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Edelgard has a theory.
No, rather, her entire homeroom class has a theory, however, she is quite stubborn in her argument that she is the one who originally pointed it out, no matter how many times Ferdinand insists he thought of the idea first.
The theory in question is that their dearest homeroom teacher, who they have affectionately been calling “Byleth” (Mr. Eisner when Principal Seiros is nearby, though that’s neither here nor there,) definitely has a… to put it bluntly, a thing for the office secretary Mr. Leclerc, the one with a smile that can be described as friendly, whether or not it sits deeper than his skin, and makeup skills that seem to rival even Dorothea. She’s expressed anguish over it multiple times, though it can’t really be helped that a twenty-something-year-old alumni with what can barely be described as a day job is better at blending eyeshadow than a teenager who buys her eyeshadow at the drugstore. (Edelgard doesn’t judge her for that— she does wonderful work considering the quality of the products she uses, but there’s nothing she can do about the fact that her $10 palette can’t compete with the vibrancy of something a salaried man can afford.)
Edelgard’s spoken to Mr. Leclerc on just a few occasions. She can probably count the amount on one hand, actually. She’s never late, never in trouble, she’s the class president for god’s sake, so she really has no need to be in the office besides for picking up her paperwork for National Honor Society (Of which she became a member in her freshman year, not to gloat, but everyone else though it was impossible.), or passively informing him of ordinances put into effect by the student council (rarely. It’s the student council secretary’s job to do that, but Hilda is just so damned lazy that Edelgard seems to have to do all her work herself.) but other than that there’s just never a specific reason to speak to him.
But he surely seems to find reason to speak with Byleth. Yuri (well, she calls him Mr. Leclerc to his face, but we’re all friends here, aren’t we?) seems to always be calling him down to the office in the middle of class for one reason or another, or stopping by during lectures to drop off “paperwork”, which they’re all convinced is a pile of printer paper with love letters hidden between blank sheets, or coming to eat in their classroom during lunch, which Edelgard even witnessed once—
The story behind that isn’t all that riveting. Byleth sat in his old, torn desk chair, one with leather upholstery that’s ripping at the seams, duct-taped in places but so absolutely fitting into Byleth’s general go-with-the-flow blunt kind of vibe. Yuri sat in one of those cramped, tiny student desks, the one closest to Byleth, though at the time it was where Edelgard herself was assigned to sit, which made it somewhat abhorrent, not that someone else was in the seat but that it was that flirty secretary of all people—! The conversation she walked in on wasn’t flirty, particularly, Yuri just seemed to tell a story about his day, or something he bought, or something mundane he did, but Edelgard remembers he was eating strawberries. Annette and Mercedes from Ms. Casagranda’s class both seemed very keen to note that those are aphrodisiacs! It must mean something, Edelgard is so sure of it, but she didn’t stay long, no longer than it took to hand Byleth back a book she had borrowed from his personal collection (they both held a mutual respect of one another, and seemed close as far as teacher-student friendships go) and leave.
She does remember Yuri waving him goodbye with a pleasant smile on his face, one that almost seemed mocking, though that may just be how he is.
The theory itself is presented, with evidence, including ethos, logos, and pathos, just as Byleth had taught her, by Edelgard, to the rest of the class during lunch in the courtyard one afternoon. Now, it wasn’t the most confidential place to be holding such a serious and personal conversation regarding the love life of their teacher, but the brunette lunch assistant didn’t seem to care, as she scrolled through her phone as soon as all the students settled down to talk amongst themselves. They were just sure not to be too loud as to interrupt her scrolling and iMessage games.
“Now,” she began, the fateful afternoon, one that would change the dynamic of their small classroom forever, “don’t you think it’s strange that Byleth and Yuri seem to be so joined at the hip? It’s at least a little odd, considering Yuri isn’t even a teacher.” Edelgard speaks to no one in particular, but the table quiets at her comments and she can practically see the cogs turning in their brains.
“Who’s Yuri? Is Byleth dating a student?” Caspar is the first to speak, though if Edelgard was to be frank she almost wishes he hadn’t. The density of people like him is the reason that almost comically outrageous rumors spread so far and so quickly. He also speaks around a mouthful of Little Debbie snacks, which doesn’t help his cause.
Petra, god bless her heart, is the one who corrects him. “I am not recalling a student in our school named Yuri… That name is belonging to the man who sits in the office, correct?” She also has the dignity to finish chewing and swallowing before she speaks. Caspar, having been corrected, shrugs almost disinterestedly upon learning that his teacher isn’t doing something most definitely illegal. Dorothea, on the other hand, perks up.
“Yuri? Of all people? What makes you say that?” She leans across the wooden table, closer to Edelgard, entranced by the idea of Edelgard taking part in senseless gossip. Not that this is senseless. Because it most certainly isn’t. It’s very important. At least, that’s what Edelgard tells herself as she pretends to scrolls through her instagram feed, instead pulling up the notepad app where she had saved a collection of events that most certainly prove without reasonable doubt that Yuri and Byleth must, at the very least, have a slight interest in each other.
Edelgard, first, must establish her credibility— the ethos of her argument. “Well, I’m the class president. I need to keep up with the ins and outs of school, of course, and I wouldn’t be bringing this up if it was meaningless…” As she speaks, Hubert reaches into his bag to offer her a water bottle, which she shakes her hand to gesture a simple no. “I see them together around school all the time, don’t you?”
“Mmm, I suppose…” Dorothea isn’t entirely convinced.
It seems like the others aren’t, either. Ferdinand actually takes the step to speak up in opposition of her claim, though as soon as she’s proven to be right she just knows he’ll say he knew it the whole time. Regardless, the devil’s advocate finally finds a voice. “I don’t believe they’re joined at the hip, per se…” He begins, his brow harrowing in a way that makes Edelgard want to roll her eyes out of their sockets, “Mr. Leclerc and Byleth spend a normal amount of time together, wouldn’t you say? Byleth is also fairly new as teachers go, I’m sure Mr. Leclerc is just showing him the ropes. He needs help, doesn’t he?”
...Edelgard suddenly remembers they have three of the strongest members of the debate team at this table.
Hubert, of all people, speaks in Edelgard’s defense, but, well… “If that was the case, you would expect Byleth to be spending his time with another teacher, no? But you don’t see him spending time with Ms. Casagranda, in fact, he seems to avoid her like the plague. If you stopped to think about it for a bit perhaps you would notice just how absurd you sound.” … Edelgard would never have put it like that.
Hubert has been chastised for being a bit to, ah, insulting during his debates, but Edelgard has to admit he still makes solid points. Ferdinand looks like he’s about to say something, but is interrupted by Bernadette passing a plastic Tupperware container down the table from where she sits at the opposite end as Edelgard. “Cookies, anyone…?” She says, quietly, though it temporarily pauses their fight and accomplishes her goal.
Bernadetta’s not a fan of fighting, and definitely not in such close range, and out of respect for her the rest of them cool down and finish their lunches. Though Edelgard must admit she’s left with a sour taste in her mouth, and definitely not from the Warheads Caspar gave her on the way back to class.
-
It’s a Thursday afternoon, and they’re working on test prep when it happens. Edelgard remembers it happened on a Thursday because every teacher always gives tests on Fridays. That’s just how it is.
Linhardt gives all of his (which, to be fair, is still not a lot) might trying to show Caspar how to find the derivative of a function on the dry-erase board. Dorothea and Petra analyze a novel together, Dorothea giving tips to improve Petra’s reading comprehension (which Edelgard wouldn’t find necessary, as Petra can read their language just fine, but she thinks the two of them just want to talk more than anything, so she doesn’t particularly care either way), and the rest of them seem to work in silence on study guides and packets and projects galore at their desks, though a few will sometimes get up to stretch their legs.
All is going fine until Yuri Leclerc, man of the hour, shows his perfectly made-up face in their classroom, walking in with a smile and a wave at all the students as he approaches Byleth’s desk. What he’s wearing can barely be described as business casual, a purple sweater with a white collar poking out at the neck, and a pair of white trousers made from a material that Edelgard isn’t quite sure of, but it doesn’t look stiff and uncomfortable, so she assumes he isn’t dressed up enough. (Not that Byleth is much better, considering he’ll come to work in just a t-shirt and jeans, but Byleth doesn’t exactly set the standards around here.) The room is draped in an uncomfortable silence as soon as Yuri takes his first step in, and it only seems to worsen when he says, “Huh, what a loud bunch you’ve got here.” With a cynical smile.
Byleth looks up from his monster for a second, giving a polite smile as he finishes up whatever work he was doing on his computer. “They’re good kids.” He says, and Edelgard, embarrassingly, feels a rush of pride from it. But looking around the room, she can tell everyone’s paused what they’re doing. Her words still linger in their mind. ‘Do Byleth and Yuri have… a thing?’ She knows that’s what they’re all thinking, it has to be, or else they would still be working.
“That’s what all you teachers say.” Yuri says absentmindedly with a wave of his hand. “Would you mind coming with me for a moment? I’m sure your ‘good kids’ can handle themselves for a moment, can’t they, friend?”
Byleth agrees, and the two of them leave the room together. Byleth assures them all he’ll be right back.
The room erupts into conversation the instant the door closes.
“Why did he call him friend like that?”
“Are they really…?”
“Wait, that the man you call Yuri?”
“What are they talking about?”
Questions without answers float through the air, until Edelgard takes the initiative to silence them. “Guys!” She yells, undoubtedly loud enough for Byleth to hear just outside the door, and when she continues her voice is scarcely more than a whisper. Perhaps it’s one of those awkward whisper-yells that aren’t quite whispering, but aren’t quite speaking normally, either. “If we want to know what they’re talking about, we have to listen..!”
She expects a handful of them to be apprehensive at first, or against it, but to her surprise none of them seem to disagree. She wants to think it’s because they all put faith in her sleuthing skills, but really it’s just because, well, test prep is boring, school is boring, and there’s a certain mysticism to the world of teachers that a group of rowdy teenagers are just dying to find out about. Dorothea claims to have the best hearing, and nobody seems to disagree, so she’s sent to press her head up against the door, then the wall, then the board, and then the door again, trying to find the best angle to hear their conversations.
“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to look at his email history? If they’re close, I’m sure they send personal emails during the school day.”
Linhardt, by saying that, unbeknowingly starts a frenzy.
Every student is running out of their chair towards Byleth’s desk, some tripping over their own feet (or chair legs) in the process, until they all crowd around the small screen, standing on tip-toes to get a glance of their teacher’s email history. Edelgard feels guilty invading his privacy, but her curiosity gets the best of her and she easily pulls up his inbox and searches for Yuri’s email address in the search bar. Her hands type quickly, frantically, and she has only a split second to make her decision before she’s already typing and clicking and scrolling and pulls up an email with the subject line, “Date”
“Date?” She says out loud, and a chorus of, ‘huh?’s and ‘really?’s erupt behind her. She’s so close, so close…
Caspar’s voice calls out “INCOMING!” And in a panic she restarts Byleth’s whole computer. Her thought process is that pressing one button to turn it off is faster than trying to click the little ‘X’ to close out the tab, but perhaps she was just choosing the better of two awful choices. Dorothea has the idea to quickly draw a game of hangman on the board, so that it’s just… very slightly less suspicious that all the students have gathered in a crowd in the short time that their teacher has left the room.
Byleth is still laughing as he opens the door, fueling the fires of their curiosity more and more by the minute, but he stops in place when he’s met with eight kneen eyes staring straight at him. Not that he’s unused to it, as a teacher, but Edelgard wouldn’t be surprised if now it feels a little strange.
Pensively he approaches the board and studies the game of (very fake) hangman that Dorothea had scribbled down. He takes a moment to study it before he says anything. “Are there any Rs?”
Dorothea panics trying to think of a word that fits what she had drawn.
-
“Do you think the students are aware of our relationship?”
Yuri speaks absentmindedly as he spears another piece of his fruit salad with his fork. The poor blueberry breaks in half, and so he settles for picking up a piece of cantaloupe instead. Across the desk Byleth fiddles with his computer, trying to figure out how it keeps resetting randomly, though Yuri doesn’t have the heart to point out it only does that when he leaves it unattended with his students. “What relationship?” Is all Byleth has to say.
“Well,” Yuri raises his eyebrows, and Byleth makes eye contact with him for a brief moment before clicking the mouse a few times, sporadically, “We are dating.”
“Are we?” Byleth seems very… nonchalant when he speaks. Considering the conversation Yuri isn’t quite sure if he appreciates it.
Yuri waves his fork in the air as he speaks, getting a bit too heated for a conversation in a high school classroom with the guy he’s been sleeping with for like, two months, tops. “I was certainly under the impression we were. You took me to Sephora.”
Byleth shrugs. “I didn’t realize that was a date.”
“We went to my place and had sex afterwards.”
Byleth simply… shrugs again. “It is what it is. I guess we are dating.” Yuri isn’t particularly hurt by the lack of sentiment in his words, but it is a little concerning. He can see how Byleth would have considered their situation more of a coworkers-with-benefits type thing, but considering that they eat lunch together every day and talk about the most dully domestic of things, Yuri feels like they definitely should have been using the title of ‘boyfriend’ at least a couple of weeks ago.
Yuri tries not to let disappointment seep into his voice. “Would you rather us not date?” He asks, simply, biting into a blueberry, this one particularly sour. The last one he ate was sweet and juicy. How strange. This anomaly occupies more of his mental capacity than the conversation the two of them are having at this very moment.
Byleth runs his hand through his hair, finally getting up out of that old ratty office chair to stand by the desk Yuri sits at. “No. I want to. I just wasn’t sure what you wanted.” His words make Yuri freeze. “I didn’t want to make you commit to anything if you didn’t want to, so I just didn’t say anything.” Byleth takes the fork out of Yuri’s hands and eats a strawberry in one bite, the greens and all. It makes Yuri want to gag, but he can’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that just settled in his stomach as Byleth expresses concern for him.
Yuri is used to people wanting him for his body, or his face, or to use him, or for something that just isn’t love. If it’s toxic, he’s sure lived through it, so hearing Byleth be so open and honest is like a breath of fresh air. Yuri supposes it is his fault for making assumptions. Maybe this whole time they weren’t really in the “dating” phase and more of the “it’s complicated” phase. He’ll go over this with Constance later when they do their weekend brunch and see what she has to say about it, but for now Yuri finds contentment in taking back his fork and feeding Byleth fruit himself. “Does that make us boyfriends?”
“Yeah,” Byleth says around a mouthful of honeydew.
“Wonderful.” Yuri smiles. “I’m just rushing to go update my Facebook page.” He laughs to himself, but the irony of the joke goes over Byleth’s head. Dating Byleth— or, well, up to this point, being friends with Byleth, is honestly such a… strange experience. He’s so blunt, and has such a one-track mind, but despite his lack of social skills he’s surprisingly intelligent, though Yuri suspects he has to be to become a teacher. “But I digress. Do you think the students know anything?”
Byleth shakes his head. “It’s not like I tell them anything… But word can get around.”
Yuri laughs in agreement, the conversation so much more light hearted and casual now than it had been a minute ago. Open communication honestly just made him uncomfortable… it’s a necessity, yes, but now one he enjoys, so for now he’s grateful for Byleth’s attention span being about as big as a goldfish’s. “That it does!” He says, putting the lid back on his now-empty tupperware. He tosses the plastic fork he stole from the cafeteria into the garbage can filled with snotty tissues and crumpled-up papers next to Byleth’s desk. “Speaking of which, would you like to hear the latest gossip on those troublemakers in Manuela’s class? I heard that Dimitri boy keeps snapping pencils in half.”
Byleth pulls up a chair, finally, and scooches close so that his foot rests against Yuri’s, their ankles rubbing together absentmindedly. “I never would’ve guessed. He looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Mmm, very true.” Yuri agrees, with a slight bit of cynicism to his smile. “But those are the ones you have to look out for…”
Their conversation drags until the bell rings, until Yuri knows students will be filing in any moment now.
But when he opens the door, a group of them come tumbling inside the classroom, having obviously been straining to listen to them.