@petrokhelidon sent: “You keep drinking like you’re trying to forget something. Or someone.” / foulques to ywain
Ywain stares into his glass, swirling the liquid around by tilting his hand back and forth. Mayhap he's had one too many already, but his day had been shit and it wasn't like he had anyone to drink with so—
He nearly jumps out of his seat when Foulques approaches him, voicing that observation so nonchalantly Ywain didn't even recognize his voice at first. Or maybe that's just the liquor dulling his senses. That had been the plan after all. Brown eyes are wide and his mouth goes slack with surprise when he turns his head and finds the Duskwight that's been occupying his thoughts lower himself into the seat next to him.
Ywain grasps at the composure he prides himself so much on normally, but both the buzz he got going on as well as the rapid nature of his heartbeat make it difficult to keep himself appearing calm and collected. He swallows thickly, suddenly a lot more self-conscious about his current state of being.
"Yeah, well..." His words slur at the edges and his vision swims a bit. "Got some things on my mind." He mumbles and runs a hand over his face. He shakes his head to clear it. Foulques is right, because of course he is. Because somewhere along the way he'd learned to read Ywain in a way no one ever could.
Well, not since him anyway. And isn't that just the problem? Foulques and him are so vastly different from eachother and yet Ywain's managed to do the same damn thing again he'd sworn to not do ever again. It's only gotten him into trouble and worst of all, the last time this happened it's given him heartache it took him decades to overcome. And now he is doing the whole godsdamn thing over with someone who got about as many issues as he does and he really can't afford to set himself up for another heartbreak.
Doesn't mean that when he downs what he decided would be the last shot of the evening and looks up at the Duskwight sitting next to him that he doesn't sort of feel like leaning in, sort of thinks about kissing him, too. As if that wouldn't fuck up the trust they very slowly built over the past few months. As if that wouldn't push Foulques away in the same way it had done to him.
Ywain's just really fucking hopeless in that way, isn't he?
Come back to Gridania. People said. Settle down. People said. Rebuilt your life here. People said. Find a nice girl. People said. But of course, Ywain had to go and fall for the most abrasive, most difficult, and all together most beautiful Duskwight he'd ever seen and— What was he thinking about again?
He blinks, realizing he's been staring into Foulques' eyes, taking in their striking color, seeming ever brighter framed by light hair and dark skin, the lines of his face so much softer in the dingy light of the pub. He feels his heart skip a beat when he watches Foulques' lips part and Ywain quickly looks away before he can do something that will get him punched in the face.
Spirits be good, Ywain doesn't even remember what it felt like to be in love before he fell for Foulques, because every bit of it was always tainted by the taste of betrayal, but now? Now he lights up like the Amphitheatre during Starlight season whenever Foulques graces him with his presence, an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach and a perpetual smile on his face.
His head hurts and worse, his heart does, too. He stumbles to his feet, throwing whatever amount of gil he owes and some more onto the counter. "Mind taking me home?" He asks as he finds his legs in no state to obey him. While aware that asking Foulques into his home, again, might not actually help the dilemma he is in, he really doesn't fancy waking up in some random bush in the morning either, which he reckons is more likely than actually finding his way back home by himself.