Summary:
Abruptly, Felix pushes himself up and into a sitting position, pulling Sylvain’s retreating hand back into his own. A simple gold band glints back at him from its place around Sylvain’s finger, new and perfectly unmarred under the glare of the window’s bright light. When Felix runs the edge of his thumb across the surface, it feels exactly the same temperature as the skin of Sylvain’s hand—as though, in the short amount of time it’s been in Sylvain’s possession, the metal has already become just another part of him. “You slept with it on."
or, the morning after the wedding.





















