeau reaches out toward your limp hand. He stops short, probably trying not to spook you. You remember when your family compared you to a wild animal — too skittish to approach directly.
"Can you just touch me?"
Again, he looks startled. He takes your hand anyway. "Um, yeah. I can do that."
Your fingers curl around his, and you take another deep breath. "It's just- in the loops, you kept almost touching me, but you always stopped. I know I flinch, and I'm sorry about that, I just… it doesn't mean it's not okay. I'm telling you now that it's okay. I want you to."
"Okay. I will." He can't hide his blush, but he's not grinning, either. "Is, um… is that why you kissed me? Because I wouldn't touch you? And you wanted me to? And I was doing it over and over again and driving you crazy?"
You hide your face in your pillow. Stars, you hate yourself for that. "…Yeah, basically. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
"Aw, buddy, it's okay." It really, really isn't. "I don't even remember! So I basically wasn't there, right? No problemo."
….Is it okay? If he wasn't there — if timeloop Isabeau was just a shell, a character in a play, his whole being restricted to the moment the curtains closed — then maybe it's fine. Maybe you really didn't do anything wrong. If he's already let it go, then maybe you should too. Tentatively, you nod.
He clears his throat. "And, uh, speaking of that…"
You quirk an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. "Were you going to ask to kiss me?"
"Well, I—" He suddenly looks very nervous. Why is he nervous? He knows you know he loves you. "—I mean, yeah, but that's okay, right? We talked about it! Practice!"
The shift in the conversation's tone almost gives you whiplash. He was right, this is a bad time. You offer him a smile. "Yeah, practice. I mean…"
You pull the blanket over yourself, getting under with him. His blush darkens and he freezes up. "Wait- so- yes? Yes?"
You tilt your head back, looking him in the eye. "Can you just kiss me?"
Isabeau doesn't hesitate to slide his arms around you. Something about the way he holds you — kisses you — is reassuring, grounding. He never would have done this in the loops. He never wanted you enough to push past his nerves before, but he does now! It feels euphoric to be loved! It feels like he'll stay with you forever. You pull and press closer, opening like a flower after a long winter, letting his touch promise you that you will never be alone.
As long as he touches you, you will never be alone.