Chapter Text
Without Dorothea’s things, the apartment looked much larger.
Hubert sat on the leftmost side of he and Edelgard’s couch. The coffee table actually had room for his coffee now, free from all of the miscellaneous pieces of jewelry and hair-ties that their third roommate had always left lying around. He spotted the edge of a coaster poking out from beneath a pile of half-read magazines and slid it out, placing his hot mug on top of it. There was something satisfying about these simple things -- a place for one’s beverage, a home free of clutter, a quiet place to sit.
He hadn’t realized just how many things the woman had actually had . When her girlfriend had come to help her move out, Hubert had watched with quiet surprise as entire pieces of furniture disappeared into the rented truck. A bookcase full of odd women’s studies books. A bejeweled trunk, silk sleeves peaking out of the sides. All of that abominable cat’s supplies. (Yet, he thought, picking a piece of fur off of his black denim jeans, not all of its hair.) At least six lamps. Two fancy stand blenders. He remembered glancing at Edelgard from time to time, watching for any sign of surprise on her face, any sign that Dorothea might be taking more than she had a claim to, but Edelgard had remained impassive, helping box up Dorothea’s countless CDs.
But now there were just Edelgard’s things, and his things -- so, really, Edelgard’s things. It was enough. It was more than sufficient. It was still so much more than he’d ever believed he’d be able to have, and it was only by Edelgard’s grace that he could. She might want him to forget that, but he never would.
There was only one problem.
“Hubert,” Edelgard called, her voice trailing in from the kitchen, “would you come check this for me?”
“Of course.” He stood up, wiping more of that infernal cat’s fur off his thighs. She could at least have had the decency to adopt a black one, he thought, passing through the shallow hallway connecting the living room to the kitchen.
Edelgard sat at the kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her, a cup of tea precariously close to her keyboard. Her long white hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, and Hubert could see the streaks of fingerprints dotting the lenses of her glasses.
I’ll have to clean those later, he thought.
She looked up at him, a quiet smile on her lips. She was still so, so beautiful -- beautiful in a way nobody but her had a right to be, Hubert thought, in a way no other woman could ever begin to match. Their classmates often ranted and raved over Dorothea’s beauty, but Hubert had hardly noticed; sure, she had been lovely, in a vague, prescriptive sort of way, but compared to Edelgard… well. There was no comparison.
“Thanks, Hubert,” she said, patting the chair next to hers. When he’d taken his seat, she moved the computer so he could see the screen clearly. The screen was accursedly bright; he instinctively reached over and tapped the F2 key to dim the display. Edelgard laughed.
“Sorry,” she said, “Craigslist doesn’t have a dark mode.”
Hubert grunted. “Heathens.” He squinted at the text box.
$850 / room in 3br apartment
Roommate needed for 3br apartment in central Embarr. Private bedroom and bath. Living room and kitchen shared with us -- two university students. Apartment is located on a convenient street with plenty of shops and places to eat. Close to public transportation. Five minute bus ride from Adrestia University.
He looked up. Edelgard was looking at him, violet eyes twinkling over the rims of her rose-gold glasses, a hopeful smile on her lips.
He sighed.
“It doesn’t quite… do the place justice,” he said. That wasn’t quite what he meant, and he knew that, and he also knew that Edelgard knew that, and that she would somehow understand the quiet meaning beneath his words.
It was horribly, horribly boring.
“Oh, come now, Hubert,” she said, the smile never leaving her lips, that twinkle still dancing in her eyes, “you don’t want to scare everyone away before they have a chance to fall in love with the crown molding, do you?”
“I absolutely do want to do that,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve worked on this long enough. Please allow me to work on it for a while.” He gestured to her teacup, noting with intense dissatisfaction that she’d neglected to remove her tea bag in a timely manner, making the drudge at the bottom of her cup an unsightly brown. “Please relax and drink your tea.”
Edelgard rewarded him with a small grin and the weight of her hand suddenly on his shoulder. She pushed herself up off the chair, pushing Hubert down in the process; he could feel each slender finger press against his skin, the tips of her nails just barely grazing its surface. For a second, he forgot to breathe.
Then Edelgard was standing, removing her hand from his shoulder and using it instead to pick up her disgusting tea. “Thank you, Hubert,” she said, leaning down and brushing her lips softly on his cheek. “I trust your judgment in this. I’m no good at… creative ventures.”
“That’s not true,” he said, but he pulled her laptop closer to his edge of the table and opened a fresh Notepad file anyway. “Leave it to me, Edelgard. I’ll find us the perfect roommate.”
Hubert waited until Edelgard left the room -- presumably to work on her homework or get ahead in her readings -- to begin writing. Edelgard had been raised in a family that was acutely aware of its status and image, and while she had rejected so much of her upbringing, that awareness still lingered within her. The dreadfully dull apartment listing she’d authored was proof of that.
Hubert, however, had grown up with the knowledge that, yes, his family was well-to-do, but he was not, and there was nothing he could ever do, say, or become that would change that. Hence, Hubert didn’t give a single shit about keeping up appearances, especially when trying to find a third body to pay part of their rent.
He interlocked his fingers and stretched his arms and hands out in front of him, relishing every crack of his knuckles and joints. He positioned his hands above Edelgard’s pristine keyboard and began to write.
$850 / room in 3br apartment
If you’re looking for accommodations in Central Embarr, we may be able to come to an amicable arrangement. It’s a room. It has a door and a window. There’s a private bathroom attached to it, so you have no reason to ever use ours. You will regret it if you do.
The kitchen is a kitchen. Who cares. We also have a living room. It’s an apartment, after all. Do I need to tell you that we have flooring and ceilings as well? Must you be informed about our doorknobs?
No pets, no religious freaks, no idiots. Be LGBTQ+ friendly or die.
There. It wasn’t perfect, but it was still better than Edelgard’s attempt, and while that thought felt nearly sacrilegious, this was a situation that necessitated honesty.
They absolutely could not have anybody basic living in their home.
The first applicant was a flighty woman who jumped at every sound she heard, including (but not limited to) the coffee maker, the refrigerator, and the sound of the neighbors’ dogs panting in the hallway. The second applicant was a bit better; she was a morose young woman, which fit their style just fine, but when pressed about her routine admitted to daily prayer and worship and augh, that just wouldn’t do.
The third and fourth applicants were a pair, and while the thought of splitting rent four ways deeply appealed to Hubert, he wasn’t sure how he could handle living with this particular couple. One claimed to be a homebody working on a Doctorate in something nobody could reasonably be expected to understand, and the other had the same frantic energy as a doped up chihuahua. It just wouldn’t have worked.
“It’s hopeless,” Edelgard said, taking her glasses off and perching them on top of her head. “We might have to drop our standards, Hubert.”
Hubert grimaced. “Never,” he said. “I will not have you living with anybody unsuitable.”
Edelgard frowned, cocking her head to the side. She was wearing her hair in a long side ponytail, and it drooped over her shoulder with the motion. “What about yourself?” she asked. “I do hope you’re keeping your own comfort in mind as well as mine, Hubert.”
Hubert smirked. “I can tolerate nearly anything,” he said. He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped through the menu to find his calendar. There should have been one more potential roommate coming by, if he remembered correctly. (And he was sure he did.)
“You can’t tolerate heights,” Edelgard said. There was a playful tone to her voice that Hubert wanted to keep all for himself. Perhaps he really was being unreasonable. “Nor can you tolerate restaurants with the word ‘fusion’ in their name.”
“It’s a sin against humanity,” he said, tapping one long finger on his calendar app and frowning. “Our next interested party should be here soon.”
Edelgard clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Please,” she said, casting her eyes up to the ceiling, “anybody who may be listening, fulfill my dream. Allow me to e-mail my landlord with a third name. Please let me keep my savings intact.”
Hubert snorted. “I’m the only one listening,” he said, “but I’ll take your wish into consideration.”
“You always do,” Edelgard said, smiling.
Yes, Hubert thought, but to what extent? Perhaps there really was part of him that was intentionally sabotaging their roommate search, hoping to keep Edelgard… well, not to himself, per se. But safe. Edelgard was safe with him, and he didn’t want any outsider threatening that. Edelgard would have bristled to hear his thoughts, he knew, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt (or annoy) her.
Still, part of him deflated when he heard the ring of the doorbell, and that part continued to wither when Edelgard opened the door to greet their fifth candidate.
“Good afternoon!” the man at the door said, wiping his feet off on the welcome mat, his bright royal blue raincoat dotted with rain. “I--”
“Ferdinand,” Edelgard said.
The man at the door looked up. His red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and his eyes -- wide, due to Edelgard’s voice, Hubert supposed -- were the color of a flame’s tongue. He blinked, once, twice, and then his face broke into a hesitant grin.
“Edelgard,” he said, pulling the hood of his jacket down. “I-- I didn’t realize. It’s been a long time.”
Hubert watched Edelgard for cues on how to respond. Was this person at the door a welcome intrusion, or did he need to start hovering darkly above him to chase him away? She had a complicated past, with a lot of moving pieces that Hubert, try as he might, just couldn’t quite grasp entirely. He wanted to know where, if anywhere, this new person fit in.
But Edelgard smiled.
“Take off your coat,” she said, gesturing toward the coat rack. “Come sit down. Do you still drink tea?”
Augh , Hubert thought. A tea drinker. A pity. One point deducted. And he had so few to start.
The man nodded, wet fingers fumbling with the buttons of his coat. “Time would never change me that much, my friend,” he said. He finally got his coat off and hung the sopping thing on the coat rack. It looked ridiculous next to Edelgard’s designer peacoat and his own leather jacket. There was something almost charming about it. Hubert hated it. The man turned his attention to Hubert, his eyebrows (thick and neatly trimmed, Hubert noted, with a touch of envy) lifting up into his hairline. “And you must be Edelgard’s roommate.”
“I am much more than her roommate,” Hubert said.
Edelgard coughed. “Ferdinand,” she said, “this is Hubert. He’s my best friend. And, as you aptly noted, roommate.”
Ferdinand’s eyes widened. What an odd color they were -- not brown, not gold, not amber or hazel, but almost orange, like his hair, or like, perhaps, the changing leaves. Or a pumpkin. Pre-rot. “Oh!” he said. “So this is Hubert!”
Hubert was caught off-guard by this. “Pardon?” He shot a look back at Edelgard who, for some reason, was wearing a slight pinkish tinge on her pale cheeks.
“Come, sit down,” she said again, and Hubert realized that yes, they were all still standing. “Let’s… catch up.”
While Edelgard busied herself making tea, Hubert and the man -- Ferdinand -- sat down on opposite ends of the couch.
“So,” Ferdinand said, “it’s quite a beautiful place you have h…”
“Where did you meet Edelgard?” Hubert cut in. He didn’t need to hear about how beautiful their place was. He knew it was beautiful. That knowledge was enough.
Ferdinand looked down at his lap. Hubert’s eyes followed. His hands were far more manly than the rest of him would suggest, large, with thick, muscular fingers, dusted with bright red hair. His nails, however, were impeccably manicured. “Oh,” he said, “we went to school together. For a brief time.”
“What?” Hubert felt his eyes narrow. “That’s impossible. Edelgard and I were…”
Oh. Ah. That.
Hubert was right -- he and Edelgard were classmates for most of their lives. It was nearly by design; if they were placed in separate classrooms, Hubert would devise some sort of plan to ensure his class assignment was changed, including (but not limited to) letters full of very thinly veiled threats, downright refusing to move from his self-assigned post outside Edelgard’s classroom, or, one year, a series of stink bomb incidents that still made him tear up with pride to consider. But there was that one year, the one he wanted to forget…
“Yes,” Edelgard said as she entered the room, carrying a tray of tea and coffee. (Hubert mentally scowled. She should have let him get it.) She set the tray on the coffee table, something which still amazed Hubert that she was able to do, having been so used to seeing it covered in fashion magazines and half-used lip balms, and sat between the two men, giving Hubert’s knee a soft squeeze.
“Edelgard…”
She smiled. “Ferdinand,” she said, turning toward him, “you still drink with two sugars and whole milk, correct?”
Hubert had nearly forgotten the other man was there, but the cut of his laughter would have reminded him either way. “No, Edelgard,” he said, “I fear I have to work on reducing my sugar intake, as per the orders of my physician. One sugar will suffice, please.”
Edelgard nodded as she prepared the tea. Sweet drinks. Such an abomination.
“But yes,” she said, passing the mug to Ferdinand and dropping approximately seventeen cubes of sugar into her own (Hubert passed no judgment on that). “I met Ferdinand at the boarding school my uncle sent me to for sixth grade.”
“I was her best friend and confidant,” Ferdinand said, an air of pride in his words that Hubert wanted to smack straight out of him.
“No,” Edelgard cut in, “you were not. You were a friend, and an occasional confidant, but…”
“I am Edelgard’s best friend and confidant,” Hubert said.
“Oh, for the love of… stop, both of you,” Edelgard said, falling back upon the couch cushion and rolling her eyes. “It was a weird time in my life and I’d rather soon forget all about it, if that’s all right with everyone.” She looked over at Ferdinand, and Hubert could see the ghost of a smile wafting across her lips. “Although I am glad to remember you. So what brings you here, Ferdinand? You don’t strike me as the type of person who needs to be living with roommates.”
“Ah,” Ferdinand said. He brought the mug of tea to his mouth and sipped it slowly; if Hubert was not mistaken, he was barely drinking at all, perhaps simply biding time. He swallowed whatever overly sweetened milk-leaf-juice he’d decided to imbibe and placed the mug on the coffee table. “About that.”
Hubert hadn’t noticed the briefcase lying at Ferdinand’s feet, but the man opened it quickly. The insides looked… impeccably organized, a far cry from the chaotic “I think I remember seeing the bill next to the microwave” system that Dorothea had employed. Sigh. One point in his favor, then. He scanned through his folders, finally finding a piece of paper and tugging it out, handing it to Edelgard.
Hubert peeked over at it. It was a print out of their Craigslist ad -- or, rather, his Craigslist ad -- with certain parts highlighted and circled.
Edelgard looked up at him. “You printed it out? Why? Why not just use your phone?”
Ferdinand opened his mouth to speak, but Hubert suddenly felt a touch of sympathy for the man and placed his hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “Edelgard,” he said, “Craigslist routinely deletes old posts to make room for new ones.”
Edelgard scowled. “That’s a bunch of nonsense. As if text posts take up so much space…”
Hubert thought about lifting his gaze up to smile at Ferdinand, in a sort of oh, technology still evades her sometimes kind of way, the way that acknowledged Ferdinand’s history with Edelgard while proving his own was more current and, hence, superior, when something about the print-out suddenly caught his attention.
“Ferdinand,” he said, taking the paper from Edelgard’s hands and squinting at it, “did you print this in a dot-matrix printer ?”
Edelgard looked up at him. “What’s that?"
“It’s old.”
“Ah.”
“I-- give me that,” Ferdinand said, reaching over Edelgard and tearing the paper away from Hubert’s hand. His face was turning red, and Hubert noticed the freckles dotting his cheeks and nose for the first time. “It is what my father has.”
“Sorry,” Edelgard said, laughing. She reached over and patted Ferdinand’s hand. “In my defense, it felt good to not be the only one under Mister Technology’s attack.”
“Edelgard,” Hubert said, “you are in a Doctorate program and you still insist on using Caps Lock to capitalize the start of each sentence…”
Edelgard flushed. “Enough,” she said, turning her attention back to Ferdinand. “So you saw our posting and..? Did you recognize something about it, or..?” She took the paper back from him, her violet eyes skimming back and forth across it before groaning. “Oh Saints, Hubert, did you really write this..?”
“It worked, did it not?” Hubert shrugged. “We’ve had many applicants, after all.”
“I liked it,” Ferdinand said. “It felt very straight to the point.”
“Mm,” Edelgard hummed. She didn’t sound convinced, but Hubert knew she had no evidence to counter him with, so she’d extend a treaty of silence at this time. She looked the paper over again. “You highlighted the word ‘doorknobs’.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You would be surprised,” Ferdinand said. “I have been on a frantic search for a place to stay, and so many room-shares neglect the human need for privacy.”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” Edelgard said, looking back up. “Ferdinand, you’re rich. If what the news says is true, your family’s company is doing better than ever. Why would you need a room-share?”
“Excuse me,” Hubert said. “His family’s company?”
Ferdinand looked up at Hubert. There was an unmistakable touch of embarrassment in his face. “My family owns Aegir Industries,” he said. “We manufacture parts for electronics.”
Aegir Industries. Hubert frowned. “Isn’t that the company that was in the news for price-gauging the parts for dialysis machines..?”
“Yes,” Ferdinand said. “I fought against that, for the record. Made myself quite unpopular with the stockholders, not to mention my father.”
Edelgard looked over at him. “Is that why you’re here, then?”
“Partially,” Ferdinand said. His hands were on his lap again, and Hubert saw his fingers twist and twirl around each other, every joint in his hands tense. “Did you happen to notice the other highlighted part?”
Edelgard looked back down at the paper. “Oh,” she said, “ be LGBTQ+ friendly or die. Nice, Hubert.”
Hubert grinned. “I have no regrets.”
“I suppose I can tell you,” Ferdinand said, looking back at Edelgard, “and, well, him too, by proxy.”
“Thanks,” Hubert said. Edelgard responded with an elbow in his side.
“If you wish,” Edelgard said.
Ferdinand nodded. “My father caught me… in bed with another man.”
Edelgard frowned. “Ferdinand, no offense, but if your father wasn’t aware by now, he’s an idiot. It was obvious.”
“It is obvious,” Hubert agreed, although, really, was it ? Perhaps he just wanted it to be obvious. “You are akin to a faery sprite mounted upon a racing horse.”
Ferdinand blinked. “I love horses,” he whispered.
Edelgard elbowed him in the side. “That’s not what we’re talking about,” she said, turning her eyes back onto Hubert. “Hubert von Vestra, if you get Ferdinand on the topic of horses in my own damn apartment, I swear to whatever deity reigns above…”
“An empty threat,” Hubert laughed. “Although I’d also like to be spared the horse chatter. It was simply a simile.”
“Yes,” Edelgard said, giving Hubert a smile before turning back to Ferdinand. “Sorry, Ferdinand. So he caught you in bed with a man and freaked out?”
“I do not think he was surprised,” Ferdinand said, cheeks flushed. “But he was angry all the same. He was worried it would leak, and after all of the terrible publicity the company has had as of late, he said that we -- they -- could not weather one more scandal.”
“So you’ve been cut off,” Edelgard said, frowning. “Ferdinand, I’m sorry.”
“It is all right,” Ferdinand said, and dabbed at his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. Was he… no. “I still have quite a lot of savings, and I have started looking for a job of my own. Something unrelated to the company, or the family name.” He lifted up his mug of tea and took a genuine sip from it, his face contorting slightly. It must have gotten too cool. “That is to say,” he continued, “that I am perfectly capable of paying rent, if, well…” He put his mug down and pushed it away, folding his hands on his lap and looking up at Edelgard and Hubert fully. “If you’ll have me.”
“Hmm.” Edelgard seemed to consider this for a moment before turning to Hubert. “Do you have any objections?”
Hubert paused.
He did, of course, have objections. He had objections to every single person who stepped into their apartment, including, once upon a time, Dorothea, who had been a mutual friend. This man blustered in out of nowhere, an artifact of a part of Edelgard’s past that she refused to speak much about, even to him, and yet, to his credit, he seemed to cause her no pain.
Also, if he was to be honest with himself -- which there was approximately a 50/50 chance of him being at any given time -- the man wasn’t difficult on the eyes, and while Hubert was absolutely not considering anything along those lines with anybody at the moment, he was very picky about the aesthetics of the place.
He frowned.
“No pets?” he asked.
Ferdinand shook his head, seemingly surprised by the question. “None.”
Hubert nodded. “Good. But don’t you even want to see the room first before committing to it?”
This time Ferdinand laughed. “Does it have a doorknob? Assuming yes, then no, I’m fine.”
Hubert scowled. “You’re an idiot. I’m sorry. The ad said no idiots allowed.”
Edelgard shot him a look, but Ferdinand shook his head, spreading his hands wide in a helpless shrug. “I cannot stop you if that is what you think,” he said, “but I do not think it is idiotic to wish to sleep with friends rather than stay at a hotel.”
Time seemed to slow down as the three of them realized what Ferdinand had just said.
“Ferdinand…” Edelgard said, wiping an eye before bursting into laughter.
“Sleep with friends, eh?” Hubert said, a grin spreading across his face. Oh, as much as he longed to be the one to make Edelgard laugh like that, it was better that someone, rather than nobody, could. He almost couldn’t be jealous.
“Ah! I, I mean..!” Ferdinand sputtered, somehow managing to go even redder than before.
Hubert chuckled. “I don’t recall adding a threesome clause into the housing ad, but then again, it is Craigslist…”
“I hate you,” Ferdinand said, shaking his head. “I hate both of you.”
“That’s a shame,” Edelgard said, catching her breath from laughing, “seeing as that you live with us.”
“Wait,” Ferdinand said, perking up. “Truly?”
Hubert sighed. “Anybody who can make Edelgard laugh like that is welcome,” he said, shrugging. “Just don’t get in our way.”
“Get in your way how?” Ferdinand asked, and Hubert almost hated the genuine interest in his voice. Part of him desperately wanted to hate their new roommate, with his awkward way of speaking and his impossible-to-describe eyes, and while he knew that part was rooted in some ugly feeling like fear or jealousy, he still wanted to honor it.
“Oh,” Edelgard said, her voice bright, “Hubert and I have plans to open a coffee shop when I’m done with my degree.” She held her empty mug of tea to her chest and beamed, for an instant looking more like the young girl she had been before boarding school, the girl Hubert found himself still, years later, trying to find and retroactively protect. “We’re going to call it ‘The Empire Roasters.’” She smiled. “I came up with the name myself.”
Hubert chanced a look at Ferdinand. He was surprised to see Ferdinand mirroring the same look back at him.
Don’t you dare say a word, Hubert mouthed.
Ferdinand’s lips tightened into a flat line.
Hmm , Hubert thought. Perhaps this would work out just fine after all.
“Let me show you to your room, then,” Hubert said, standing up. He extended a hand to Ferdinand. “You can tell me if the doorknob is to your satisfaction.”
“I am sure it will be,” Ferdinand replied, taking the offered hand. “As long as it fulfills its basic functions of pushing and pulling.”
Hubert sighed. “A doorknob does not push or pull,” he said, “but rather twists and turns. Honestly, now.”
Edelgard remained on the couch, nestled inn her soft spot in the middle, a smile on her face as she watched the two men make their way down the hall. Then she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and began composing an e-mail to their landlord, letting them know about the change in residency.