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In the wake of war’s destruction, the delicate task of gardening becomes that much more precious.
Dedue tends to the greenhouse at the royal castle with the same deliberation as he had back at the monastery. There’s a certain quietude to the methodical rituals, watching the water splash across the leaves of the plants and soak into the soil, nurturing future growth.
Despite the harmless nature of his hobby, Dedue is rarely approached by strangers in the greenhouse. They are fearful of the hulking man from Duscur with his large hands and wide shoulders, and they don’t expect him to be tender with plants, but there’s a lot of things about him no one expects, and the misconceptions don’t really bother Dedue.
His former classmates are some of the few people who see past his imposing exterior. Each and every one of them had broken down his boundaries in one way or another, expressing interest in his culture and his convictions. Even Ingrid had overcome the distance between them borne from personal trauma, eventually going so far as to call him “wonderful” (a sentiment he doesn’t quite believe about himself but had appreciated nonetheless). Before the war, Dedue’s view of humanity had been impossibly narrow, limited to himself and his liege; now there are quite a number of people he would consider his true friends, something he had never fathomed possible after the loss of his family and homeland.
The door of the greenhouse creaks open just as Dedue sets aside the watering can for the day, and he turns to see a flash of silver hair sprinting in his direction. “Dedue!” Ashe calls, grabbing Dedue’s hand with his own and squeezing it excitedly. “I’m so glad I found you here.”
“Hello, Ashe.”
Even now, Dedue can’t quite fathom why Ashe continues to take an interest in him. They had cooked together at school, and Ashe had shown an unusual amount of interest in Duscur’s culture for someone from Faerghus. Perhaps it was due to Ashe’s lack of noble background or own difficult past, but he had never shown any fear towards Dedue and staunchly refused to believe the rumors about Duscur that had been circulating the Officers Academy. Regardless of the reason, Dedue is grateful that Ashe has continued speaking to him even after the war has ended. Conversing with Ashe is almost like savoring a favorite meal, comforting and familiar in ways that can be expressed without words.
“I found something absolutely incredible in Lonato’s library,” Ashe gushes, still tightly clasping the broad man’s hand in his own. “I had to bring it to you right away.”
“Incredible?” Dedue echoes. He’s never been much for conversation, and even now it’s difficult to say much besides parroting Ashe. But the young man in front of him is beaming from ear to freckled ear, and even someone as stoic as Dedue can’t help but get swept along in the enthusiasm. “I am curious.”
Ashe nods. “It was shoved in along with all the other cookbooks, way in the back, so I never noticed it before.” He lets go of Dedue’s hand — a sudden lack of warmth that Dedue is at once aware of — and rummages through his satchel, producing a thin and battered book. “But it’s a cookbook from Duscur. I have no idea how Lonato got ahold of it, but isn’t it amazing? Some of your history got preserved after all!”
“I suppose,” Dedue replies, a bit uncomfortable.
“I’ve been poring over it,” Ashe continues, too enthralled by his discovery to notice the shift in Dedue’s body language. “I have almost all the recipes memorized and I really wanted to try them out, but of course it would be much more authentic with you guiding me. And then you’d be able to taste Duscur cuisine again! Isn’t that great?”
“I suppose,” Dedue says again with the same inflection, wincing at his own stale reply. “...That is to say, I have already accepted that Duscur cuisine died along with my people. Whether I taste the food again is of no consequence to me. I am a citizen of Faerghus now, after all.”
Ashe’s face falls. “Are — are you sure? Well, I thought I’d ask for help, because I didn’t want to mess up the recipes. I almost made them anyway and asked you to try them, but if I got something wrong I thought maybe that would be a disrespectful tribute…” He coughs. “Never mind. I must have dug up some painful memories... maybe that was a bit insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Dedue.”
“There is no need to apologize,” Dedue says, sighing and shaking his head. “I cannot fully grasp why making food from Duscur would mean so much to you. However, if you truly wish for an aide in the kitchen, I would not be opposed to helping you.”
Ashe tilts his head to one side, hesitation hunching his posture. “Are you sure? I don’t want to force you…”
Dedue manages what he hopes is a smile, or at least a slightly upward-turned curvature of his lips that isn’t unsettling. “I am quite certain. As one of His Majesty’s trusted companions, I could never turn away from a request for help.” A thoughtful pause, then: “Of course, you are one of my trusted companions as well. And you are very skilled in the kitchen, Ashe. It would be an honor to assist you.”
“Oh no — no, not at all, it’s not an honor at all,” Ashe stammers, waving his hands dismissively. “If anything, it’s an honor to have you agree. You really are incredible, Dedue.”
Incredible…? Dedue coughs, taken aback by Ashe’s sincerity. “Do you wish to begin now?” It’s easier to advance the conversation than accept the praise — which is saying something considering the difficulty of advancing conversations.
Ashe’s expression brightens, freckles crinkling as he grins. “I’d love to, Dedue. Thank you so, so much. It’s much more fun to cook with someone else by your side, after all.”
“Yes,” Dedue agrees quietly, and as they walk to the kitchen he watches Ashe beside him, bouncing enthusiastically with each step. He finds himself strangely excited to do something not for Dimitri’s sake, but for his own.
No, that’s not quite right — he’s doing it for Ashe’s sake.
And Ashe’s happiness burns as bright as the summer sun in Duscur. For the first time in a long while, Dedue wishes he could still show someone his home.
Training is natural as breathing to Felix, and a day without it makes him restless; he fears even the slightest dip in focus will rust his blade and deplete his strength. Even without a large scale war there will still be skirmishes and battles and people to protect, reasons to pick up his sword and fight.
He doesn’t know what Dimitri is doing at the moment, and frankly he doesn’t need to know. There’s a lot of slack for the new king to pick up — restoration after the war, treatises with fallen Empire territories, communication with the former Alliance — things that Dimitri is too weary to handle but that he must do nonetheless. Gilbert has been supporting him, as well as the rest of the Church of Seiros, which is a relief; Felix’s own hands are full considering the future of his father’s former territories, as well as other questions about his future that he would rather not think about.
And so he trains.
As much as Felix hates taking breaks, he is also aware that exercising without replenishing food and hydration every so often is counterproductive, so he begrudgingly sheathes his sword and makes his way towards the kitchen. When he arrives he finds Ashe leaning outside the door, his concentration absorbed in a book and line of flour streaked across his face.
“Reading in the hallway?” Felix asks, and Ashe jumps, snapping the cover shut with surprise. “Aren’t there more comfortable places to do that?”
“Hello, Felix,” Ashe says sheepishly. “Dedue and I just finished cooking. I wanted to review his notes while they’re all fresh in my mind.”
“Notes?”
Ashe opens the book again and turns it to show Felix the page. “It’s a recipe book of Duscur cuisine,” he explains. “I found it in Lonato’s library and asked Dedue if he would help me make some of the dishes. But he said some of what’s in the book is different to how he and his family used to make things, so I had him write in his own notes.” He laughs lightly. “He felt bad about defacing the book at first, but I told him it’s so much more personal like this. Now whenever I flip through the recipes, I’ll think of cooking with him.”
Felix peers closer at the page. He hadn’t realized Dedue’s handwriting was so neat and delicate, but in an odd way it fits him. “Is he here now?”
Ashe shakes his head. “We finished a while ago, and he said he had some other business to take care of afterwards. I’m just glad he made the time for me at all.”
“I’m surprised you and Dedue even got close,” Felix muses. “I really thought he only cared about Dimitri.” He had meant it as an offhand comment and nothing more, but Ashe’s gaze darkens and he looks towards the ground with empty eyes. The implication of Felix’s own words sinks in then, and he swallows, suddenly worried he’s not gentle enough to do damage control. “I — I mean, my own perception of Dedue has changed,” he adds gruffly. “Not that —”
“Maybe he doesn’t.”
“Huh?”
“Care. Like he does about His Majesty.” It’s unsettling to hear Ashe sound so listless when he’s usually bursting at the seams with excess optimism. “He did so much for Dedue — saved his life. And I — well, there’s nothing I can do that will compare to that.”
I caused him to feel this way, Felix thinks with dismay. A soft tch leaves his lips. “Trust me, being like Dimitri is hardly something you should aspire for. What happened to the guy who wanted to follow his foolish ideals of knighthood to the end? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly giving up on that because of one rude comment. Are you really that pitifully weak?”
“I just want to be able to help people,” Ashe says quietly. “And Dedue is so strong, and devoted… if anything, he’s more of a knight than I could ever hope to be. What do I even have to offer him?”
He really doesn’t see it, Felix realizes. That sickening optimism and drive towards his dreams is what sets Ashe apart from the rest of them. On some level that Felix would never admit out loud, he actually admires Ashe’s positive outlook, something he himself could never manage. “Did you even observe Dedue when he returned to the monastery for the first time back then?”
“I — I did. As much as I could, anyway… I didn’t want to intrude on his space.”
“He went to the greenhouse, didn’t he?”
Ashe nods.
“Even back then, with Dimitri and everything else on his mind, he was still worried about those plants,” Felix says. “And there you were, tending to them all along. Making sure they stayed alive in his absence. Were you not?”
“I wanted to help,” Ashe says softly. “It’s really not all that special…”
Felix scoffs. “Listen, this stays between us, but — I’ve always been concerned by Dedue’s mindset. Back then he and Dimitri fed off each other’s rabid energy like animals barking madly at nothing, neither with any regard for their own lives. It was utterly unpleasant to watch.” He inspects his nails, a false show of indifference. “He’s been evolving away from that. Seeing himself as a person. Because you care about him, and that care is making him reevaluate his own worth.”
Ashe laughs nervously. “You’re giving me too much credit, Felix. I’m not doing anything to warrant it.”
“You don’t see it because it’s natural to you,” Felix retorts. “I see the way his shoulders relax and his tension starts to fade when he speaks to you — ugh, stop making me talk about this. I’m not your counselor.” All at once the situation sinks in and he’s reminded of the self-consciousness he should have been feeling minutes ago.
Ashe gives him a half smile. “You’re a good friend, no matter what you say about yourself. You really are — well, like a knight.”
“You know I hate that.”
“I do know,” Ashe agrees with a chuckle. “But it’s true. Thank you, Felix. I’m going to think about your words for a while. I think perhaps they will help with some reflection.”
“Mm.” The words good friend continue to echo through Felix’s mind, rattling unpleasantly amidst his other conflicting thoughts about himself. “If you gave up that easily, I wouldn’t be able to look at you anymore. I don’t associate with with people who choose to lie down and die instead of dealing with their problems.”
“I wouldn’t want you to stop associating with me,” Ashe says seriously, but there’s still a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And, um — good luck with your own… situation.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing,” Ashe says with a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. “I best be going now, Felix. Thank you again for the words.”
He skitters off, leaving Felix blushing too as he considers the implication of Ashe’s words.
Dedue is still thinking about the wholehearted enthusiasm in Ashe’s voice when he returns to his quarters later. He sits on his bed with a soft sigh, gaze meandering to the stack of gardening books piled up on the desk. Only recently has he finally had the time to delve deeper into his hobby, and it gives him great peace.
He pictures Ashe’s lean fingers voraciously paging through the books, pointing out exciting new information and passages with that enthused grin of his dimpling his cheeks, and Dedue sighs softly.
When Dedue had returned to the monastery those months ago, finally amongst friends after missing their promised reunion, one of his first stops had been at the greenhouse. He had expected the plants to be withered and neglected — only to find Ashe there, tending them in his absence. Ashe has hugged Dedue so tightly back then, overwhelmed with relief that he was still alive, and Dedue had stood there stiffly in return, unyielding as a tree trunk in his confusion.
A knock on his door interrupts his reminiscing. When he opens the door, Dimitri stands before him, and it’s immediately clear from his fidgeting and lack of eye contact that there’s something on his mind.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” Dedue greets him.
“Dedue, I — I have a rather selfish request,” Dimitri says apologetically. “It’s, well —”
“You know I will listen to anything you have to say,” Dedue says, dipping his head in a near-imperceptible bow.
“You don’t have to listen,” Dimitri says. “It’s — oh, never mind. …And just ‘Dimitri’ is fine, remember?”
“My apologies. That habit is difficult to break,” Dedue admits. “What is your request?”
“Well, I — I would like to try my hand at cooking,” Dimitri says, and he tenses as Dedue’s eyes widen with surprise. “I know I am hardly adept at it,” he continues. “Perhaps — well, if you think I am hopeless, please be honest. I do not wish to waste your time.”
Dedue contemplates the request. “Anyone can follow a recipe,” he says, “so, no. I do not believe you to be hopeless. However, I am curious what brought this about. You have never seen particularly… interested in food.”
Dimitri coughs. “That still stands. However, the gesture is not for myself, but rather, for — well, for Felix.”
“That makes sense,” Dedue says, tapping his chin with one finger. “There really is no joy quite like watching the faces of those you care about light up with happiness as they eat your cooking. That is something I have been able to experience again myself as of late, and I am grateful. I would be happy to help you.”
“O-oh. I see. Thank you, Dedue.” Nervously the king fiddles with his bangs, and Dedue knows the stress is completely internal, so he takes no personal offense at it.
“Would you be opposed to involving Ashe?” Dedue asks, his own voice sounding distant in his ears. “He is quite the accomplished chef as well. I believe things will go smoother with his input.”
“Ashe? Oh, uh… Ashe. Yes, yes, that’s fine.” It is clear Dimitri is still far too distracted by the thought of cooking for Felix to give the request much thought, fingers lacing together clumsily as he taps his thumbs together. The king seems so much like a child then, a nervous boy with the incongruously massive body of one who is expected to inspire greatness. He’s making up for lost time, Dedue realizes, experiencing the emotions of those awkward teen years that had been wrested from him after the Tragedy of Duscur.
There’s no way to even help Dimitri through his confusion, Dedue thinks, because he can’t advise the king about a problem he hasn’t yet figured out for himself.
Dedue and Ashe are both impressively in their element in the kitchen. Dimitri trails behind them bumbling as they set out ingredients, awaiting their direction like a loyal soldier. He refuses to taste test the food along the way, insisting that he has no sense for flavor, and his patient mentors relent and instead have him mix batter and slice meat, physical tasks for which he is much better suited.
Dimitri watches his two friends with a pang of envy. Without excessive words they are incredibly in sync; Dedue always appears at just the right moment when Ashe needs advice, and Ashe is always there to hand Dedue the right measuring tool when he needs it. Dimitri can only hope that the final product will make Felix as happy as those two seem to be tasting their creation along the way, since there’s no way for he himself to verify the food's quality.
Ashe leaves early as soon as the food is in the oven, relaying a promise he’d made to Catherine to meet and train, and he thanks both Dimitri and Dedue profusely for involving him. The door swings shut behind him, and as soon as he’s gone Dimitri can feel Dedue’s eyes on him as though waiting for permission to ask a question. “Is something wrong, Dedue?”
“I wish to consult you about… a matter,” Dedue says with a pause that makes Dimitri curious. “A matter I find myself severely unequipped for.”
“You may tell me anything, my friend,” Dimitri assures him. “What kind of matter, if I may ask?”
Dedue closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but… a matter of the heart.”
Dimitri is too taken aback to remind Dedue that speaking to him with formal titles in personal conversation is unnecessary. Dedue? In love? All right, perhaps he’s jumping to conclusions. Matters of the heart could mean anything, right?
...No, it really can’t.
The king swallows, his own cheeks now burning as he faces Dedue’s sincerity. “I — I don’t mean any offense by this, Dedue, but I struggle to understand why you would ask me of all people. I am hardly an expert in those kinds of, er, matters .”
“You are currently… engaged in such a relationship, are you not?”
Dimitri suddenly feels as though he’s been kicked in both his kneecaps, and it takes only the sheer force of his will to continue standing. “In — in a relationship? ...I am?”
Now Dedue’s brow is furrowed with his own confusion. “Are you and Felix not actually…? My apologies. I had heard — well, I am usually not one to gossip, but when it pertains to you, I of course want to quash any false negative rumors, though I also do not mean to pry into your personal affairs. I believed your relationship to be, ah… understood, all things considered.”
“All things considered?” Dimitri repeats in a wheeze, chest tightening. “All what things?”
“Is he not… staying with you?”
Oh gods, are they in a relationship? Internally Dimitri finds himself scrambling for a foothold, an odd sort of panic setting in. How had he not considered this? Should he have? He hadn’t been actively pursuing a relationship with Felix, but he’d invited Felix to stay and he had. Sure, they had grown physically closer as of late, and Dimitri’s bed is certainly a lot less vast and lonely with Felix in it, but they had never discussed such things, operating on some unspoken agreement. ...Or do they not actually agree? Damn it all, it’s gone on too long to just ask Felix about it directly. Are they doomed to sleep side by side for eternity, never once speaking a word to one another? More terrifying still, has Dimitri stumbled into a relationship without even realizing it?
“I thought you had a question for me about your own matters, Dedue,” Dimitri says, and it comes out a bit more curt than he would have liked.
“Yes, my apologies,” Dedue repeats, looking off to the side. Dimitri can’t help but feel guilty for snapping when he knows Dedue will always back off; just another unfortunate instance where his emotions had gotten the better of him and negatively affected someone he cares about. “Truly, I don’t wish to bother you —”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Dimitri says, softer. “I should not have taken my own confusion out on you. You know you can tell me anything, Dedue. I want to be here for you.”
Dedue almost smiles. “Very well. I will address my concerns. I — I do believe I may have begun to develop affection for someone.” That one stutter marks the most flustered Dimitri has ever seen him in almost ten years. “But I fear this may be an issue down the line for their reputation. No matter how we may work to dismantle the public view of Duscur, it will still be a point of contention for some time. I worry that to allow myself to cultivate this feeling would be —”
“Dedue.”
“Yes?”
It hurts to hear Dedue speaking in such a detached manner, actively rationalizing his own avoidance of emotions. “Who are you speaking of?”
Dedue closes his eyes and exhales deeply. “Ashe,” he admits quietly. “His earnest nature is… infectious. And in a way, he has begun to remind me of home. A… happiness, almost. One I have not experienced since Duscur still stood proud. Do you find that strange?”
“Not at all,” Dimitri says with a smile. “I find it a relief, actually. Because with him, you would never have to worry about those concerns you mentioned.”
“How so?”
He laughs, placing a hand on Dedue’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “Do you really think Ashe of all people is concerned about public view? I saw how he watched you when we cooked. Don’t tell me you didn’t see those sparkles in his eyes.”
“Sparkles?” Dedue echoes, the word sounding so strange in his voice. “No, I —” A cough. “You are teasing me.”
“A bit,” Dimitri concedes, “but I am also being quite serious. Watching the two of you made me so happy for you, Dedue. Finding someone who shares your interests who also cares about you… it’s what you deserve, my friend.”
Dedue goes silent then, ruminating on the words, and Dimitri does not expect a response, nor does he need one.
“I can’t believe you dragged me into the kitchen when I was about to go train,” Felix grumbles. “This better not be a waste of my time.”
“I hope not as well,” Dimitri says as casually as he can manage with his heart thudding into his throat. “But, ah — here.” With trembling hands he reaches over the counter and produces a tray of meat buns, which he sets on the table in front of Felix. “Try one. ...If you’d like.”
Felix looks down at the platter, then back up at Dimitri. “What is this.”
“They’re buns,” Dimitri says, cheeks heating up. “Dedue and Ashe, ah… helped oversee my attempt at making them for you. I’m really no good in the kitchen by myself, unfortunately. They have meat and spices on the inside, since I know you are fond of them.”
“F-for me?” Felix balks. “Uh. Why?”
There’s no real answer to the question, and Dimitri frowns. “Will you please just try one? You are always so difficult, Felix.”
With a huff Felix snatches one of the buns and takes an overly large bite, maintaining eye contact with Dimitri like a challenge. But after a few chews his confrontational expression begins to soften into something almost… pleased. Almost, but not quite. “Oh… this is good,” Felix admits, and Dimitri’s shoulders relax with relief. “Ah — there’s the spice kicking in.” Absently he licks a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “ You made these?”
“With the help of Dedue and Ashe, yes,” Dimitri says sheepishly.
“You should be proud of your efforts,” Felix says, shockingly frank, and Dimitri swallows as heat creeps up his neck and ears. “Did you try them yourself? You really ought to, before I eat them all.”
Ah.
“I am not as fond of spicy food,” Dimitri says, a bit stilted. “For me to eat them would just be a waste.”
“Hmm.” Felix gives him a look he can’t quite interpret. “A waste, huh?”
“They’re for you,” Dimitri insists. “Why would I eat my own gift to you, when —”
“Dimitri.”
He swallows. There’s a sense of stern finality in that one word. “Yes?”
“I figured it out, idiot,” Felix snarls. “Why don’t you tell me anything? Do you still not trust me? Or do you just pity yourself that much that you can’t face reality?”
“Felix,” Dimitri says, startled. “I — I apologize, but I don’t know what you are referring —”
“Something’s wrong with you,” he interrupts. “You get weird when it comes to food. Don’t think I don’t notice. Even back at the monastery, when I watched you eat, you always acted detached. It was freakish, like you weren’t even human. Even now you act so unnatural. Care to explain yourself?”
The words surround him like a barrage of arrows, and Dimitri grits his teeth to push back the swell of panic bubbling up. “I can’t taste, Felix,” he admits.
Silence.
“Anything?” Felix finally croaks out. “You can’t — you can’t taste at all?”
“I cannot.”
All the anger has dissipated from Felix’s expression, replaced with something concerned and far more painful for Dimitri to look at. “What happened?”
“It was some time after Duscur,” Dimitri says simply. “After… after what I saw, I lost the sense entirely.” Does that make him not human? No more so than anything else I did afterwards, Dimitri thinks wryly.
But he wants to be human in Felix’s eyes, more than anything.
“And you —” Felix’s expression is something familiar, almost nostalgic, and that’s when Dimitri realizes that Felix looks as though he’s near tears, like he's back to being ten years old again and breaking down when things don't go his way. “You still cooked for me despite that?”
Dimitri doesn’t like fragile objects, fears that his clumsiness will shatter them, and right now Felix’s words are brittle like glass. He doesn’t speak, lest he shatter Felix too.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Felix demands.
“Ah, um —” His throat closes and he wants to run, but he can’t. Not as a king, and certainly not as a friend. “Why are you angry?”
The question gives Felix pause. “H-huh? I’m not angry! I just — I just wanted to know why.” Red blossoms across his cheeks, and he folds his arms tightly across his chest as though hugging himself. “Actually, it doesn’t matter why. I’m past the point of caring.”
“I just thought you would appreciate it,” Dimitri says, bewildered. “I’ll be honest, I don’t quite understand your reaction, Felix. I thought you would —”
“Thank you.”
“Huh?” Dimitri blinks. And blinks again.
“For the — for the food! Ugh!” Felix’s whole face is flushed now, red to the tips of his ears. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Dimitri can’t help but chuckle, which he knows is the wrong reaction; Felix now looks like he’s about to spit at him like an enraged cat. “I am glad you enjoyed it after all.”
“Shut up.”
“And to answer your question of why,” Dimitri says, the words leaving him detached as though coming from a place outside himself. “I wanted to take an opportunity to — to commemorate our relationship.”
It comes out just as badly as he had imagined in his own mind. Perhaps worse, actually. Somewhere out there, Dedue is shaking his head with exasperation that this is the way Dimitri chose to address their conversation.
Felix chokes out an odd sound. “W-well, that’s — idiotic. It’s not even something you can share with me. I mean — commemorate? What are you, a hundred years old? Oi — why are you smirking at me, boar? Got something to say?”
He didn’t deny it… “I don’t,” Dimitri says, lips curling with amusement. “Though now that you mention it —”
“What?” Felix demands.
How did I never realize how easy it is to make him blush? “Oh, I suppose it’s nothing, Felix.” Barely hiding a grin, he turns away from Felix with an offhand wave. “I must return to my duties, however. Gilbert mentioned wanting to deliver a report about the restoration efforts. Please continue to enjoy the meal in my absence.”
“Are you serious? You’re just going to leave?! ” Felix calls from behind him, and Dimitri swears he can hear a thud that sounds suspiciously like someone stomping their foot. “After — after saying that?”
“What more did you want?” Dimitri asks, and now that he’s facing away he can’t hold back the broad smile stretching across his face.
Dimitri usually is not one for humor — in fact, making any joke land properly is completely out of his skill set — and yet in that moment the gentle tease is so natural. It spills out with a wave of affection, because Felix is so Felix and never really changes. All this time Dimitri had worried that his lack of experiencing taste was just another unsettling change that would push Felix away from him. Instead, Felix has simply grown flustered at his gesture.
He feels like he suddenly understands Felix a whole lot better.
“I don’t want anything from you!” Felix yells as he walks away, and Dimitri’s shoulders shake with laughter he can no longer contain.
In the end, he had been able to share the happiness with Felix after all.