Chapter Text
Chrom would remember it vividly—the first time he made Robin laugh.
Because he didn’t feel like it was the first time at all.
They’d just finished taking care of the bandits who’d tried to burn Southtown to the ground. They were bruised, and exhausted, the ghosts of wounds aching where Lissa had healed them after the battle. Robin in particular had taken a nasty blow from a brigand’s axe, and Chrom eyed him carefully as they regrouped in the town square in case he had any trouble. He seemed fine though, and Chrom found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to have to bury his newfound friend already.
And he did consider Robin a friend, he realized, even at that point. Because Robin had fought alongside them without hesitation, had put himself in harm’s way and even protected Chrom at the cost of that very blow. Chrom wasn’t sure if he was aware of it—the way he’d shoved him aside without thinking. There’d been something dark and desperate in the amnesiac’s eyes as he’d done so, but it’d been gone the moment after, when Lissa had helped him up from the dirt. So Chrom had let it go.
But even if he didn’t say anything, Chrom couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, something almost like déjà vu.
In fact, he’d felt that way almost constantly since meeting Robin earlier that day. From the dreamy look in his half-asleep eyes, to the way he held his sword on the battlefield, everything about the man was incredibly familiar, to the point it was almost jarring. Chrom was sure they’d never met before, and yet…
He almost felt as if he’d forgotten something, too.
Something important…
…
The townspeople were asking them to stay, he realized belatedly, and Frederick was of course shooting them down. Lissa let out an indignant sort of yelp in turn, and even Robin winced, looking a bit disappointed.
“You’ve quite the stern lieutenant there,” he said, eyeing Frederick warily, like a small animal might eye a cat. Chrom supposed he couldn’t blame him, with the way the knight seemed to have it out for him. Of course, he couldn’t blame Frederick, either—he was only doing his job.
“Yeah, well, ‘stern’ is one name for it,” Lissa muttered. “I can think of a few others!” She pursed her lips at the knight in question, on the border of childish. Frederick just smiled pleasantly back at her, a look that was all too familiar.
Chuckling, Chrom leaned over, holding up a hand to feign a whisper into Robin’s ear. “Frederick only smiles when he’s about to bring down the axe.”
Robin raised his eyebrows and turned his head into Chrom’s shielding hand. “Duly noted,” he whispered back with a smirk. It was such an easy exchange, like something between old friends. Then his eyes met Chrom’s though, and Chrom faltered, suddenly aware of how he’d leaned very, very close, without entirely meaning to. He had to look down just a bit to meet those black eyes, and when he did, he couldn’t help but notice how long the other’s lashes were, how just the corner of his lips curled up when he smiled…
It was distracting.
Frederick cleared his throat then, armor clicking as he straightened, indignant. “You do realize I am still present?”
Chrom tore his eyes away, glad for the interruption. Things might’ve gotten a little awkward there, he thought absently, if he’d kept staring so openly at Robin’s face. “Oh, we realize,” he said.
It was that thoughtless comment, he’d realize later, that earned him a laugh from the other. Nothing loud, or boisterous—just a chuckle, a wide smile and dark eyes crinkled in amusement. Chrom froze when he heard it, though, staring at Robin again as if entranced.
That laugh…
He wasn’t quite sure why it surprised him so much. It wasn’t that Robin seemed the gloomy type. Quite the opposite, in fact—for a man who’d just woken up in a field with no memories other than his name, he seemed in remarkably high spirits, and he’d even smiled at Chrom just a moment ago. Nonetheless, something about his laugh made Chrom fumble, caught off-guard. That sense of déjà vu again.
He’d heard that laugh before. He knew he had.
But where?
Black eyes met his again—not a cold black, like the darkness of the unknown, but warm like a summer night—and Chrom was hit with another wave of recognition, a familiarity that threatened to knock him over. He’d experienced this before, he thought. This exact situation. In a dream, perhaps? One he’d forgotten until now, and now that he’d remembered it, he… he felt…
He felt what?
Like he’d found something important.
Something he didn’t want to lose again.
… He felt awkward.
He considered Robin a friend already, yes, but he didn’t know him. Why was he getting so flustered? Robin blinked at him, one eyebrow slowly arching upwards in a questioning expression, and Chrom felt then as if time was moving agonizingly slowly. Gods above, he’d been caught staring not once, but twice in one conversation. What was wrong with him?
He could still remember the feeling of Robin’s hand as he pulled him up from the grass. How it’d fit so neatly in his own, as if it belonged there.
Suddenly, he felt his ears heating up.
Frederick’s voice cut through his thoughts though, another blessed distraction, and Chrom managed to tear his eyes away from Robin once again. “Milord remains as amusing as ever,” the knight was saying, before gesturing pointedly to the town gates, where his steed waited patiently. “Now then, shall we be going?”
Going. Right. Chrom swallowed roughly, adjusting Falchion on his belt and starting towards the horses with a nod. “All right, all right.” In truth, he wouldn’t have minded staying a night in Southtown himself, or at least having dinner. But he knew Frederick had a point about getting back, and with Lissa there, he felt the need to set something of an example by making the more responsible choice. Plus, he was anxious to get back to Ylisstol and see about getting Robin to a specialist who might be able to help with his amnesia.
He also felt compelled to keep moving, as he always did when he was uneasy. His mind was a whirlwind of confused thoughts and questions, and that sense of déjà vu surrounding Robin was at the epicenter of it all.
He wanted answers. And he wanted Robin to find the answers he sought as well. Chrom didn’t know why, but he wanted to help the man as much as he could. Maybe it was just his normal morality, but… No, he felt there was more to it than that.
They’d never met before… He was certain they hadn’t.
And yet Chrom found that laugh incredibly familiar, and found himself drawn to it. Just as he was drawn to the other’s side in combat, as if he knew him, as if they’d been fighting together for years. And he found his gaze drawn to the other’s features, the soft look in those warm black eyes, as if… as if he was looking at someone he’d known for a very, very long time.
Why?
Who was Robin, really?
But he pressed his lips together, trying to push the questions from his mind. There was no use dwelling on them. Robin himself didn’t know anything, and Chrom didn’t want to put any undue pressure on the man when he was surely already so lost and confused. He didn’t want to… weird him out. So he took a breath to try to calm his own messy thoughts, before turning and smiling at the amnesiac, encouragingly.
“Ready to go, Robin? The capital isn’t far.”
This time he was able to hold that gaze with a little more confidence. It was true that he still felt uneasy, that sense of déjà vu hovering in the back of his mind. And he didn’t know where to start when it came to the puzzle that was Robin, but that… that was okay, he thought. For now they could take things slow, chat on the road, and maybe discover some answers together.