Chapter Text
For his whole life, Felix had made it a point to prepare for the worst. Up to this point, it had served him well. In his career, in his personal life, in his transition, and even in his sparse, dry romantic endeavors, he had expected the worst and either been painfully right or pleasantly surprised. But nothing about his carefully calculated and tactical way of living could prepare him for the whirlwind of a man he never knew he lost so long ago.
Felix pushed the door open to Arianrhod and tugged the strings of his hoodie tighter to conceal his face a little more. Being a model had its perks or whatever, but getting recognized at a sleazy bar would not play in his favor. He just wanted a drink or two, and in his opinion, that was nothing worth reporting to the general public. Although, People Magazine would beg to differ.
The air of the bar was warmer, thicker than that of the outside, but it wasn't so suffocating that the smell of booze and cigarette smoke would linger on him the next day like his hangover certainly would. A calm night, it seemed. There weren't many people occupying the space, and the few that did seemed too immersed in their drinks or their dates or their own self pity to notice Felix's presence. He deemed it safe enough to pull down his hood and hop onto a barstool.
"I'll be with you in a second!" a carefree voice called from a mess of red hair.
Felix leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. The man finished wiping down the counter and tossed the dirty rag in what Felix could only assume was the direction of the sink. It fell about a foot short and flopped to the floor.
"What can I get for you?" he said with a tilt of his head and a warm smile that felt too familiar to be comfortable. He leaned forward on the counter expectantly.
"Um. Lagavulin on the rocks." The eye contact that this guy was trying to hold with him was throwing him off. "Please," he added.
"Sure." He started to turn away but then glanced back at Felix before going to get his drink.
Oh God, Felix thought. He's definitely recognized me. He prepared himself for the obligatory, "Sure, you can take a picture with me," and the, "Yes, I can sign something for you, but please don't make it weird," that he was hoping to avoid tonight.
A glass of whisky slid across the bar in his direction. "Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" the man asked.
Felix sighed. "Well, do you look at magazines? Or TV? Or ads?"
His eyes lit up in such a charming, homey way, that Felix wanted to actually continue this interaction for longer than a minute, if he hadn't nearly shouted, that is. "Oh! You're that model guy!"
"SHHHHH! Keep your voice down!" Felix surveyed the room for anyone looking at them. No one batted an eye. "Yeah. That's me." Felix studied his face for a moment. Something about the sharp corners of his jaw and his prominent nose and the warmth in his eyes brought about a strange sense of easiness and comfort that Felix couldn't quite place. He knew that face.
Or maybe he was just gay, and it was just late, and he needed to go to bed. Either way, he felt like he needed to stick around to figure it out. Nothing could go unanalyzed in his life, it seemed, especially hot, tall, redheaded men. Yes, it was possible that he had met this man before, but he knew that with his career, a repeat appearance in his day to day life wasn't unheard of. And even then, he was never good at remembering faces.
"You're name's Felix, right? No last name? They always just call you Felix in all your. . ." He gestured vaguely. "Stuff."
Felix nodded and sipped his drink. "No one needs to know my last name. It's dumb, anyways." He never liked his last name. Fraldarius. It made him sound like some dumb RPG character. No one would ever take him seriously if they knew his last name was Fraldarius . Time to change the subject. "What's your name?"
"Sylvain." He smiled again, and Felix noticed the freckles that dusted his cheeks and the dimples that formed in his skin. And how tight his black T-shirt was. And how tight his jeans were. And how good he looked in that tight shirt and those tight jeans.
Felix found himself chewing on his straw and had to push the glass away from himself to stop. "I knew a Sylvain, once."
"Oh yeah? Well, my last name's Gautier, if that rings a bell."
That definitely rang a bell. A few, actually. Sylvain Gautier was the name of his best friend from his childhood. The same best friend that he had followed around everywhere he went, the best friend that he counted on, the best friend that he was undoubtedly (and blindly) in love with for years until he graduated before Felix and moved away. And now he was here, right in front of him, close enough to touch. His familiar face, his sweet smile, his soft eyes; they had grown and changed since high school, but much to his dismay, they still made his heart melt.
Felix swallowed. “It doesn’t.” His voice was a bit too high pitched there for his liking, his classic tell-all for a lie. If human interaction was a poker game, he would lose every time. He couldn’t have Sylvain connecting his current existence to the one he lived in high school. That was a completely different person with a different name and a different, weaker sense of self. He had worked too hard to distance himself from who he was to allow it to influence how others saw him now.
Felix noticed a group of peppy, loud, young women sit down on the other side of the bar. Sylvain seemed to notice them too.
“Oh, well, um. . .” Sylvain pulled a small notebook out of the back of his waistband and flipped to a clean page. The pages were frayed and bent from use and covered in sketches of people Felix had never seen before. He pulled out a pen, clicked it, and scrawled down a series of numbers, then tore the page out and handed it to him. “You should call me sometime. You seem really cute. That is, if you’d ever wanna be seen with some dumb bartender.” He winked in a way that only Sylvain could, a way that Felix remembered all too well. “See you around.” With that, he sauntered over to the group of women and started chatting them up.
Felix stared at the scrap of paper in his hands, feeling his face heat up. Cute? He thought. He felt the jagged, torn edge with his finger and folded it up to stick in his pocket without a second thought. This wasn’t the first time he had been hit on by a random stranger. Granted, Sylvain wasn’t exactly a stranger. He watched as he flirted and bantered with the women, making them laugh and smile. Maybe this was something he did with all his customers; maybe he wasn't special. He certainly hadn’t changed in the six years since they’d seen each other, still as flirty and charming as ever. He couldn't help but wonder, though, what would happen if he did call him later. Would Sylvain still be into him, or would his interest wane like it always seemed to do with the girls Felix watched him date in high school? There was only one way to find out, and the thought of it made his heart feel like it was beating out of his chest.