Hardin was beginning to suspect that he was awake. As being awake would logically bring with it one of the worst hangovers he'd ever experienced, this suspicion did not appeal to him. Unfortunately, he seemed to be in the midst of one of the worst hangovers he'd ever experienced, so chances were fairly good that he was indeed awake.

Though his eyes were still closed, he still imagined he could see bursts of light, blinding in their intensity, burning right through his eyelids. With a heavy sigh, he began to raise his right hand, intending to cover his eyes, and discovered that his arm wouldn't move; it seemed to have something on top of it. Oh... of course, Sydney. His left hand would have done just as well, if that arm didn't similarly seem to have something on top of it. He tugged half-heartedly, but nothing happened. Hmm... strange.

More exhausted than inquisitive, Hardin opted to remain as he was, arms secured and eyes closed, until whatever was holding his left arm down moved, and yawned. That was strange too - Sydney usually slept on the other side of the bed, and the yawn didn't sound like one of his besides. The quiet giggle that came a moment later didn't sound like Sydney either. "Have you been awake long?"

"A little while," answered whatever it was that lay on top of his right arm, which also didn't sound like Sydney. "Didn't much feel like moving."

"Mmm... me either."

Suddenly Hardin's eyes opened, despite the aching of his head, and he looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. This has to be some crazy dream...

The weight on his left arm lifted, and he found himself looking into the eyes of a blonde who most definitely was not Sydney. "I'm sorry, did we wake you?" she asked.

Yes, definitely a dream. Hardin shook his head slightly. "No, I was awake. Just..."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I can imagine. You really shouldn't have been drinking so much."

He smiled faintly. "I was upset."

"No kidding." The voice from his right side was sharper, and he turned his head to look, though he suspected he knew who he would see. Even so, his heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. "So, how are you feeling now?"

Hardin turned his head back to look up at the ceiling again, and closed his eyes tiredly. "I feel... like I may be sick." And not just from the drinking. This is not a dream. And that means I really... gods. I couldn't just let things remain as bad as they were, could I? Oh, no - I had to make absolutely certain that he and I were through. Sydney had been furious enough over that little incident with Viktor, and this was much, much worse - a complete indiscretion, even if he had been on the tail end of a drinking binge and completely out of his mind. This was not the sort of thing Sydney would be able to accept any excuses for, even if Hardin had any to offer. In fact, this was worse than what Sydney had done to him.

"Oh dear," Quistis murmured. "Do you need-"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "I'm... I'm fine." And to his surprise, perhaps half of him agreed.

He and Sydney had been through anyway, hadn't they? Not officially, perhaps, but after Sydney's own indiscretion, and so soon after they'd finally gotten up the nerve to say that word... that idiotic little word that Hardin had thought meant so much, but apparently only to him... he couldn't look at Sydney. No matter how terrible Sydney felt - and it was obvious that he did feel terrible - Hardin was still furious. Even when he'd been trying to reassure him, saying they'd get through it, a large part of him still wanted to punch Sydney in the face. He couldn't reconcile that with his definition of love.

So maybe it had all just been a mistake. It still hurt, of course; they'd been together for years. Sydney had been his primary reason for existing for quite some time - he'd been everything Hardin had ever wanted... everything Hardin ever had wanted to be. All the frustrations that Hardin kept buried, Sydney felt the same and displayed it openly, breaking down anyone and anything in his path with his charm and his shrewd mind. He had the ability to get nearly anything he wanted.

Hardin chuckled under his breath. And yet here I am, lying in bed with two beautiful women... I, who never thought I had any confidence, who would never have even dared to think such a thing without cringing in shame... He'd have done this without a second thought, but I...

With a satisfied sigh, he tightened his arms around Quistis and Syl, hugging them gently. "Thank you." This just might, he thought, be what it felt like to be Sydney. And if that was the case, then maybe he didn't need Sydney as much as he'd thought he did.

Once again, Sydney found himself walking down the hallways of the castle that would lead to the observatory. This time, however, he remained resolved. His talk with Flik had caused him to reach his decision, and this time, gods help him, he meant it. Nothing would shake him. Even if Syl were to show herself, he might talk to her for a time, and explain things, but no more. Definitely no more.

Hardin's reaction had troubled him, though, for he'd expected Hardin to do something more than just comfort him as he always did. He should have been angry - he had a right to be - but no, he simply withdrew as Sydney hid away in his room, letting him sort out what he felt. It was perhaps very much like Hardin to do so... but also entirely unlike him, for Sydney knew he had an extremely hot temper, albeit buried deep.

There were footsteps down the hallway ahead of him as he turned a corner, but Sydney didn't think much about it - many people lived in the castle, and Flik had come to his room last night to inform him that Selphie was throwing another of her parties. A few people might have stayed over, which would account for why the footsteps sounded like neither Flik or any of the girls.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, though, when he recognized the tall, tired-looking figure approaching. Hardin, however, made no acknowledgment of his presence, and simply walked past Sydney as he halted. "John...?" Sydney called after him, turning. He looked rather ragged... had he been drinking alone up in the observatory?

Hardin glanced back, then froze as he realized who was addressing him. Sydney could almost see the hair rising on the back of his neck. He'll kill me - oh gods, he'll kill me, Sydney heard faintly, through the threads of the Dark that carried Hardin's surface thoughts, broadcast clearly in his distress - and then, defiantly, He can't. He doesn't own me - he never did. Let him see what it feels like for a change. Then, more reluctantly, ...I don't really wish to hurt him in such a way...

All this was in the blink of an eye, and Sydney peered at him in curiosity for only a moment longer before going deeper, looking into his heart. Hardin obviously had done something that he felt was terrible, and Sydney did not like not knowing.

Despite the facade of calm distance that he'd carefully schooled himself to uphold in the most trying circumstances, when the answer whispered itself in his ear, Sydney's jaw dropped.

Seeing the expression on his face, Hardin grew even more tense; he'd never seen Sydney actually shocked before. "Sydney..." he began warily, "I'm... I..."

Before he managed to get a coherent sentence out, Sydney burst out laughing hysterically, leaning back against the wall so that he wouldn't fall over in his mirth.

Hardin completely misunderstood the outburst - Gods - is he sobbing? Sydney heard through his laughter - and stepped forward to reassure him, but Sydney held up a hand, shaking his head as he convulsed with laughter. Finally, when he'd quieted enough to speak again, he looked back up at Hardin - and started laughing again.

By this time, Hardin was beginning to look less baffled than irritated, and Sydney forced himself to calm down. "Sydney, what exactly is so very amusing?"

Still chuckling, Sydney just shook his head again. "John... I think you and I need to talk. Why don't we go elsewhere?"

Hardin drew back as Sydney reached for his hand. "Don't," he told the mage firmly. "Sydney, I've had enough of your doing whatever you please, sleeping with whoever catches your eye, magicking me without my agreement-"

"I didn't intend to teleport us," Sydney broke in quietly. Reaching for Hardin's hand more gently, he twined his fingers of cold metal through Hardin's warmer ones, and looked up to smile at him. "We can walk." After a moment's hesitation, Hardin gave him a wary nod.

They left the castle and walked in silence through the forest for a time, hand in hand, Hardin following Sydney with uncertainty as the mage wandered without any apparent destination in mind. Finally the silence was broken by Sydney's chuckling. "You, John - you - in a menage a trois. With Sylvia."

For a moment, Hardin looked defensive. "And why not?"

"Because you're the most uptight, self-conscious, guilt-prone, utterly well-mannered person I've ever known," Sydney replied, halting as he began to laugh harder. "I'd never, ever have expected this of you."

"Then perhaps you don't know me as well as you thought you did."

Sydney shook his head. "I knew you had the potential in you. After all, despite all your whimpering - which, by the way, makes it all that much more fun," he added with a smirk, "deep down I knew you enjoyed many of the more... unconventional things that I've shown you." Looking up at Hardin, he began to laugh again. "And now, even after this, you're blushing at the mere thought."

Hardin sighed, carefully pulling his hand free of Sydney's more dangerous one. "Stop making fun of me."

"You misunderstand, John." His smile softened as he reached up to touch the taller man's cheek. "I never expected you'd go through with such a thing of your own volition... and I certainly would have expected you to be on your knees begging for my forgiveness afterwards. It seems you're not so helpless after all."

"Strange - I was thinking the same earlier." Though I wouldn't object to being on my knees before him right now - damn him for bringing up... those... unconventional things.

Sydney stifled another laugh at the stray thought - that was very much the John Hardin he knew. "John..." He slipped his arms around Hardin's shoulders, sobering completely as he looked up into Hardin's eyes. "I... there are many things to say running through my mind right now," he said honestly, "but I still can't make sense of why I'm not angry, or hurt, or jealous... just relieved."

"Because I did something even worse than you did?"

Sydney shook his head. "Not exactly... it's just that..." He sighed. "John, I've never been so good at talking about myself."

"I know." Hardin hesitantly put his arms around Sydney's waist. "But if I can have enough nerve to stand up for what I want and get it, you can speak honestly. You're braver than I. And more shameless."

Sydney's smile returned momentarily. "True. I... like the fact that for once you did something entirely for yourself, without a care for what I wanted. I suppose I was afraid that you had lost sight of your own comfort, in favor of attending to mine... after all, the last time you dared to tell me no, you changed your mind rather quickly. And when I slept with Sylvia, you did nothing whatsoever."

"I wasn't sure what to do, or what to feel," Hardin told him. "I was angry, true, but... I could see how upset you were over betraying my trust. I can't stand to see you upset, for whatever reason..."

"John..." Sydney paused; for once he was the one who felt terribly awkward. "After all this trouble, and your own taste of freedom, do you... do you still...?"

Hardin hesitated before answering, internally debating whether he should demand that Sydney say the word he avoided like the plague, or if he should get his answer to the same question first. But in the end, honesty won out over pride. "Gods yes," he sighed, looking into Sydney's eyes earnestly.

"Good." Sydney met his eyes with the same honesty. "Because I... John, forgive me... I don't know what to say..."

"You know exactly what to say - you're simply afraid to say it," Hardin pointed out. "But that's all right," he added, smiling faintly as he reached up to caress Sydney's hair. "The fact that it frightens you so tells me that you're desperately afraid that you'll be hurt... and you would not be hurt if you didn't feel it so deeply. You don't need to say the words."

"Hmmph. Perceptive," Sydney muttered, Hardin's arms tightening around him as he leaned his head forward upon the taller man's shoulder.

They remained like that for a while, until Hardin's soft chuckle broke the silence. "So no more Syl, then? For either of us?"

"Not if I can help it," Sydney agreed. "And what of Quistis?"

"Hmm... Before you, I would have been infatuated with her," Hardin admitted. "But again, that would have been before you. You know, she reminds me a lot of Kirri."

Sydney nodded, laughing softly as they began to walk again, taking the path that led back to the shack. "You're right." He smirked a little, thinking back to his conversation with Flik a few days ago. "Hmm... truth be told, I would not object to you sleeping with either of them again, or both... so long as this time you invited me."

Hardin's face colored faintly. "...I... believe I'd prefer to keep the meaningless sex and the meaningful sex separate."

Yes, that was definitely the John Hardin he knew, Sydney thought, if a bit more candid than he'd been previously. He could not resist provoking him just a little more. "So then, I might sleep with them myself, so long as you were not involved?"

Just as he'd expected, Hardin's blush grew deeper, but his answer was not what Sydney had been expecting at all. "Uhm... perhaps, if I were allowed to watch."

Hardin's arms were the only thing that kept Sydney upright when he once again began laughing so hard that he nearly collapsed.