Work Text:
“Tell me something. If I asked you to… would you stay? Just for a moment longer.”
I.
Byleth sighed, setting his quill aside to rest his forehead in his palms. The burning candle nub on his desk reminded him just what the hour was, but the papers before him were still largely ungraded. Perhaps he would feel more motivated if he were issuing passing grades, but unfortunately, either he was a poorer teacher than he thought or those of Faerghus were exceedingly dull. The latter was his leading theory, considering the perfect score Mercedes had managed to pull out.
His students had told him before that any favor he could request, they would comply. Byleth wondered, if he woke them all up at the witching hour to rewrite these horrendous reports – how quickly would they skin him? They likely wouldn’t even have the decency to let him die first.
The professor shoved his chair away from his desk and stood quickly. He would go insane if he spent another minute grading. He needed to go somewhere, see something other than parchment. A rumble in his stomach guided his feet towards the kitchens. The small ball of white light he conjured up in his palm was his only guide, and the monastery was rather haunting at night. As Byleth walked, his eyes scanned the old cobble walls and gossamer banners upon them. The scant windows were cracked open, letting in the chilly Fodlan winter air. It was a welcome cold, but alone in such a castle at night was always an odd thing to be. He wondered if this was how the ghosts in the walls felt. Cold, at ease, but longing for something.
Likely they longed for something more significant than a snack, but his point stood. Probably.
The collide of his body into another person frightened him. The light he had summoned extinguished in panic, and he heard a rustling of papers. Quick as he could, Byleth called forth another orb of light, and an apology immediately fell from his lips as he saw Seteth on his hands and knees, gathering paper after paper from the floor.
Byleth immediately joined Seteth on the floor, aiding him in scooping up the paperwork.
“I had no idea you were around that corner,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
“It happens,” Seteth said with a strained voice.
“Let me help you carry this,” Byleth insisted, and to his surprise, Seteth agreed.
Soon into their trek they stepped onto the bridge to the cathedral, and the outdoor air made him shiver. Seteh glanced him over and tsked in disapproval.
“Where is your coat, Professor? And, to think of it – what are you doing up at this hour?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I was completing paperwork for Lady Rhea.”
“In the monastery? Where your quarters are not?”
Seteth sighed, and his voice was much quieter when he spoke again.
“…Perhaps I was also tidying my daughter’s desk in the classroom, but that is none of your concern.”
Byleth shot him a small grin at that. Her desk had been rather… terrifying lately. Organization would do Flayn wonders.
“I suppose I should thank you, then. I would never guess you two were related, purely based off your work spaces.”
Seteth scoffed. “I always tell her to be tidier, but does she listen? Of course not. I swear, she sees me as a bother and nothing more. No matter how much I pester – ah, but forgive me, professor. I’m rambling.”
“It’s alright, I like to listen to you.”
Byleth flushed to the tips of his ears, realizing what he said. If Seteth noticed, however, he made no indication.
Reaching the cathedral took only a short moment more, and soon Byleth was placing the stack of papers he held on Seteh’s desk. Though he had been in the room many times, it looked different at night. His companion had lit a candle on the desk, and the little dancing flame cast an eerie glow to their surroundings. Byleth noticed, with surprise, that there was a makeshift cot in the corner of the office. He knew Seteth had his own quarters, had even been in them looking for him before, but he supposed sleeping in the office to work more was just like him. If anyone needed a vacation, it was Seteth.
“I thank you for your help, Professor,” the cardinal said, attention still on what lay on his desk. “Though I suppose you were the one to cause the mess.”
Byleth scowled at him. It wasn’t on purpose. And happy as he was to help, his stomach reminded him of why he’d set out at all.
“I should be going,” Byleth murmured. “Night, Seteth.”
He was already out the door, daydreaming about granola, when he heard a goodnight wish tossed his way.
II.
Seteth found him in his room, eyes rubbed raw from scraping at his tears. Byleth didn’t look up, not caring who was in the doorway, only able to focus on the ache in his heart. Jeralt… the scene hovered in his mind like a ghost, replaying that last choke of breath again and again.
If Byleth had spent more time training, had been faster, stronger… would his father be alive?
He had expected Rhea to send someone to speak with him. Leonie had been moaning about how tragic her own loss was, no regard to Byleth’s presence, and he… had stormed completely out of the room, bare eyes glossing once again. If he had stayed, he would have snapped. Jeralt was his father. His. Who the hell was she to lick her own wounds when she had no reason to grieve? How dare she claim Jeralt as hers?
He knew his anger was misplaced, a subset of his agony. He wasn’t sure he cared.
“Professor,” Seteth breathed. A weight settled onto the bed beside him.
Byleth refused to face him. If Seteth saw his countenance, he might see just how unwell he truly was.
“Seteth,” he whispered. “How did you do it? When your wife died? How did you get out of bed every morning and know she was gone and still-“
He stopped, breathing desperately. Byleth was no stranger to death. But Jeralt was the only family he had. He had never lost someone he loved before.
“Forgive me,” he said. “That was… out of line.”
“Not at all,” Seteth replied, and it was the gentlest Byleth had ever heard him.
“It.. takes time, to be alright again. A piece of your heart is missing, and anyone who claims you’ll be whole again is a liar.”
The professor felt a hand place on his shoulder.
“I am not the best with words… but the way you hurt right now is normal. A piece of your identity is gone. And you will learn to be a new person, and you will be happy again, but only with time. And be careful with your heart while it is still injured.”
Finally, Byleth looked up, locking eyes with the man beside him.
“You must be a stronger man than me, to be able to move on.”
Seteth shook his head.
“It has been years. You have had a week. Your strength will come back, Professor. Be good to yourself before it does.”
Byleth didn’t know what to do but nod.
The hand on his shoulder moved to give a supportive squeeze to his palm, and before the professor could thank him, Seteth was gone.
III.
Seteth was, of course, in his study. The stained glass of the window above him rained color upon his hair, dyeing it from green to red to blue to gold. A slight smile twitched on Byleth’s lips, seeing his coworker in so delicate a light.
He used a knuckle to tap on the door and announce his presence. Seteth looked up, grinned, and Byleth grinned back.
He wasn’t much of a smiler. He wondered why it came so easy now.
“Mind if I join you?” Byleth mused. “I could use some company.”
Seteth gestured at the chair across his own. Byleth took it with a thanks, laying his half-written report on the wooden desk. For several long moments they worked in silence, the scratch of quills and hum of thought their only sounds.
“Say, Professor,” Seteth began. He set his quill down, resting his chin in his palm.
“Eh?”
“Do you enjoy your work at the monastery? It is rather different than your former work, is it not?”
Byleth hummed, mulling over the question.
“I do,” he stated. “It’s different, certainly, but seeing my students’ progress makes it worthwhile.”
Seteth nodded, and they fell into work again.
Perhaps an hour later, Byleth rose, tucking his finished report under his arm.
“I suppose I should be going,” he said. “Get out of your hair.”
He was halfway out the door when Seteth called his name. Byleth turned, and Seteth had stood, looking earnestly toward the door.
“Professor,” he nearly pleaded.”
“Tell me something…If I asked you to, would you stay? Just for a moment longer.”
When Seteth had that look on his face, who could refuse?
IV.
The library was their new haven, Byleth supposed. Sneaking tea in when Tomas had his back turned, pouring over books to learn anything and everything to aid Rhea. Byleth could feel himself laughing more, and Seteth seemed to be a little less tightly wound each time they parted ways. They spoke about whatever was on their mind, hushed whispers joining the lull of the vast dusty archive. Flayn came up often in conversation, as did Rhea. Byleth didn’t mind it. They were part of Seteth, and therefore friends.
How strange it was, to have someone to consider a friend. For twenty odd years, the only people Byleth had had was his father and their mercenaries. A found disjointed family, but not friends. He truly believed friendship had struck for the first time in this man across him.
And when Rhea taught him to pray, he thanked the goddess for him.
It was a typical Thursday when the unexpected happened.
Seteth had sat beside him, rather than across, but Byleth hadn’t thought much of it. Better to share a book. They read in silence for a long time, wiping out nearly five chapters, but the professor couldn’t help but notice Seteth’s eyes often lingered on him. Was there something on his face? Did he look unusual? Or had the other just never taken the time to study him?
“Professor,” Seteth spoke, drawing Byleth’s attention. “I… believe I owe you an apology.”
“Ah? You haven’t done anything.”
“I have monopolized your time of late. Rather selfish of me, to demand all your time.”
Byleth chuckled. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wish to be. I like spending time with you.”
Seteth groaned at that and stood. Byleth furrowed his brow, shutting the book.
“You… cannot say that. Please.”
“And why not? What exactly is wrong?”
The other man ran a hand through his hair, clearly disgruntled.
“I should go,” he mumbled. “I apologize for wasting your time.”
“Seteth, wait-“
Byleth rushed to stand and grab his wrist before Seteth left. The other man spun around, about to speak, but fell silent.
For a moment, tension. The only sound was the heavy rise and fall of Seteth’s chest.
Then, ever so gently, Seteth tucked a hair behind Byleth’s ear.
Byleth sucked in his breath.
“I never thought my heart would take this path again,” Seteth said. “But the goddess had other plans.”
As Seteth’s hand lingered in his hair, eyes paired with his, Byleth’s thoughts shook and screamed. Was Seteth about to kiss him? Did he want that? The thundering in his chest and flush in his cheeks certainly seemed to consent. The other man was certainly attractive, and he wouldn’t deny a certain curiosity. But what would that make their professional relationship? A single kiss wouldn’t do much, but the aftermath could. Could he look Flayn in the eye, much less instruct her, knowing he had been so close to her father? Just how much older than him was Seteth? Despite his body’s clear interest, and his heart’s yearning, his mind offered one hundred doubts.
They were all silenced, however, when Seteth cupped his cheek and pressed their lips together.
His still heart burst to life, alight in the feeling of another’s mouth on his. In his moment of paralysis, Seteth began to pull away, perhaps dismayed by Byleth’s stillness. He let his hand drift to Seteth’s hair, taking a handful as he pulled him back in. Seteth gasped at the sudden touch, though his free hand moved to rest on Byleth’s lower back, pulling him just the slightest bit closer. Curiously, Byleth nipped at Seteth’s lower lip, and bathed in the hiss it elicited. Perhaps if he pulled the other’s hair just a touch harder –
“You,” Seteth accused, pulling a centimeter away, “are insufferable. Are you aware?”
From the way he immediately leaned back into the kiss, nearly drinking him in, Byleth agreed. He was an insufferable man. But he knew Seteth loved it.