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It was yet another lackadaisical afternoon at the Officers Academy. Warm sun bathed the carefully-manicured gardens of the courtyard, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. Greenery stretched as far as the eye could see, accented by the white tufts of dandelions that floated through the air, oblivious to the cares of the world. A songbird trilled from atop a nearby fence, calm and content. With all of these components coalescing harmoniously, Linhardt knew for certain that his nap would be a restful one.
Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he leaned against the trunk of his favorite tree. As of late, he struggled to keep his eyes open in class, debating whether or not taping his eyelids open would be a viable solution. Caspar had suggested it, but… well. He wasn’t quite sure if he should put stock into his so-called “brilliant” suggestions. There was many a time his friend’s well-meaning suggestions went awry, after all.
Then there was that other mishap that he had to contend with recently— Byleth wheedling him into increasing his attentiveness during his lectures. Though, perhaps “wheedling” wasn’t the right word… He was simply more determined to make him pay attention, come hell or high water. It’s not that Linhardt didn’t like the extra effort to tailor the lectures to his needs; it was just that he wasn’t accustomed to having the focus on him. That caused him have mixed feelings on the matter.
Sighing, Linhardt clunked his head in frustration against his makeshift pillow, groaning from the pain. Oh, that’s right. He didn’t have such a fluffy and forgiving pillow. The only accommodations provided for him by the tree were bumps and bruises.
A rumble of thunder snapped him from his doldrums, foreboding dark clouds in the distance accompanying the stormy forecast. Rubbing the back of his throbbing head, Linhardt craned his neck up to peer at the sky, any drop of drowsiness drowned out by a downpour of rain. Fortunately he was partially shielded by the canopy of the tree, but the branches and leaves could only do so much. Lunging to grab his books, he tucked them underneath his arm, leaping to his feet to seek refuge elsewhere.
As the raindrops pelted him relentlessly, he wondered how today went from a perfect day for a nap to an imperfect day for a nap. How long had he been running across the courtyard? It felt like it had been decades since he bolted from his superior snooze spot. If he was going to reach safety, Linhardt hoped and prayed it would be no—
SPLAT!
Without even registering what happened, he tripped on the slippery terrain and fell forward, his face becoming intimately acquainted with the ground. He laid there for a few seconds, moping in the mud. Fantastic. As if his carefree outing hadn’t already been ruined, his treasured books on the history of crests probably had been ruined, too. Whose books could he borrow now? Caspar’s? Gods, he didn’t even want to ruminate on the condition those poor books were in.
Hauling himself out of the muddy mire, Linhardt tried to wipe his face clean. Whatever remained the rain would wash away, he supposed. After finishing that task, he cast a glance around himself, searching for where his books had somersaulted off to. Huh… no sign of them. Just where could they have gone?
“Are you looking for these?”
That voice… No, it couldn’t be, could it? That would be just too bizarre. For what reason would he be here, in the middle of this downpour?
“Byleth? Is that you?” Linhardt asked incredulously, turning around.
His lips quirking into a sly smile, he answered, “Who else would it be?”
In spite of his self-assured response, he did a double take, drinking in the spectacle that was Byleth in his element: rain-speckled hair and striking blue eyes. For a moment, he found himself speechless. Who would have known he could be so mesmerizing in the most mundane of circumstances? This man was full of surprises.
Holding his books up in his gloved hands, Byleth asked once again, “Do these happen to belong to you, Linhardt? I couldn’t help but notice your little… accident.”
Unpleasant flashbacks of him taking a tumble reappeared in his mind, eliciting a full-body shudder. Or maybe it was from being drenched from the rain. Ah, whatever.
"To answer your question: yes, those miserable excuses of books belong to me. Also…“ he squinted suspiciously at the Professor, crossing his arms. ”…how long have you been watching me?“
Byleth chuckled. “Probably since when you started running for your life. I must admit, I don’t believe I’ve seen you so animated before.“
Shaking his head, Linhardt threw up his hands in defeat. "Well, I’m thrilled to know that my misfortune has put a spring in your step.”
Amidst their titillating conversation, the raging rain started to slow to a muted mist, leaving the two of them freezing wet— Linhardt moreso. Clutching his arms in an attempt to stop the shivers, he silently cursed the weather for conspiring against him. Of course he couldn’t receive a reprieve from the rigors of academia. He knew that he indulged in naps whenever possible, but today was the perfect day for one. That was what made him angry.
Footsteps approaching drew his attention again, and he looked up to see Byleth only a heartbeat away from him. Linhardt gulped. With the other man this close, he couldn’t concentrate on his complaining anymore. The persistent cold chilling him from earlier was replaced by an abrupt heat thawing his cheeks. Was… was he blushing…?
To add insult to injury, Byleth smiled at him with that affectionate smile of his— a smile he’d seldom seen— and placed a hand on his shoulder. The warmth from his touch seeped right through him; it was a soothing sensation that washed away his worries. No matter what, Byleth always knew how to handle him and his idiosyncrasies. That was why he lo–
Wait… loved him?
Yes, he surmised he could love him platonically. There was nothing romantic about their relationship, right? Yet even in the face of those factors… he couldn’t wholeheartedly acknowledge that his feelings for him were purely platonic. The next likely conclusion would be… he had a schoolboy crush on him. Oh, joy. When and how did this development occur?
Clearing his throat, Linhardt steeled himself and locked eyes with Byleth, pushing the startling revelation to the recesses of his mind. The last thing he needed right now was to arouse suspicion.
“May I ask why you’re invading my personal space?”
Retracting his hand from his shoulder, Byleth replied, “My apologies. I was just about to offer to escort you back inside. It wouldn’t do to catch a cold from lingering out here, would it?”
Well, he did have a point. Being curled up inside by a comforting fire sounded splendid right about now. The crackling of the embers, the flickering of the flames, Byleth nestled snug beside him… what a blissful scenario. He wouldn’t be averse to it in the slightest. Byleth, however… would he even humor such a whimsical request? The risk of failure was skewed too far to the high end for his liking. Therefore, Linhardt decided, he should refrain.
“There’s no arguing with your infallible logic, Byleth. Very well, I shall gratefully accept your offer.”
Nodding brusquely, Byleth pivoted toward the direction of the entrance, his black cape fluttering like Linhardt’s stubborn-to-silence heart. They began their wayward walk to their destination, no words passing between them. All Linhardt could hear was badump, badump in his ears— a nagging reminder of his foolish feelings. The sooner he discarded of these liabilities of emotions, the better. He didn’t want to trouble him with them, after all. Their relationship should steadfastly remain the way it is.
“Byleth?” he called out in spite of himself, halting a hair’s breadth away from the entrance. Once he crossed that threshold, he felt as if the daydream they had found themselves in would end.
Turning his head, Byleth cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Thank you for everything.”
Unbeknownst to Byleth, the extent of that thank you extended above and beyond his rainy rescue of today. He was not only indebted to him for that, but he was indebted to him for a multitude of other occasions. In fact, he was certain that in the future, he would be swooping in to save him again. Because hidden behind that stoic exterior was a gleaming heart of gold.
Averting his eyes, Byleth’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “There’s no need to thank me. Whenever you require my assistance, I’ll come rushing to your aid. That’s a promise you can count on.”
“Likewise,” Linhardt affirmed, determination burning bright within his core. “One day when you’re the damsel in distress, I’ll be the fabled knight in shining armor exclusively for you. And that is a promise you can count on.”
In that span of a second, the dreary clouds that hung overhead parted, basking the dampened land in abundant light. Blinking to readjust to the brightness, Linhardt gaped at his surroundings. Dewdrops dotted blades of grass like teardrops shed from the heavens, glimmering gloriously under the sun. The multicolored flowers that peppered the courtyard were no longer weighed down by the sudden showers, and stood tall amongst the sea of green. Everywhere your eyes wandered, there was something beautiful to behold. But perhaps the most beautiful of all was...
"I'm holding you to that, you know," the man himself spoke, fondness framing his flawless features. "Let's strive not to forget this breathtaking sight... and the promise we made."
“Of course. By the time our five year reunion arrives, it’ll be me sweeping you off your feet. You won’t even be able to recognize me from my current sel... ACHOO!”
Smirking, Byleth ruffled his already mussed hair. “It might be in your best interest to care for the present you instead of the future you, Linhardt. Just a word of advice from your affable Professor.”
"Yes, yes. I should be an obedient student and sip from your neverending wellspring of wisdom,” Linhardt teased back, striding into the academy with zero regrets. “Let’s go home, Byleth.”
And so, his daydream came to an inevitable end. But it was quite all right. Because in the waking world, Linhardt would have a sweeter sanctuary than a dream itself.