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Dimitri doesn’t know when he first began to remember his previous life. It must have been when he was very young, because he’s always remembered his father - Lambert, kind if sometimes too busy, with a strong moral code and a romantic heart. A businessman, head of a generously-sized company.
Or a king, and to Dimitri when he was young there had been little difference. He saw his father go off to work dressed in a suit, but remembered him wearing a crown as well, and it didn’t seem odd at all. He didn’t realize it was, until he was old enough to understand that to everyone else the things he said were just childish fantasies. Of course Lambert wasn’t really a king. Of course his stepsister, Edelgard, wasn’t an emperor. And wasn’t it cute that Dimitri enjoyed these stories so much?
Lambert chuckled and patted him on the head and sent him away. Edelgard treated them as stories, as games, sometimes playing along and sometimes scoffing at him.
Now, Dimitri knows better than to say anything. Now he knows that it isn’t normal to have your memories of people in your real life overlaid with - what? Memories of another world, another life, the past? He’s never been able to figure it out. For a period of time in his teens, he thought that he was mentally ill. He still isn’t sure that’s not true, it’s just - the memories are so vivid, so real. So internally consistent. And more than that, parts of them are undeniably true.
It happens, he’s learned, when he touches someone. That first brush of skin against skin brings back a rush of memories, ones he has to sort through later, ones that mean he ends up knowing new friends far more quickly than he might otherwise. It turns out that when he remembers likes and dislikes, quirks and tastes and preferences, they’re usually the same. That realization, when he was old enough to put it all together, is what has convinced him that something about the memories must be real.
The moment he first grabbed Felix’s hand, he knew - among many other things, much of them unpleasant - that Felix didn’t like sweets. They’d both been so young at the time, barely out of third grade, and it had seemed impossible to him. Who didn’t like sweets? But it was true, he quickly learned, and he still thinks of moments like that when he begins to doubt himself.
He doesn’t talk about these memories anymore - hasn’t for years. It’s impossible to do it in any coherent way, not when there are still so many holes. When he remembers, he remembers the person he’s touched, and only the events and memories surrounding that person. There’s so much he doesn’t know, so much he’s not sure about.
All he can really be certain of is that these people were important to him, once.
They never remember him, but he considers that a blessing. Most of what he remembers is failing them. He takes this, these strange memories, as a chance at redemption.
He knows that he lost his father, and so he makes a point of enjoying what time they have together in this life. Lambert doesn’t die, this time - at least not yet.
He knows that he wasn’t able to give Edelgard any support, and that they became enemies - that he blamed her for so many things, and that she hurt him. The memories are distant enough that he can choose a different path this time. And so he tries to be a good brother, to be on her side. It’s easier when war and death and magic aren’t involved, and their biggest disagreements end up being over who gets the last ice cream sandwich. They’re close, close enough that she cries on his shoulder after her first breakup, close enough that the blood and anger in his memories fades away.
He knows that Felix lost his brother, was crushed under the weight of expectation. And Felix is sharp still in this life, finding his way easier to criticism than kindness, but Glenn lives and Dimitri doesn’t shatter their friendship and they join sports teams together, learn hockey and basketball and lacrosse, and Felix is his best friend. Underneath his barbs is a warm heart that Dimitri wants to believe he played some part in keeping whole.
He tries. They all grow older, and he tries.
Until he meets someone, brushes against their skin, he doesn’t remember them. They’re a blank spot in his memories, a knowledge that someone was there but not who. Finding the right person is like slotting a puzzle piece into place.
Dimitri meets Ingrid in middle school, arms crossed, face fierce as she tells off a pair of boys who were bullying an underclassman. They’re friends almost immediately, and when he brushes a finger while passing a pencil, it all makes sense. He does his best to support her, to validate her choices, to make sure she knows that what others expect from her doesn’t have to dictate her life.
Sylvain he meets one winter break in high school, a friend brought home from college by Glenn. Sylvain smiles and flirts and doesn’t talk about his home life, but all it takes is a friendly shove against Dimitri’s shoulder and Dimitri remembers. He doesn’t know if it’s exactly like it was - doesn’t know until later, until they’re close enough to actually talk - but he knows enough to help Sylvain get out of his house, to help him make his own life free from expectations.
For so long there’s a blank spot, someone so close whose face he can’t see, but his first year in college Dimitri meets Dedue. He works the counter at a bakery near campus, quiet and solid, and when their fingers brush as he hands Dimitri coffee that space gets filled in, and Dimitri pauses in his tracks.
He makes another lifelong friend that day, because how could he do anything else, when he owes Dedue so much?
He failed them all in his first life. He knows that. He remembers anger, madness, despair. He remembers dying in blood and misery on some strange battlefield, all his dreams crushed and in turn crushing all of theirs. He won’t do that again.
They’re all in college together - Garreg Mach University, which sounds familiar though Dimitri could not say why. Most of the time, he feels like a normal boy. This is how it’s always been for him - he doesn’t feel like he’s living two lives, he doesn’t feel haunted. He just feels like this is his chance. This is his chance to try again, to make people’s lives better instead of worse.
He has friendships that he doesn’t remember, too, friendships that don’t bloom into something else entirely when his hand brushes theirs for the first time. These friendships are uncomplicated, pleasant, easy. He does his best for them, too, but it doesn’t feel as urgent. If there’s one thing he regrets, it’s that his bonds with those he remembers will always feel more important than with the ones he doesn’t. But he can’t change that - the weight of two lifetimes, one spent in conflict and passion, will always mean more.
He thinks that he helps. He thinks that his presence, his attempts to make up for all that he did so long ago, might make some small difference. He tries, too, to be kind to even those who he doesn’t remember. It’s always on his mind, lingering in his thoughts: what else can I do to repair the damage that I have done?
And then he meets Claude.
He meets Claude the same night he meets Dedue’s new boyfriend, and at first it’s Ashe who gets all of his attention. How could it not be, when the moment he shakes the smiling boy’s hand he remembers another boy, a former thief, an archer who dreamed of knights? He resolves in that moment to be kind to Ashe, and he raises his head to meet Dedue’s eyes and smile, a tacit approval of his choice.
They’re at a party, some mixer thrown by a pink-haired girl who Dimitri’s never met but who seems to know half his friends and, indeed, half the college - since that appears to be who’s at the party. She waves them in and doesn’t stay to chat, but Sylvain follows her to collect drinks and gossip and Felix follows him, likely in a combined attempt to keep Sylvain out of trouble and avoid talking to anyone he doesn’t know.
Dimitri sees them off with some amusement. This isn’t the first college party they’ve all gone to, though Dimitri has never been very good at them. He only agreed this time because Dedue wanted him to meet Ashe. He intends to stay just long enough for politeness’ sake, give himself a chance to get to know Ashe - which he still intends to do, even if the context is a little different now that he knows - and then head back for an early night. They have his number, they’ll text if they need help getting home.
And that’s what he intends, that’s all he intends, until Dedue raises his head from their three-way conversation about how terrible the dorms are and says, “Claude,” with some pleasure.
“Oh, hey,” says an unfamiliar voice, and then someone else is pushing into the relative quiet of the kitchen. “Fancy seeing you here! I didn’t think Hilda’s parties were your style.”
“They’re not,” Dedue says, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “But Ashe has not been to one yet.”
“And everyone deserves to make some real bad mistakes during college?”
The man in front of Dimitri is smiling, a brilliant and altogether distracting thing. He’s hard to look away from - shorter than Dimitri, slimmer, but somehow it feels like he takes up more space in the room. He’s gorgeous, with dark hair and tan skin and the greenest eyes Dimitri thinks he’s ever seen.
He has no idea who this is, and he thinks he’s panicking. He looks at Ashe, who seems equally unfamiliar with this stranger but far less stunned by him, and then to Dedue, who has at least known Dimitri long enough to recognize the telltale signs of his social aptitude breaking down.
“Claude and I shared a botany class last last year,” Dedue says. He has a faint smile on his lips. “He has some… unique interests.”
“He means I did all my projects on poisonous plants,” Claude says. He laughs, unashamed, and Dimitri swears his heart skips a beat. “What can I say? That kind of stuff is just interesting.”
“I’m Dimitri,” Dimitri says, somehow having found his voice again. The truth is, he isn’t sure how to talk to Claude. The truth is, he’s never been so immediately attracted to someone before, and he isn’t sure how to deal with… well, any of it. “I, ah. Dedue and I met freshman year, at the bakery he used to work at.”
“Oh, man,” Claude says with a sigh. “I loved that bakery. You should go get your job back, Dedue, I really miss getting your employee discount on those pastries.”
“Dedue got an internship for the summer,” Ashe says with a sweet, proud smile. “He’ll be working on a conservation site up by the border with Duscur.”
“Is that so?” Dimitri says, and he feels a swell of pride, too. He knows this is the sort of thing Dedue has wanted for a long time. “That’s excellent.”
“I only just found out,” Dedue says. He sounds a tiny bit apologetic, as if he feels bad for not telling Dimitri immediately, so Dimitri claps him on the shoulder.
“Sounds like a great excuse to party, if you ask me,” Claude says, and he takes Ashe’s arm and pulls him deeper into the crowded house. Dedue follows, and then Dimitri has no choice but to do so as well, and -
And then somehow he finds himself staying at the party much longer than intended. It’s not Dedue or Ashe, both of whom disappear fairly quickly (Dimitri sees them later, kissing in a quiet corner). It’s not Sylvain and Felix, who circulate throughout the night but never stick around for too long.
It’s Claude. Of course it’s Claude.
Dimitri doesn’t know why, but Claude decides to stick close to him. He seems to know everyone at the party, and their hostess (Hilda, was it?) embraces him like a friend when she passes by, but it’s Dimitri he lingers near. It’s Dimitri he gets a beer for, Dimitri he directs his funny and observant comments to, Dimitri he takes outside when the party gets a little too crowded and loud and full of drunk people.
It feels like they talk for hours, about all kinds of things, nothing and everything all at once. Claude smiles at him and every time his heart beats harder. Near the end of the night, Claude sneaks Dimitri’s phone out of his pocket, teases his lock code out of him, and puts his own number in Dimitri’s phone.
“But you have to text me, okay?” Claude says, grinning up at him. “Because I can’t believe I’ve wasted two years at this school not knowing you.”
It’s light, half a joke, but Dimitri is not blind enough to not realize that Claude is flirting with him. His cheeks get hot, he stumbles over his words, but he manages to say yes, of course he’ll text Claude, yes, they should hang out again.
It’s only after he goes home, only after he’s laying in his uncomfortable dorm bed, that he realizes he never touched Claude. Not once.
He tries to, when he first meets someone. It’s usually easy - he’s polite enough that it rarely seems strange to reach out for a handshake after a proper greeting, and if he doesn’t manage that he’ll find an excuse to reach for something at the same time, brush their hand, bump their arm. He wants to know early on if he remembers someone, he wants to know if he’s starting fresh or if he has a whole life to make up for.
But they met too casually, and then he was too caught up talking to Claude to even remember. Or maybe, he thinks in the dark of night, still a little buzzed from the beers he drank, he was afraid.
What if he does remember Claude? What if it’s like Felix, where sometimes all he can think about is the rift between them, the anger in his eyes, even if he’s kept that from happening this time? What if it’s like Edelgard, who he remembers hating so viciously?
All he can think about are the awful things he might have done to Claude, the ways he might have hurt him, broken him, let him down.
And so for the first time in his life, Dimitri does not want to touch Claude.
Well, that’s not true. In fact, he wants to touch Claude very badly. He wants to touch Claude, and be near him, and make him smile. And that’s why he texts Claude the next day, even while some part of him is afraid.
Claude is happy to hear from him. Claude uses cute emojis that Dimitri can’t always make sense of. Claude sends him a picture of his sleepy, bleary post-party face, and he’s so beautiful.
Claude wants to meet for coffee after class, and Dimitri says yes even though he’s still afraid, because he can’t find it in himself to say no.
It’s just the first time of many. Their afternoon classes on Mondays and Wednesdays are in the same building, so it’s easy to fall into a routine of meeting Claude at the coffee shop nearby afterwards. It’s a reward for enduring Mondays, knowing he’ll get to see Claude smiling at him across their usual table. They help each other with a few assignments - Claude took the same chemistry unit in his first year that Dimitri’s muddling through now, and Dimitri had one of Claude’s professors the semester before. Their conversation flows as easily as it did at the party, and Dimitri’s fear that it was a product of beer and crowds melts away.
Claude somehow integrates himself seamlessly into Dimitri’s life. It turns out that he already knew Sylvain, too, that they both go to some on-campus strategy game club, and Claude is so easy to talk to, so full of funny comments and keen insights, that it seems natural to invite him out when Dimitri and his friends do things as a group. After all, Ingrid keeps inviting Dorothea (as a friend, she says), and Dimitri brings Edelgard along sometimes, so why not Claude?
Spending time with him brightens Dimitri’s days, livens up his nights. But still he never touches Claude.
It’s surprisingly easy. Claude isn’t a very tactile person, it seems, and even when he does nudge Dimitri’s shoulder or grab his arm, there’s always cloth between them. It feels like it’s half security blanket, half unscalable wall.
Dimitri still wants to touch him.
Once he starts inviting Claude places, the comments begin. It starts with Sylvain, of course, casually unsubtle remarks about Claude’s smile and how often Dimitri sees him. Even Felix gives him a pointed glance or two after he stumbles upon their regular coffee… meetup.
Not a date. They aren’t dating. Neither has asked the other out, and Dimitri is pretty sure you shouldn’t be terrified of touching someone if you’re dating them.
He tells Edelgard the first part when she finally asks, point blank, what’s going on with him and Claude.
“It’s nothing,” he says, “we’re just friends,” and Edelgard looks at him in that way she has - like he might possibly be the most ridiculous person on the planet.
He gets it. Sometimes he feels that way about himself, too.
“Well,” Edelgard says, narrowing her eyes, “he’s cute. If you don’t ask him out, I will.”
“El!” Dimitri says, even though he knows she won’t. She’s got a crush on one of her TAs - he’s already heard plenty about it. But even so, the thought of it makes him want to protest.
“Then get it together, little brother,” Edelgard says, and smacks his shoulder with some affection. “I’ve never seen you like this about anyone, and it’s obvious he likes you too.” She pauses for a moment, looking more serious, more honest. “You do deserve to be happy, you know.”
Dimitri isn’t sure what to do with that, but it sticks with him. He’s thinking about it, mulling it over in his mind, wondering if the Edelgard he remembers would ever have said anything like that to him, when it happens.
They’d met outside the building their classes are held in and they’re walking to the coffee shop. It’s routine now, one always waiting for the other if class goes overtime or someone needs to talk to a professor. Then they walk together, Dimitri enjoying the simple pleasure of having Claude by his side.
This time, Claude is glancing up at him, about to ask something - probably what’s on your mind, Dimitri?, because he always seems to know when Dimitri’s thoughts are occupied. Then someone rushes by them, running for the bus that’s about to pull away from the stop down the block. They slam into Claude’s shoulder and continue on with barely a glance, while Claude stumbles and falls, and Dimitri -
Dimitri reaches out to catch him. Without thinking, without considering. He reaches out, and his hand wraps around Claude’s bare wrist, and he remembers.
He remembers a boy, a strange boy, clever and always smiling. Teasing him, challenging him, friendly but always keeping his own secrets. He remembers a boy so much like the one next to him now, just as brilliant, just as talented and brave. He remembers liking Claude, looking at him and wanting him, knowing that it could never be.
He doesn’t remember hurting Claude. He doesn’t remember heartbreak in Claude’s eyes, betrayal on his face. He wasn’t Claude’s prince, Claude did not hang his hopes on Dimitri’s shoulders. Dimitri liked him, and Dimitri wanted him, but his responsibilities kept him from ever acting on that - and their different paths kept him from ever truly hurting Claude, like he hurt everyone else.
It’s such an immense relief that for a moment Dimitri can’t breathe.
“Are you okay?” says Claude, and Dimitri comes back to himself, realizes that he’s still holding on to Claude, that Claude is looking up at him in concern. It doesn’t usually hit him so hard, not since he’s gotten used to it, but this time - maybe because he was so afraid of what he might see - it was different.
He makes sure Claude is steady, then lets him go and steps back. His fingers seem to tingle where they’d rested on Claude’s wrist. “I apologize. I - I’m fine.” He doesn’t have any good excuse for why he stood there staring at Claude for what felt like hours, so he just doesn’t address it. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I’m fine,” Claude says, and he smiles. “You caught me.”
Dimitri flushes, because he can’t do anything else in the face of Claude’s sweet smile. And then, before he can think about it, before he can psych himself out, he says, “Would you go out with me?”
Claude blinks at him in surprise. Then he starts laughing, and Dimitri would be worried except that he also reaches out to take Dimitri’s arm, to lean into him. When he’s finally caught his breath he says, “Yes, of course. I really was starting to think you’d never ask me.” He winks at Dimitri, his smile somehow even more brilliant. “I was going to ask you, but everytime I got close you’d step away, so - you know, I wasn’t sure if you were interested.”
Dimitri regrets that now more than he can say. Imagine Claude thinking, even for a moment, that Dimitri does not want him. Ridiculous. He’ll have to make up for it.
“I am,” he says, serious and honest, and that’s how it begins.
Dimitri has never really dated before. He always put his friends and family first, and how could he not, when he had so much to make up for? In high school, he went out on a couple of childish dates because he found it difficult to say no, but they never went anywhere. Since he’s been in college, he’s only gone on one incredibly awkward double date with Sylvain and two sorority girls - in Sylvain’s mind so he could play wingman, in Dimitri’s mind so he could make sure Sylvain didn’t do anything self-destructive.
(He was a terrible wingman, but the night ended with a heart-to-heart that sent Sylvain off to Felix’s dorm instead. Dimitri has faith that will work out eventually, even if it seems to be going slowly right now.)
Long story short, he doesn’t really know how dating is supposed to go. He’s nervous, he’s uncertain - but it turns out to be easy. So easy. It’s everything they were already doing, except that he can reach out and take Claude’s hand. It’s coffee after class, except Claude rises on his toes to kiss Dimitri’s cheek when they part afterwards. It’s evenings out with friends, except he’s allowed to slide an arm around Claude’s waist and pull him snug against Dimitri’s side, unaffected by their friends’ teasing.
Dimitri remembers watching Claude, long ago in another life, and wondering what might have been if they’d been different people. And now they are, and he can find out, and it’s incredible.
It’s strange to have someone so close to him who does not inspire feelings of guilt at times. It’s strange to remember Claude, and to see him now, and not to feel like he has something to make up for. He didn’t hurt Claude in his past life because he never took a chance on his feelings, never allowed himself to reach for what he wanted. He faced Claude across a battlefield, he remembers that, but he doesn’t remember betrayal in Claude’s eyes. Only weariness, and a wish that things could have been different.
He doesn’t have anything to fix.
They take it slow. It’s incredible how comfortable Claude seems to be with that, with him. Dimitri is honest about his lack of experience, and he wouldn’t blame Claude for being impatient with it, but Claude never is. He always brightens when he sees Dimitri, and he’s content to let Dimitri set the pace.
Dimitri remembers seeing Claude in the darkness of a library, in another life, and thinking for a moment - I could love him. That boy he’d been had pushed that down, locked it away, never let himself think it again.
But now Dimitri can, and he does.
They’ve been dating for two months when Dimitri exits his last final of the semester and finds Claude waiting for him outside the building, wrapped up warm in the chilly winter air, a thermos in his hands.
“What are you doing here?” Dimitri says, but he’s already smiling.
“I know how stressed you were about that one,” Claude says, and he presses the thermos into Dimitri’s hands. “But you did it! You’re free. Now you deserve to relax.”
Dimitri’s not sure he ever really deserves to relax, but he appreciates the gesture in any case. He takes a sip from the thermos, catching the scent of chamomile tea just before he tastes it. In his other life, he knows, he wouldn’t have been able to taste it. That just makes it all the more pleasant.
“Thank you,” Dimitri says, reaching out to catch Claude’s hand in his own as they begin to walk. “Chamomile is my favorite.” He doesn’t remember ever telling Claude that, but -
“Mine too,” Claude says, and smiles up at him. “We have a lot in common, you know.”
Dimitri makes a noncommittal noise. He’s nothing like Claude, this brilliant creature who he’s been granted a second chance with. Dimitri will do his best to be certain that he’s worthy of that chance, just as he’s tried with each of his friends.
“Hey,” Claude says, nudging his side. “You must be thinking about something serious. I know that face.”
Dimitri thinks about what to say, and in the end he chooses honesty. It seems to be what he’s best at. “I was thinking about all that you deserve, and how much I wish to be the one to give it to you.”
For a moment, Claude’s cheeky smile disappears, replaced by something more raw, more honest. When the smile returns, it’s softer. He squeezes Dimitri’s arm, leaning into him as they walk. “You shouldn’t just walk around saying stuff like that. If I swoon, I’m expecting you to catch me, all right?”
Claude’s tone is a little too joking for Dimitri in that moment. He stops them, leading Claude off the path to a bench nearby. There aren’t many people around, not on this lesser-used route between Dimitri’s dorm and the main campus, but for a moment Dimitri wishes they had more privacy. A door he could lock to shut the world away, so that it would only be the two of them.
“I mean it,” Dimitri says. He’s holding Claude’s hand, turned toward him, his eyes on Claude’s face. “I will do my very best for you, Claude. I want to be worthy of all that you give me. I want to - I want to be certain that I never hurt you.”
Claude’s eyes soften. He looks almost sad, and he tangles his fingers with Dimitri’s. “It’s not about that. You know that, right? It’s not about being worthy, or deserving anything. I like you, I care about you, I want to spend time with you. You don’t need to be worthy of that, Dimitri. And anyway, you already are - you always have been.”
Dimitri searches for words, wanting to explain somehow - without sounding like a crazy person - how much he has to make up for. But Claude speaks again, and Dimitri can do nothing but listen.
“And if you hurt me, that’s okay. People hurt each other sometimes, and it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.” Claude looks at Dimitri like he’s searching for something in Dimitri’s eyes. The answer to a question, some secret he can’t name. “You’ve always been good to me. We’re allowed to disagree, or even fight, and it won’t change anything about how I feel about you. I know you, Dimitri. I know you’re a good person, a kind one. I know how hard you work - I see everything you do for your friends. I see how much you think of them, how much you care about making things right.”
Of course he has. Claude has seen them all together, has seen Dimitri around his friends. He’s seen more, perhaps, than Dimitri intended. Dimitri doesn’t know what to think about that - what to feel.
“You already do more than you need to.” Claude looks at him, and his eyes are so clear, so green. “Don’t you ever think that you’ve done enough? You do deserve to think of yourself sometimes, you know.”
Claude’s voice is matter-of-fact, but he looks at Dimitri with a gentle affection that takes Dimitri apart too easily. How can he explain? How can he make Claude understand all that he needs to make up for? He’s searching for words, struggling to find a way to explain, when Claude speaks again.
“All you have to do is look at them to see all you’ve done. They love you, Your Princeliness.”
And the world goes still, then rearranges itself.
“Claude,” Dimitri says. It wasn’t a mistake, was it? Maybe he misheard. Maybe it’s some kind of game. “Do you - do you remember me?”
Something in the set of Claude’s shoulders relaxes, and it’s only then that Dimitri realizes he’s been tense all this time. Holding himself still, waiting, watching.
It wasn’t a mistake. Of course it wasn’t. The clever young man Dimitri knows, the one he remembers, the one he’s been given a second chance with - he would never choose his words so carelessly.
“I remember you,” Claude says. His smile is true, but a little shaky. “I remember you, I remember the Academy. I remember the war.” He sighs, low and sweet, a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure you did. I was just going to play it off as - as a cute pet name or something.”
It all unrolls between them. Dimitri has never been able to talk to anyone about this before, but Claude - Claude has seen all the things he has, albeit different pieces of it. Dimitri realizes that even after the proof he’s had, on some level he has always wondered if it might not be real, if it might be a product of his damaged mind. But Claude remembers.
They sit on that bench until the day gets too cold, talking, and they don’t stop even then. Dimitri leads Claude up to his dorm, thankful he has a single, and Claude settles on his bed. They talk more. He tells Claude about his first memories, and Claude tells him the same - that he too always remembered his parents, could not remember a time when he didn’t have two sets of memories about them in his head.
All their lives they lived with these other people in their heads. Separate, mirrored, so far apart.
It’s incredible.
“But how did you know that I had these memories too?” Dimitri asks finally. It’s dark outside, too late for him to send Claude back to his dorm alone, but he doesn’t mind. He does not want Claude to leave his side.
“When we touched, when I remembered you…” Claude pauses, thinking through it before he says it, or maybe considering what he will say. “I’d already seen how you were with the others - with Felix, Dedue, everyone. I remember some of them, but I wasn’t close to them. But as soon as I remembered you, it made sense. How much you look out for them. How careful you are.” Claude cocks his head, eyes too keen. “Before, I thought you were just a really great friend. I thought it was sweet. But when I remembered you, I realized - the prince I knew in another life would act just this way, if he remembered.”
Dimitri wonders how well Claude knows him. How well Claude knew him. He would not have said they were close, in that other life - but Claude was just as clever and observant back then as he is now.
“You feel guilty,” Claude says, “don’t you?”
Dimitri nods. Of course he does. “I have so much to make up for. That’s why - well, I thought that was why I remembered. Now… I don’t know.” Because what does Claude have to make up for? What guilt does Claude carry? He was the strongest of them, Dimitri thinks. Edelgard fell to pain and power, Dimitri to fury and madness. Claude was the one who stayed himself, who set his sights on the future while they sank into their own despair.
“Honestly, I have no idea why I remember. I never did.” Claude says it so easily, and he smiles. “It kills me that I have no idea. Why do you and I remember, but Edelgard doesn’t? Why do none of the others?” He shrugs. “If there’s meaning to it, I don’t know what it is. But -“ and he looks at Dimitri, so intent, so beautiful - “I don’t think it’s so you can pay for your supposed crimes.”
Dimitri wants to argue. If not that, then what? But his world has been pulled apart and put back together, and who’s to say that Claude isn’t right?
He pulls his gaze away and searches for something, for a response. He’s carried this guilt so long that he doesn’t know who he is, if he isn’t a cursed creature making up for his crimes.
But maybe Claude is right. Maybe he doesn’t need to be that.
“I can’t regret what I’ve done in this life,” Dimitri says. That much is true, will always be true. “If you remember them - you know things are better this time. They’re happier. I haven’t… damaged them.”
“I don’t think you damaged them the first time,” Claude says. “I think we were all stuck in a terrible situation. We all hurt each other. You weren’t the only monster created by the war. And - it’s over, Dimitri. Whatever this is, whatever has given us these memories, this is a second chance.”
He reaches out then and takes Dimitri’s hand. It’s warm, unfamiliar but comforting in a way Dimitri cannot explain.
“For all either of us know, we’re here just for ourselves. Maybe fate decided you deserved a second chance, Dimitri. Or maybe we remember because we’re meant to be, and we never really got a chance the first time.” Claude grins at him, and Dimitri feels himself flush. “All I can say for sure is that you deserve to be able to think about yourself. Forget Felix, Sylvain, Edelgard. Forget me, too. What do you want?”
“I don’t want to forget you,” Dimitri says.
He says it without thinking, he says it because it’s what he feels, and once it’s been said he doesn’t regret it. Claude, though, looks at him with wide eyes, caught off guard.
Then he laughs, and his thumb strokes across the back of Dimitri’s hand, a trail of sensation that makes Dimitri feel for a moment as if the world is brighter. “That sincerity of yours will be the death of me.”
“I don’t want to forget the others, either,” Dimitri says. He says it slowly, feeling himself out as he speaks. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I don’t owe it to them to make up for my mistakes. But… I can’t say that you’re wrong either, Claude.” He looks at Claude, drinks him in. In this world, in this life, he can look at Claude like this. He can walk with him, and hold his hand, and make promises that he might be able to keep.
He can kiss him. He can make a different future for them, a different path than the ones they walked so long ago.
And that’s all Claude wants from him. He doesn’t want Dimitri’s regret, his attempts to atone for past sins. He doesn’t want anything but this. Them.
It’s such a small thing. It’s far, far more than he deserves.
“We both have a second chance,” Claude says. He smiles, and it’s a sweet thing - sweet and sad. “I don’t know why - I don’t think we’ll ever know why. But I don’t want to waste it.”
Dimitri reaches for him. Claude is already moving, and they meet in the middle, Dimitri’s arm sliding around Claude’s waist to pull him close, and then their lips meet.
It’s the first time he’s ever kissed Claude, but he’s long since lost count of how many times he’s wanted to, in this life and his last. The real thing is better than his imagination - Claude’s chapped lips soft against his, the soft sound Claude makes, the way they lean into each other.
When they finally part, Dimitri raises his hand to trace the line of Claude’s jaw, tilting his head up, and then it’s impossible to keep from kissing him again. He wants more, he wants to peel Claude’s jacket off and press him into the bed and learn every part of him, learn how to make him moan. He wants to hear his name on Claude’s lips, lost in pleasure.
He manages to keep control of himself, though it’s a struggle. When they part this time, he presses his forehead to Claude’s, breathes him in.
“I will not waste this chance,” he says, a quiet promise to the both of them, and he feels Claude smile.
“Good,” is all that Claude says, and then he is kissing Dimitri again. Not two kings, not two men embroiled in war, nothing but two boys finally given a chance at what they’ve wanted for longer than either of them can say.
Neither of them can know where this life will take them, but the thought that this time he’ll be able to find out at Claude’s side fills him with something that feels a lot like hope.