Archive of Our Own ^beta

14

Dimitri wakes up hearing his father's voice. It's the first time. It won't be the last time.

He's covered in sweat. He can't breathe. He doesn't even think as he reaches for his lamp, knocking a glass over. It spills water all over the floor. The clock tells him that it’s late. Very late.

He doesn't care. He can hear his father calling his name. He's loud enough that he could just be on the other side of Dimitri's bedroom door, but a quick glance shows that Dedue is still sleeping.

"Dad? Dad?" Dimitri responds as he throws the covers off. It's cold. He can feel goosebumps all over his arms and legs. He steps out of his bed. The walls seem to crowd around him. Shadows reach from the corners of the room. He tries to shake off the sensation that someone is watching him.

It takes him a moment to get to the door. He needs to be quiet or Dedue will hear. Rufus hasn't given Dedue a proper room, saying that Dedue won't stay long anyways. Something about how Dedue should be back with his family. They just can't find anyone in his family that's still alive.

Dimitri's fingers are wrapped around the handle when Dedue sits up from the mattress on the floor that he sleeps on — Dimitri refuses to call it a bed. Dimitri feels guilt crash over him. He freezes, as if Dedue will go back to sleep if he thinks that Dimitri isn't doing anything.

"D… Dimitri?" Dedue asks, voice rough from sleep. He's only a bit older than Dimitri, but puberty has hit him repeatedly and it's obvious in his stubble and deep voice. Dimitri doesn't have to shave yet, but Dedue promises that he'll teach Dimitri once he does. "Is everything all right?"

A lump builds in Dimitri's throat. "Go back to sleep."

That does the opposite of what Dimitri wanted, because Dedue starts to stand up. Dedue is wearing a thick sweater and a thicker pair of sweatpants. He's not used to the colder weather.

"Do you need anything?" Dedue asks again.

Dimitri shakes his head. "I… am just getting water."

Dedue looks at the glass on the ground. It's still in one piece, but there's a big water stain all over the carpet. Dimitri blushes.

"I — I wasn't looking. I will be right back, Dedue, I promise."

"Let me come with you." Dedue makes his way over, moving with surprising grace. Dimitri is about to argue, but then—

"Dimitri, where are you?"

"Father? I'm coming!" Dimitri pulls the door open and runs out. He hears Dedue following, calling his name, but he doesn't look back.

The house is large. Uncle Rufus has always been just as showy as any of the people Dimitri's seen in TV or movies. Sylvain's got a big house too, but he also has a brother and two parents. Uncle Rufus lives alone.

Lived alone.

Dimitri runs down the hall and looks around. All the lights are off, so it's hard to see except for what little moonlight can make its way through the curtains. He can hear Dedue behind him and — there! Footsteps downstairs.

"Dad? I'm coming," he says, not bothering to be quiet. He keeps running. His chest and legs hurt a bit, but the doctors said he can run around now. He probably won't be able to fence for a while, but he doesn't think he wants to do that anymore anyways.

Dedue follows him, a few feet behind and with much more stealth, though that's not a challenge. Dimitri pounds his feet against the wood and then, as the sound continues, into the tile of the kitchen. He looks around. There's no one there, but he can hear someone.

The hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Dimitri rubs at his eyes. He's tired and his eyes sting like there's smoke in them. He starts to walk around the kitchen island — a big counter in the center that has a fruit basket and an ugly lion statue on it.

"Dad? It's me."

"Dimitri," Dedue murmurs, but Dimitri holds his hand up.

"I know he's here, Dedue. I heard him!" Dimitri tries not to think about what else he knows, which is that his father's head was smashed into bits in front of him. It doesn't make sense, though, because Dimitri knows his father's voice and he knows what he's hearing. "Dad, say something else!"

"Dimitri… help… me…"

It's coming from around the counter. Dimitri runs around the counter and—

"D—Dad—!" Dimitri falls to his knees.

Lambert lays on the ground. His head is partially crushed. He only has one eye — the other socket is missing entirely. In fact, that entire half of his head is just gone. He's bleeding all over the floor. One of his fingers is snapped back, bone whiter than the tile his blood stains, as he reaches out to Dimitri.

"Help… me…" Lambert croaks. "Save… me…"

Dimitri begins crying. He can't help it. He can't move. He wants to help, but he doesn't know what to do. Everything aches. He can't breathe. His muscles are frozen, his eyes glued open. Everything is pressed around him and he can't say anything. He's alone, all—

"You are safe," Dedue murmurs, pulling him into a gentle hug. No, not a hug, that is too simple — this is an embrace. Dimitri can still see his father, but he remembers where he is. He's safe. He's in Uncle Rufus's home in Itha and it's early in the morning and he's safe.

A shaky breath fills Dimitri's lungs enough for him to cry out. Some wordless noise, something from deep in his chest. Pained, maybe. Agonizing, yes.

Dedue runs a hand through his hair. He smells like the simple vanilla shampoo that they both use. He's warm enough that Dimitri can feel him even through the heavy layers they both wear. Dedue is a furnace and Dimitri feels like a leech, draining and demanding and giving nothing in return.

"It is okay, Dimitri. You may cry." Dedue doesn't seem to mind. He just pats Dimitri's back, plays with his hair, provides a steady connection to what's real. Dimitri knows that it can't be his father, that his father can't be there, because his father died. Because Dedue can't see him.

But Lambert is still there, reaching for Dimitri and pleading for help.

Rufus finds Dimitri and Dedue in the morning, neither boy with a wink of sleep. Dimitri's run out of tears, though he can't stop seeing Lambert. He hasn't gone away the whole night, but he finally stopped saying things, instead just moaning. Dedue doesn't ask, but every time Dimitri whimpers, Dedue holds him a bit tighter.

"What are you two doing?" Rufus asks. Dimitri looks up and shivers.

"I… I heard Father…."

Rufus scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. And you, Dede, what are you doing to Dimitri?"

"His name is Dedue," Dimitri mutters. Rufus rolls his eyes. Dedue stands, though he helps Dimitri to his feet rather than leaving him there. "He's helping protect me."

"If he wanted to protect you, he would go back to where he came from. Go to your rooms and get dressed, then. Rodrigue is bringing your friends here for your birthday."

Dimitri blinks. He looks at the window. Sun is starting to shine through. He recalls, faintly, the excited texts he got from his friends. They're all looking forward to seeing him in person, spending time with him. It'll be the first time since the… the tragedy. He doesn’t want to see his friends. He doesn’t want them to see him like this.

He doesn’t want to have to pretend that everything is okay when reality couldn’t be farther from the truth.

"I miss father," Dimitri confesses.

Rufus's face softens. "I know. I miss him too. Now come on, you want to be presentable for your friends." Rufus allows Dedue to help bring Dimitri back to his room. Even though he’s woefully unequipped for one child, let alone a second, at least Rufus knows better than to try to separate the boys.

Dimitri sits on his bed. Dedue doesn’t hesitate to sit next to him. They aren’t touching and they don’t look at one another. The clock tells him that it’s early. He should try to sleep, but that would be inviting the nightmares. Then again, can anything truly be more terrifying than reality?

The truth is, Dimitri knows what he heard. He knows what he saw. He doesn’t know what will come next and he’s scared to find out.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dimitri’s body says. His mind is elsewhere. He feels like he’s floating, looking down on his body and watching it sit there and breathe and blink.

“Okay.” Dedue looks at Dimitri’s body. There are a million questions

Dedue doesn't ask about that night.

16

He drops out of public high school three weeks before his sixteenth birthday. It is, as timing goes, some of the worst. He's going to have to do work over the break to stay on schedule for finishing the year and suddenly none of his distant friends are answering his texts or agreeing to hang out. And, well, he's turning sixteen soon and he doesn't want to do anything other than scream or break things or run into the forest and live in a cave somewhere.

Dedue actually stops him in the middle of packing a bag, telling him that if he is going to run off, he should do it in the spring. Dimitri is more thankful that he should be for the voice of reason that is his best friend.

So Dimitri isn't expecting much come his sixteenth birthday. Dedue made the cake yesterday, Rufus promised to take Dimitri out to his favorite restaurant for dinner, and other than that, Dimitri is going to sit and play Fire Emblem all day until Dedue forces him to stop.

It certainly does not occur to him, when Dedue takes him out to grab some ice cream to go with the cake, that he'll come back to a loud cheer as Ingrid, Sylvain, and the person later known as Felix all pop out of hiding spots. Rodrigue slips out from behind a cleverly angled door. Even Uncle Rufus is there. They all have cheesy party hats on, someone's thrown streamers around, and Dimitri's favorite band is playing in the background.

Dimitri freezes.

"Happy birthday!" Sylvain says. He pulls Dimitri into a hug. Sylvain is the oldest and has been comfortably in puberty for a while, but he still can't grow a beard. Despite that, his stubble scratches against Dimitri's head as they embrace.

"What are you all doing here?" Dimitri asks, even as he hugs Ingrid — who smiles brightly and, really, her braces aren't that bad — and waves at his third friend, whom he knows as one name now but will later call Felix. "I thought that—"

"There's no way we were going to let you celebrate alone," Ingrid interrupts. She doesn't even glance at Dedue, who is standing back in the doorway, nor does she acknowledge Dimitri's grimace. "We're going to go bowling or we can go go-karting or whatever!"

"Yes," Rufus agrees, "Dimitri, don't be rude. Say hello to Rodrigue. He was nice enough to help bring everyone here."

Dimitri smiles at Rodrigue, who mirrors his expression. Rodrigue gently pushes his child forward, though honestly it doesn't take much encouragement. There's a bit of an awkward moment before Dimitri embraces his friend, the hug lasting longer than the others. A bit of black hair gets in Dimitri's mouth, but he doesn't mind.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," comes the reply.

"I'm glad you came," Dimitri adds.

"I'm glad I'm here."

The two break apart with an awkward cough. Sylvain claps his hands together, grinning ear to ear despite the glare that gets angled at him by a pain of golden eyes — oh, and Ingrid.

"So, what do you wanna do, Dima?" The charming asshole asks.

They end up bowling. Dedue doesn't seem to mind that he's bad at it, because Dimitri is easily the worst of all five of them. He's perfectly capable of throwing the bowling ball, but he cannot aim to save his life.

"Are you sure you can see out of both your eyes?" He's asked after a particularly ill-aimed hurl results in the ball somehow flying into another lane.

Blue eyes meet gold as the Dimitri flips off his friend. Ingrid and Sylvain both laugh. Dedue, who is patience personified, smiles from where he's sitting, waiting for his turn. Dimitri is happy to see that Sylvain is at least talking rather frequently with Dedue, but Ingrid's barely looked at him. As for the third of the trio…

Well, Dimitri's never quite sure how to act around anyone with the last name Fraldarius, though for vastly different reasons depending on which Fraldarius he's referring to.

Rodrigue and Rufus have disappeared, though they come back to pick up the teenagers once a few rounds are under their belt and bowling and cheap pizza is no longer as illustrious. The five teenagers cram into Rodrigue's rental, a big van with enough space for Dedue to sit in the front and not crush whoever is directly behind him. Through a rock-paper-scissors match, Sylvain secures the back row for himself and Ingrid while Dimitri claims the seat behind Rodrigue. Dimitri's other friend sits behind Dedue and resolutely glares out the window, though there's a faint smile present when Dimitri makes a joke about how hopeless he is at bowling.

"Yeah, you are," comes the reply. Dimitri smiles back.

The rest of the night is a blur. As the celebration drags on, Dimitri feels a headache pounding between his ears, a heavy pressure right behind his eyes. He begs off seeing a movie, claiming that he'd rather play games at home.

"That's all you do," Sylvain says. He's refused all attempts to get him join Fire Emblem, which is impressive since even Ingrid has an account — even if she's only level eight and hasn't even picked a class yet. In fact, Dedue and Dimitri's other best friend, the person who will be known as Felix, are the only ones who play with any degree of frequency.

"It's his birthday," Ingrid concedes. "We can do whatever Dimitri wants. When it's your birthday, we'll do what you want."

Sylvain shrugs and then defeats them all rather soundly at every game they play, much to Dimitri's amusement and the others' frustration. Eventually, the black-haired spitfire of the group demands they do something else. Out of fear of having to stop actual murder, Dimitri agrees that they should watch a movie. The group argues for a bit but settle on his favorite, which Dimitri selects before settling back and trying his best to pretend his skull isn't splitting apart at the seams.

He does a damn good job at pretending he's okay until it's time to sleep and he realizes that everyone is expected to cram into his room — sure, Sylvain and Dedue might be the only other guys right now, but everyone knows that there's no winning an argument with someone with the last name Galatea or Fraldarius. So sleeping bags get rolled out, pajamas are donned, and Dimitri has to hold back the urge to scream.

"I'll be right back," he says before going to the bathroom. He can hear tapping of claws on wood as he walks down the hall. No, not claws.

Fingernails.

He splashes water on his face in a desperate attempt to bring himself back down, but it almost works too well because Dimitri is suddenly inundated with the sensation of falling down. There is nothing under his feet and his heart is being pulled from his chest, but he's just standing in his bathroom staring at the person in the mirror while cold water laps at his hands and drips from his face.

It's been getting worse, the visions. He thought that hearing screams during chemistry was the worst of it, that seeing people follow him the whole day and just be laughed at when he brings it up could not possibly get any worse, but he was wrong. It's been getting worse. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know if he wants to know why.

There's someone in the mirror. Oh, not the young man with sky eyes that he knows, objectively, is the spitting image of himself. But someone just behind him, over his shoulder, trailing creeping black vine fingers along his collarbone.

Dimitri hears something crack, feels a sharp pinprick of pain, but his eyes are glued to the monstrous form behind him. It doesn't have much of a form, just a gaping maw of black ooze and endless darkness. The lights are on but his vision is focused on this creature. He wants to turn around, but he's frozen in place. He can hear the crackling of flames, feel the pressure of rubble on his chest, see blood so dark it's almost black start to bubble out from the cracks on the tile floor. Outside, the only light is from street lamps high above the sidewalk.

When the sun sets, everything is bathed in shadows. It's a simple fact but that doesn't quite explain how terrified of the dark Dimitri is.

There's a pounding on the door. Dimitri jumps, slipping on the ground and his vision goes black as his head hits something hard. He blinks furiously, feeling pinprick tears and something wet on the back of his head. His sight slowly comes back to him. He's prone, the tile seeping ice through his cotton pajama pants, blood sticky like syrup. Someone is still knocking on the door.

"Dima? Dima? Are you okay? I heard something fall," a worried voice calls. Dimitri blinks in confusion.

"Glenn?" He questions, but no, this voice is higher, younger — maybe when Glenn was a boy, but certainly not now and not when he is a raspy, thin noise from beyond the grave.

"Dimitri, it's me. Are you okay? Dad? Dad!" More noise, someone trying to get in. Faintly, Dimitri knows it's his friend. It doesn't stop his heart from beating like a possessed drum. "Please let me in, Dima." Stop it. Begging doesn't suit anyone, Dimitri thinks. Especially not you.

He doesn't quite have the energy to stand, however, because there's blood all over his hands and he's not alone anymore. The monster is gone, now replaced with Glenn looking down at him with empty eyes. Odd, Dimitri can remember how full of pain and hatred those eyes were. He doesn't think he can remember a time when Glenn hadn't had more life than everyone else in the room, though it was tempered by a need to also be the coolest person present.

Dimitri doesn't remember how tall Glenn was, not really, but right now his body looms over Dimitri, limbs too long and crooked, bones jutting out from flesh. There is a wicked grin stretching from ear to ear, lips cracked open and crimson staining pearl white teeth. More sludge starts to lap at his ankles and Dimitri notices that the room is filling with blood.

"Open up," Glenn says, voice unnaturally high, tinge of panic finally pushing Dimitri over the edge into hyperventilating. "Let me in, Dimitri. Let me in!"

The door shudders and then, with a great crack it flies open. Rodrigue steps through Glenn. His other child stands behind him, big fat tears staining cheeks. Dimitri doesn't know what he looks like, but he doesn't feel real. His limbs are too heavy and light all at once, like a ghost weighed down by the burdens of life.

Dimitri can see his friend opening and closing his mouth, but any words seem to come from Glenn, who is frantically asking if Dimitri is okay, if Dimitri in safe, if he's okay, is he okay, is he okay is he—

"Go back to the room," Rodrigue tells his child.

"But—"

"Go to sleep, Elise. I'll take care of Dimitri," Rodrigue says, ignoring his child in favor of reaching out to Dimitri. Somehow, hearing names is what snaps Dimitri out of the worst of his panic, though his chest still hurts and his head is pounding once again. He sees the smallest Fraldarius run off, leaving Dimitri with Glenn and Rodrigue.

Dimitri looks up at Glenn. Rodrigue follows his gaze but doesn't see what has captured Dimitri's attention, which is normal and Dimitri expects nothing less. He knows that he's the only one burdened with the knowledge of the lost dreams and hopes — the stories of the dead are his own to shoulder and he is slowly being crushed under the weight of unfulfilled promises and half-forgotten secrets.

"What happened?" Rodrigue asks. Dimitri doesn't have an answer.

His friends leave the next day. The person he will later call Felix, his best friend since childhood, someone whom he once loved, doesn't speak to him for almost an entire year.

18

“Have you taken your meds today?” Mercedes asks when she gets on voice chat. Dimitri looks over to where his meds are sitting on his desk. He has not taken his medications, doesn’t like to, because they make him feel foggy and tired, but they help with what his therapist of the month describes as delusions and terrors impairing your everyday life.

“Hi, Mercie!” Ingrid says, covering for Dimitri’s silence. “We’re grinding in Grondor if you want to join us.”

"Oh, I don't know if I'm high enough to go there yet. I'm still level 24…"

Dimitri's not sure what Mercedes does in the real world, only knows she's older and has a lot more real life stuff going on than he does. Then again, he's probably not a great comparison. At least things should be busier once he goes to college, once he's back in Fhirdiad with Felix (who barely talks to him, but it's better than not talking at all), Sylvain (who took a year off to get some life experience, which is really just his way of wanting to start college closer to his friends), and Dedue.

Well, Dimitri lives down the hall from Dedue, has since they were teenagers. So not much will change there — they're getting an apartment off campus together, courtesy of the suddenly available trust fund that is more than enough to pay for both of them to get an education at the best university in Faerghus.

Dedue's still getting scholarships because he's never wanted to owe anyone in his life. Dimitri has tried and tried and tried to explain that he’s really just paying Dedue back for saving him, but it never quite seems to stick.

In game, Dedue blocks an attack from a bandit and Dimitri impales the enemy with his lance. It's a shiny silver lance, the best one he can wield. He's a bit, um, committed to the game. Even if the others don't get it, at least they humor him. There's no other reason they'd willingly spend so much of their time playing a silly MMORPG with him.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, Dimitri! Are you doing anything today?" Mercedes taps a few things on her keyboard. Dimitri's somehow still surprised to see a gift alert appear on screen. He minimizes it so he can focus on the raid.

"Oh, thanks. Um, I don't have plans." Dimitri clicks furiously, blowing all his cooldowns to cover for Ingrid, who is flying around trying to get a good hit in. His avatar spins and hits everyone around him with his lance. Dedue slices with a giant axe, taking out the bandit leader.

Dimitri is actually breathing kind of heavily when the raid closes out with some fanfare. His loot is semi-decent. Nothing to write home about, but he's a bit closer to the next level. He's already leveled once today — if he spends the rest of the day grinding, he can maybe squeeze in one more.

[Trade request from ofduscur!]

"Dedue, I don't have anything worth trading," Dimitri says.

"I found a killer lance and I cannot use it. Do you want it?"

Dimitri runs some quick math in his head. "I can't give you enough gold for it."

"That does not matter. It is a gift."

Ingrid clears her throat. "Do you want to run a different raid so Mercedes can join us?" She asks at the same time as Mercedes says,

"Oh, Dedue, you can make Dimitri celebrate, right?"

"We are going somewhere tonight," Dedue confirms. This is the first time that Dimitri has heard of this, which he says in as incredulous a tone he can manage. He hopes that his indignation is clear, but he feels like it loses its potency when Dedue just snorts. "If I had told you, you would have refused. But you cannot refuse now."

He's right, but Dimitri doesn't have to be happy about it.

Still, he doesn't really know how to react when he finds Dedue driving him to a carnival that evening. He also doesn't have much to say as they walk up to the front gates, where kids are screaming and music is blaring and his head already hurts.

Dimitri looks up at the flashing neon sign. Dedue glances at Dimitri, who stares back at him. Dedue frowns.

"You do not like it," he says, sounding like Dimitri has just decided that Dedue's cooking is horrible.

"No, no, it's just — I'm surprised." Dimitri's therapist told him that he needs to get over his issues with crowds and being around loud noises. Maybe this would help.

See, none of the things that bother him are problems, not according to his therapist. They're issues. Like different editions of a magazine or a comic book. One after the other, all accumulating until they're either cancelled or finish with some dramatic plot point and a sappy kiss.

His therapist hadn't liked that comment. Dimitri doesn’t like his therapist. It is a mutual feeling.

"I know that you and your uncle were fighting about your… unusual high school experience." Dedue's a saint for being so kind about the situation. Most people would describe Dimitri living with his uncle, taking online classes ever since he had a panic attack in chemistry, and having no friends except for the people he talks with online and Dedue as…

Sad. A tragedy. And that's before someone learns about his hallucinations. His delusions.

But Dedue's seen it all. He knows what Dimitri struggles with and still calls him a friend.

"Let's go inside. Have you ever been to a carnival, Dedue?" Dimitri asks, even though he knows the answer.

"There were fairs in Duscur, but nothing quite like…" Dedue trails off, looking at a small roller coaster that shoots people in the air while strapped into a tiny seat, the cradle for the seats only kept on Earth by a cable of some kind. "Nothing like that."

They get wristbands that let them go on rides as many times as they like and then they find themselves wandering the carnival like fish swimming aimlessly, buffeted around in a violent current of mildly drunk adults, sugar-filled children, and teenagers who are on first dates and trying to not show it. Dimitri has no idea what he's supposed to do and Dedue doesn't seem to have any ideas either.

Dimitri glances around. The rides all have lines and he's not sure it would be a good idea to put himself on something he can't escape. He's not actively seeing anything, but he can feel his panic rise just by the crush of the crowd and all the screaming and sweat intermingling.

"Those look fun," Dedue suggests, pointing towards a quieter part of the area.

There are booths with colorful prizes ranging from cheap inflatable balls to stuffed animals the size of Dedue's torso. The two wander down the rows. Dimitri notices that there's one guy who's clearly on a date, what with the way he promises the girl to win her a teddy bear.

It occurs to Dimitri, as Dedue stops in front of a ball throwing booth, that this is what a date would be like. It then hits Dimitri, not unlike the way a padded ball slams into a bunch of wooden bottles in the no doubt rigged carnival booth, that neither he nor Dedue have ever been on dates. Not that Dimitri knows anyone who he'd want to take on one, and not that Dedue has ever said anything about romantic inclinations — it would be wholly unfair to assign some deeper meaning to a friend who just wants to celebrate Dimitri turning eighteen.

Besides, Dimitri’s straight and Dedue is his best friend. There’s no point making this weird.

Dedue nudges Dimitri in the shoulder. "You would be good at this," he suggests, gesturing towards the aforementioned booth.

Dimitri laughs. Considering he hasn't done a sport in years and years, he's still freakishly strong. He's also recently gained a few more inches, though Dedue still towers over him.

Walking up to the booth, he hands the bored attendant ten dollars in exchange for three balls. The rules are simple. If he knocks down three bottles, he can pick a small prize. If he gets all six, he can pick a big prize.

"Are there any prizes you want?" Dimitri finds himself asking Dedue. They're all basic things, slightly ugly toys or flat inflatables or cheap stuffed animals — the kind of things found at the dollar store.

Dedue still squints at the selection with serious consideration. "I suppose I do not have much use for most of these, but…" He freezes. Dimitri's only ever seen that look once before, back when he and Dedue were at the mall and Dedue saw somewhere serving falafel.

"What is it?" Dimitri asks, because he hasn't a hope in Fódlan to figure out what's gotten Dedue's attention.

The flush on Dedue's face is only visible from Dimitri's practiced observations, his stoic friend an open book after over four years of friendship. Dedue looks away from the row of toys, glancing down at Dimitri.

"It is nothing."

Dimitri snorts. "Well, when I knock all of the bottles down, you'll have to tell me."

He winds up and throws the first ball. It knocks the top bottle off. He throws a second. It crashes into the middle of the partial pyramid, knocking two more bottles down. He has two left, both on opposite sides of the stand, and one ball left.

Predictably, he misses completely.

"Nice try," the attendant says in a tone that reminds Dimitri of Felix what with his utter lack of concern. "Ten bucks and you can go again."

Dimitri can see the slightest downturn of Dedue's lips. He slams another ten on the counter.

"Again."

"You — You do not have to—" Dedue stammers.

Dimitri is already taking another shot. In the end, he spends forty dollars to actually knock down the six bottles. He collects a few minor prizes, thinking that he can send them to his friends — but the big one is the hard decision. Because Dedue seems downright embarrassed to admit which one he wants.

The attendant doesn’t look annoyed or anything, really, but Dimitri finds himself torn between just choosing a big prize or somehow forcing Dedue to admit which one he wants.

Scanning the prizes one last time, Dimitri can’t think of what could make Dedue act the way he did. The elephant with a pink bow? The dog with brown spots? The dolphin with a little hat? Then, just as he’s about to give up and pick an owl with a monocle, he spots it.

It might be mean, but he can’t help but laugh as he asks the attendant to grab his prize. Dedue looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust when Dimitri hands him a teal lion with a matching scarf.

“T—Thank you, Dimitri. You did not have to—”

“Nonsense. You went to the lengths of bringing me here to enjoy myself, so you ought to have something to remember tonight by.” Dimitri blushes. He coughs into his fist, his lungs suddenly aching enough that Dedue starts to rub circles on his back.

After a bit, Dimitri spits to the side and stands up. Dedue squints at his spit. Embarrassed, Dimitri starts walking in the opposite direction.

“I think we should go on some rides. What do you think, Dedue?” Dimitri stops. Dedue is not following. “Dedue? Is everything okay?”

“Are you okay? You spat up blood.” Dedue looks a bit silly frowning while also holding a brightly colored stuffed animal in a patterned scarf, but Dedue manages to make it slightly less ridiculous than, say, if Dimitri tried to do the same. “Do you need to sit?”

There’s a lot wrong with Dimitri, but spitting up blood is not one of them. He smiles. “I think I just bit my tongue. Honestly, Dedue, I feel fine. Now come on — I haven’t been on a ride in years!”

They ride all of the rides, even the teacups — and who would have thought that they would be felled by such a cheerful ride? But they both need a moment to dry heave a bit after — until the only one left is the Ferris wheel. It has the biggest line, so they keep putting it off, but soon Dimitri’s starting to feel a bit dead on his feet. Only…

“You’ve never been on one before? Well, you have to! It’s a staple part of Faerghus culture,” Dimitri says, though admittedly he’s not really ever thought of that before. Something just tells him that he just wants to make sure that Dedue experience everything he can about the carnival. After all, once they’re in college they’ll probably be too busy to go and do these sorts of things.

So the two of them queue up. Dedue has been clutching his lion the whole time, while Dimitri has dragged the smaller toys around. With the bright neon lights and flashing signs, Dedue’s white sweater takes on all sorts of colors. Dimitri finds it distracting, how the knit wool stretches and manipulates the color every time Dedue moves.

Of course, Dimitri has the subtlety of a tank and Dedue notices him staring. Dedue first looks down at his shirt, expecting to have spilled something. When that brings no answers, Dedue raises an eyebrow at Dimitri.

“S—Sorry, just… distracted.” Dimitri laughs it off. “So, did you just think it’s cute?” He nods towards the lion.

Dedue squeezes it a bit. The head sticks out as stuffing gets shoved forward. He’s still gentle enough not to cause any lasting harm and actually seems to feel bad about his decision, smoothing down a few whiskers with his free hand.

“The scarf pattern… I thought I recognized it,” Dedue admits. “It did not dawn on me that it was a blue lion until you handed it to me.” He smiles a rueful smile, eyes distant. Dimitri wants to be selfish and tell Dedue that he’s right there, but he recognizes the expression, or at least he recognizes it from descriptions from Dedue — it’s the same look Dimitri gets when he’s thinking of his father.

And Dimitri is many things, but he’s not selfish enough to demand priority over the family that Dedue was ripped away from in a tragedy — the same one that left Dimitri alone.

“I will need to name him,” Dedue adds idly. Dimitri tilts his head in confusion. “Well, he cannot just be called the lion forever.”

“What’s the Duscur word for lion?”

“I am not naming him Asada.”

Dimitri’s out of ideas, so he just shrugs. Besides, the line is moving and they have other things to worry about.

Through a minor miracle, they end up in a carriage alone. Between them, they’re both big enough that balance demands they sit across from each other, though sitting side by side isn’t much of an option when Dedue takes up the whole seat anyways. Their knees still knock together as the shaky basket moves up and around.

Dedue holds the lion close to his chest as his eyes roam across the skyline. The view really is incredible — the Ferris wheel goes high enough that one can see half the city, skyscraper lights twinkling in the distance and cars flashing on and off like holiday lights. People fade into small blots and the stars are just bright enough that one could reach up and pluck any from the sky. There’s a steady breeze that chills the air, but then the wheel is turning and they’re plunging towards the ground once more.

A few locks of Dimitri’s hair fly in his face. Dedue chuckles even as Dimitri pushes the blond strands behind his ears. There’s pink across Dimitri’s face and not all of it is from the cold.

Then they're flying back up, the carriage tilting dangerously between their weights. Dimitri laughs. Dedue beams brighter than the lights behind him.

Later, when they're back home and getting ready to sleep, Dimitri hears Dedue call the lion Habibi. He doesn't ask what it means. There are some things that he knows should remain secret.

19

He's standing at the bus stop waiting for the 402 to arrive so he can get back to the apartment, a bag of groceries for the party that night in one hand, his other holding his phone as he answers a few Eris messages. Mostly well-wishes from the Blue Lions who can't be there at the party, but also one from Ingrid, who's visiting for his birthday, telling him that she'll bring something to drink. Sylvain has sent him a bunch of birthday memes, some of which are genuinely funny and others that just confuse him.

Dimitri's long since stopped asking what goes on in Sylvain's head because it's probably a bad idea to ask.

There's also a message from Felix, which Dimitri is almost worried to open.

lucky_strike: Happy birthday boar.

lucky_strike: Sylvain is making me come to your party. I'm not going to enjoy it.

lucky_strike: If you think I'm going to bring anything, you are also mistaken.

lucky_strike: Don't get hit by a bus chasing your delusions.

It's as close to being nice as Felix will probably ever get, so Dimitri will take it. He sends a cheerful emoji and a Thanks to Felix as he gets a call. It's from the doctor, his physical one and not the tenth therapist in three years. Felix fences, Sylvain flirts, and Dimitri goes through therapists like some people go through toilet paper. It's just how life works.

He misses his bus as the doctor tells him the results of his biopsy.

He doesn't notice the people staring at him as he stands there, nodding numbly as his doctor goes on and on about medications and experimental procedures and lung transplants, how he's young and otherwise healthy — if he eats well and exercises properly then he can have a very normal life. For a few years.

Four years. That's the average life expectancy. Dimitri won't even be 25.

19 and set to die by 23. No cure. No solution. Terminal. Can be slowed with heavy treatment, medications, oxygen therapy—

"Thank you," Dimitri interrupts, and oh he must be distracted if he's being so rude.

"I would like to schedule you to come in as soon as possible," his doctor says quickly.

Dimitri swallows. He's feeling a bit light-headed. That in of itself is normal nowadays, but the panic that hits him is new. Shortness of breath, coughing, weight loss — he had assumed it would be something like asthma or at worst, lung cancer. Bad, certainly. Life changing. But survivable, if even marginal. Something he could fight against. Not this.

Somehow, he gets back to the apartment without fainting. He must look as bad as he feels because Dedue steps out of the kitchen, apron around his waist, and frowns.

"What happened?" He asks. Dimitri hates that it's always something wrong with him and he considers the merits of not telling Dedue.

He isn't a good liar, but Dedue wouldn't push him. Dimitri could say that he just had a few hallucinations on the bus home, that it was quite unpleasant to see his father bleeding out on the ground while squished between an old man and his walker and a business woman with a sharp briefcase. He could just lay down in his room for a bit, act like he's tired, and try to pretend that he's normal and doesn't have a time limit on his life. He could pretend that nothing is wrong, just like he does around everyone else.

No one has to know. Just like only person who knows that his delusions haven't gone away with puberty is Dedue.

"Just a bad day," Dimitri says, like he has good ones to compare them to, like he doesn't take medications to keep him from clawing at his skin or otherwise hurting himself during his delusions. He's never hurt anyone else, his only saving grace in the murky pool that is his myriad of issues.

Dedue doesn't believe him but, as Dimitri expected, he doesn't ask.

The party is small. His childhood friends, Dedue, and a few other classmates are present, but Dimitri's never been great at making friends and he doesn't really like crowds anyways. They all play a few rounds of a game called Settlers of Sreng that Sylvain wins each time, though he claims he isn't really trying. After Felix threatens to shove one of the pieces up Sylvain's rectum, the group decides to watch a movie.

"I'll make us popcorn," Dimitri says, since it's about the only thing he can make without Dedue becoming concerned about their kitchen surviving the hour.

Surprisingly, Felix of all people decides now he wants a drink and stands up. He follows Dimitri into the kitchen. Dimitri side-eyes the knife block. It's probably unlikely that Felix has chosen Dimitri's nineteenth birthday to stab him to death, but he supposes anything in possible.

Darkly, he thinks that it barely matters.

The microwave starts up. Felix doesn't even pretend to get a drink.

"What is wrong with you?" Felix asks.

"Nothing. I'm enjoying a good evening with my friends," Dimitri replies. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Stop bullshitting me. You have a guilty expression and you haven't looked Dedue all night. Don't tell me you two got into a fight."

"No, we haven't, I just—" Dimitri stops as he starts coughing. Felix hands him a paper towel. There's a look of the slightest concern before it's concealed by a customary scowl. "Thank you," Dimitri says anyways. He checks the towel. No blood, just some phlegm. He tosses it in the trash and hopes that Felix didn't notice anyways.

Felix snorts. "I don't care what happens to you," he lies, "I can see that you're barely holding on to your sanity as it is, and I am not going to let you destroy yourself in the process of… whatever comes next."

Dimitri wonders if Felix has always been this conflicting, his empathy warring with his utter rejection of everything and everyone related to Glenn's passing. Dimitri can't remember a time before the tragedy, not really.

"Your concern is noted, but there really isn't—"

"The bathroom cabinet is full of your medication. Did you think I wouldn't see that?"

Vaguely, Dimitri should feel offended that Felix was apparently snooping through his things. Felix's scowl deepens.

"It was already opened. I went to close it and I saw. I have better things to do than look around your bathroom for meds."

"I would think that you would know there's no shame in being on medication," Dimitri says, as if he hasn't struggled with his own demons about being so dependent on little blue and white and orange pills. Felix narrows his eyes. Dimitri is pretty sure that he glances at the knife block.

The microwave beeps. Dimitri jumps. Felix sighs.

"I'm not shaming you for being on meds. I'm shaming you for pretending that everything is fine when you're clearly not. I don't even care if you tell me. In fact, I don't want to know. But you should tell your live-in maid the truth."

Dimitri yanks the microwave open. The handle cracks under his grip. Felix steps back, eyes wide. Dimitri feels like he's going to be sick.

Felix doesn't leave. He remains silent even when they return to the others, popcorn safe in a plastic bowl. When Sylvain asks him about his drink, Felix lies and tells him that he changed his mind. No one questions it.

Everyone leaves a few hours later, citing drives back in the snow as the reason to want to leave before it's actually sub-zero outside. Cleaning up is a pain. Not that everyone was messy, but it's still shocking how much trash can be created by a bunch of college students in a single evening. Dimitri knows that he shouldn't spend his money frivolously, that he needs to save it—

No, he doesn't.

Dimitri drops the trash bag on the floor. "Leave it. I'll call a maid tomorrow."

Dedue raises an eyebrow. "I am fine cleaning what's left if you want to rest." That's the opposite of what Dimitri wants, and he tells Dedue that in no uncertain terms. The sudden boldness surprises even Dimitri, and he finds himself standing with his arms crossed and a rather severe expression on his face that he schools into something kinder. Dedue nods, setting his bag down. "Then what do you want to do?"

It's almost midnight, but they're heading into the weekend and Dimitri's not interested in sleep and nightmares.

"Let's watch something."

They end up sitting on the couch and scrolling through the movies, Dedue's feet in Dimitri's lap since there isn't a couch big enough for him to comfortably stretch out. At least, that's the excuse they use and no one is really around to question it.

There's a big wool blanket that's half draped over each of them. It's not quite big enough to cover both of them, but it traps enough body heat that Dimitri isn't complaining. There's something comforting about being inside with a friend while it snows outside. Faerghus snow is a beast in of itself, after all. Beautiful once settled and deadly if mistreated, Dimitri likes to think he has a healthy mix of fear and respect since he was raised in this kind of weather. Dedue doesn't complain much, but he has admitted that the cold makes his joints hurt.

They're both barely adults and they have a whole gambit of issues between them. Dimitri's just glad that Dedue finally has a doctor that's also from Duscur and who takes his concerns seriously. He still toys with the idea of suing the last one, a man who accused Dedue of wanting pain meds to sell and not for chronic pain, out of business, but Dedue would be upset so he doesn't.

The couch is nice. It's warm. Dimitri could fall asleep listening to Dedue click through row after row of movie titles.

Felix's words echo in Dimitri's mind. A bit of him wishes that he had punched Felix. The majority of him knows that would have been a bad idea. That hasn't stopped him in the past.

"Can we talk?" Dimitri asks. Dedue nods. There's a lot Dimitri wants to say. He's just not sure how to phrase it. "I'm dying." That's not what he wanted to say, but it's too late for regrets.

Slowly, Dedue moves so that he's sitting on the couch next to Dimitri, feet planted on the floor. "... Is this to do with your biopsy?" Dedue always has been smart. Besides, he was the one who had to drive Dimitri to and from the doctor's appointments. Not for lack of trying, but Dimitri's the only one of the friend group without his license. He supposes that he may never get it at this point.

"Yes. The test results came back. I… I have pulmonary fibrosis. Lung scarring." Dimitri bites back hysterical laughter. His shoulders shake. Dedue places a gentle hand on his back, settling and steady but not stopping Dimitri. "From laying in the rubble for days. The grit and the dust and the asbestos — it didn't kill me then so it's killing me now." He taps his chest. It hurts a bit, but it always hurts, the way that standing in crisp winter air or the same trails of fireworks makes it hard to breathe.

Dedue folds his hands in his lap. "What is the treatment?"

"There isn't one. I'm going to die. There's no cure." Dimitri is shaking. His hands aren't steady, his vision is blurry. "The doctor wants me to come in soon for medications or — or something." He breathes in and then out, clearing his head as much as he can.

For a moment, Dedue doesn't say anything. He opens and closes his mouth a few times. He ends up putting a hand on Dimitri's shoulder. Slowly, Dimitri turns so the two are looking at one another. Dedue is frowning. He doesn't do that very much. Dimitri hates that he's the one who has caused this, that he cannot make Dedue happy and carefree the way Dedue deserves.

"You should leave," Dimitri explains. "I can give you anything you want. As much money as you need. You can keep studying here or go to Duscur—"

"Dimitri." Dedue clears his throat. He blushes some hair out of Dimitri's face, a gesture that is painfully intimate. Something in Dimitri's stomach twists. "There is nothing in Duscur that could replace you."

Three things happen.

First, Dimitri realizes in a soul-deep, heart-wrenching way that he's going to die soon. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a year, but he's going to die. Well, everyone will die. He'll just die sooner than most.

Second, he realizes how fortunate that Dedue is here for him. There is no one else as selfless, as soft, as gentle and warm. Dimitri can't remember many happy memories without Dedue, doesn't think that he knew what joy was. This leads into the next epiphany that hits him, a solid blow to the chest that forces what little air is stored there.

Third, Dimitri is struck with the lightning bolt that is the fact that he is in love with Dedue.

22

Dedue, as he so often does, wakes first.

It's cold outside, though the warmth of two men in a single bed helps chase that chill away, but it's as good as excuse as any to snuggle closer to the human furnace that is Dimitri Blaiddyd. Dedue wraps his arms around Dimitri, feeling the soft sweater — an early birthday present from Mercedes — and the gentle heartbeat that helps Dedue know that Dimitri is here. Dimitri is safe. He's made it to twenty-two. They have a whole day planned and only a little bit of it is in their shared apartment.

Lynn, Dimitri's therapist, has always been very supportive of Dedue but even more so when she realized that he can actually get Dimitri to sit out at the park and feed the ducks for hours.

For now, though, Dedue is happy just laying in bed and listening to the beating of Dimitri's heart and his gentle snores as a peaceful sleep wraps him up for what might be the second time that week. Neither Dedue nor Dimitri have ever been accused of having steady sleeping habits, but Dimitri certainly suffers more, though of course he refuses to consider it a competition. Recently, though, the latest mixture of medications has been rather effective at fighting the night terrors with minimal nausea, which has been a relief. Dedue loves his boyfriend, his soulmate, his heart, but eating just rice, unseasoned beans, and toast for a few months out of solidarity is a challenge to anyone's patience.

Dimitri is at peace now. That is what matters. That is what he deserves. But, almost regrettably, it must end — he soon begins to stir, shifting in the bed so that he can look at Dedue with his remaining eye.

"Happy birthday, my dear," Dedue murmurs. He reaches out and gently brushes Dimitri's bangs behind his ears and it is a testament to how much Dimitri trusts and loves Dedue that he does not stop him nor try to hide the ruined remains of his other eye. Dedue thinks it looks ugly, not because it is aesthetically unpleasing or because he has distaste towards scars, but because it symbolizes so much of the pain and hatred and misery that Dimitri drowned in.

"Good morning to you," Dimitri replies. He smiles, sleep still making his movements languid as he yawns. His nose scrunches up and Dedue laughs softly, a low, rumbling sound not unlike distant thunder. "I'm sure that you have plans, but do those entail sleeping in a little longer?" Dimitri asks.

Dedue kisses him. Dimitri makes a muffled exclamation of surprise, but he's never complained about kisses from Dedue and soon the two are lazily exploring one another's mouths. Warm hands press against Dedue's shoulders while Dedue tangles his fingers in Dimitri's long hair. He probably should cut it soon, but Dedue likes it and knows a single comment will stop that idea before it even forms.

Many think Dimitri is the one ordering Dedue, that Dimitri could snap his fingers and Dedue would do whatever is asked. They are not wrong, but they fail to realize that Dedue has the same influence over Dimitri. They just trust one another enough to know that their love, their adoration, their worship will not be abused.

They eventually have to pause their kissing in exchange for air, Dimitri and Dedue both panting as their minds clear slightly. Dedue rolls so that he is fully on his back and Dimitri is resting on top of him. Though Dimitri is over six feet tall, he's also much thinner than Dedue and Dedue has no trouble balancing Dimitri in his lap as he moves so their fingers are entwined. Dimitri is blushing, the red making its way down his face and neck, only disappearing under his sweater.

"You're so handsome," Dedue says. "I count my blessings every morning I wake beside you."

Dimitri laughs. "I am the one who must count himself lucky. Otherwise, there's no chance I could have a god to call my lover."

Dedue kisses Dimitri's jaw. "Then we are both the most lucky men in Fódlan."

The two spend most of the morning trading lazy kisses, soft and gentle like morning dew on plants, but eventually Dedue's stomach rumbles and Dimitri insists that they get up to make breakfast. Admittedly, this means Dedue goes to make breakfast while Dimitri makes the bed and ensures that the plants have been watered, but it's for the best. No one has ever accused Dimitri of being a good cook, after all.

They sit next to each other at the table, a single large plate between them. Dedue and Dimitri have their own silverware, but they feed each other more than they feed themselves. If Dedue smears a bit of syrup on Dimitri's lips to kiss it off, then that's neither here nor there — Dimitri doesn't complain anyways.

"Go get dressed, love. I'll take care of the mess," Dimitri says.

"It is your birthday. You shouldn't be doing dishes on your birthday," Dedue argues, trying to reach out to grab the sponge from him.

Dimitri laughs and then presses his lips to Dedue's outstretched hand. "You cooked and will be treating me all day, I am certain. Allow me this much to pay you back."

"There is no need to pay me back," Dedue complains, but he soon finds himself shooed into their bedroom anyways.

Maybe I should not have protested, Dedue thinks as he goes to select a scarf from his drawer of scarves. It's the perfect place to hide a small box because Dimitri never has any reason to go in this drawer, not unless Dedue asks him, and Dedue has been very careful not to have Dimitri fetch him anything over the last few months. He slips the box into his pants pocket and makes sure that his expression is neutral when he goes back out to the kitchen.

They head out later to make the most of the day, though there in a brief commotion early when Dimitri discovers a box on the front porch of their cozy townhouse — a gift of cheese from Fhirdiad from Byleth, alongside a book on military history and some tea for Dedue. Dimitri quickly messages Byleth his thanks, which turns into the whole group chat cheering his birth and agreeing to run a few raids that night.

Then Dedue and Dimitri go out for the day.

Itha is a small city, but it is still a city, and though it is a bit odd to have lived in the same area for so long considering they both grew up somewhere else entirely, it's still home. They stop by a queer bookstore that knows them by name, where Dedue buys Dimitri the sweater he's been eyeing for a few months. It's light grey and has the store's logo on it, which is a prism with a white beam of light that then splinters into a rainbow as it comes out on the other side. Dedue also glances at the Mr. and Mr. mugs, but there's no way to covertly check them out and soon Dimitri in pulling him into the mystery section so they can kiss between the shelves like teenagers.

It's only a little embarrassing when a few teenagers actually catch them, but one with bright green hair just gives them finger guns and says, "Nice."

"Sothe!" The redhead cries out in mortification, dragging his friend away. Dedue and Dimitri look at each other and laugh where in the past they may have been horrified. There's a lot that changes when you're in love and counting every second as precious.

The sweater gets thrown in the backseat of the car as they head towards the bigger portion of the day. Dedue is admittedly a bit nervous, but the look of genuine delight on Dimitri's face when they pull up to the Natural History Museum reassures him that he made the right choice.

Neither of them are, as Sylvain would say, exciting people. Where Sylvain probably would drag Felix skeet shooting or go-kart racing or something fitting a pair of twenty-somethings, Dedue knows that Dimitri is perfectly content to walk around a museum and look at the new exhibit on ocean life.

Well, as long as they're holding hands the whole time.

"Did you know that the people on the coast of Faerghus used to hunt whales in the winter?" Dimitri asks. "Can you imagine — tiny little canoes or kayaks or whatever and spears against whales! Fascinating." He shakes his head even as he starts wandering over to the next display case.

Privately, Dedue is rather glad they don't see anything from Duscur in the museum, as that would certainly ruin the mood, but he's happy learning about whales and dolphins and then, as they keep wondering, minerals and gemstones. The Hall of Gems is maybe poorly named, but it probably is one of his favorite exhibits.

There's a large amethyst in the front, still in good form with the black rock broken away to reveal row after row of glittering purple quartz. Behind its pedestal, the wall has hundreds of cases of other precious gems or interesting rocks. Dimitri subconsciously lets Dedue start to lead them around the room — while it is common knowledge that Dedue loves flowers, it's less well known that he really just enjoys all things that grow from the earth.

He finds himself staring at a display that has all of the birthstones of the months laid out. August is peridot, which is a bright green color but almost has an emerald hue under the lights. It's okay, Dedue supposes, but it's never been his favorite color. December, however, is represented by a brilliant blue topaz.

"That gem in the color of your eyes," Dedue murmurs, nudging Dimitri to get his attention. Dimitri's attention is yanked from the silly faces he's making at a toddler and, when he sees what Dedue is pointing to, he laughs. "I am being serious," Dedue says in as close to a pout as he will ever get.

"I know, my love, but that's why I'm laughing. Who would look at this—" Dimitri gestures towards his face, where one eye is covered by an eyepatch and the other is a bit bloodshot from sleep deprivation, "And claim that I have eyes like a gemstone?"

"Someone in love." Dedue catches Dimitri's waving hand and kisses the back. "One day you will see the handsome man I see."

Dimitri does not seem to have a reply, as that can be the only reason he gapes at Dedue like a floundering fish. Dedue smiles and kisses his cheek.

"I love you," he says.

"And I love you." Dimitri jumps as someone tugs his coat. He has to turn around fully, the person in his blindspot, and Dedue is given extra time to look puzzled at the young girl who looks up at Dimitri with wide eyes.

She cannot be more than six, maybe less. Dedue can't see where her parents are, but it's hard to know if they're missing or just not paying attention. And if they are missing, why would she ask the two strange men for help and not any of the mothers or one of the security guards?

"Can I help you?" Dimitri asks slowly, as if each word was his first.

The girl nods. "Are you a pirate?" She asks. Dimitri, once again, is rendered speechless. "You have an eyepatch and long hair like the pirates in the movies." She holds out her left leg. Her pants cling to it in a weird drape, and it isn't until she pulls the pant leg up a bit that Dedue realizes that she has a prosthetic. "I'm also a pirate, but I don't have an eyepatch."

Dimitri lets out a relieved laugh, somehow more comfortable with the conversation now that it's about something inconsequential, though Dedue can distinctly remember a time where any conversation around his eye was shut down and prone to causing a fit of depression. Slowly, almost like a man with creaky bones covered in the dust of time, Dimitri kneels down so he can look at her at her level. Dedue's chest tightens until he thinks that he might explode with pride.

"I am a pirate, but I'm on vacation," Dimitri says in a fake whisper. "This is my second-in-command. We're on vacation together."

The girl nods sagely. "My mom and dad are at work, but Lucina is taking care of me. She's my babysitter. It's like a temporary captain."

"Morgan? Where are you, Morgan?" As if on cue, a woman with midnight blue hair comes out of the crowd. She freezes when she sees Dimitri and Dedue, but then relaxes when Morgan waves at her with a big, toothy grin. Lucina walks over quickly, heels clacking on the stone floor. "There you are. I'm sorry, I hope she wasn't bothering you."

Dimitri stands back up and shakes his head. "Not at all. She was just curious."

"He's a pirate! Like me!" Morgan points at Dimitri's eyepatch. Lucina has an apology on her lips when Dimitri holds up a hand for Morgan to high-five, which she does with great enthusiasm. "What's your name, Mr. Pirate?"

"I'm Dimitri. This is Dedue."

Morgan squints at Dedue. "You don't look like a pirate."

Dedue does not think anyone has ever said that about him before, and many things have been said about him in the past. Dimitri snorts. He gestures to Dedue's ears, where the silver studs Dimitri gifted him last month 'just because' gleam.

"He usually wears big gold hoops, but I thought that it would be too obvious," Dimitri deadpans. Morgan is too young to quite understand sarcasm and just nods. Dedue smiles, though he can't quite tell if Dimitri's actions or Morgan's reactions are making him happier.

After a quick goodbye, Morgan is spirited away by Lucina, though she does try to get Dimitri to agree to a playdate and it is only through quick tall tales and Lucina distracting Morgan with promise of pizza for lunch that gets the topic changed. Dimitri is bright red as soon as it's just him and Dedue, though he does a good attempt at hiding it with a quick cough into his sleeve.

"Sorry, I probably should have just told her to leave us alone…"

"What? No," Dedue says, squeezing Dimitri's hand. "You deserve to be comfortable. And it is… is nice seeing you so happy. You would be a good father." Dedue frowns, normally not one to think of what could be but hit by a wave of longing for something that would never happen. There is no use in wishing for a future that can't pass, but that is the curse of humanity: limitless possibility in mortal flesh.

Dimitri kisses Dedue, soft and gentle, and says nothing. Sometimes, words are not enough. That is okay — they've never needed to speak to one another to understand what lies between them.

After the Hall of Gems, they explore the rest of the museum. It really is extensive, three sprawling floors of exhibits and presentations and activities, and they have to break for lunch before they even get halfway. The cafe at the museum is overpriced and the food isn't great, but Dedue still is more than happy to sit and just experience this together. After so long of being Dimitri's friend, Dedue has long since abandoned his pretentious behavior around food… though he does, internally, cheer himself by remembering that they're going to a real restaurant that night where the lettuce won't be soggy and the cheese won't be Faerghus cheese.

Dedue still takes an inordinate number of photos of Dimitri eating. Dimitri humors him, at one point beginning to pose dramatically with his sandwich. Dedue think that it’s unfair that a fully grown man can be so adorable.

It isn't until that evening that they actually get through the museum and Dedue suggests that, as it is a bit too early to get dinner, they walk around the gardens a bit. The botanical gardens could be a whole day trip in and of themselves, but it's still nice to wander around while the sun sets — especially since their ticket for the museum gets them into the gardens for free. Sure, there's actually no plant life except a few pine trees, but there are lights strung up and displays still to view and, well, Dedue can brave the cold for a little while.

"Dedue, do you remember your first birthday in Faerghus?" Dimitri asks. Dedue nods. How could he forget? He had been in Faerghus for less than a year, had been slowly adapting to this brand new culture, and the only thing he was certain of was that he had to protect this boy who had saved him — and whom he had saved.

Birthdays had not even been on Dedue's mind. In fact, he had almost insisted that Dimitri not do anything, but then Dimitri had brought him to the gardens and there was a section on dessert blossoms from Duscur and — well, maybe happy wasn't a good word for it, but neither was sad. It had been bittersweet, a sour candy with a tinge of honey or getting second place in a competition. But it had been a kindness, a gift in a world that had taken so much, and it was offered without request of anything in return.

Love is not the word Dedue would have used, is still barely encompassing of how he feels for Dimitri. Adoration and admiration, perhaps, are closer, but Dedue privately describes himself as being devoted to Dimitri. Beyond romantic love, beyond sexual attraction — both of which are present in spades — he is devoted to Dimitri's happiness, his safety, his well-being.

"I wonder if they still have the dessert garden with the cactuses," Dimitri says, glancing around as if he will suddenly spot his target in the orange and yellow evening haze. Dedue decides not to tell him that they're called cacti and they're almost certainly in a greenhouse this time of year — it's not like the plant is native to Faerghus. "Unless you wanted to see something else?"

Dedue shrugs. "Which are your favorites?" He asks, as if he hasn't asked before and bought bouquet after bouquet of daisies for Dimitri.

"Let's see the rose bushes," Dimitri suggests, though he gestures for Dedue to read the way.

They end up in the rose garden, which is a collection of rose bushes with a few different topiaries in a variety of shapes like lions and tigers and rabbits — oh my, Dedue thinks, smiling to himself. Dimitri has Dedue take a selfie with him in front of the lion with blue lights strung around its mane and torso. Thee photo instantly gets heart reactions from Mercedes in the Eris chat.

Felix just tells them to hurry up so they can run a raid together. Ingrid tells him to fuck off. Dedue gives that a thumbs up emote.

Looking around, it is beautiful here. There's no other people in sight, though the distant sound of the crowd still filters through the plant life. Still, where else will they get such a picturesque scene? Light snow crunching beneath their feet, a few flakes drifting down and resting on their shoulders, lights lining the path — all it needs is a romantic soundtrack and they could be in one of the movies that Ashe loves and makes the rest of the lions watch all the time. And Dedue only really has an excuse to bring Dimitri to the museum and, by extension, the gardens twice a year —

"We should sit here," Dedue blurts out, gesturing to a stone bench. Dimitri has a perplexed expression, but he's never said no to Dedue and he's hardly about to start now.

The two barely fit on the bench, mostly because of Dedue. He fiddles with the ends of his sleeves. Dimitri waits patiently, pretending to look at one of the trees that is decorated with blue and golden lights. He keeps glancing back at Dedue, who suddenly has forgotten how to speak, breathe, or think beyond listening to the claxons that scream on repeat in his brain and tell him that this is a very, very, very bad idea.

"I love you," he says, because that is true.

"I love you too," Dimitri replies automatically, a call and response that the two have perfected even in the short time they have been honest with their own feelings. "Are you feeling all right? You look ill."

Dedue feels a bit sick, what with how his stomach is churning, but he’s distinctly realized that if he doesn’t do this now, he will never do it. He stands and, before he can really think about what he’s about to do, gets on one knee in front of Dimitri. The look on Dimitri’s face goes from confusion and anxiety to mild panic and sheer shock, which doesn’t bode well but Dedue has already jumped off the figurative cliff years and years ago — this is just the inevitable consequence of him falling for Dimitri.

“I love you. I love waking up next to you in the morning. I love eating dinner together while we watch TV. I love walking in the park with you, playing Fire Emblem with you, kissing you, and falling asleep next to you. And I love steadying you when your mind panics, I love supporting you when the world is unkind. You are the strongest person I know, Dimitri. And while I know we have only been together for a few months, that this may be premature and presumptuous of me, I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No, I want to spend eternity with you.”

“Dedue—”

“Dimitri, please.” And Dimitri does pause, though there are tears in his eye and his bottom lip quivers. Dedue brushes the tears away and takes one of Dimitri’s hands in his, using his free hand to draw a small black box from his pocket. “I know that we are cursed to have such little time together, but you said it yourself — you make me happy and I can only hope that I make you happy. We cannot spend these precious years hoping for a future that cannot pass, but we must grasp what we can while we can.”

“But, Dedue—”

“Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, will you grant me the honor of becoming your husband?”

“Dedue, I love you but I cannot allow you to throw away your future like this!” Dimitri shouts, standing. He’s trembling. Not in anger, but sorrow. Dedue goes to touch his shoulder, to ground him, but Dimitri bends back. He almost falls, only to be caught by Dedue’s strong arms pulling him back to his feet. The two are locked in a tight embrace, Dimitri’s heart beating fast enough that Dedue can’t help but fear that this is too much for him. Still, Dimitri manages to speak. “You cannot think — I am going to die in a few years. I should already be dead. It must be enough — it has to be enough, what we have now. To think of marriage—”

“Would you marry me if you were not sick?” Dedue asks, voice steady and not betraying the way his heart shatters in his chest. He knew that this was foolish, that Dimitri would react this way, but he still had to be selfish—

Dimitri is openly sobbing into Dedue’s arms. He nods. Dedue rubs his back with one hand, the other pinned between them. The ring box is lodged uncomfortably against Dedue’s sternum, a reminder of how he managed to ruin the first birthday of Dimitri’s they’ve celebrated together. Faintly, Dedue wonders if this is the only birthday they’ll get together. If he’s forever tainted what could have been a good memory.

Dedue is the one who can barely breathe when Dimitri steadies himself, straightening his spine so there’s a few inches between him and his love. The air is so frigid that the puff of white that comes from each of their breaths mingles. Dimitri’s face is streaked with tears and a bit of snot. Embarrassed, Dedue goes to put the ring away and grab the tissues he keeps around, only to find his hand taken by Dimitri.

Neither of them speaks as Dimitri gently opens the box, withdrawing a simple gold ring with a pattern etched along the band. It is, of course, a perfect fit but Dedue still cannot express the extent of his relief as Dimitri slides it on his finger without a problem.

“You are right, as always. I… I still think that you are a fool, but—”

“I am your fool, then,” Dedue replies.

“And I love you all the more for it,” Dimitri says. He kisses Dedue. It’s perfect.

Around them, gentle snow begins to fall, but as long as they have each other, it will be warm.