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" ... Claude?" He murmurs, in this sad, raspy, small voice . His hand is clinging to his shirt, Claude observes . He's carrying his large body to bed, so maybe he could finally get a little bit of rest . It's quite heavy in his arms, he can't help but observe , weightened by armor and a heavy velvet cape and the array of lives Dimitri has taken . They never go to sleep, even when Dimitri does . Always silent, curious, unrelenting, yet so vocal in their quietude .
" What is it, Mitya?" He murmurs, voice tender . It's like comforting a crying child, he thinks to himself .
"... I'm so tired," Dimitri sighs, in this little, sad rasp that's so utterly heartbreaking .
" ... I know," Claude murmurs .
He gently sets him down on the bed , watching his long fingers as they tangle in his shirt for a moment longer before he removes them so he can lay down properly . Dimitri tries to undo his armor, but his fingers are numb and they fumble futilely . Claude removes his shaking hands with gentleness .
" Let me," he whispers, but his words leave the linger of a question behind them . You don't have to let me, they say . Breaking down your walls is hard and you can take your time, they say.
Dimitri... Nods wordlessly, and lets him undo his armor . The pieces clatter to the floor , one by one , sound ungraceful, just like Dimitri's movements themselves . His blue eye is lost somewhere Claude can't tell ... Eternal , deep and obscure , like the sea , bearing secrets you shouldn't know...But then again, Claude shouldn't pry. He looks at the tattered clothes under his armor .
" Where are your nightclothes?" He gently asks . As if they're both unaware of the fact that Dimitri falls asleep with those tattered , faded clothes on most nights, because changing into something clean is too tiresome for his heavy limbs.
Dimitri looks at him, with an oddly soft eye that's still very much lost - the sea is beautiful in its vastness. Then, he gets up, dragging his limbs on the floor, and he wordlessly opens a drawer and changes into them , uncaring for Claude still watching. Probably because he doesn't think himself as human anymore, thus uneeding of boundaries and privacy . He looks at his bare skin , the scars adorning it, thick and glaring . It's like cracked china , broken but beautiful .
Dimitri tries to do the laces in the front of his shirt, dropping with a resigned sigh on the bed when he fails to . His jumbled joints and muscles are too confused to do them properly.
Claude looks at him with gentle green eyes - there's no place for witty banter here . He moves to do the laces, archer's fingers quick, precise and light . There's a tenderness to his movements, an unspoken profoundness in his care. As he finishes doing the laces, Dimitri's head drops on Claude's shoulder , his breathing slow . He's calm, Claude observes . Good .
" Your hands are so warm," Dimitri murmurs . He sounds so much like that sweet young boy sometimes .
Claude doesn't question it - instead, he rubs gentle circles on his back , cradling him like a child . Dimitri's breathing evens , he's sleepy now .
" Will you stay?" He whispers, looking down . It's been a while since he looked so human, Claude thinks . He nods against Dimitri . Humans need affection.
" I'll stay," he assures him.
Dimitri lets out a sigh of relief, one he didn't know he was holding in .
" Thank you," his voice comes back, and Claude gently lays him down as he takes his shoes off and lays down next to him . He watches Dimitri as he leans into his warmth, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
" You're so warm," he repeats , exhausted . He clings to Claude and falls asleep a moment afterwards, and Claude watches his sleeping form . If he watches closely enough, he'll notice a smile on his lips . Even after all of this pain and tragedy, Dimitri is still so beautiful , he thinks , like a fallen angel. Most are too scared to notice, but his face is still youthful , the sweetness gracing it is still present if one searches for it.