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Felix and Sylvain sat silently at the back of the opulent taxi, disengaged and staring out the windows blankly. Outside, the deeply tinted windows well-maintained gardens and houses rolled on by, their grandeur illuminated by the orange evening sun. Felix sat cross-legged with his navy-blue suit jacket undone, revealing his teal dress shirt and plain grey tie. Frowning deeply, he stared at the glossy partition separating the passenger cabin from the driver.
“Hey Felix, you look like you wanna say something,” said Sylvain casually, crossing his arms across his chest. His charcoal grey suit was buttoned around his white shirt, with a black and gold checkered tie peeking out near the top. His hair was styled neatly and framed his speculative glance.
“Why on earth do I need to go to this function again?” bemoaned Felix, burying his forehead in his hand.
“It’s an awards ceremony for legal practitioners across the state. Everyone’s gotta be there, man.”
“It makes sense for you because you’re on the legal team. I’m an actuary. I don’t belong in a room with you suits talking about whatever suits talk about,” said Felix with a tone as dismissive as his expression, hand still across his face.
“Aw come on Felix, lighten up a little,” said Sylvain, a sly smile upon his lips. “Free food, free alcohol and lovely ladies to look at – “
Felix suddenly rose to attention and brought his palm down on the black leather seat next to him with a loud slap, turning to look Sylvain in the eye. “You moron!” he yelled, earning a glance from the driver via the rear-view mirror. “Even now, women are all you can think about. Have you already forgotten you’re in trouble for hitting on basically every girl in the company? Ingrid’s gonna have your head.”
“Ah, Ingrid,” said Sylvain, smiling fondly. “It’s funny how she graduated same year as us but she’s already the head of HR.”
“Probably because she’s spent her entire life as your idiot-sitter,” quipped Felix.
“Oh wow, that’s mean,” said Sylvain, his smile now a pout.
“Wipe that stupid smile off your stupid face. Remember it was your idea to pretend to date me to give your story of ‘I’m gay’ some plausibility,” said Felix, clenching a hand into a fist and looking out the window on Sylvain’s side of the taxi.
Sylvain’s smile shifted to a more neutral expression and his shoulders lowered slightly as he leaned a few inches towards Felix. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that.” Sylvain’s tone became more subdued. “On the bright side, at least we got to spend quality time together. I’m glad we could do that. We barely spoke during our final year at university.”
“I still can’t believe you managed to piss off HR within the first 3 months of working here.” It was Felix’s turn to mock Sylvain. “And I can’t believe Ingrid managed to end up in the same insurance company as us.”
Sylvain paused, blinking dumbly. “Hey, driver, can you turn the air conditioning up?” He blinked again before his gaze turned toward the shut window of the partition separating him from the driver. “Oh, he can’t hear me. How do I open this thing?”
“You realise you could just take your suit off, right?” said Felix, suppressing a laugh. There was a matte black console below the partition window with buttons which he prodded a few times – and a second later, there was a sudden rush of cool air. “There.”
“Thanks,” said Sylvain, letting out a sigh of relief at having dodged a potentially difficult conversation.
The remainder of their short journey was spent in silence, both men looking out the side windows. The taxi slowed down as it drove uphill into a private road flanked with waist-high hedges which cast long shadows across well maintained lawns. Along the dazzling horizon, the resort where the unnecessarily lavish function was hosted stretched far and wide, standing out before a glorious red sunset. The venue’s name was ‘The Silver Maiden’, a name they had seen advertised countless times as a premier seaside getaway far from the city – and now emblazoned in cursive silver letters on the polished black stone wall before them. The taxi came to a stop in front of a short staircase made of the same black polished stone, the barely-audible hum of the engine cutting out as the driver exited the car.
“Well,” said Sylvain, facing a Felix who was resolutely not looking at him. “Here we are.”
Felix hastily fastened the buttons on his suit and smoothed it out. Out of the corner of his eye, his eyes met Sylvain's own for barely a second. “Remember, we’re pretending to be dating. Don’t go hitting on any girls out there.”
Felix grasped the smooth handle of the door and swung it open – until it came to a sudden stop against the body of the driver, accompanied by a loud “Oof.” Felix jolted his head around and watched in distress as the stricken driver stumbled back with a scrunched-up face, his white-gloved hand stretched toward the door’s handle. Regaining his footing, the driver spun on the ball of his foot to turn away and walked around to Sylvain’s side of the car.
“Real smooth,” said Sylvain, his curved lips barely suppressing a laugh. The door on his side of the car opened with a muffled click and the driver ushered Sylvain out of his seat. Felix and Sylvain exited the gleaming black taxi as they watched the uncomfortably above-and-beyond service unfold.
Felix strode towards the open boot, where the driver had already removed his and Sylvain’s suitcases. The driver wheeled them up a ramp which ran parallel to the stairs, where a woman with a luggage trolley stood in wait. The two servants met and whispered to each other before loading the trolley. Then, the woman swiftly corralled the trolley into the hotel as the driver walked back down the ramp.
“They’re waiting for you,” the driver said as he passed Sylvain at the base of the ramp. “Thank you for your patronage,” he continued before closing the doors of the car and driving away.
Sylvain and Felix exchanged puzzled glances. The drone of the taxi faded as they walked up the polished stone staircase towards the gleaming glass door which separated the world from the extravagant foyer. Two attendants in tuxedos opened the door and a sterile smell billowed out of the building. Side-by-side, Felix and Sylvain approached the reception desk where two more tuxedo-clad attendants awaited them.
“That taxi was so extra,” said Sylvain, exasperatedly raising his arms and shrugging. “The driver had a sign with our names at the airport and insisted on wheeling our luggage for us and everything. And what was up with the interior? It’s like we’re the CEO and his wife rather than a graduate lawyer and graduate actuary.”
A flush briefly rose to Felix’s cheeks before he cleared his throat and mimicked Sylvain’s shrug. “I have not a clue. You can probably blame Dorothea. She was the one sitting at reception a few weeks ago juggling the bookings.”
“You okay?” asked Sylvain, scanning Felix’s face who then turned away. “Anyways, lemme handle this,” Sylvain said upon the two reaching the varnished oak reception counter. He placed his forearm on the chest-height counter, behind which the two receptionists awaited Sylvain’s words. “We’re checking in for the awards ceremony. Sylvain Jose Gautier and Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”
The posh gentleman with a thick grey moustache briefly glanced at a hidden object behind the counter before speaking to Sylvain. “I’m terribly sorry sirs, but you are one hour late,” he said with oddly dramatic enunciation, as though he were reading from a script.
Sylvain was taken aback at that declaration. “Huh? We were told to get here at exactly this time,” he said, double checking the analogue clock overhead – which read 7pm.
“Wait here,” said the receptionist before leaving his post via a back door.
Sighing, Sylvain folded his arms and turned around, leaning back against the reception desk. “Now we wait. Y’know, Dorothea gets along awfully well with Ingrid. I didn’t think Ingrid would be the type to get along with a part-time multi-talented performing artist. Lately I’ve seen them giggling on the way out of the office on lunch breaks. Ingrid! Giggling!” said Sylvain, slightly panicked.
“Can’t say I noticed,” replied Felix bluntly with an accusatory glare. “I actually work during the hours I’m in the office. You hang around the reception desk hitting on Dorothea and any other girl who passes by.”
“Oh, hello Sylvain!” sang an unseen, mischievous female voice which was projected from across the foyer. Dorothea stepped out from behind a corridor at the far right of the entry hall. Her long brunette hair flowed down to her chest, framing her cheery smile and the low-cut window on her glamourous red dress. “You’ve arrived just in time. The dinner’s about to start.” She extended her arm adorned with a detached dress sleeve and beckoned the two men toward the elevator next to her.
Sylvain turned to face Dorothea’s saccharine voice. “Oh!” he blurted; his composure having exited the room. “Right!” He ham-fistedly grasped Felix’s wrist. “We’re on our way!” he declared, tugging an obviously perturbed Felix across the spotless high-pile maroon carpet toward the elevators.
Dorothea pressed a button to summon the elevator and it promptly arrived with a soft ping. She walked into it, followed by Sylvain and Felix. The two men looked at opposite sides of the elevator as Dorothea resolutely pressed one of the higher buttons on the control panel. Staring silently at the vertically brushed stainless steel elevator wall, Felix gingerly separated his wrist from Sylvain’s hand. The door closed, muffling the outside world as the elevator lurched upward, taking far too long to reach its destination. Dorothea simply stood and observed the awkward men with a perfectly painted carmine smile.
The elevator lurched once more upon reaching its destination, opening into a cream-walled, warmly-lit hallway spanning left and right. Dorothea waved past the doorman, leading Sylvain and Felix to the right. The burgundy-and-gold patterned carpet led to a grand function hall illuminated with a bright, cool white. The room was completely populated with men in fancy suits and women in fancy dresses seated at circular tables, all barely discernible from one another. Accompanied by a discordant chorus of chatter, Dorothea comfortably strolled around the backs of the chairs with her dress trailing gracefully in her wake. As Sylvain and Felix followed her, Felix noticed several people pointing and then whispering at his faux partner.
Frowning, Felix stormed forward and overtook Sylvain, urgently tapping Dorothea’s shoulder. “What are you scheming?” he whispered with aggressive urgency.
Dorothea spun around, facing her palm toward the ceiling and gesturing toward two adjacent empty seats at their company’s table. “Your seats,” she announced frankly and with her smile gone. All other seats were occupied except for one directly opposite the men next to Ingrid, which Dorothea promptly occupied.
Sylvain and Felix sat as commanded, with the latter removing his suit jacket and placing it over the back of his seat. Across the table, Ingrid wore a plain powder-blue blouse, black pencil skirt and plain black tights. Her face glowed all the same when she smiled and spoke to the equally radiant Dorothea. Despite her job as a part-time receptionist, Dorothea was the master of ceremonies for the night. She rose to the elevated stage, called for the room’s silence and introduced the bigwigs in charge at the Institutions, Societies and Organisations of Whatever effortlessly. As he watched her work, Felix remembered Sylvain’s comment that she was a performing artist. After she announced entrees were to be served soon, pointless chit-chat resumed across the room.
Felix overheard the conversation next to him, in which a man with a posh accent spoke to his neighbour, “I was a little bit drunk, so I complained about my pushy brother to Claude. He told me there’s someone nagging him to be roommates too. Turns out we were in the same boat! Literally!” Felix did not care in the slightest, sighing as he was forced to listen to unrelatable discussions over and over again. The generic-looking businessman, plainly and professionally dressed, reacted to the sigh and asked Felix, “You too, huh?”
Felix looked aside as he gave his characteristically blunt answer. “No. I can’t relate.”
The businessman was taken aback at the curt answer, his eyes widened; he must have been trying to scrounge a way to salvage the conversation. Felix wished he’d fail. Waitstaff filed out of the kitchen to deliver soups, the flavours of which alternated between each seat. As a bowl of steaming pumpkin soup was placed precisely in front of Felix, he snatched a spoon and shovelled a spoonful into his mouth. It seared his tongue, prompting him to stab the spoon back into the bowl and leave it be.
Sylvain leaned toward the floundering conversation and wrapped a big, strong arm around Felix’s shoulders. A shock ran through Felix's body and he barely concealed his flinch. The other businessman jolted in his seat as though in a chain reaction.
“Didn’t you hear?” said a dark-skinned woman in a white blouse with short blonde ponytail seated next to him. Catherine, who worked directly under the well-respected Rhea near the top of the company, was yet another of Sylvain’s victims. “Felix and Sylvain are dating! You must live under a rock or something!” Forearms planted on the table, she leaned toward Felix with a smile. “How did you meet, anyways?”
Sylvain smiled back, but that smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “Me and Felix go way back. Our parents knew each other when we were kids and we kind of just grew really close through the years.”
“Surely there’s more to it than just that!” asserted the businessman. “My parents had plenty of friends but I never started dating their kids.”
“Oh yeah. I’ve drifted apart from so many people. Felix though?” Sylvain said, constricting Felix a little tighter. “Wouldn’t trade him for any of them.”
Felix rumpled his shoulders up subtly against Sylvain’s grip to no avail, resigning himself to becoming the victim of his PDA – it was unavoidable while pretending to date after all. “Sylvain needs his idiot-sitters to keep him out of trouble. He’s been this way since he was a kid. Just ask Ingrid.”
On the opposite side of the table, Ingrid prodded Dorothea’s shoulder. They both fixed eager eyes and ears on the conversation, observing with their best poker faces. Sylvain’s eyes widened in reaction, his arm tensing around Felix.
“Oh wow!” exclaimed Catherine, beaming. “Okay Felix, what’s the dumbest thing you’ve seen Sylvain do?”
“When we were roommates starting out at university, he added powdered sugar to the batter when we tried to make breaded steak.” Felix winced at the memory and shook his head.
“Hey, the jar was unlabelled, okay?” Sylvain withdrew his arm from around Felix and pouted.
Catherine burst out in an unreserved laugh. “Ahahaha! Please tell me you caught him before he added it to the steak!”
“No. I had gone to take out the recycling.” Felix smirked at Sylvain. “I really thought I could trust him.”
Ingrid had an open-mouthed frown of utter disgust, furrowing her brows at Sylvain. “I mourn for that otherwise perfectly good food.”
“Felix does stupid things too,” whined Sylvain. “During our second last year studying, Felix was super out of it because he had two exams on the same day – and he decided to do martial arts training right after. Said something about a Muay Thai competition.”
“Oh no,” said Catherine with a bemused tone. “This cannot end well.”
All eyes on the table were fixated in Sylvain’s direction. Felix resigned himself to a fate of humiliation, his face beginning to burn.
“So, Felix was out of practice,” continued Sylvain. “And he decides to hit one of those heavy floor-standing bags with full punches. I suddenly hear a weak slap, an out-of-character wail and see that Felix is lying in the fetal position clutching his wrist.”
Felix corrected Sylvain disdainfully. “You’re exaggerating. I did not wail and I did not curl up like a baby.”
The numerous familiar faces around the table formed a patchwork quilt of different facial expressions. Some were in disbelief, others were amused or fascinated at this side of Felix they weren’t aware even existed. Dorothea giggled – and in response Felix shot a deathly glare her way, which was completely ignored.
“So anyways, I had to take him to hospital. Turns out for an injury like that, triage doesn’t put you at awfully high priority. We were there for hours. Y’know. ‘Cause literal stabbing victims come first and so on. I had an exam the next day but this stuff happens.” Sylvain was a natural storyteller, having charmed the captive audience seated at the dinner.
“By the way... I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for that,” said Felix. “You didn’t have to stay but you did. So, um, thanks, Sylvain. I’m glad you’re a part of my life.” To enhance the charade, Felix smiled faintly and stroked Sylvain’s leg with the back of his finger under the table – and to his surprise, Sylvain didn't jump at the intimate touch.
“Woah!” bellowed Catherine, slapping her thigh under her table. “The cold, calculating Felix, practitioner of combat sports, actually having a sappy side? That’s crazy!”
Felix made a “humph” sound and folded his arms. “As you know, Sylvain is pretty insufferable. But he’s reliable when emergencies happen.”
The comments drew an uncomfortable heat towards Sylvain, making him remove his suit jacket and drape it over the back of his chair. Everyone else at the table finished their entrées in relative peace and monotony. One by one, people finished their soups and rose from their seats to mingle with others, some walking to the bar at the back of the room to purchase drinks. Felix engaged in exhausting small talk with strangers he didn’t care about, with silly topics ranging from ‘fun facts about The Silver Maiden’ to ‘TV shows my kids watch that I also enjoy’ and ‘there’s not enough elbow room in this place’. He wished for the festivities to end already. After what felt like an excessive wait, Dorothea called for the attendees to be seated again in preparation for the mains. Once more, Felix and Sylvain were in the firing line of Dorothea and Ingrid, their oppositional stares generating invisible sparks.
In an orderly fashion the hotel staff delivered alternating plates of lamb and salmon. As soon as the waiter’s hand left his plate, Felix roughly dug his knife and fork into the tender pieces of lamb and potato in front of him – the sooner he finished his meal, the sooner he could leave his seat. A few other diners at the table looked over with offended expressions, prompting a response from Sylvain. “Oh don’t mind him, Felix just really loves meat. Thinks it’s an insult to the food if he lets it cool.” The others shrugged in acceptance.
A young freckled man with distinct medium-length grey hair and a black tuxedo stopped behind Catherine. The engraved metal badge above the handkerchief in his breast pocket revealed his name was Ashe. He swept his eyes across the table and removed the small cabled radio earpiece above his right ear, allowing it to dangle over his shoulder. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Where can I find Mr Fraldarius and Mr Gautier?”
Catherine casually flourished her fork in Sylvain’s direction. “The redhead and the guy with the ponytail over there.”
“Thanks ma’am,” said Ashe, walking behind where Sylvain and Felix are seated. “Unfortunately, due to a change in bookings, you gentlemen are now sharing a room,” said Ashe. “Your luggage has already been moved.” He placed a key card between Sylvain and Felix. “Your room is now 1806.”
“Eighteen? That’s pretty high up,” mumbled Catherine with a half-chewed potato in her mouth.
Felix gulped his food down and shot a nonverbal ‘what the hell is going on’ look towards Sylvain. The reply was merely an equally confused shrug.
“Who put you up to this?” asked Felix quietly, his rage barely contained.
“Oh, um, the front desk?” replied Ashe with one eyebrow askew.
“No, I mean who made the change in bookings.” As Felix spoke, the remainder of the table was silent.
Ashe raised his eyebrows then quickly neutralised his expression. “I sincerely apologise for the inconvenience.” He stooped down and positioned his face between Sylvain and Felix, beckoning them to listen to hushed words. “Just between you and me, this doesn’t sit right with me. Dorothea’s put in some weird things in the Special Requests part of the online booking forms.” Ashe stood straight and addressed the table. “Please enjoy your meals, folks. Let us know if we can be of assistance.” He walked towards the entrance of the hall.
Felix and Sylvain cast simultaneous sideway glances at the card placed between them while everyone else watched in anticipation of their next action. Ingrid rested her chin in the base of her palm, fingers along the side of her face as she studied Sylvain carefully.
Dorothea smiled at the predicament. “I’m not completely sure what happened, but two of the rooms I originally booked suddenly became unavailable. We had to put you both in an upgraded one but you’re okay with that, aren’t you? Being in a relationship and all?”
Felix unceremoniously took the card and tucked it in his trouser pocket, denying them a spectacle as he spoke quietly to Sylvain alone. “There’s gonna be a couch. One of us can sleep there,” he whispered before continuing to eat.
“Yeah,” said Sylvain oafishly. “This is fine. We’ll manage. No need to babysit us.”
Ingrid shielded her mouth with the back of her hand, watching Sylvain as she leaned into Dorothea’s ear and spoke quietly. “They think they’ve got a couch. But I asked housekeeping to remove it before they occupied their room. I think they’re in for a rude shock.”
“Wow, nicely done, Ingrid!” Dorothea responded in a hushed tone.
“Felix wasn’t exaggerating when he called me Sylvain’s idiot-sitter by the way. I had to pay him back sometime,” said Ingrid, stressing the last word.
Before long, Felix had finished his meal before anyone else on the table. He was among the first in the entire room to stand up and begin wandering around. He propped himself against a smooth, cool marble pillar sufficiently far from the table to avoid the suffocating interrogations of the still-dining members of his company. Breathing a bit more easily, he laced his fingers and pressed them upwards, stretching his awfully cramped muscles. Eventually, when Sylvain realised that Felix hadn't come back, he glanced over his shoulder at Felix and abandoned the remnants of his meal to join him.
Sylvain’s eyes were downcast as he approached, but they sprung to meet Felix’s as the men stood face to face. “I’m really sorry for putting you through this, I can see you’re uncomfortable. I owe you a really big favour once this is over. I had no idea they’d come at me with so much force,” Sylvain rambled. “This isn’t enough to stop us from being friends, isn’t it?” His mouth then sealed shut tightly.
Unhesitatingly, Felix said, “No. I’d still hang out with you.”
Unclenching his jaw, Sylvain let out a sigh of relief. Someone from another company tapped his shoulder and Sylvain quickly seized the opportunity to distance himself from the tense situation, spinning around to face the source of the tap. Felix, meanwhile, folded his arms tightly around his chest, uninterested in whatever trivial nonsense conversation Sylvain had engaged in. Sylvain’s words were easily drowned out by the dozens of other voices chattering over one another. Luckily, Felix was able to avoid most of the dull and trite conversations going on by sticking inconspicuously to the edge of the room – perhaps the single saving grace of the dense crowd. Leaning back against the hard stone column, he stared up at the absurdly tall, gilded ceiling hosting flamboyant chandeliers with hundreds of glimmering crystals, trying not to think about Sylvain or why he agreed to fake a relationship with him in the first place. Scowling at no-one in particular, Felix shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, his fingers closing around the key card to their supposedly fancy room. It reminded him of the days he’d spent living together with the big, problem-causing redhead, back when they were both students. At the very least the room would be clean – and the view would be a spectacular, shimmering shoreline rather than the drab concrete face of another apartment block. As his thoughts wandered back through the days he’d spent together with Sylvain, Felix started to wonder why it was that he always felt so at ease around the lumbering oaf. Tapping his chin speculatively, he looked off into the distance.
Suddenly, a woman in a shimmering green dress careened towards Felix, snapping him out of his stupor as the fancy cocktail she was drinking leapt from her glass towards his expensive suit. Stepping back with a single clean and practiced movement, he dodged the liquid projectile as if it was an opponent’s strike… only to bump into Sylvain’s waist, the contact sending a cold shock coursed down Felix’s spine. ‘Shit.’
Reflexively, Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix’s waist, pulling the two together. Felix’s overheating back was pressed against Sylvain, whose firm and muscled chest pressed steadily against him with every breath. The woman responsible had slinked away into the crowd, but Felix’s mind was elsewhere, his shoulders tense as incoherent thoughts raced through his head. In contrast, Sylvain’s embrace was an inviting, calming warmth that reminded Felix of the radiant sun on a calm spring day, despite their fictitious relationship.
Felix raised his arms from his side to pry Sylvain away, only to freeze as a sharp yell rang out in their direction from a stranger. “Get a room you two!”
Like a child caught stealing, Sylvain quickly released his grip, stepped away from Felix and dropped his arms to his sides. Their abrupt separation and the return of a bitter distance between them bewildered Felix, the tender moment dashed and replaced by the cold, needle-like and accusatory glances of passers-by. They only looked in Felix’s direction momentarily individually, but the innumerable eyes gazing upon him from all around induced a pricking sensation all over his body which grew stronger every second.
The discomfort soon became unbearable for Felix. As the stares subsided, he pretended to react to a buzzing phone in his pocket and stormed toward the exit of the function hall, weaving between clusters of seated and standing people. He drew the phone from his pocket, holding it idly at his side but unsure if the display was convincing at all. Regardless, the placards on the table informing opera cake was for dessert didn’t particularly entice him. After a short wait he managed to board an empty elevator and head back to the ground floor. In the foyer, he walked in the opposite direction to several holiday-goers checking in with their oversized luggage for the night. Outside, the air was crisp, the breeze brushing past his face in sync with the rolling waves breaking on the shore a long distance away. Felix drew a deep breath, attempting to disperse his worries as he plodded down the ramp – but it barely worked. Loud footsteps approached Felix from behind, generating a sigh from the depth of his diaphragm.
With a pained expression, Sylvain exited the hotel and shortened his aggressive strides, approaching Felix gently. “Hey Felix, what’s the matter?” he asked.
Felix stopped at the base of the ramp and folded his arms, leaning into the cool metal balustrade. “I don’t agree with your hitting on girls but that public humiliation goes a bit too far,” he proclaimed.
“I can handle this,” said Sylvain, leaning in and placing his hands on each of Felix’s shoulders. “You’re getting way too angry on my behalf. Just follow my lead and this stupid event will be over before you know it.”
“And let you take all the flak? That’s ridiculous. You make too many sacrifices on my behalf.” Felix brushed Sylvain’s arms away and focused on the deep blue-black of the sky above, noting the infinitesimal stars above. “There was the time which you risked being late to your job interview just to buy me a birthday gift before the shops sold out. You insisted on staying with me when I broke my wrist.”
Sylvain shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, his eyelids lowering. “But I don’t mind it if it makes you happy,” he said with a hurt voice. “Besides, you make sacrifices for me too. Like now. Agreeing to, uh, date me and all,” he said with a conspicuously staggered tempo.
The last sentence snatched Felix’s attention. His short ponytail swished as he spun his head back around to see Sylvain’s flushed, yearning face, the expression and starlight illumination presenting a side of the redhead that Felix hadn’t quite noticed before. Heat rose to his cheeks as he looked straight into Sylvain’s golden eyes – and they locked onto his own. A sickening pressure rose in Felix’s chest, a pressure he tried to subdue with deep breaths, so overwhelmed that it took him a few seconds to realise that his own expression was mirrored on the face he was staring at.
Thankfully, Sylvain began to speak, breaking the tension – but the feverish words and intense eye contact brought it back violently. “Felix. Did you really mean the things you said earlier? About me being insufferable but still being there when it counted? And, uh, being thankful I’m a part of your life?”
Felix’s eyes widened in disbelief at what he was hearing. The direct and open honesty in those words weren’t something he was accustomed to – normally, Sylvain spoke with honeyed words that portrayed none of his actual intent, sweet nothings that were more like lures for the unwary than genuine communication. There was none of that fake flowery speech here, and Felix rewound his memories to check if Sylvain had hit his head. Sylvain’s dignity may have taken a few hits but nothing physical had happened… save for their hug, an echo of the sensation running through his body as he remembered it.
“Felix, please tell me you’re glad to have me,” begged Sylvain, leaning closer until their faces were almost touching.
The handrail pressed into Felix’s back became apparent as the space between him and Sylvain shrunk. There was no way to dismiss the feelings which had been dredged to the surface through the uncomfortable dinner and the tension of just how close they were. The emotions threatened to burn a hole through Felix and he needed relief. He cupped a hand around the back of Sylvain’s head to pull him in for a brief kiss on the lips. Sylvain eagerly accepted the contact, pressing his soft lips back against Felix’s own. When they parted, the awkwardness had melted into a comfortable warmth, the nervous energy expended in that one moment of passion.
“I’m so glad,” whispered Sylvain as though he was about to cry. He wrapped his arms around Felix, pressing their lean and sculpted bodies tightly together.
Felix looked up the ramp at the entrance to the hotel, where the single doorman had averted his eyes. Felix pushed Sylvain gently but not enough to break the hug. “Maybe we could continue later? When we’re not in public?”
Sylvain gave one last squeeze before letting go, arms falling idly to his side. “I don’t think he minds,” he said, gesturing his head up the ramp. “But I want you to be comfortable.”
“Thanks,” said Felix with a rare warm, genuine smile. “I think I’d be more comfortable if we got back at Dorothea and Ingrid for their audacity.” His expression grew more serious, taking on the focus that he normally reserved for competition, whether in the ring or the boardroom.
Sylvain had seen that expression before – and he immediately knew Felix meant business. “I’m listening.”
“We enlist the help of someone to bring them into the unused ballroom. I noticed the signage on the way down here. Talking about the room assignments is the perfect cover story. We wait for them and as soon as they show up, we make out.” Felix’s face was intense enough to cut a man in two.
“Woah. Didn’t you just say you weren’t into PDA?” Sylvain uttered, taking half a step back.
“That’s why we isolate them and bring them to the other room. Besides, for these two, I’m willing to make an exception.” There was the slightest hint of malice in Felix’s voice, the kind of tone he adopted when he was assured of impending triumph over someone else.
***
Sylvain and Felix stood at the edge of an empty dance floor far opposite the hall where the dinner continued to roar into the night. The warm, muted lighting of the unused space spread along the immaculately tiled and polished floor where they waited. Sylvain was slightly disappointed he couldn’t tell if Felix’s cute, determined face looking down the corridor was as flushed as his own in the ambient lighting. The noises of the function above blurred together and were funnelled down the corridor, but had attenuated to unobtrusive background noise by the time it reached them. From the din emerged Dorothea with her default pleasant smile, pinching the narrow stem of a half-full cocktail glass containing a skewered olive. Shortly behind her marched Ingrid with short, stern steps. They stopped and spoke to one another, far off enough that Sylvain and Felix couldn’t make out what they were saying – but it was obvious they were preparing for the argument to come. Before long they started walking closer once more, meeting Sylvain and Felix on the dance floor.
“The room assignments are final,” Dorothea reaffirmed obliviously.
Typically, Felix was easily flustered at the mere thought of witnessing PDA, and would usually promptly flee the situation… but not this time. Contrary to literally every other impression he had given in their long history, Felix snatched Sylvain’s tie, rumpling it in his fist as he reeled Sylvain down to his height with the sort of violent strength he usually reserved for martial arts practice. It was nothing like the make-believe touches Sylvain initiated on Felix as they left the office toward the same car – this was utterly and unmistakeably real. Normally, Felix’s response to Sylvain’s physical overtures was always hesitant and lacking, merely tolerated and never reciprocated. Instead, Felix’s eyes burned with intent before he squeezed them shut and kissed Sylvain open-mouthed and eagerly.
Sylvain accepted the advance, allowing Felix’s tongue to push against his own. Felix lacked refinement but the intensity which he sucked and played with his tongue commanded Sylvain’s obedience. Overwhelmed and dizzied, Sylvain’s emotions were set ablaze, barely able to comprehend that his childhood friend turned fake date would make out with him so earnestly. He held Felix’s hips tightly for stability, gripping the taut muscle firmly through his shirt.
Dorothea’s cocktail glass shattered against the dance floor; her drink spilling out onto the floor. Felix smiled into the ongoing kiss and pushed deeper, his efforts sending a pleasant tingle through Sylvain’s body. That burning sensation grew stronger as Felix wrapped one of his arms around Sylvain’s torso, squeezing tightly and bringing them into full contact with each other’s well-carved and firm chests. Felix snaked his other arm under Sylvain’s armpit to cradle the back of his neck and ran his fingers up through short hair before gripping the soft strands gently.
Ignoring the malevolent intent of their amorous display, Sylvain couldn’t help but be consumed by the contagious hunger rising up inside him. Desire welled in his stomach and he became acutely aware of the growing bulge tenting against his trousers, already big enough that there was no mistaking just how genuine his feelings were. He stiffly rotated his hips away from the audience and pressed tentatively into Felix, unsure if he was trying to hide his boner from their audience or simply press it against his lover. Felix, in contrast, knew exactly what he wanted to do – and he took it as an invitation to roll his own firm length against Sylvain’s in full view of his HR manager, coaxing a thrill of pleasure which threatened to destroy Sylvain’s composure right there and then.
Dorothea was slack-jawed at the display, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Ingrid looked like she was crying for a moment, with palms over her eyes and elbows tucked to her chest before she forced herself to continue watching. Felix pulled away, apparently satisfied with both the reactions he saw and the reaction he felt pressed against his physique. Sylvain’s eyes lingered on Felix’s flushed expression for a moment before pushing forward and trying to close the distance between them once more, only stopping when Felix turned to face their audience.
“Sorry Dorothea,” said Felix with a snide glare before continuing, voice deadpan. “I’m having Sylvain for dessert tonight.”
Dorothea bent her arm at the elbow, pointer finger extended tentatively. Her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as she tried to force the appropriate words out of her slightly-open mouth. During Dorothea’s lengthy pause, the corner of Felix’s lip bent into a nearly imperceptible smile. Ingrid wistfully shut her eyes, shaking her head before opening them again and resuming her observation of the embarrassing scene.
Finally, Dorothea dropped her arm back to her side. “You know what? You don’t have to show up to the awards tomorrow. Go and have a bang in your room, or something.” She flung her arms into the air in an undignified manner. “Sorry for doubting you, I guess. Your Lance of Ruining Career Opportunities doesn’t lie.” Her voice was venomous but she turned around and returned to the function hall all the same, defeated.
A chill struck Ingrid but she remained, averting her eyes sheepishly. “I, uh, wow! I don’t even know what to say. Congratulations?” She looked at the smashed glass atop its clear contents spilled wide on the dance floor.
“So, uh, when Dorothea was saying we didn’t need to show up for the rest of this awards stuff, was she being serious?” Sylvain placed a hand on his hip.
“I don’t actually know,” said Ingrid. “She’s the one who organised and booked everything but I, oh.” Ingrid paused, finally remembering she was the head of HR. “Guess I get to decide.” She glanced below Sylvain’s belt for a split second – just noticeable but not lingering enough to warrant a response. “No,” she said, “I don’t need to see any more of that, uh… Anyway, you can head on upstairs. I’ll look after your blazers you left in the function hall.” She excused herself, pivoted the other way on her heel and walked off.
Sylvain ensured Ingrid was out of earshot before turning back to Felix’s still-smug face. “That could have been worse. Anyways, let’s get outta here.”
“Don’t you want to at least stick around for actual dessert?” asked Felix, gesturing his head down the corridor where bright light and pointless conversations carried on.
“Nah, this party’s lame. I’d rather spend this time with you,” declared Sylvain truthfully, approaching the elevator doors and tapping the button. “Besides, if we get really desperate, there’s always room service. I’ll take care of it money-wise.”
“That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” critiqued Felix, his lips pressed together doing a poor job of concealing a smile.
“Dorothea said we didn’t need to go to the awards and Ingrid didn’t object. You know what that means?” said Sylvain with a dopey grin. “Free holiday! This is the best time to be excessive!”
Unable to restrain himself, Felix let out a brief chuckle before mocking the situation too. “That’s true. Can’t let this perfectly good resort stay go to waste, can’t we? Better us make use of the facilities available here.” The elevator doors opened and he was the first to enter, followed by Sylvain. Felix quickly swiped his key card on the reader and pressed the button for their floor.
The brief elevator trip was spent in silence. In the neutral lighting and separated from prying eyes, Sylvain allowed the tension in his shoulders to disperse. His tie was wrinkled and shirt ruffled from the groping earlier but he didn’t care. Standing abreast to him was Felix, his hair neatly tied up putting his smooth jawline and subtly smiling face on full display. Somehow, Felix looked stunning to Sylvain.
As the door slid open into another unoccupied aisle, Sylvain squeezed Felix’s hand. The gesture was reciprocated as they walked at ease following hotel signage towards their room.
“By the way, Sylvain, I meant that incredibly cheesy line I said earlier. If you’d let me have you,” said Felix.
Sylvain’s excitement rose anew at the request and he playfully elbowed Felix’s side. “Woah, who’s the insatiable one now?” he jested with a salacious smile.
Felix stopped at the door to their suite, aggressively slotting the card into the reader and yanking it out when the little light above it flashed from red to green. He planted the ball of his foot on the door as high as his restrictive business trousers would allow him and shoved the door open. He rushed into the hotel room, dragging Sylvain behind him. Finally, they had time alone to do as they pleased.