PSL; [AND IF THE SUN SHOULD FOLLOW US INTO YOUR ROOM]

[royalboar]

♫

Comments

[heartburn]

[she is sure she has made an appointment for today. someone must have asked her to help out in the greenhouse or with catching a special kind of fish or maybe to even consider taste-testing a new recipe. byleth is sure of it, yet it escapes her mind as she traverses the grounds of the monastery in some kind of hurry. she sees her students, now comrades in arms in this war, standing about but none of them spark a sense of recognition... until she reaches dimitri.]

[it's the blue that catches her eye first, and she's hurrying to him with a rather strained expression―]

[without much of a word, she raises the satin ribbon onto his chestplate, her expression that of intense concentration as she stares at it, almost daring it to speak that it does not, in fact, belong to this person. it might belong to someone else, a previous pupil who has taken another side in this war, and the thought itself frustrates her as much as it upsets her.]

Definitely not.

[a low mutter to herself, taking the ribbon back and putting it in her bag of lost items.]

[it's only then that she looks up at dimitri. maybe it was the cloak which made her immediately gravitate towards him? or maybe it was―]

[heartburn]

[their progress into a relationship is, by all means, a glacial pace kind of commitment. with the war moving along as it does, losses in the battlefield and drawing ever closer to a conclusion that makes all of them restless, there has been a kind of solace found in quiet talks and shared fears and holding each other tight. byleth isn't sure she does very well at expressing how much it means to her—dimitri's almost blind trust towards her and the way his gaze softens when their eyes meet.]

[and while little is questioned in terms of who grows closer with whom, byleth finds solace in knowing that her feelings are very much returned, and that those around her jest and tease dimitri, confirming that yes, in fact, this much is true.]

[ghosts and regrets still haunt the young king to be, however, and byleth is familiar with nightmares that seem too real. she witnesses her beloved's desperate thrashing in his sleep far too often, and tonight, while sleep escapes her, she is not surprised to see him walking about the monastery—his expression that of a man lost, mumbling to himself.]

Dimitri.

[she calls quietly, but loud enough to be heard in the courtyard, and makes her way towards him—a hand immediately seeking his own, concern on her face.]

Can't sleep?

[the answer is clear, but she wishes to give him the opportunity to says what he wishes and keep locked away what he wants.]