#this happens early in endwalker but after everything i can't see it /not/ happening then

[hythlodaes]

to you alone

emile / estinien - 2k words endwalker spoilers, set after msq quest the color of joy

It’s difficult, with Estinien this close, to think anything other than, What are we doing?

The moon sets early. 

Emile only notices because he keeps glancing at the window, watching the light pass through and fade as the evening stretches on. He’d expected a quiet night alone upon their return to Sharlayan, but the simple happiness of his friends surrounding him surpasses any desire for solitude. He’d always prefer to watch Alisaie joke around with Raha, their happy chatter filling the spaces in between bites of food. Alphinaud sips at his tea across from Emile, and it reminds him of all the places he’s seen the same sight: the Rising Stones, the Fortemps Manor, the Crystarium. 

Krile watches with the same kind of amusement, something borne of recognizing peace while it lasts. Emile feels its warmth in his chest, and he lets himself savor the moment as he sips his own cup of tea. It would be perfect, if only for one thing—

“Lest you wonder, we’d invited Estinien as well,” Alphinaud offers, but his impression of him does little to settle the unease that stirs in Emile’s chest. Neither does Krile’s designation of Lone Wolf. 

He works up a smile in response—some part of him wishes it was that simple. 

The problem is, they were alone together in Radz-at-Han. They were alone for the first time since they sailed to Sharlayan, and it was too easy to fall back into it. Just you and me, then—Emile pestered him to play tour guide until he gave in, and for a moment it felt like they could just be themselves, walking through the busy markets, taking in the sights, Estinien pointing out the different foods he’s tried. 

They were nearly separated at one point walking through the crowd, but Estinien reached out and placed a hand on Emile’s lower back—a single tether between them, and Emile swears he can still feel his touch. 

Whatever is changing between them may be quiet, but it is hard to ignore. 

Perhaps that’s what makes Estinien’s absence even more noticeable. Emile knows him so well but he doesn't know about this, and though it feels like the wrong time to be asking the question, he doesn’t know if it can wait. 

For now he settles into the comfort of having his friends surround him, letting himself enjoy this brief moment of respite. It’s after they leave, when he still can’t let it go from his mind, that he realizes that he needs to find him. He climbs out the window and carefully picks his way over the ledge, blowing out a frustrated breath at Estinien’s penchant for heights as he pulls himself up to the roof. 

Of course Estinien is there. He sits on the far edge, his back to Emile as he looks out at the harbor. Starlight coats over him, a blue echo above the golden glow of lanterns on the street below. Emile freezes for a moment, the cold night air pulling at his shirt as he watches him, and he has to swallow back the affection that rises up his throat. 

“I thought I might find you here,” he murmurs when he crosses the distance between them. Estinien doesn’t look at him, but he angles his head towards him, his hair now bound and exposing the line of his ear down to his jaw, a sharp curve cut from light. It exposes his neck, revealing pale skin that Emile can’t let himself look at for too long. Instead, he takes a deep breath and sits beside him. “You missed dinner.” 

In the absence of an immediate response, the silence of the night is dotted only by the distant sounds of movement in the harbor, voices carrying from the paths below them, but then comes Estinien’s deep voice: “I needed a moment to think.” 

“Oh,” Emile says, and the uncertainty he’d been feeling gives way to doubt. It punches through him, and he swallows hard. “If you’d like to be alone, I don’t mind—”

“‘Tis all right.” 

He leaves it at that, and as many times as they’ve sat in shared silence, Emile doesn’t know if it’s ever felt uncomfortable. Maybe he’s overthinking it, but Estinien still just stares at the view before them, and Emile follows his gaze, wishing he’d remembered to bring his cloak—though he doubts that he would’ve kept it for himself, anyway. 

The chill of the night freezes the air itself, and stray snowflakes drift around them despite the clear sky. Emile’s eyes linger on the stars for a moment, at the skewed shapes of the constellations he knows by heart, and then he looks out at the water. The ocean blurs deep blue into black, a distant push and pull that sinks towards the horizon until it disappears entirely. 

His skin itches as he tries to think of what to say, but how do you talk about something like this? Estinien seems lost in his own thoughts, still leaving Emile with only his profile lined in ghostly white, and it wears on so long that it feels like it passes them entirely.

“Estinien,” he says, his voice so much quieter this time. “I don’t mean to intrude. You merely have to say the word and I’ll go, I promise I won’t take offense.”

But the sharp cut of Estinien’s gaze finally turns to him, intent and steeled with resolve. Emile wants to understand but he feels overwhelmed by the way their eyes meet, and he realizes that for the first time since they were on that damned ship, they’re truly alone. 

“Stay,” Estinien says. “Please.” 

It leaves no room for question, and neither of them look away. It brings Emile back to that place they were those last few nights they had together, and he feels his heart pick up a beat, wanting only that closeness again. He swallows the desire back, clearing his throat as he searches his mind for something to say. It’s difficult, with Estinien this close, to think anything other than, What are we doing?

It’s in his eyes, shining silver in the stars’ reflection. He always looks beautiful in this light, which is when Emile knows him best, where they have found each other again and again, and that has to mean something, doesn’t it? There has to be a simple answer, here.

“Do you—,” he starts, but hesitates. Do you want to talk about it? he was going to ask, but it sounds so foolish in his head. “What were you thinking about?”

Estinien is quiet for a long time, but then comes a single word: “You.”

“Me?” he repeats. “Why?”

Estinien’s brows dip down at the center. “Do you truly need to ask?”

When Emile thinks about it, he supposes he doesn’t. In his mind, he sees the two of them dancing driftless into the night, drawn in and out of each other's space until they lingered, faces close. There was that last embrace, the strength of Estinien’s grip around him, his hands bunched in Emile’s sweater, and his breath against his neck. In his most recent memory: there’s the sound of Estinien’s rumble of a laugh as he led him through Radz-at-Han, his gaze on him each time he glanced over his shoulder, and his fingertips just barely touching the exposed skin at his waist.

Emile’s breath shakes on an exhale as he looks down at his hands in his lap, and he admits, “I cannot deny that things have felt different between us as of late, but I dare not let myself hope for more. In truth, I’m afraid to want what I cannot have.”

“Emile,” Estinien murmurs, and Emile’s attention snaps back up to him. His expression has softened, eyes crinkled at the corners, and there’s something so gentle about the way he says his name, something that contrasts the rasp of his voice. He lifts a hand to Emile’s cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth as he cups his face, eyes searching his. He breathes out, “You need not fear.”

Emile watches him until he can’t take it, and he turns into his open hand, closing his eyes as he presses a kiss to the rough, calloused skin of his palm. When he opens them, there is something in Estinien’s eyes that he’s never seen before, something open and wanting. He draws his hand away, his fingertips cool along the heat of Emile’s skin as he traces them down to his neck, and Emile’s all but certain that he can feel the rapid thrum of his pulse underneath—his nerves alive and rushing through him, giving away his desire. 

“May I?” Estinien asks, glancing down at his mouth before returning his gaze. 

Emile nods, just the slightest tip of his chin as he leans in. “Please.” 

The gap between them isn’t so far, after all.

Emile’s eyes fall closed as Estinien kisses him, the touch of his lips far more gentle than Emile had expected. He feels the warmth of it spread through him against the cold of the night—warm like honey, like the morning sun, like home. It surrounds him: the proximity of Estinien’s body, his breath against his skin, the way his fingers curl around the back of his neck to pull him closer. It’s what passes between them: the confirmation that they both want this just as much as each other, that it’s more than just a kiss, it’s a beginning. 

The world around them feels so far away that it hardly matters at all. 

Emile licks at his bottom lip, every thought held captive by the slight gasp Estinien makes as he parts his mouth, as he lets him in, as he shifts so he can wind his arms around him. Emile responds in kind, fingers pressing into his back until they’re chest to chest, and it deepens as they find a rhythm, something slow and languid that builds too strong. A soft moan crawls up Emile’s throat, and every beat of his pounding heart says, this feels right. 

They linger forehead to forehead when they part, sharing the same space for a moment longer before Emile pulls back, and he marvels at Estinien’s messy hair, the shine of his lips, the way his eyes blink slowly back into focus.

Emile reaches up to smooth part of his bangs down before he leans in to kiss him one more time. This one is brief—something chaste, something sweet—and he feels himself grin after. He has to bite down on it, unable to contain his happiness, and he clears his throat before he asks, “How long have you been up here? ‘Tis freezing.”

“I thought you would bring your cloak.”

“I left it inside,” Emile murmurs, but he pauses as his words catch up with him. “You knew I would find you?”

His lips curve up at the corners. “You always do.”

“Oh,” Emile says absently, and his face warms with a blush that he thinks he should be embarrassed by, but he can’t find it in him. He keeps watching Estinien and Estinien watches him back, and there’s an intimacy in that, in knowing what his lips taste like, in not being afraid to look. He watches Estinien and he fights a shiver, because he wasn’t exaggerating about how cold the night is, and all he wants is to warm up. “Come here.” 

Estinien draws closer, shifting over until there’s no space left between them. He fits himself into Emile’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Emile rests his cheek against the top of his head as he closes his eyes, shutting out the night, shutting out the view, until it’s just them. He can see it so easily—the two of them curled up together on the roof, the stars turning above them, and he feels like he’s outside himself, watching them breathe slow and deep against each other. 

They won’t stay much longer, not with the temperature still dropping, not with the new weight tomorrow brings, but this is its own kind of promise, a way of saying, No matter what happens, we’ll have each other. Hold onto me through the night.

Emile presses a kiss into his hair, and for now, it’s enough. 

#first kiss fic <: #emile/estinien #ffxiv #oc: emile jenidaut #they're kinda cute ig #this happens early in endwalker but after everything i can't see it /not/ happening then #and the wol stares out the window in the cutscene so like. it's all right there klsdfdsf #also shoutout to azia for helping me straighten this out #i have like four versions of this fic with varying confessions skdjfds #but here we are <3 #my writing