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Linhardt was actually rather excitable, though Caspar knew the other students would doubt this.
They just hadn’t seen his friend stumble across something he found truly amazing in his research, hadn't seen the way his eyes would widen and lips turn up as he devoured the new information at a speed that could rival even Claude’s ability to process information about a person.
Okay, maybe not that much, but Caspar was willing to bet it was pretty darn close. It impressed him, anyway.
No one else saw how Linhardt’s eyes would sparkle as he detailed whatever it was he had discovered, how his arms moved about in little, often aborted movements to accentuate his words.
These short bursts of energy usually occurred at night when any sane person would be asleep, yet Caspar’s idiot — and, ha, it felt good to be the one saying that for a change — of a best friend couldn’t let go of an idea once he had it.
At those times it was up to Caspar to do the wrangling for once. Because while Linhardt had the sense to warn Caspar away from a brawl or order him to pull back from time to time, he most definitely did not have the sense to preserve a normal sleep schedule as much as possible.
It was rather ironic, Caspar supposed, that someone who had such a passion for learning would struggle so much in school. He had overheard more than a couple reprimands from exasperated professors after Linhardt failed to turn in an assignment or missed points on an exam he would've been able to pass if he hadn't slept through class.
Linhardt was incredibly intelligent, too, which only made his lackluster performance more vexing to the professors at the monastery. Anyone could see he had the ability , just not the drive when it came to most school-related things. It was tough to admit and a little disappointing, but Caspar knew Linhardt brought his wavering grades upon himself.
Caspar still tried to help anyway.
He couldn’t help Linhardt study — as Caspar never took any magic classes personally — and he could hardly keep Linhardt awake in the classes they shared, let alone those they did not. Caspar was probably a little too bothersome when trying to keep Linhardt engaged, if the frequent raised eyebrows and glares were anything to go by, but most of the professors had yet to separate them like they did with any other students who were a little too loud.
Caspar hoped that meant they understood what he was trying to do and had decided that the occasional distractions were worth it if it meant Linhardt stood a better chance of passing the class. He was pretty sure Hanneman was getting ready to break down and move one of them to the front of his classroom, though. His eyebrows had grown very twitchy lately.
Because Caspar could only do so much when it came to helping directly with class, he had to resort to other tactics. Thankfully, he knew the root of the problem, and it wasn’t laziness like most everybody would assume.
The thing was, Linhardt put everything he had into whatever he was researching at the moment. He pored over book after book in search of any helpful information, even if that meant spending hours at a time holed up in his room searching for a tiny passage within a huge anthology.
This would be great…if inspiration didn’t strike Linhardt in the middle of the night when any sane person would be sleeping.
When these moods struck, it was up to Caspar to check in on his friend and make sure he didn’t spend the entire night and early morning burning through energy that should be used for class and normal daytime activities.
Caspar only grumbled a little bit when he got out of his own bed to check that the room next door was dark. If it wasn’t, then Caspar grumbled a bit louder until Linhardt was bothered enough to open the door.
Tonight was no different, and it only took a brief knock before the door was wrenched open.
There was hardly a pause before Linhardt’s face lit up and he waved Caspar inside. “Caspar! You must see what I found. Just look at this!”
Caspar obligingly entered the room. He had learned through prior experience that it was best to let Linhardt get out whatever it was he was thinking about before actually cajoling him to bed. It helped clear his mind or something. Caspar wasn’t entirely sure but it seemed to work.
Plus, Caspar just plain liked seeing his friend happy, and he wasn’t about to miss that opportunity.
Linhardt’s room was a wreck. Books were strewn everywhere, some opened to seemingly random pages while others appeared hastily discarded and set upon whatever open surface was closest. Caspar already knew he would have a great time poking fun at it tomorrow, but for now he refocused on Linhardt.
The ribbon around Linhardt’s ponytail was loose and had slipped down about halfway from where it had started earlier that day, which resulted in the hair bunching up weirdly near the top in a strange impression of a bird’s nest.
“Geez, Lin, pick up a brush once in a while,” he drawled.
Predictably, that didn’t get a reply. It was quite possible that Linhardt was too focused to pay attention, but it was also highly likely that he was simply being ignored. Caspar’s money was on the latter.
“I was reading up on the Crest of Gloucester — Did you know Lysithea has two Crests? She tries to keep quiet about it but I’m sure she won’t mind if I tell you —” Linhardt began, whirling around with a book in hand.
Caspar winced. That sounded like something Lysithea most definitely would not want anyone to know, but Linhardt had never been the best at reading people and simply barrelled on.
“...and you know what I found? It is only found within those who live in a certain area of the Alliance, yet somehow the Empire…”
Linhardt chattered on, excitement almost tangible in the way he moved about. He was pointing at the page in his hand at some line Caspar was supposed to read but kept waving it around and pulling it back to himself as if to check what he was saying was correct, which made it impossible for Caspar to read. Caspar couldn’t really follow what he was talking about entirely, but that was okay. He didn’t need to.
“...and the best part is, I think I figured out exactly who they got the Crest from!”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Caspar interrupted, trying to catch back up, “Lysithea’s Crest?” He grimaced. “Like, the one that’s currently in her?”
Linhardt nodded. “Yes, yes. Do keep up, Caspar.” He snapped the book closed, though not before slipping a loose leaf of paper in between the pages as a bookmark. “And with that information, there’s the possibility that there are records of him and what exactly happened somewhere! Isn’t that just fantastic?”
He finally paused and met Caspar’s eyes, grinning widely. There was a flush on his cheeks that hadn’t been there before, and the color brought a life to his face that was only there to see in select moments. He looked utterly content, and Caspar couldn’t help but indulge him.
“Of course it is!” He said, grabbing Linhardt’s shoulders and giving an encouraging squeeze. “I’m sure Lysithea would like to hear this stuff, too, though, don’t ya think?”
“Ah, of course! I was going to do that right away.” Linhardt made to pull away, but Caspar tightened his grip.
It was in times like these that Caspar prided himself on his muscle, for it was incredibly easy to maneuver Linhardt to sit down on his bed despite their height difference.
Linhardt’s grin faltered. “What are you—”
“Shh!” Caspar hushed, pressing down harder when Linhardt tried to stand again. “You should totally tell Lysithea. Just, y’know, when she’s not sleeping.”
“Sleeping? What time— ah.” Linhardt huffed in exasperation. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I.” It wasn’t a question, and he stopped trying to get up.
“Yep. Come on, time for bed like everyone else. Professor Byleth is taking us out to the forest tomorrow morning, remember?”
Linhardt groaned. “Don’t remind me. I don’t suppose there is a way for me to nod off then. No desks.” He paused, thinking. “Unless…”
“No, I’m not carrying you.” Caspar blew out the candle on the desk. Linhardt didn’t say anything else, seemingly content to let Caspar do all the work in preparing the room for sleep. Just as he was about to blow out the last one on the bedside table, Linhardt’s hair caught his eye again.
“Okay, seriously, take that off unless you want to tear your hair out tomorrow trying to fix it.”
Linhardt rolled his eyes but complied, gently untying the ribbon with practiced ease. “It’s fine ,” he said, but couldn’t hide a wince as a few strands undoubtedly pulled uncomfortably.
Caspar took one last glance over his friend. Now that he had settled down, Linhardt’s movements were slowing and his eyelids drooped. There we go. “ ’Night, Lin,” he murmured, blowing out the last candle.
There was a rustling of sheets as Linhardt finally, finally, laid down, followed by a sleepy mumbling that must have been his attempt at a reply before it was hindered by drowsiness.
Caspar grinned to himself as he crept back out into the chilly night air. Now this was the Linhardt the others would believe, he thought, carefully closing the door behind him. Almost no one would expect the almost manic energy and focus Linhardt was also prone to, but that was fine.
Caspar had those times covered.