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While most of the students at the Officer’s Academy were on the field playing a massive game of capture the flag, Linhardt chose to read in the gardens.
The young scholar came to the decision not to participate for multiple reasons, the most obvious being that the game simply didn’t appeal to him. He wasn’t very fond of physical activity, unlike his best friend Caspar, and he wasn’t competitive like him either. And speaking of competitive, their house leader, Edelgard, was treating the silly game like an actual war. He just knew there would be bloodshed with her and her brooding advisor, Hubert, on the field. Perhaps they were why Caspar couldn’t shut up about the damned game. Could the boy ever think about anything that didn’t involve punching, shouting, or expending unnecessary energy?
When the day arrived, Linhardt was disappointed to find that his favorite napping spot under a big oak tree was occupied by students warming up for the event. Grumbling, the tired boy turned around to find a different place to rest his head.
The gardens were mostly empty, which was unusual. Not that Linhardt minded. There were a few girls who had also decided to sit the game out; pretty nobles who didn’t want to get their hands dirty, or shy ones that weren’t interested in the event. There were even a few bookwormish boys like himself present, taking advantage of the solitude. But for the most part, the place was quiet. Grinning to himself, he sat down at a small table far away from everyone else and flipped open his book.
In between pages, the young scholar found himself wondering if Caspar was enjoying himself. Perhaps he was using some of the strategies that he had suggested? Knowing his best friend’s reckless nature all too well, he doubted it. Had Hubert killed anyone yet? How close was Edelgard to her inevitable, ruthless domination of the field? Linhardt shook his head. Most students at the academy were way too intense for his liking.
The sleepy scholar was immediately shaken from the pages of his book when he noticed a shock of ginger hair coming through the gates out of the corner of his eye. Sylvain? What was he doing here in the middle of the game? Perhaps he had come to flirt with the dainty noble ladies who had chosen to sit it out. He almost felt bad for the poor girls. But to his surprise, the handsome redhead wasn’t coming toward them. In fact, his course seemed to be headed straight toward his own table. Linhardt pretended not to notice, keeping his nose buried in his book.
“Hey Lin! Do you have the time for tea?” Sylvain asked as he came up to him, his tone upbeat as usual.
Linhardt sighed, closing his book. “What do you want, Sylvain?”
“Oh, nothing. I just thought you’d like to have tea with me.” he smiled, which made Linhardt even more annoyed.
“We’ve barely even spoken to each other before. What makes you think I would want to have tea with you when I’m evidently trying to enjoy some peace and quiet?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you can resist the most handsome guy at Garreg Mach,” the tall ginger winked, taking a seat at the table.
Linhardt furrowed his brow, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re attracted to men, aren’t you?”
“What does that have to do with this?” Linhardt pushed a strand of forest green hair out of his face. He didn’t remember when his classmates found out that he liked other men, nor did he particularly care. Still, he couldn’t think of a reason why a skirt-chaser like Sylvain would want to ask him about it.
The redhead sighed, a small grin on his face. “Linhardt, you’re really pretty, you know.”
The scholar felt heat rising to his cheeks. Was he... flirting with him? There was no way Sylvain could be genuine about this. Still, bothersome personality aside, he supposed that he was quite handsome…
He shook his head at the thought. Sylvain would never be serious with anyone, in fact, he was notoriously insincere. And didn’t he only chase after girls? Besides, there was someone else that Linhardt liked-- and for a long time, at that point. Maybe that someone looked a little dorky compared to the handsome young man standing in front of him, but regardless, he was the most sincere person he knew. And in his humble opinion, the boy he had in mind was even more adorable than a perfect looking guy like Sylvain could ever be.
“Oh? You’re blushing.” Sylvain leaned in closer, and Linhardt flinched backwards a little.
“I was under the impression that you were interested in women,” Linhardt said, struggling to keep his voice even.
Sylvain grinned. “I am. But I don’t mind pretty boys like you either.”
“Please, spare me your empty words. Everyone at Garreg Mach knows that you give the same sorts of compliments to every young woman you leave in tears. I’m not so dull as to fall for you insincere flirtations, even if you are quite handsome.”
An unusual expression flashed across Sylvain’s face. Was it… hurt?
“So blunt...” he tapped his fingers on the surface of the table, the cheeky grin on his face returning. “Do you really think so little of me, Linhardt?”
“Well, what have you done to make me think otherwise?”
“Hmmm,” the redhead hummed, pretending to think for a moment. “Let me kiss you, and then you might think otherwise,”
Sylvain leaned in, close enough so that Linhardt could see the light freckles that peppered the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he was paralyzed. He couldn’t deny the fact that the young man’s soft lips looked tempting… but he didn’t want to kiss him, no matter how attractive he was. There was only one person that he’d be willing to kiss, and that one person just happened to be his best friend of ten years. His incredibly dense best friend who probably wouldn’t be interested anyway.
Pressing his book instinctively to his chest, the flustered scholar struggled to get words out as Sylvain’s face continued to hang over him.
“Linhardt!” a loud yell from across the lawn caused Sylvain to sit back suddenly, confused. A short figure with bright cyan hair came bolting up to their table.
“C-caspar!” Linhardt said, relief flooding through him. He didn’t even think about why he wasn’t out on the field.
“Back off of him, Sylvain! I’ve seen how many hearts you break! I’m not letting Lin be another one of your victims!” the short young man shouted, puffing out his chest. To an onlooker, the scene may have been humorous; Sylvain was almost a foot taller than Caspar. But what the boy lacked in height he made up for in boundless energy, and he wasn’t afraid to face people bigger than him.
“Woah!” Sylvain flung his hands up, genuine shock on his face. “I wasn’t planning on breaking his heart!”
“That doesn’t matter! Linhardt looked uncomfortable anyway, so don’t try anything!”
A look of guilt flashed across Sylvain’s face. “Is that true, Linhardt?”
The scholar nodded his head. “I don’t treat matters of attraction as casually as you do. I don’t want to kiss anyone that I’ve barely ever spoken to.”
Sylvain scratched the back of his head, ruffling his ginger hair. “Oh. I’m really sorry, then.”
Caspar had that endearing expression of righteous anger on his face. “Are you kidding me? Since when were you ever sorry about anything?”
Linhardt waved his hand in front of Caspar’s face to signal him to stop. “Your apology is accepted, Sylvain. But you should know that not everyone enjoys your… casual approach to these kinds of things.”
Caspar gaped.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sylvain sighed. “I’m sorry again. To make up for it, why don’t we hang out as friends sometime? The three of us, of course. I know you might not wanna talk after this, but… we can grab dinner out in town, my treat.”
“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t wanna,” Caspar whispered to Linhardt.
Linhardt smiled a little. “That would be fine, Sylvain. But you better keep your word and bring the money.”
Holding grudges was tiring, and besides, Linhardt liked the idea of getting to know Sylvain better. Not because he was interested in him romantically, but because it seemed that he may be a more interesting individual than he had previously assumed. And he’d heard that he had a Crest… the scholar grinned at the idea of learning more about it.
“What!” Caspar yelled, shocked. “Oh, fine. But I better not see you trying anything on Linny-- I’ll knock your face in!”
“Woah! Calm down, little man. I’m not gonna try to steal your boy anymore,” Sylvain teased, putting his hands in the air again.
Caspar’s face went tomato red, and Linhardt just laughed a little.
“I’m not little! And it’s not like that!” Caspar shouted as the ginger calmly stood up and pushed in his chair.
“See you around,” he said cheerfully as he walked off. Caspar tried to run after him, but Linhardt caught his arm.
“Please, don’t worry about it,” Linhardt said, stepping closer to his friend. “Why did you come here anyway? Isn’t the game still going on?”
“Oh, I had to take Ashe to the infirmary after he fell into a dark magic trap set up by Hubert…”
Linhart couldn’t help but grin at the fact that his previous prediction was correct; there would be bloodshed if Edelgard and Hubert were on the field.
“But he’s okay now, just got the wind knocked out of him. I saw Sylvain leaning over you as I was walking back. Speaking of which, I gotta chase that guy down!”
“Cas, you’ve already saved me today. Besides, I need him intact for when I decide I want to study his Crest.”
Caspar sighed, and then put on that cute, determined expression that made his cheeks puff out a little. “Fine, I guess. But I’m not letting him or any creepy jerk do anything to you, okay? If anyone tries anything you better be damn sure I’ll send ‘em running!”
The young scholar’s heart skipped a beat. Caspar was so sincere, it was adorable. Unable to resist, he pulled his friend into tight hug.
“You handsome dork,” Linhardt mumbled under his breath.
“Did you say something?” Caspar asked as they pulled away.
“No.” Linhardt said coolly, and his friend seemed to be satisfied with the answer.
“Then let’s forget about capture the flag and grab a snack in the marketplace!” the short young man said excitedly.
Linhardt was almost taken aback. Forget about the game he had been talking about non-stop for weeks on end? As if. Still, he smiled.
“That sounds lovely,” he said, lacing his fingers through Caspar’s and indulging in the obvious blush that rose on his best friend’s face.
As they walked to the marketplace hand in hand, a warm feeling bubbled inside Linhardt’s chest.
“Someday, I will marry this dork,” he thought. And he meant it.