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Felix landed on the ground with a humiliating thump, his blade clattering uselessly into the dust. He rolled his eyes when Dimitri started talking.
“You were so focused on parrying that you let me trip you easily,” the prince of Faerghus mused from above him, the sunlight glistening on the steel head of his training lance and tracing his fine silhouette. “Next time, make sure to be aware of every—”
“Oh, will you stop!” Felix exclaimed, thrashing his legs in annoyance and making furrows in the dirt with his heels. “I get it. I’m not as good as you. I never will be.”
Dimitri sighed and flopped down next to his friend, the pair lying head to head in the center of the deserted training grounds. They had been up since sunrise, sparring together—along with Ingrid and Sylvain, who had recently ditched them for breakfast—in preparation for the mock battles that were to occur later in the day, and the only thing Felix gained was fatigue and a newfound appreciation for sitting.
“Don’t give me that, Felix,” Dimitri muttered. “We both know I’m useless with a sword. You’d easily best me if it weren’t for the fact that I had a lance with me.”
“And we also know that I’m useless without a sword,” Felix grumbled, folding his arms indignantly. “I think my second best weapon would be a staff. I could heal everyone from really, really far away, so as no one punches me and kills me instantly.”
Dimitri grinned, then laughed, his hand traveling from his heaving chest to his sweaty face. He always covered his face when he laughed; Felix never knew why, though he never really thought of asking before. It was always just a part of Dimitri, just as diplomacy and nitpicking was a part of him, too.
After a bit of comfortable silence, both young men regaining their lost breath, Felix cleared his throat. “Why do you...do that when you laugh?”
Felix glanced sideways to where Dimitri lay beside him, staring into the cloudless morning sky. “What do you mean?”
“You know, you kinda...cover your mouth with your hand. Why do you do that? Does your breath smell especially bad when you laugh?” Felix taunted, his innocent question subconsciously turning into a jibe.
Dimitri smirked and elbowed Felix in the ribs. “Of course not. At least, I hope.” Felix smiled to himself as the prince awkwardly checked his breath.
“Then why?”
“Does it matter?”
“...Well, I guess not. I was just wondering, is all. Besides, your hand muffles your laugh, and it doesn’t sound as good when it’s muffled.”
Felix’s own hand suddenly flew to his mouth, and Dimitri was silent. Felix didn’t dare to look at his childhood friend; he felt that if he did, he would die on the spot.
The air felt thicker than usual now.
“...Felix,” Dimitri said quietly after a long time, and Felix had to focus to breathe now. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
The fact that he could hear the prince’s smile made Felix even more embarrassed, and his voice squeaked a little when he replied, “No…?”
“Are you feeling a certain way?” Dimitri pried again, amusement bubbling in his often calm, level voice.
“I feel sweaty,” Felix replied stupidly, “if that helps at all.” He felt he was digging himself into a deeper hole with every word he spoke.
Felix heard another muffled snicker, and he chanced a look at the prince, about to chastise him for covering his face again.
Dimitri was lying on his side now, his sky blue eyes gazing fondly at his friend. His right hand covered the bridge of his nose and the edge of his lips, and his head rested on the crook of his left arm, a couple strands of his blonde hair sticking to his forehead from perspiration. Felix lost feeling in his limbs, and blood rushed up into his face.
“To answer your question...my nose wrinkles a little whenever I laugh, and it looks weird. I just don’t like getting picked on for it.”
Felix woke from his stupor in a wave of anger. “People pick on you for how you laugh?” he demanded, and Dimitri’s warm gaze suddenly faded as he looked away.
“Well, not really. Not anymore. But back when we were little, some older kids would…” Dimitri shook his head, as if to dismiss the topic. “It doesn’t matter any longer.”
“Those...those—” Felix couldn’t find a word in his vocabulary to describe his hatred. He struck the ground beneath him with the side of his fist. “They’d poke fun at the prince of Faerghus? They’d really dare to do that?”
“It doesn’t matter, really,” Dimitri insisted, sounding nervous. “It’s all in the past. Besides, it didn’t bother me much—”
“You’re really going to lie to me like that?” Felix interrupted, and Dimitri looked up at him in surprise. “Those...freaks made you change the way you—you express your happiness! It’s like a grasshopper getting one of its legs chopped off, and telling you not to worry since it can still walk with five!”
Dimitri stared in shock at Felix, who stared back, his amber eyes narrowed. The silence that fell over them was not comfortable.
“Besides,” Felix added after a while, folding his arms again. “If your laugh was anything like your smile, then I’m sure it’d be pretty cute.”
Dimitri’s eyes softened, and he stared up into the sky again without a word. Felix, however, wanted to get trampled by a horse. Cute? Cute? He’d never used that word once in his entire life.
The sun was rising higher in the sky now, and classes would be beginning soon. Felix turned to tell Dimitri of this, but stopped when he noticed what the prince was doing.
He was touching his face with the tips of his fingers, half smiling, full smiling, then beaming widely, then frowning and shaking his head, dust dirtying his sweat-slicked hair whenever he did so.
“You don’t have to practice,” Felix murmured, and Dimitri flinched, his hand quickly retracting from his lips to his chest. His old friend turned his head to face him fully. “I just think—peh!” A couple strands of navy hair had slipped into Felix’s mouth, and Dimitri chuckled as the amber-eyed young man struggled to fish them out, and then he started to laugh as Felix nearly choked pulling them free.
“H-Hey!” Felix gasped, letting the strands of hair fall back on his face. “Stop it!” But then, he saw that Dimitri’s hands were still clasped over his sternum, and the bridge of his nose was scrunched up as he laughed, and he looked—Felix hadn’t used this word at all in his life either—adorable.
When Dimitri opened his eyes again, they were glistening with tears of happiness. He smiled, and Felix couldn’t help following suit. He tried not to leap three feet in the air when Dimitri took one of his hands, letting his fingers rest on the back of Felix’s wrist in the small space between them.
“Thank you for your counsel, Felix.” Dimitri’s voice was as soft and light as summer wind, and Felix felt a little rush of delight course through his veins at the sound of his name. “I’ll bear it all in mind.”
“Good,” Felix murmured, beaming a little wider. “I’d really like to see you be happy more often.”
“Then maybe I should take you wherever I go.” Dimitri inched his face a little closer to Felix’s on the dusty ground. “You always make me happy.”
Felix’s heart swelled, and he let his forehead rest against the prince’s. Where they lay together in the center of the training grounds, it felt still and silent, as quiet as a winter wood. Dimitri’s eyes were the moonlit sky, his even breathing the warmth of the hearth.
“What will Dedue think, if I’m following you everywhere?” Felix whispered, and Dimitri laughed a little under his breath again. It sounded like birdsong.
“Don’t think about it, while you’re still in one piece.” Dimitri laced his fingers together with Felix’s, and he closed his beautiful eyes. Felix guided a stray lock of hair behind Dimitri’s ear with his free hand, then closed his own eyes. “If you’re going to die so soon, then we have much ground to cover.”
“Please don’t say things like th—”
Felix’s remark was cut off when Dimitri crossed the space between them, placing a light kiss upon Felix’s lips. The fire that filled him was different than the kind that burned in the hearths of the dining hall; it was a golden, nourishing kind, a kind that mended him, made him forget the bad things, made him feel at peace.
It was over in an instant, but the feeling seemed to last long beyond their parting.
Felix opened his eyes, and Dimitri was watching him, blushing just a little. The sun danced on his skin and made his eyes glow with warmth.
The prince kept looking at Felix, as if he was expecting something to be said.
“Um...thanks,” Felix spluttered, and Dimitri laughed again, wrapping his arms around Felix and hugging him tightly.
“You didn’t have to say anything. I just...it only occurred to me now how handsome you are,” Dimitri mumbled into Felix’s shoulder.
“Just now?” Felix exclaimed, holding him close, and Dimitri simpered and got to his knees, taking Felix’s hand to help him up. The prince pulled and pulled, and the most he did was lift the small of Felix’s back off the ground for an instant.
“Can we stay here a little longer? I’m still tired,” Felix complained, and Dimitri sighed and folded his arms. When Felix still didn’t get up, he lay back down.
“You’re lucky I’m in love with you,” he pointed out, affection softening his words, and Felix grinned widely, letting the side of his face rest against the top of Dimitri’s head.
“Yeah. I am.”