start_again

Entry tags:

psl

[It's all over. And yet not, because they're going to continue traveling together. One thing ends and another begins and the world hasn't ended.

But however final that conversation with the Head Housemaiden had felt, it turns out that beginning and end are a lot less distinct than anticipated. It's not like they were gonna immediately take off on a new journey, after all. Especially not when the whole of Dormont is eager to celebrate with their heroes.

The End Of The World party has become a The World Didn't End party, as promised, and the shift in theme only seems to have amped up the energy of the festivities. Which is fair enough. Mirabelle, the Chosen One, has been mobbed nonstop by both grateful townsfolk and friends from the House, and she looks happy enough to see everyone safe and movie that a rescue isn't even warranted. Odile looks genuinely happy, deep in conversation with the librarian from the House. And it looks like Bonnie is making friends with some of the local kids, or at least enjoying the awe as they regale them with stories of their adventure.

It's good. Everyone is happy and full of life. It's just kind of...overwhelming? Siffrin wasn't exactly big on crowds even before the timelooping business, and it's been so long with just the same few faces repeating the same lines that this is all A Lot. Their general air of quiet mystery and exhaustion has kept most people from doing more than offering their thanks in passing, but Siffrin still feels drained regardless. It's so loud.

But he couldn't spoil the fun for everyone else. They deserve it after saving the whole country, and especially after dealing with all his nonsense. So he quietly slips away while they're all otherwise occupied. He doesn't intend to go far – the idea of not having his family nearby spikes anxious tightness in his chest, and he doubts that's gonna go away anytime soon – but just...around back of one of the buildings should be fine, right? He can peek around the side periodically to reassure himself with a glimpse of everyone. He just needs a wall to muffle the festivities somewhat.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Honestly? He thought he'd be partying a little harder than this. In the weeks, the final days leading up to their confrontation with the King, when he wasn't focused on the fact that they might all lose (and... die...), Isabeau figured he'd be living it up with the rowdiest of Dormont's citizens once their mission was complete. Joining Mirabelle on a tour to meet every single one of her friends from the House of Change. Carrying Bonnie on his shoulders and helping them distribute their clearly superior (their words) snacks to the kids in town in an attempt to make friends. Pounding a few drinks back with M'dame Odile, like they haven't been able to do in awhile. And while he has certainly still done some of that... his heart isn't as in it as he thought it would be.

He's emotionally intelligent enough to figure out why. The last two days were exhausting in ways no one could have possibly expected. Siffrin's sudden outburst and subsequent disappearance, almost losing them to being frozen in time, then almost losing them again to Craft sickness and their unconstrained desire just to... be with everyone. Meeting a... strangely familiar star person(?) and then just as quickly un-meeting them. Traversing a House filled with warping rooms and walls and walls bright hair...

It was so. Much. Fighting the King ended up being the easiest part of the journey? And though Isabeau is sure he has one hundred percent forgiven Siffrin for the things they'd said to him yesterday, he knows he's going to hear those words again someday. From his own memory, in the quiet moments between bed time and dozing off, when his confidence isn't so strong and distractions are few. And in the other quiet moments, he'll be beating himself up for not noticing sooner, for being so wrapped up in himself and his lovesickness that he didn't even realize Siffrin was struggling to tell him something, too.

So, he's been a little more subdued than normal. 80% boisterous instead of 110% boisterous. The townsfolk didn't even notice. His family did, and they all very much understood. In a quick break between facades, he eyes Siffrin slipping away behind the boulangerie, likely seeking out their own moment of peace amidst all the ruckus.

That sounds awesome, actually.

He taps his current party companion on the shoulder to let her know where the two of them are disappearing to, and Mirabelle shoos him off with an understanding nod. She's the best friend he could ever ask for, even if he could do without her knowing smile jumbling all his feelings up before he departs. This is just going to be a normal friends check in! A hang out with the fella! Siffrin asked him for space, romantically anyway, and Isabeau isn't going to screw that up within the same crabbing day.

Ducking behind the building, he spots Siffrin leaning against the wall. Near enough that they could probably peek their head around to check and make sure the party was still going well, if he had to guess. He raises a hand in greeting once he's close enough for them to potentially realize he's heading their way, picking up the pace once he's spotted.]

Hey, Sif. [He surveys the back of the boulangerie. To none of his surprise, it's just the two of them. Good.] Needed to get out of the spotlight for a minute, huh? Mind if I join you?

[Siffrin had positioned himself with his good eye toward the party, so he catches Isabeau coming around the corner out of their peripherals. It doesn't surprise them at all, honestly. And not because of any Isa-specific feelings. The whole party has been not very subtly keeping an eye on them since coming down from the House, hovering like parents monitoring a toddler.

Siffrin doesn't mind. There's a twinge of guilt in knowing that they're all worried about him, but also warmth. They just...care.

So it doesn't take much effort to flash Isabeau a brief, thin smile in return.]

I think Mira's got all the spotlight tonight. I'm more upstage in the ensemble.

[But they don't deny the (accurate) assumption, and give a little nod to the side as if to say have a seat. Or like...a patch of wall. Whatever.

Isabeau's relatively low energy isn't lost on them either. After everything, they think they know Isa pretty well, and they can tell the difference between 80% and 110%. It's been nagging at them all evening, but the middle of a party in front of a bunch of strangers didn't really feel like the time to say anything about it. Not that Siffrin is the best at feelings talks in general.

They want to be better, though. So after a beat of hesitation, they add:]

I thought you'd be happier.

[Siffrin is right about that. Tonight is more about Mirabelle than anyone else, and there are few joys quite like the one Isabeau felt when he saw the weight of the world finally lift itself from her shoulders. It's part of why he can't really be that down in the dumps about everything else that happened. In the grand scheme of things, his whole world just got quite a bit brighter.]

I mean, if we get to pick what part our stage-show-sonas are playing, I'd rather be in the costume and makeup department.

[After the last forty or so hours of heart-rending kerfuffle, it's nice to talk about complete nonsense with his best buddy again. So much has changed between the two of them in a wildly short amount of time... he's glad this, at least, is still the same. He helps himself to a comfy piece of wall next to Siffrin, and with a long whoosh of breath, he fully sags against it. Feels his shoulders unwind... and as Siffrin says that, they wind right back up.]

I... ["Am totally fine!" His instinctive response, his ready smile. Reliable old Isabeau, who is never bothered and is always eager to help. He catches it this time, hopefully fast enough that he managed to avoid disappointing Siffrin. Meeting their genuine attempt to check on him with one of his usual rebuffs would be the ultimate cruelty right now, he thinks. So he lets out a slow breath, catching that fond gaze of theirs with a grateful, if sheepish smile.]

I thought I would be, too.

[Changing bad habits is hard. Siffrin makes him want to. So... how does he even begin to explain everything he's feeling, when he's spent the last couple hours trying to pretend those feelings don't exist? He folds his arms across his chest, tapping his fingers in thought.]

I guess my brain decided now was a good time to start processing all the stuff that just happened to us. Terrible timing, right?

[He would much rather start processing tomorrow, when there isn't a sweet party happening.]

[The admission lodges a sizable lump right in their throat. It's fair enough, it's been a hell of a day even for the people that weren't trapped in a timeloop, of course all his friends are gonna be processing shit in their own time. But when the tentative conclusion they've all come to at the moment is "we're good", it seems terrifyingly possible that further reflection might change it to "actually nevermind, we're not good".

Ugh. Funny how he can rest easy in the comfort of knowing his friends care in one moment and then sweat over the possibility that they'll stop in the next. How long will it take for that unease to stop periodically rearing its head? Will it ever, or is this just a fundamental problem he'll be grappling with for the rest of his life? Stars, he hopes not. Quietly living with it has already proven to be disastrous, and constantly seeking reassurance will probably just drive everyone away eventually out of sheer irritation.

Doing it again. Siffrin bites back a sigh and tries to focus on Isabeau instead. A good friend wouldn't be dwelling on their own bullshit while someone is opening up to them.]

Maybe it's just the adrenaline finally wearing off? Or...

[A shadow of his usual stupid smirk crosses his face.]

...maybe your brain's just late to the party?

[Is it shitty to make jokes in a sincere moment. It feels maybe a little shitty. But making Isabeau laugh always feels good.]

[Silence settles between them as Siffrin mulls over his admission and Isabeau figures, yeah, that's fair. He did basically admit that all of today's events are just hitting him, and Siffrin was the catalyst for almost all of said events. As much as he would like to assure them that none of his current issues have anything to do with them... nothing good would come of trying to tell such a blatant lie. Everything he's processing right now has to do with them. Some of it bad. Most of it good, just also overwhelming.

Siffrin's voice trails off after a sincere attempt to guess what could be going on with him mentally, and it honestly sounds about right. But the way that tone tapers... The slight airy lilt to it, the pleased-with-himself sort of grin that spreads across his face... Oh yeah. They're gonna do it. Isabeau's heart races in anticipation, and instead of trying to engage with their first guess, he shuts the crab up. His reward is poetry itself, a pun so criminal that he would be legally authorized to arrest Siffrin, were he still a Defender. Siffrin's punishment will instead have to be Isabeau's abrupt and raucous laughter, loud enough that they might feel as though they'd never left the party.]

You did not just accuse my own brain of being fashionably late. You didn't! Sif!!

[That was spectacularly bad! He has to bend over to keep his laughter in check! He has to smack the wall behind him, just to let all that extra energy out somewhere! (That hurt a little!) He wipes an unfallen tear from his eye as his mirth subsides, taking in a great whoosh of breath.] Oh... oh, I think I needed that.

[Giggles continue to spill for a few seconds beyond as he reels it all back in, but something about being able to laugh in this moment truly is uplifting for him.]

[Ah, there we go. Isabeau's laugher is warming, chasing out the chill of Siffrin's anxieties and what-ifs. Their smirk softens into something more smile-like, but not entirely. They're not done yet, after all.]

You are the fashionable one.

[They are unrelenting. So it's a good thing Isabeau has terrible taste – at least in humor and romantic interests. He really is otherwise pretty damn stylish, as far as Siffrin can tell. People look at Isa when they're in towns. It's just objective fact that he's attractive.

(Siffrin almost wishes he weren't. It just makes it harder to sort out their feelings. How does one know the difference between romantic love and platonic love plus appreciation for an objectively good-looking, very likable person?)

Trying to keep his brain in the moment, lest his thoughts spiral off in some unpleasant direction, Siffrin absently twists his fingers. At least the gloves stop him from biting his nails instead. He nods.]

Well, you know where to find me whenever you need more excellent jokes.

[Hiding behind a boulangerie, apparently.]

[Just when he was starting to recover from the first pun, Siffrin hits him with the next and he's doubling over with laughter again. He is the fashionable one! That's like, his whole thing! It's sort of weird to think that Siffrin knows more about that than he remembers telling them? Isabeau really wants to quiz them on everything "he" ""discussed"" with them before, if only to try and clear out some of the haze in his mind, trying to wrap it around the concept of time being broken for a little while. But that's low on his priority list. Certainly lower than making sure Siffrin can at least end the night with a smile on his face, even if it's just another one of the tired ones he's showing Isabeau now.]

I can always count on you for a good laugh. After all...

[He looks up to the boulangerie behind them. Takes in the faint scent of rising dough, the owner most likely baking a fresh batch of bread for a party that clearly intends to last through the night. He nods resolutely. He knows just what to say.]

...Your puns are never half-baked.

[There! He can do the funnyjokesthing, too! And he can also laugh at his own jokes, because he is kind of pathetic in that way. Doing his best to stifle the next few giggles, he carries on with the conversation.]

Wrapping up a compliment in a pun was very well played, by the way! You are raising my expectations for future flirting sessions.

[He is so unbelievably joking. If there is one thing he's sure is now obvious about him, it's that his standards when it comes to Siffrin are below sea level.]

[They snicker at the fairly solid pun. But the snicker abruptly turns into a strangled choking sound, eye blowing open wide.]

F-flir–?!

[Siffrin stops himself before the squawk of surprise fully escapes. After all, historically? His surprised reactions have just convinced everyone that he was uncomfortable, and that's not...it, exactly. He's just...taken aback, suddenly and rapidly looking back over all their past interactions with new eyes.

Is that what they're doing? Flirting?? His face heats a little and he buries his face in his collar to hide it. Maybe Isabeau won't notice between that and the dim lighting? Stars, he hopes so.

He should make another joke quickly to keep things casual and fun. But would that too be flirting? Does it count if they weren't even aware they were doing it? It seems like something that should only be possible with intent, but hell, with all they've forgotten, maybe this is normal and they've just been oblivious all along. Obliviously flirting. A lot? Is that why Isa liked them?? Granted, Isabeau had explained in great detail a number of reasons he liked them – which is still a little embarrassing to think about – but somehow Siffrin still can't help but wonder if they were indirectly responsible. It does feel nice to be liked, doesn't it? Maybe Isabeau was just drawn in by what seemed like interest on their part. Maybe they were only considering it because Isa's attention stoked their ego, because it's easy, affection being offered up on a silver platter with no real effort on their part.

Honestly, they want to give Isabeau an answer one way or another quickly. It feels shitty to just leave him hanging. But every time their mind has approached the subject in the hours since finishing everything at the House, it quickly stumbles into a rabbit hole. How does one even figure that out? What if they figure it wrong and hurt Isa in the end? Should they even be considering it in the first place when Isa could easily do better? Is it selfish to take advantage of that foolish, illogical attraction?

Siffrin recoils from the dark direction of those thoughts, clearing his throat like his outburst had just been a phantom mouthful of food going down the wrong pipe.]

...You know me. [~~Does he?~~] Always raising the jokes bar. Can't get too complacent or you might steal my spot as the funny one.

[Oh.

That didn't go over well.

To be fair (to the situation, not himself), he was expecting Siffrin to get a little flustered. For all that the following silence is worrying, their initial reaction was about what he was aiming for! The way they squeaked over the word "flirting" and promptly hid their embarrassment in their cloak was beyond the regular definition of adorable. Siffrin is usually so cool! So collected!! So it's rare to catch them off guard like this. And hard to ignore the opportunity to surprise them in a way that makes them flustered or happy. Ideally both. He really was aiming for both...

But the seconds tick past mere ruffled feathers. And while he can't read Siffrin's expression well in the dark like this, it doesn't take a mad genius to tell that he'd made him start thinking too hard about something. Is their post-party hiding place the best time to have a feelings check? Probably not. Sif likely isn't going to appreciate it. But the chance to ask about it may slip away if he doesn't do it now, and Isabeau is trying not to be the guy that keeps putting things off into perpetuity anymore.

He's worried, but he's not so wound up that he can't laugh at what Siffrin says next.]

Heh! Is the Champion of Funny themself worried about a mere upstart like me dethroning them?

[He shakes his head at the mere idea. Preposterous! They just got done establishing that he was the fashion guy, anyway. That's enough talent for Isabeau.]

...Still. [His tone of voice eases up, his expression softens.] That was way too long of a pause for you to just have been a little embarrassed over some teasing.

[He's putting it lightly. That pause was so pregnant, it's belly was starting to show.]

Tell me what's on your mind?

[Siffrin winces internally. Yeah, should have figured Isabeau wasn't gonna let him get away with that. The whole party will doubtlessly be immediately pouncing on any weirdness from him for a good long while, and after all the mess he'd caused, he can't really blame them. He's trying to take it as the love he knows it is on an intellectual level, rather than unease and suspicion like the nastiest whispers in the back of his head would suggest. They love him. If they worry, it's because they care. Siffrin clutches that thought tight and holds it close to his heart where it can warm everything that had iced over out of necessity and despair.]

I'm...

[The denial is on the tip of his tongue. It'd be so easy to shrug it off with another joke, and it's so tempting to do so. It's certainly a less nerve-wracking idea than just spilling his guts all over the ground for Isabeau to recoil in horror from.

But he's trying too. Trying to be more open with his friends, to trust that they won't hate him for sharing his thoughts and worries any more than he would them.

The pause lingers far too long – it feels like an eternity to Siffrin, and they can only imagine how it sounds from the outside – but after a few moments they draw a breath and force themself to just fucking say it already.]

...I'm just...scared. That I'm going to mess things up. I really, really care about you, a-and I don't want to end up hurting you.

[Siffrin exhales his held breath softly. There, he did it. Whoo! And with barely any stumbling! Look at him go, acting like an actual human.]

[His breath hitches as Siffrin stutters and goes silent. Anxiety wraps itself around their little spot behind the boulangerie, invading what was supposed to be a safe place to catch a their breath from the unintentionally suffocating atmosphere of Dormont's late night party. Seems like he just brought the suffocation with him, huh. He doesn't regret checking in on them, but as the silence drags on, guilt manifests anyway, like his mere presence here is what's forcing an answer out of them now. That isn't true! It's just what this feels like, a nervousness that Isabeau is intimately acquainted with. He bites back the urge to interrupt their thoughts and assure them that this conversation can happen another time, crossing his arms and watching over them as they consider their answer.

The one they give makes him want to wrap them up in the tightest ever bear hug.]

Sif...

[If this conversation had happened just three days ago, he'd immediately blurt out that Siffrin could never hurt him. Even now, words like those still clog up the back of his throat, wanting to put Sif's immediate comfort before his own feelings on the matter. But... After what Siffrin said to him yesterday, after having to confront the exact way they could choose to hurt him if they felt so inclined, who could believe such empty reassurance? Siffrin wouldn't. And Isabeau can't, not anymore.

In lieu of the aforementioned bear hug, he reaches over and, with no small amount of trepidation, pulls their tiny hand into his. His hold is gentle; they could tug their hand away easily. But if they grip him back at all, then he'll hold their hand just as tight.]

...Yeah, you might hurt me. [For all that those words are harsh, his tone is fond, even if he can't quite bring the smile he wants to show them. It's hard not to feel a little endeared, hearing that Siffrin cares about him that much.]

And I might hurt you, too. After all, I pretty much took a sledgehammer to our friendship when I decided to tell you how I felt.

[Nobody gets out of a love confession unscathed. He irrevocably changed how they'll interact with each other from now on, knowing that the end of their friendship entirely was one of the possible outcomes. That's something he'll have to take responsibility for, and it can start right here.]

But I think... what we could have is worth the struggle.

[Siffrin is anticipating the quick denial, the I know you'd never hurt me. It feels more like the tone he's coming to expect from his friends and their frankly insane willingness to absolve him of everything. He almost resents it. He half wants to yell at them to just give him some kind of punishment already, that he's terrible and doesn't deserve this easy forgiveness.

The fact the Isabeau doesn't say it stings a little. It really drives home what Siffrin was ready to say himself, that they had already hurt him and absolutely meant to in that moment. But it's also a relief, in a way. Like they're getting that punishment part of them wants, even while Isabeau softens it with a hand taking theirs.

Siffrin is stiff at first. As always. But as if afraid they'll fall back into the same old miscommunication, he pushes through it and squeezes Isabeau's hand back tightly. His voice comes out a little shaky, a weak attempt at humor.]

That's pretty dramatic. It was more like a hammer and chisel.

[The decision to say it, not the actual confession itself. Barely a tap on its own, but it left a crack for Siffrin to worry at over the course of all those loops just waiting for it, something for him to dig into and force open like freezing water splits a stone. At least that metaphor leaves most of the blame with Siffrin where it belongs. After all, it's not Isabeau's fault his one day of hesitation got stretched into an endless repetition of chickening out.

Siffrin takes a breath and exhales slowly, focusing on the warmth of Isabeau's hand around his.]

I guess I just...don't really know what I'm doing. I've never...y'know.

[It's not like they have any past experience to work with – none they can remember, anyway. And he hasn't dared think about what could be. It feels too much like tempting fate, hoping and planning for a future beyond the same two days he'd relieved again and again.]

[It takes a moment. The stiffness and hesitation is there, the reaction that drove Isabeau and their friends to avoid touching Siffrin in the first place. But they grab onto him before he can second guess his actions, and the nervousness he'd felt initiating this dissipates. Siffrin squeezes his hand, he squeezes them back. And if it weren't for a future that necessitates it, he'd never let them go.]

Hah, is it dramatic? I dunno. When I was building up the courage to say it, that's what it felt like to me.

[The fear that he was going to ruin everything. Coming to terms with the idea that he very well might. He's been told before that his descriptions can be a little weird, and sometimes a little wild. Siffrin's comparison to a hammer and chisel sounds too tame to him, but he's not about to nitpick their own feelings on the issue. Maybe it's like... the friendship is the rock, Sif holds the chisel, and he's got the hammer? And together, they will crack it open to find the geode of love?

...Whew, that's terrible, and probably not at all what they meant. No, no, he'll be keeping that one to himself.]

Been in a relationship before? Really? [He's at least a little surprised! Sure, Siffrin is taciturn and mysterious, but he's also very approachable and easy to talk to. And pretty. It's hard to believe no one was ever interested before now, even taking their solo traveler status into consideration.]

[Siffrin is still a little on edge – probably won't fully come off said edge for a good while, honestly – but Isabeau's grip on their hand is comforting, grounding. Isa really is the prototypical rock type, all steadiness and sturdiness, reliable to a fault. Being a scissors type sounds a lot less nice in comparison – Siffrin is all sharp edges and cold steel.

With their cheeks darkening slightly, they wish they'd gone looking for their hat earlier when it got blown away. They feel a little exposed without it.]

I don't think so?

[That's...probably a weird thing to sound uncertain about, so they push forward quickly with a sideways glance at Isabeau.]

You have?

[There, that's more comfortable. They always like listening to the others talk about their own lives. It's nice.]

[They don't... think so? He tilts his head in mild befuddlement, waiting for them to continue, but they don't elaborate. Must be a memory thing. And it's sad to think that they might have forgotten something so important, so he gets it when they move the conversation along. Better to not push the subject. Isabeau wouldn't be bothered if Siffrin had dated two or two billion people before him anyway. The ball is in his court now, and he's rather intent on playing for keeps.]

Oh, I've fallen in love a handful of times. [About as much as one can expect from a man who wears his heart on his sleeve and loves romance as a concept. Mostly pleasant, some... hmm. Some really not great, if he's honest! Hearts can be cruel in that way.] I've dated twice, but we never got that serious.

[He catches their gaze and meets it with a nervous one of his own, fingers tapping on the back of their hand as a fretful thought occurs.]

Er, that's not a dealbreaker, is it?

[A dealbreaker?? Siffrin can't imagine taking issue with that. He answers in a rush, sensing that nervous energy.]

No, I don't care about that. I mean, I care, but more like I just like knowing more about you?

[Oh stars, this us embarrassing. Siffrin swallows down a lump in their throat and squeezes Isabeau's hand tighter like they might be able to wring the anxiety out of it. It doesn't do much for their own nervousness, but they cling on tight regardless and try to find the words to continue.]

And...well, you're probably a lot more experienced than me? That's all. [He grimaces, hoping it doesn't come across the wrong way.] So, as long as you're okay with that...

[Ugh. Well. That's definitely not the only potential concern, is it? It's not that he thinks Isabeau is only interested in...stuff. Isa's probably the biggest romantic of their whole group, after all. But he's never said anything about...well, anything else. Normal stuff most people probably do in relationships. Stuff Isabeau might have already done before and might expect eventually. Just thinking about it makes Siffrin feel a little sick, the lump they'd swallowed down returning with a vengeance. They think they might rather die than bring this up, but...

...But it wouldn't be fair to Isabeau to not know.

Drawing another breath to steady himself, Siffrin eases up his grip on Isabeau's hand. Just...in case he'll want to let go or something.]

And also. Um. I guess if we're talking about potential dealbreakers, then...you should probably know I don't really like the idea of...doing? Things?

[ just kill him now, this was so much easier to talk about with mira ]

[Siffrin rushes to correct and it is one hundred percent the assurance they intended it to be. Imagine! If everything came crashing down now, because he'd dared to date before! Honestly, Isabeau shouldn't have suspected it of them in the first place, but when nerves and feelings are on the line... it's easy to panic. And jump to conclusions. The hand he'd offered them in comfort now comforts him in turn, and he breathes a sigh of relief, rubbing his thumb across their knuckles in gratitude.

And then he stops. Because maybe. They only like holding hands, and don't like it when touches get too tender. Isabeau will be spending a very long time trying to suss this out if he doesn't ask about it.]

Yeah, I'm okay with that. Promise.

[And they're both pretty well aware of what he thinks of Siffrin learning about him and paying attention to him, so... The conversation idles there, before Sif takes advantage of the segue to bring up something else.]

Things...? [What subject could Siffrin possibly feel the need to dance around when they're alone like this? Something embarrassing, something like... AH. Ohhhh the way his face darkens when he gets it.] Oh! Doing things.

[The sudden ramp up to physical intimacy catches him off guard, and he takes a moment to let his own encroaching embarrassment have its way with his nerves. A little shiver, a deep breath. It's okay. He can talk about this. Talk about it like a normal person. Despite the surprise, he... already knows his answer.]

That's totally fine. We don't even have to kiss all that much, if you don't want to.

[Don't get him wrong. This is definitely something he internally lamented, back when he first realized he was falling in love. Because... Siffrin (seemed to) dislike being touched from the beginning, right? But he's also had, like... months to figure out how he wanted to handle being in love with someone who might not want the same level of physical affection that he does, and Isabeau discovered early on that he was surprisingly cool with it. That he just loves them more than he craves that kind of closeness with a partner.

Siffrin sure is special to him.]

Just tell me what your limits are! [Oh, oh right, lack of experience. Ummmm, he's gonna hold onto that hand in his for dear life as the awkwardness mounts,] Or, uh, if you don't know what those are yet, maybe... we can figure them out... together?

[The acceptance comes all too easily. Some tension eases out of Siffrin's shoulders and is quickly replaced by a swell of fondness for their fighter. Part of them wants to just take Isabeau at face value, burrow into that relief and comfort and then dig no deeper so as to not disrupt the cozy feeling.

But that's too easy.

They tug gently at Isabeau's hand, turning to make sure he looks them in the eye. That anxious, sick feeling hasn't fully left them, but they look resolute enough about this. It's important.]

You don't have to answer so fast. Really think about it. Please? I just...don't like thinking you might end up denying yourself something you really want because you feel like you've already committed.

[And privately, selfishly, they don't like thinking of the opposite either – getting invested only for Isabeau to later decide he's not okay with it after all. It's not that they think of Isabeau as being that fickle, but...well, if it took this much to get him to risk confessing, how long would he drag his feet in fear of causing more hurt if he changed his mind later? Surely the sting of rejection now would hurt less than having their whole heart gouged out later on.

And he called Isabeau dramatic. Sheesh.]

I promise I'll be okay with it if...well, if you aren't okay with it.

[He turns to face them when he's beckoned, meeting a resolute gaze that makes his offer to discover things together die in his throat. Quiet admonishment is their reply, and his shoulders sag, deflating a little as they say what they do. Siffrin... thinks he didn't take them seriously. And while they aren't at all harsh about it, he does get the sense that he'd hurt their feelings in being so quick to answer.]

Sif. [He finally notices that looser grip on his hand, and reaffirms his own.] If I needed more time to think about something regarding us, I promise you I would have asked for it.

[He supposes he deserves an accusation of insincerity. Siffrin knows well enough how much of a people pleaser he is, and the kinds of personalities he dons when the situation calls for the "himbo" or the "self-help booklet." It makes sense that they'd suspect he's up to the same old thing. Stings too, but makes sense. They very plainly only want to make sure he's not forcing himself, after all.]

But I already have thought about this. I mean... I've liked you for awhile, you know? [He lifts their linked hands up to press his second to them, cradling Siffrin's hand in both his own.] And for all that time, I didn't even think I'd get this much.

[Siffrin's face only gets darker somehow. Didn't even really think that was possible at this point. Their hand flexes uncertainly between Isabeau's before tentatively settling in that secure grip.]

Sorry, I don't mean to–

[They gesture vaguely with their free hand, hoping that it somehow conveys all of their fumbling and neuroticism and latent issues. There's a lot to cover there and he's not the most eloquent person. Even thinking about all of it just highlights how absurd this whole thing is to him. Surely, someone like Isabeau could pull basically anyone he wants. It's hardly like he's lacking in options, and anyone else would probably come with a lot less baggage.

The struggle for words saves them from saying as much, at least, and Siffrin bites back the instinct to keep picking at this. They won't insult Isabeau by continuing to question and test him.

(Not right now, at least. One day at a time.)

Taking a breath, Siffrin just. Leans forward, and lets their forehead rest lightly against Isabeau's shoulder.]

...Thanks.

[They didn't need to say they were sorry, but Isabeau gets the feeling that saying as much would just invite more unneeded friction. Instead, he simply smiles, arching an amused eyebrow when they gesture at themselves like they need to apologize for the whole Siffrin. A mutual misunderstanding isn't such a bad thing. And his heart is all the lighter for having been able to reassure them that he'll be alright.]

Don't even worry about it.

[He doesn't think that will convince them not to worry, but he'd like them to know that he doesn't want them to. His assurance is met with the soft pressure of their forehead resting against his shoulder, and any leftover anxiety is swiftly replaced by a swelling fondness, like the joy one feels when a beloved cat slowly butts their head against you. The ultimate sign of trust. He fights the urge to ruffle their hair and instead closes his eyes, relaxing to the moment.]

...My turn to ask something awkward. [Segued like a true master of social interactions. He managed to keep his tone of voice even, at least.] I really want to hug you right now, but I'm not sure what level of touch you're actually comfortable with?

[Occasional helping and handholds have been happening all day without any fuss, so he knows something must be up with the assumptions he's made about Siffrin's desire for personal space. But he lacks definition. And now would be a great time to try and fill in some blanks.]

I already set the awkward bar pretty high. You're gonna have to try harder than that.

[Maybe if their tone is kept light enough and their face remains planted against Isabeau's shoulder, no one will ever realize the extent to which a simple request for a hug makes their face heat up. Belatedly, they nod into Isa's shirt.]

By which I mean yeah, it's okay.

[The question reminds him of Bonnie making sense of his boundaries with all their preteen experience and logic, pointedly announcing their hugs before diving in. A little goofy and awkward, yes, but...nice.

(He tries not to think about how that interaction never happened now. Even if things are good now, there's still a melancholy that comes with the thought of all the memories he doesn't share with anyone.)

That the question is asked at all, though... Siffrin had sort of hoped all the casual touching after everything earlier would be enough to signal to everyone that there had been a misunderstanding. Evidently, he wasn't so lucky. Which was fair – directly asking is certainly the best way to avoid further confusion – but it still makes Siffrin want to die a little to just have to spell it out directly. How embarrassing, to be a human who craves normal casual intimacy.]

I don't actually...dislike being touched. Just...not really used to it.

[Sure, he wouldn't really want any random strangers casually touching him, but his little family was a different matter. Now, anyway. Obviously, that level of comfort hadn't been there from the start. And he can't really blame any of them for trying to be considerate. It's not like they could have known when they passed that hidden threshold of comfort, or that he'd been stuck reliving the same interactions over and over until all he could do was overthink their distance.]

Aww, I don't think it was all that bad.

[Their rebuttal gets a small laugh out of him, buried in the moment and hopefully not heard around any building corners. He reassured them, but it's still kinda true! Siffrin set the awkward bar so high, even a giraffe could limbo under it. But, isn't that fine? Being awkward with each other is just one of many steps toward being comfortable with each other. As evidenced by the slow nod against his shoulder, consent murmured with this kind of casual fatigue.]

I can? Really?? It's okay?

[Spoken as hushed as he can manage, a bit of a yelled whisper. He's doing his best not to let his excitement disturb the quiet of the moment. Siffrin very casually gave him permission to Enact a Hug, so he should be equally casual about it. It's not even a romantic hug. It is a regular friend hug, the kind of thing he does with Bonnie and Mirabelle all the time. Normal hug with the fellas. He's got this. He very gently lets go of Siffrin's hand, as though releasing them is its own kind of sin that he'll have to repent for later. And with equally careful arms, he'll pull Siffrin in, wrapping them around his back and pressing him to his chest in the softest hold that a man who is all muscle is capable of. He takes a deep breath, wills himself to relax, and...

Wow. He's not going to say "wow" out loud, because it might make this weird but, wow. It's been awhile since he's felt this calm while his heart is beating so fast. Caring about others can be contradictory like that. He's always been fond of it.]

Not used to it? How do you mean?

[He has his guesses. It might have to do with their memory, or how long they traveled before they met everyone. Maybe they weren't held much as a kid? But he can easily imagine this isn't the kind of subject where Siffrin would appreciate him putting his words in their mouth, so...]

[It's so gentle. Careful, even, like Siffrin is made of glass. There's so much tenderness and care in the hug that they could almost cry, and at the same time the delicacy is almost maddening. Part of him wants to tell Isabeau that it's really ok, he can handle more. He wants more, wants Isa to crush his ribcage, wants to be squeezed so tight so can't breathe. But asking for the contact at all is mortifying enough, so they instead just tentatively lift their arms to return the hug. Try to match the energy of it, normal light platonic first time hugging and all that. Tries not to clutch and cling like he wants to.

Still, a soft little sigh escapes him against his will, and he leans into Isabeau's solidness and warmth. His voice is a little muffled against it.]

Just...y'know. Not used to it.

[They'd gesture vaguely again, but that would require letting go of Isabeau, so they settle for a shrug.]

I mean, I was on my on before meeting you guys, so...yeah.

[Of course they wonder if it has always been that way. They know they had a family, once upon a time. Did they hug and all that? Were there childhood friends he had this sort of casual intimacy with? Was he normal, or was this distance an extension of a similarly touchless upbringing?

He doesn't know. Can't remember. Even the concept of remembering feels fuzzy somehow, like it's less an obvious hole he's always sidestepping and more a patch of static his mind instinctively avoids. Most days he doesn't think about it at all, all thoughts on the subject skittering away automatically. He doesn't know if that's better or worse than constant awareness of what's missing – less actively despair-inducing, maybe, but more of a haunting, incomprehensible void. It's a constant emptiness whose original filling is only ever remembered with effort. And straining to remember so only ever leads to headaches and distress, and he really doesn't want to spoil this moment, so as usual he just lets it go.]

[Siffrin's arms wind their way around him and Isabeau wonders if this is what a midlife crisis is like. He's missed out on Siffrin hugs his whole life. This is terrible! He's been living his life in deficit, and now only has so many years to catch up! Quietly, right in this spot, he laments, he celebrates, and he appreciates every second he spends with their form wrapped up in his.]

Right... you said before that you've been traveling for a long time. And you were on your own that whole time?

[But it took them a moment, didn't it? Just like the couple of times he'd taken their hand before now. A bit of hesitation, and this stiffness that he'd thought for ages meant discomfort. "Not used to it" makes him re-contextualize every attempt he's ever made to touch them before now, from the beginning when he'd done it accidentally, up until the day before today, when he'd either avoid it entirely, or at least manage to catch himself in the act. What must all that have looked like to Siffrin, without any context?]

So I guess... from your point of view, it was like we all just decided to stop touching you one day, and you had no idea why?

[In retrospect, it was a little weird of their group to have that discussion, and come to the conclusion they did, without talking to Siffrin first. They jumped right to respecting his personal space without ever checking to see if that's even what he wanted! Isn't that actually a little cold? Could it really be called kindness when it was just another way to avoid confrontation or embarrassment? But then again, they're also the group of goofballs who all wanted to keep traveling together even after defeating the King, and got to the very end of their journey without saying as much to each other... Isabeau is starting to think. That maybe they're all just Like This, somewhat.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject