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He knew it. He should’ve trusted himself.
When he had espied the cut at her knee, she had repeatedly rebuffed his offer of a bandage and antiseptic. Tis’ but a scratch, she had assured him. It was a pretty superficial scratch, and her obstinance combined with her insatiability to work had her occupied on far more important matters. But even when he relented back then to his professor, he knew it. You simply don’t see a problem and leave it to infest, else it may blossom into something bigger and more serious than it should have any right to.
Dimitri rapped his fist on Byleth’s room, and waited for her feeble ‘Come in’ before opening and entering. A small surge of relief flowed through him when he saw her in her bed - granted, her eyes were still weary and her voice was still hoarse, but the colour of her skin had noticeably returned, and the small receptacle next to her was devoid of her vomit.
He galloped to her beside, and squatted beside her. “How are you feeling, Professor?”
“A little better,” she stated, but with a frown on her face, and her eyelids drooping.
Dimitri shook his head, reaching for the fresh towel he had brought in and soaking it in the bucket of water at her bedside. Her words were truthful, but from the looks of it, only slightly.
“You still look tired, Professor,” he remarked. “Have you been sleeping well?”
Her frown deepened. “I just feel worse when I sleep more,” she confided. “How can I sleep, anyway, knowing you all are behind on your training and curriculum? I just wish this fever was gone sooner.”
Dimitri resisted the urge to retort. Her obsessing over taking care of the Lions instead of her knee was the exact reason why she had this fever in the first place, he lamented to himself. And in his time of being the de facto substitute leader of the house had led him to realize how surprisingly low-maintenance all the students were, even Sylvain. Why was she making a mountain out of a molehill?
Nevertheless, he donned the brightest smile he could muster as he answered. “We’re doing great, Professor. We just need you to recover well, that’s all. Sleep and water, you should know.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she scowled, as she started to sit up, in spite of Dimitri’s protests. She reached for the cup next to her bed and took a lengthy sip, letting the lukewarm water cool her throat even if momentarily. She had to admit, even though she was feeling positively awful, this kind of treatment from Dimitri was not unwelcome. She had to stop herself from giggling every time he asked for permission in getting even in proximity to her, lowering her blanket so he could dress her wounds, wiping her face, neck, and arms with the towel, or, of course, putting the back of his hand on her forehead to gauge her body temperature.
Not that Dimitri was bad at all, but of course admittedly, Mercedes, Annette, or even Ashe would have probably been better at treating her. However, she hadn’t wanted to burden them with the amount of catching up they had to in her absence, nor did she want the risk of spreading it to them - or so as she had told them. Besides, the fluster and rush of crimson in Dimitri’s face when their skin made contact more than made up for it.
Today her temperature had considerably lowered - which made Dimitri’s hand more warm than usual to her touch. The Faerghus heir visibly beamed in delight as a response. His touch was always so surprisingly gentle, despite the multiple scars and patches on his hands where cuts and blisters had originally been. “Your fever’s about to break,” he chimed happily. “A bit more rest and you should be better again.”
The left corner of her mouth twitched upwards. “That’s good to hear.”
As he returned to washing the towels again, Byleth couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Even though he had volunteered himself to be the one to take up her teaching duties and take care of her, it felt unfair to her. Unfair that he was the one taking her yoke for being so stubborn and falling sick on her own accord. She wondered beneath his maya blue eyes if he was getting rest himself, or if he was getting stressed from the workload she imposed on him, or if he was falling sick himself. If he were to be in bedridden it would be all her fault, and the sheer thought of it made her dread.
Dimitri stood up, taking the bucket of water and the empty cup on her nightstand. “I’ll be back, Professor. Stay here in bed, don’t go anywhere.” he cautioned.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry Dimitri, when you come back I would have escaped through the window and galloped aside across the countryside in the pink of health.”
He squinted, and for a second she had thought that he had taken it seriously. Even when it had dawned on him that it was sarcastic, it still visibly lingered on his mien, as he hesitantly took his initial steps towards her door, before he made his exit, missing his professor’s chuckle at his expense on his way out.
After replacing the bucket and refilling her cup in the lavatory, he made his way to Mercedes’ room. Usually the medicine would be found in the nurse’s office, but he knew that Mercedes’ vulneraries were more potent than those sold by merchants.
It hadn’t been a far walk. When he knocked on her door, an audible ‘EEP’ resonated even through the door, followed by the rattling of flasks and her stumbling footsteps. Before Dimitri could process this, Mercedes half-opened the door, poking her head out with a sheepish look on her face.
“Oh Y-Your Highness! It’s y-you,” she stuttered anxiously.
“Hello, Mercedes,” he greeted, trying to muster up as amicable a voice as he could. “I’d like to have another vulnerary, and some antiseptic if possible. For the Professor.”
“Oh! Of course, I forgot, it is her medicine time, right? Right, one minute, please.”
She didn’t take long, rummaging through the flasks she kept on a shelf nearby, but when Dimitri took a gander on the inside, he could see her desk, her neatly aligned stacks of files and papers scattered with various glassware of varying fullness, corks, herbs, and haphazardly strewn leaves of loose paper. He noticed some titles of the books at the side of the table were from Professor Hanneman’s personal collection.
“Mercedes,” he addressed her, as she handed him his requested medical supplies. He furrowed his brow. “What’re you working on?”
“Oh! Oh, it’s nothing. Just - testing a potion recipe that I was interested in.”
“I see.” His eyes still continued to scour her messy table, but his head continued to be clouded by mystery no matter how long he stared. To the naked eye it might have been worthy of suspicion, but Mercedes seldom bore falsities when she spoke. There was probably no one more candid than her in the Lions save maybe Ashe. And besides, Byleth was waiting.
He nodded, smiling. “Thank you, Mercedes. Carry on, then. Well - if you please. - - Anyway.”
Quickly, he darted down the corridor, while Mercedes remained rooted at her spot, waiting until her house lord had disappeared round the corner before slowly ducking her head in, placing her hand on the door delicately, and gently pushing it shut. She breathed a sigh of relief, ready to get back to work, and went back to her desk. She reached to her right, and instantly, her eyes grew to the size of saucer plates, and an electric chill ripped down her spine.
Byleth smiled to herself when she heard the knocking on her door, and the pause that came subsequently. Always so polite. “Come in,” she invited.
Carefully, Dimitri sat and set down the pail beside her again, with yet another fresh set of towels, and placed the cup and flask at the nightstand.
“Your medicine, Professor,” he gestured. She uncorked the flask, taking a look at the clear liquid inside, and took in a deep breath in mental preparation. Vulneraries didn’t taste particularly pleasant, and even the likes of Mercedes or Linhardt would never be able to take away the metallic, bitter taste of the health potions around. She pinched her nose, placed the lip of the flask to her own lips, and gulped down the liquid as fast as possible. When she finally exhaled and put the empty flask back, she winced, sticking her tongue out and exclaiming in disgust. She could hear Dimitri try to repress a laugh, an exercise that went to futility.
“What?” She asked, chuckling with him. “You should know how those things taste.”
“I’d - rather not be reminded,” he concurred, grinning as he rose to his feet. “Well Professor, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave? Felix and Ingrid wanted me to spar in the training grounds, I’d rather not keep them waiting.”
“All three of you are strong enough, they don’t need you to help them,” she dismissed, her eyes narrowed. “I’m the one who’s sick, remember? What if I have another cold bout, or I vomit again? I’d rather have you here.”
“Well… are you sure, Professor? I don’t want to bother you while you sleep.”
“You don’t bother me at all, Dimitri. Do I bother you?”
“N-no!” His voice became higher in pitch, his face pink in embarrassment and clear in confusion. “Not at all!”
“So you’ll stay?”
“I-... I’ll stay,” he muttered, obediently sitting down onto the floorboards. “Ah, Professor, when you phrase it that way…”
She laughed slightly. “You’re adorable when you get flustered, Dimitri, you know that?”
His face flushed red. Something was definitely up with her. It must’ve been the medicine or something.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Professor?” he quizzed. “You still tired, or a little dizzy, maybe from the medicine?”
“I’m feeling a-okay,” she answered, laying down in bed and pulling the sheets to her chin. “But maybe I’m still tired.”
“You should get some rest, then.”
“You’ve told me that so many times.”
“Uh! Well, because it’s true! Even Professor Manuela advised you to get a lot more sleep, so your body can rejuvenate, and gain the energy back while it fights t-”
“Yeah, well,” she interrupted, rotating her body to the right towards the wall, away from Dimitri. “I think you just want me to fall asleep so you can leave me.”
“Uhh!!” His heart skipped a couple of beats, and his muscles tensed. Something had clearly rattled him; Byleth usually wasn’t this… assertive? Or at least abrasively assertive, to him, let alone anyone.
“Is that not the case?” she accused; Dimitri was quick and flustered in his answer.
“Of course not! I… I’m worried for your well-being, Professor, haven’t I been taking care of you all this while? What makes you think that?”
“I mean… you must be tired of taking care of me for… how many days has it been, 4 days? You must be even more tired than I am, having to substitute for me and having to tend to me every day… I wouldn’t even blame you, you know, if you just wanted to leave. You need a break, too. But I’m selfish and I don’t want you to leave.”
It was a good thing Byleth was facing the wall, else she would have espied her house lord’s face completely flood with a bright red colour. Where was all this coming from? Was her fever coming back? But even at her peak of illness, she hadn’t been this… hallucinatory, in her speech.
“P-P-... Professor, I-I didn’t know you thought that. If it makes you happy, I mean… I could stay here for as long as you like.”
She turned around to face him, her face clearly now dawned with a joyous light. “Even if I fall asleep? Until I wake up?”
“Yes, of course I will,” he said, readily, nodding in affirmation.
“You answered so quickly, it makes me think you’re lying.” Her voice was creaky, and her face bore a guilty expression once more. “I must be troubling you so much. I’m sorry, Dimitri. I wish I had taken your advice and treated the cut on my knee. Now you have to take care of me like I’m some infant… I’m sorry, you must be so tired...”
“Professor, don’t say that,” he rebuffed, scooting closer to the side of the bed, unthinkingly taking her hands into his. Even when they were gloved like this they were so warm, almost homely to her to the touch. “I’m not tired, I’m not troubled at all. I just wish for you to get better, that’s all. I won’t leave. I promise.”
“You promise? Even not to get Mercedes or Ashe to substitute for you?”
“No,” Dimitri shook his head. For some reason, he could feel himself fighting back tears. What was going on here? Was he really actually just tired? This was weirdly defensive, even for him. “No, I’ll stay here until you wake up.”
Byleth beamed, smiling widely. “I’m so happy to hear that… I like being taken care of by you, you know that? You and nobody else.”
He ran his hand through his hair once more. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, though? Before you fall asleep? Maybe some more water, or maybe even some milk?”
She hesitated for a moment, pinching her chin as her eyes narrowed in thought. They remained in silence for a distinct pause, and then, Byleth scooted over closer to the edge of the bed, flashing her teeth to Dimitri as she grinned. “I… I’d like a goodnight kiss, to be honest.”
The colour vanished from the Faerghus’ lord’s face momentarily, before returning to dark scarlet. What are these words? He thought to himself. What are these words that are pouring out of his professor’s mouth? Byleth’s inhibitions have never been as lowered as they have been right now. Was it the sickness acting up?
Dimitri leaned forward, placing his hand on her forehead again. Same temperature as he had detected before. “Professor,” he asked. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Feeling dizzy or cold or something?”
She giggled, almost hysterically. “I like feeling your hand, Dimitri. It’s so warm, and it smells of you. What a lovely smell.”
He wondered if in her state of delirium, she could see him grow increasingly anxious. “Professor, I-... can I be honest? I don’t understand what you’re saying. I-If you don’t mind me remarking… you seem quite… weird? Like the words that you’re saying… are just… I don’t know if you’re just saying nonsense or just… false things...”
“Oh, these are true things,” she answered, with such a casual demeanor that had him even further taken aback. “I don’t know why, but I just feel the urge to speak honestly with you.”
“You… you’re probably too sick,” he muttered. “You weren’t this… weird, just now when I saw you first. I’ll go fetch Manuela or Mercedes and see what they say…”
“It’s been since I took the medicine,” she remarked. “It tasted a little funny and I didn’t really think much of it, but after that I’ve just felt like this.”
“What?” Why didn’t she say so earlier? Dimitri pounced towards the nightstand, and inspected the flask again. He peered into it with his right eye while shutting his left. A small, transparent, coin-sized puddle remained at the bottom. Carefully, he placed the lip of the flask near his nostrils, and took a gentle whiff. He balked, and immediately he went to scan the walls of the flask to see if there was a label - Mercedes was very meticulous in her bookkeeping, after all - to get a clue. Sure enough, glued to the bottom, was a paper etched with Mercedes’ handwriting, “TRUTH SERUM”.
“Oh Goddess, how could I-... how could she…” He buried his face into his hands, groaning. Well, if there was any bright side, Mercedes was good at, at the very least, making her concoctions potable, and at least he could report back a successful trial for her. But now he had to go back for another flask… and now the Professor is just-
“Oh,” Byleth merely said, upon Dimitri informing her of the situation. “She must be busy and forgot. That’s okay, I doubt that there’s any side effects from that recipe.”
Dimitri sighed. “I’ll be right back, Professor, don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m bedridden, Dimitri, of course I won’t.”
When he rose to his feet, his strides were larger than usual, and he opened the door with a little more force than necessary. She could hear a yelp in response, followed by a tenor voiced murmur of apology, one that was recognisable even from far away.
When he peered into the room, she could see his curious, amber eyes scour the room.
“So this is what the Professor’s room looks like… Professor! Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes, I’m feeling great, Sylvain, thank you for asking.” she answered.
He grinned in response, placing his hands behind his head. “That’s great! Is His Highness treating you well? Where’s he-”
“He’s treating me exceptionally well. Come on in, Sylvain, don’t be a stranger.”
“You sure? I don’t wanna be trespassing on a lady’s quarters if she’s not comf-”
“Not at all. You may enter if you so wish.”
“Welp, if you say so.”
Perhaps it was the serum or perhaps it was the fact that she had gotten accustomed to it, but in another world she would probably have felt annoyed by the way in which he casually sauntered in, his curious eyes still roaming the walls like finding clues in a crime scene. He sat at Dimitri’s spot, his expression nonchalant as always.
“You look great, Professor! I mean, you always look great, but - you know what I mean.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought you’d have taken a hint by now and know that flirting with me is a lost cause.”
Sylvain’s face became crestfallen immediately. “Aw, Professor, don’t put it so bluntly. Never say never, you know?”
“I hope you’ve been paying attention to the material Dimitri has been tasked with. He must be extremely tired, taking care of me and then having to substitute for me to you.”
“Yeah, for sure, Professor. I don’t think His Highness usually needs sleep though, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’s been looking just fine to me.”
“I hope so,” she mused to herself, the corners of her mouth dipping a little.
“Where is His Highness going anyway?” He wondered aloud, placing his right hand perpendicular to his face at his eyebrows, as if searching out to sea in the direction of the doorway. “He seemed like in a rush.”
“Oh, he went to get my medicine. Mercedes gave him the wrong flask,” she disclosed, her eyes darting towards the empty vulnerary.
“Oh? What’s wrong with it. Kind of looks like the same old medicine she usually has in her… oh. Oh! Professor, you drank this?”
“Sure did!”
“Wow. Wait, you’re okay? Do you know how long this thing lasts?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Wow. A truth serum, huh? So, that means… hmm. I wonder…”
“Hmm?”
Sylvain’s smirk grew to an almost evil, scheming extent. Byleth swore that she could see a glint in his eyes. “Professor… what’re you thinking about right now?”
“I’m just wondering what you’re implying,” she stated matter-of-factly. There was a twitch in her gut, like an internal, unwitting reaction to the way her red-headed student was positioning himself. “I’m honestly a little scared.”
“Scared? What, of me? Aw, come on, Professor,” he swatted away, nonchalant. “You’ve known me for months now, I wouldn’t do that sort of thing to you, would I? I just wanted to know how you’re feeling - from your face, I just wasn’t sure, that’s all.”
“Didn’t I already answer that? I feel great.”
“I see. So, would you say that you’re better already?”
“Well… maybe not entirely. Dimitri did say that I-”
“I mean like, besides what His Highness thinks. Do you feel better enough to, I dunno, get out of bed, start going about your daily business and starting class as usual?”
“Well…” She pursed her lips, her cerulean eyes drifting away. “I’d probably need some rest.”
“But didn’t you say you felt great? Or are you just… Professor, you’re not telling me you’re irresponsible, are you?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what it is.”
“Then…” Sylvain pouted, inching closer to the edge of the bedside. “Then… Is it because you don’t… like us?”
“What?? No.” She rebutted, now defensive. “What would make you think that?”
“I dunno, I mean… I was just not sure - after all, you got plopped in here as our professor not that long ago, and I don’t know if you were… unsatisfied, with it. Maybe it’s just me, I don’t know, but if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t know how weirded out I would be about the whole thing.”
“Sylvain, you’re mistaken. I wouldn’t have taken this position if I didn’t want to.”
“So… you are, okay with -... with the church?”
“Yes, I don’t see any reason to be - well, against them.”
“Okay… but you like all the students here? Anyone in particular that you dislike?”
“I - well, I wouldn’t go so far as to use that word… there are a couple of students I care for less than others, but I wouldn’t want to name them…”
“Are any of them in the Lions?”
“No.”
“Phew. I was afraid that… you know, after all this time, we might come off as…”
“No, Sylvain. All of you are a wonderful bunch to teach. I appreciate that you guys have such excellent camaraderie, you all treat each other and other people with such an astute, genuine kindness.”
“Even… me?”
“I wish you would take the hint and back off from me sometimes, but… even if you don’t show it, you’re a lot smarter, efficient at fighting, and caring than you make out to be.”
“I-.... well, I’ll take it,” he relented softly. “What about the others? Like His Highness?”
“Um…” She could feel her cheeks heat up, and she diverted her glance again. “Well… um -... … next?”
“‘Next’?” He repeated, almost incredulous. “You hate him that much?”
“H-huh? No! Absolutely not.”
“Then why the aversion?”
“I mean… I’d… I’d be lying if my feelings about him are the most complicated amongst you guys.”
“In that?”
“In that..” She bit her lower lip.
“Oh, so it’s more like, a love-hate thing?”
“There’s no hate. Not in the slightest.”
“So only love? You… love His Highness?”
“Yes. I mean! No, - I mean, I … obviously have only positive sentiments for him, but…”
“Professor! I had no idea.” Sylvain’s voice rose several decibels higher, and the glint that glimmered off his white teeth was unmistakably luminous in delight as it was shadowed in mischief. “Why didn’t you just say so! You’re in love with His Highness?”
“Shh!” Byleth almost jolted forward as she put her index finger on Sylvain’s lips. “Not so loud, okay? I … honestly have unresolved feelings, about it all. I like him for sure, but I don’t know it is so far as to be… you know, unconditional love… to that extent.”
“But you like him! Wow, Professor, I- feel oddly happy for you. Maybe it’s because it’s Highness, heh. Have you told him yet?”
“Obviously not. I don’t want to talk to him about it until I’ve figured it out.”
“What’ve you left to figure out? I think he should know.”
“But…”
“Tell me Professor,” Sylvain said, leaning forward, his topaz irises suddenly filled with determination. “What… is there something you like and dislike about His Highness? You have to give me the deets.”
“There’s no ‘deets’ to share,” Byleth said, using her fingers in air quotations in dismissal. “Well… I mean, I don’t really dislike that many things about him. Maybe that he can be a little bit… uptight? Like too restrained maybe. But I wouldn’t really say that’s necessarily bad. On the other hand, he’s polite, he’s patient, he’s determined, he’s… extremely good looking, he is everything a gentleman should be, I enjoy his company a lot, he’s very caring and gentle when he wants to be…”
“And would you consider telling him this?”
“No! I… I don’t think enough time has elapsed… I mean, I wouldn’t be repelled by the idea of … us being together, but- … I would rather let time go by and see where the winds take me…”
“And if the winds take you in some place else? Wouldn’t you regret not at least giving it a shot?”
“Perhaps. But isn’t that something that - you know, come what may, so be it?”
“Will you be singing that same tune if that were to happen?”
“...I would think so.”
“I disagree, Professor. With all due respect. If you just don’t let him know, and something… happens, don’t you think you’d regret remaining silent?”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t regret disclosing my feelings when I don’t know anything about it?” Byleth furrowed her brow.
“I didn’t say anything about saying anything now.” Sylvain put his hands up weakly and emotionlessly into the air. “I’m just saying that the longer you keep something like this to yourself… the more likely it would be that you might just… I mean, okay.” He shook his head, unwilling to finish his train of thought. “I don’t want to be a negative Nancy here or whatever. I’m just saying, you never know if he thinks the same way.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“No harm done,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Ingrid’s still my friend even after all these years, for example.”
“I get the feeling she might be the exception to the rule instead of the rule itself.”
“Oh come on, Professor, His Highness isn’t like that. We’re always friends anyway. And - you know, honestly Professor, we’re all here for you. If you like him - well, at least even I would be all for it. There might be some benefit to letting him know, better sooner than later. After all, the truth should always triumph over eternal concealment, doesn't it? You never know if the chance to tell him just disappears forever, and when it does...”
“Well…"
The two started back into attention upon hearing the door knocking. “Professor?” Dimitri’s voice calls from behind the door.
“Y-... Yeah, come in, Dimitri.”
The Faerghus heir entered and set the medicinal flask on her nightstand. He paused, and then looked down.
“Sylvain! Sylvain. How long- how long have you been here? D-don’t you know it’s rude to barge in on a lady’s quarters without her permission?”
“Permission was already granted, Your Highness. Besides, I was just about to take my leave,” he remarked, grinning.
“I hope you haven’t been imbuing your -... indecent ideas, to the Professor, Sylvain.”
“Don’t worry, Dimitri,” Byleth reassured. “He wasn’t. We weren’t talking much at all, even.”
“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow at both of them. Sylvain squinted at Byleth, rolling over a completely different thing in his head.
“Yes…” Sylvain mouthed aloud, pursing his lips in a thin line before rising to his feet. “I guess I’ll take my leave then. Get well soon, then, Professor?”
“I’ll do my best,” Byleth said, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Sylvain.”
“Your Highness,” Sylvain bode to Dimitri as his farewell, before walking towards the exit. He took a quick glance back, his strides measured and almost tentative, before he made his leave.
There was something about Dimitri that Byleth couldn’t quite make out - an expression of worry, of a strange hesitation or dilemma that was whirling around his head almost tangibly. It troubled her just to see him troubled, and she kept furrowing her brow, until she opened her mouth.
“Professor, your medicine?”
“Dimitri, are you okay?”
“What? Oh. I’m completely fine, Professor. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I mean. I just thought you looked… off. Are you feeling unwell?”
“No, Professor, thank you for asking. Anyway, your medicine? I’ve checked the label this time, it should be good.”
She obeyed him, popping the flask open and putting the lip of the flask to her mouth. She winced as the bitter liquid slithered down her gullet, shutting her eyes tighter as her taste buds objected as much as they could. She let out a sound of disgust as she put the empty flask aside. “I hate that.”
“I’m sorry,” Dimitri empathized, dipping a towel into the basin.
“You have no reason to be,” she stated, shutting her eyes to let him wipe it over her face. She exhaled in relief to feel the cool, wet cloth wipe over her forehead, over her cheeks, and over her lips, feeling his touch lighten in force for the latter. She tried to restrain it, but her imagination got the better of her, and visions of projecting Dimitri’s face, his skin hot and flushed, over the towel gently careening her… the delicate feeling of his cheeks touching hers… and even his lips over…
“Okay, Professor,” he announced, snapping her out of her trance. “Mercedes said that the effects will last at most a day, but that there’s nothing poisonous nor should there be any side-effects in it as far as she can tell. And… you look better, so I’ll leave you to rest now, if that’s okay? Or would you like me to stay a while more?”
She weighed her options, staring into the distance contemplatively, before answering with a smile so delightful she knew he couldn’t resist. “Stay.”
He sighed. “Alright, sure thing.”
“Good boy.”
“I-I’m almost 18, Professor.”
She giggled pleasantly. “Good night, Dimitri.”
“Good night, Professor.” His instinct was the only thing guiding him as he rose a little bit, reaching towards her as he pressed his lips against her forehead. Only a split second after, his eyes widened in shock, and he jolted back to assess her reaction. She eyed him with the same level of stymie, but he could not register any disgust or lack of consent in her eyes. What had he done? How stupid could he be?
“I’m sorry, Professor, I-”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, shutting her eyes in preparation to head into slumber. “I did say I wanted a goodnight kiss after all, didn’t I? Don’t worry about it.”
Dimitri paused, gulping, as if waiting for an explosion that would never happen. He eyed her nervously, as she laid motionless, her chest rising and falling slowly as she breathed. Was she finally asleep? Had this awkward moment passed by successfully? He had no way to gauge for sure, but he was sure that the answer would not change over these next few minutes.
He reached for a bag next to her desk, and brought out some papers and a pen. He would spend the next hour or so doing his written assignments, knowing that Felix and Ingrid had already started without him and will do so for the rest of the day. But before that, he took a look at Byleth’s face, serene and peaceful, content and beautiful.
Before Byleth drifted off into sleep, she could feel Dimitri’s face bury itself into her hair, the tip of his nose brushing against her face, as he inhaled briefly before pulling away. And while she would not rule out the possibility of her illness or the medicine or her sleepiness from distorting her memory, she swore she had made out the words escape from Dimitri’s lips:
“Love you too, Professor.”
Better sooner than later, she could only tell herself.