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Sylvain almost felt bad for himself. Almost.
He would, but he'd used up all possible sympathy that he could've possibly been spared a long time ago.
At this point, he wasn't even pitiable.
It sure was pitiful though, lying halfway passed out in some random bush because you took a hit to the head and thought you could tank it.
To nobody's surprise, he didn't.
So much for that.
And that's how he ended up here, groggy, and still very much dizzy, looking more like a man who couldn't hold his liquor than a man who got swatted in the head with a vase.
To be fair, actually thinking about it, Sylvain realised very quickly that neither of those options spared him much pride regardless.
Honestly, they were really just two sides of the same pathetic coin.
But no matter how he turned the situation around in his head, this was the situation that he had been dealt.
And all because he had accidentally picked the worst day to break up with his latest situationship.
Truly, a most pathetic end to the most pathetic creature that he knew. Somebody like him didn't deserve much more grace than that.
And, sure enough, the Goddess hadn't spared him any.
Besides, all things considered, he was pretty comfortable here. Lying face down in the cold, wet dirt. It was almost peaceful at this time of day. Sylvain didn't exactly want to guess how late it had gotten, but he could probably guess that it was a lot later than anybody would be proud of. Still, he preferred it this way. There was a certain quiet dignity in solitude, especially during the dead of the night.
It suited him just fine to nurse his bad choices with only the company of the shadows.
But the Goddess had other plans.
Because as soon as Sylvain had accepted defeat at the hands of his situation, the soft thudding of wet grass made itself known.
And the footsteps were coming his way.
If the Goddess had any level of mercy left for him, it'd be Seteth.
Sure, he'd get an absolute earful while it happened, but at least Seteth would only carry him to his bed and send him off with a scorn.
"Sylvain? Is that you?"
Ah.
Nevermind.
It would seem that the Goddess had instead decided to bring him further torture this awfully miserable night.
In the form of one of her greatest devotees, even.
He must have pissed the Goddess off royally.
"Sylvain? Sylvain, are you alright?"
Had he had any strength left over, or the ability to will it out from nowhere in particular, he'd have raised his head and responded with a smirk. Laugh it off, wave it off, anything to just be left alone as soon as possible again.
Sadly, he was still one bad movement away from arguably outright fainting.
So instead, he could do nothing as Mercedes gently turned him around, forcing him to face her.
The earnest concern on her face stung a lot more than the forced movement of muscles ever could.
"Hi, Mercie…"
Sylvain himself could tell just how far away he landed from the casualness he had shot for. It was honestly a damn miracle that he got the words out at all.
"Oh, don't give me that. What's the matter with you?"
And maybe it would've been better if he hadn't gotten them out to begin with.
If only because Mercedes' expression turned even further towards anguish than it already was. And oh, how he hated making her worry. Seriously, couldn't it have been anybody else?
Anybody except for her would've done just fine.
He didn't give her a straight answer this time either. But if this went Sylvain's way, he wouldn't need to give one at all.
He did not expect this to go his way.
Mercedes had started stroking the cut in his forehead. It stung a little, but it was a suitable punishment, considering that Sylvain had the audacity to lean into it.
"Sylvain, what happened?"
When she spoke, Sylvain could tell that it was time to drop the act. It wasn't harsh, Mercedes wasn't harsh. But it was firm.
Besides, Sylvain always had a bit of a tendency to fold when it came to Mercedes in particular.
"Got hit with a vase…"
Still, it didn't exactly feel great when her expression turned thoroughly horrified.
He hated it, so, so much.
"How did you… Another date gone awry?"
Had Sylvain had anything even remotely resembling strength left, he'd laugh.
"Something like that."
But it'd do. Mercedes didn't need to know the details.
Her less than most.
Before he knew it, Sylvain was being moved again. This time, he could feel the tug of his body being forced upwards.
"Mercedes… What are you-"
"Shush. I'm getting you out of here, silly."
"You… don't have to do that-"
"But you will let me."
Truly, he folded so very easily.
The walk back to the dormitory was slow. Very slow.
Sylvain was still awfully nauseous, and Mercedes refused to worsen it. It had only taken one too many wobbles, and she had practically forced him to take one step at a time. Literally.
Honestly though, Sylvain found that it suited him just fine.
It was terrible of him to consider this anything short of the disaster it was, but he could always blame this on the nausea later.
This was, arguably, the closest he would ever get to Mercedes physically after all.
It was silly, childish even. Compared to his usual escapades, borderline laughable.
And yet, he found himself leaning into it. The feeling and Mercedes both.
Maybe it was cruel, putting more of his weight on Mercedes, but he knew better than most how much strength she harbored. Physically, and otherwise.
It wouldn't be too horrible of him to indulge a little, would it?
He could always blame it on the nausea.
Mercedes ended up taking him to her room. Sylvain hadn't questioned her, at least not outloud, but she had argued that it was closer anyways.
And when Mercedes laid him down on her bed, manuevering his lump of a body far too skillfully, perhaps he could buy that logic after all.
Before Sylvain knew it, Mercedes had returned with a first-aid kit in hand, sitting down on the edge of the bed. When she motioned for him to sit up, all he could do was comply.
They sat in silence for a long while after that.
Mercedes kept her focus on cleaning the cut in his forehead. It had stopped bleeding by now, but what with his date with the dirty grass earlier, it wasn't exactly pristine.
So she spent several minutes patting the wound with cotton. Practiced, decisive motions moving in a soothing pattern. The alcohol barely stung anyways, Sylvain was far too focused elsewhere.
On a lot of things, frankly.
First and foremost, he was occupied keeping his eyes away. Away from Mercedes. From her eyes, her lips, her hands, her neck, her collarbone, all of it far, far too close and far, far too appealing.
Wherever they landed instead, he could not care less. He just needed to keep his filthy gaze away from her.
Because she deserved so much better. Because it was awful of him.
It was deplorable, really. How he could sit here, in his friend's bed, being taken care off for no reason other than her offering up her help. And all Sylvain wanted to do was oogle her.
It made him feel sick all over again.
But perhaps this was exactly why Mercedes made him feel this way to begin with. Because she, for some incomprehensible reason, still gave a shit. Still found a reason to see something in him. Found a reason to care.
Despite everything, Mercedes cared. And Sylvain felt so awfully guilty for making her.
What the absolute hell did she see in him?
"Is something the matter, Sylvain?"
When Mercedes broke the silence, there was a certain hint of amusement in her voice. Normally, it was something that he'd cling to for being able to bring out of her at all, but this time? This time all he felt was sheer worry.
Had he said anything outloud? Had he managed to let something slip? This was bad, very bad.
"Did I say something?"
"No, but you're making a face. I just thought there was something on your mind."
While Sylvain was relieved that he hadn't ruined anything, he was still on edge. The amusement in her voice hadn't ceased one bit.
"Finally in the mood to talk?"
And there it was.
But, honestly, the more he thought about it, what did he have to hide at this point? It's not like Mercedes wasn't all too familiar with his escapades at this point. What would another incident on his record even do by now?
It was still Mercedes who spoke again first.
"Did anything happen this time?"
Sylvain heaved a heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair, ignoring the ache in his arm as he did so. It was all so, so stupid.
What more harm could it really do?
"You could say that… Did I mention that I got a vase thrown at me?"
Mercedes wore a most fond smile as she answered.
"You did, yes. For whatever reason had you warranted such a treatment?"
There it was, the question he had been avoiding ever since Mercedes had found him.
The more he thought about it though, the chances that she'd find out anyways was… almost a guarantee. And man, did Sylvain loathe the idea of her finding out from anybody else.
Besides, nobody was better at putting him through the wringer like himself.
"I-"
"You don't have to tell me."
He must've been quiet for a very long time. Mercedes had timed her retort perfectly.
"... You don't want to know?"
She shook her head, smile turning just a bit cheeky.
"I can guess perfectly fine, I'm sure. Besides…"
Her expression turned more serious as she stilled the hand cleaning the wound. Instead, it fell on his shoulder, squeezing it just slightly.
"You don't seem like you want to talk about it."
It took Sylvain a few seconds to let all that sink it.
Because it was true, he didn't really want to talk about it.
But even less had he expected Mercedes to just… let him avoid it.
Once it finally registered, it made him laugh.
"What's so funny?"
Sylvain's laughing faded out with a shallow sigh. His voice almost entirely gone when he finally answered her.
"You must think I'm such a fucking loser, huh?"
Mercedes' response came in the form of an unamused expression on her face and a raised eyebrow Sylvain's way.
"Absolutely not, what makes you think that?"
Sylvain didn't miss a beat when he shrugged.
"I don't know? Everything perhaps?"
This time, she shook her head.
"I don't think ill of you, Sylvain."
She locked eyes with him, her eyes bearing a sort of depth that Sylvain couldn't read for the life of him. He drowned in it nonetheless.
"I do, however, think that you are awfully cruel to yourself."
Sylvain wanted to respond, but he couldn't find the words to do so in time. Instead, Mercedes simply carried on.
"All things considered… I understand you. Honestly, sometimes I wish I could be more like you."
That, however, made Sylvain find his words at record speed.
Because that, more than most things, was truly delirious.
"Excuse me? Mercedes, are you sure that you know what you're saying?"
While Sylvain had grown all the more exasperated, Mercedes remained cool. All she did before elaborating was simply lean back on the bed, expression far too relaxed for Sylvain's liking.
"It's just… If I had the courage to stop giving any thought to what my adopted father wished of me? I'd take it in a heartbeat. But I'm just not brave enough. Unlike you."
Sylvain could feel his heart beat at multiple miles a minute. This was all so very wrong.
"No, Mercedes, no. You deserve so much better than a stupid self-destructive streak."
Because that's what it was. A self-destructive streak. A way to forget himself. A way to… rid himself of absolutely everything for a moment.
It was far, far from anything that Mercedes deserved.
Why couldn't she see that?
"And you don't?"
That stunned Sylvain into silence once again. Everything around him stilled. His mind frozen over, all he could do was stare at Mercedes with an expression surely filled with nothing but utter bewilderment.
Mercedes, meanwhile, still wore that far too calm smile on her face. In contrast to Sylvain's exasperation, it almost looked smug.
"I think you do."
This, this was exactly it.
This was the problem. Where the problem began, and where it would surely end.
(With a whimper, Sylvain was sure.)
Because, for some reason, Mercedes looked at him and saw a person worth wasting her time on.
A person worth maintaining.
And it was precisely that that made her so dangerous.
Because a person like Mercedes, a person so wholly good, so wholly genuine.
A person who had gotten beaten by the world and who remained kind. A person who had been treated nothing but less than, and still found a way to pay the world back.
That sort of person, Sylvain would never allow to become like him.
And yet, here she was, propositioning just that.
She broke him out of his spiraling thoughts with a clear bout of laughter.
A laugh that was so genuine that it honestly startled Sylvain a little.
Because what could possibly prompt a laugh like that at a moment like this?
Sylvain would have to keep wondering, as Mercedes didn't give him an answer.
All she did, once she had caught her breath again, was lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek.
And somehow, as if nothing had even happened, she simply stood up from the bed and began to clean her supplies up. All the while Sylvain sat frozen in shock, having no idea what to do with himself.
"Get some rest, okay?"
And those were the words she left him with. Leaving him in her room, going outside to who-knows-where.
Had Sylvain not been so utterly exhausted, he would've ran after her in a heartbeat. But this particular night, it didn't seem like it was his turn to chase answers.
But maybe, he'd allow himself to ask Mercedes about it tomorrow.
He had to live up to her views of him after all.
He at least owed her that much.