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As he awakes, Caspar barely has time to process why his whole body aches and recognize the familiar medicinal scent of the infirmary, because the second his eyes flicker open, he gets the sight of Professor Manuela’s huge breasts hanging right in his face, and Caspar chuckles awkwardly.
“Ah, so you’re finally awake,” she says, and shoves a thermometer under Caspar’s tongue so fast he doesn’t notice until the cold glass clinks against his teeth. Ignoring Caspar’s mumbled cries of protest, Manuela smiles down at him as she continues, “I wasn’t sure how long the medicine was going to keep you unconscious for, ‘cause I usually don’t use it on such small patients—”
“I’m not small!” Caspar tries to yell, but just splutters around the thermometer, sending spit dribbling out of the corners of his mouth.
Manuela’s smile broadens (she’s totally teasing him about being short, and he hates it), and she opens her mouth to say something else when the infirmary door swings open. Caspar can’t see from here, but Manuela’s flirty cry of, “Oh, hello, Professor,” tells him all he needs to know. “Perfect timing.”
“Is he awake?” Professor Byleth asks, footsteps signaling their approach.
“Yeah, and he’s already being a difficult patient,” Manuela says, holding down the thermometer when Caspar tries to spit it out to argue back.
Byleth chuckles, moving to stand at the other side of the bed. They stare down at him, and sigh. “How are you feeling, Caspar?”
Finally, Manuela pulls the spit-coated thermometer out of his mouth, allowing Caspar to speak for the first time. “I’d be better if I wasn’t trapped in here with her.”
“Hey, watch it, you little—”
“Manuela,” Byleth says, cutting Manuela off before she can curse at Caspar. Manuela sighs and stalks off, muttering something about writing his temperature on a chart, and leaves Caspar and Byleth relatively alone. “So, how do you really feel?”
Caspar shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno. Achy. Tired. Can’t remember why I woke up in here.”
“Temporary amnesia is a known side effect of the sedative,” Manuela calls from across the room. “Should wear off in a few hours.”
“Well, in the meantime… would you like to know what happened?” Byleth says, their expression suddenly more serious than their usual blank one.
“Uh… I guess?” Caspar says, his Professor’s face making him a bit uneasy.
“I took your class on a mission to deal with some bandits, nothing unusual. However, the bandits had their hands on a ballista, and… you saw Ashe about to get hit, and knocked him down to take the impact instead.” For a moment, Byleth closes their eyes, before continuing, “The ballista got a critical hit and you went down, hard. Linhardt was the closest healer and he managed to fix most of your injuries before I got there, but even then… you were unconscious and bleeding profusely from a severely fractured arm. It was… distressing for everyone involved.”
Caspar blinks, stunned. That can’t be right. Can it?
But, then again, he can think of no reason for the Professor to lie to him, and Manuela did say his memory will be screwed up for a while, so…
“I scared everyone?” he whispers, and something squeezes in his chest.
The Professor nods. “Yes. I know that Edelgard and Hubert want to chastise you for, and I quote, ‘putting the mission at risk’, but I have asked them to wait until you feel better.”
Caspar grimaces, already imagining the endless rant from his House leader (complete with regular passive-aggressive quips from Hubert, from right beside her) that will definitely come in the near future. “Um, thanks for that, Professor. Really.”
“It was Professor Manuela’s idea,” Byleth says. “Apparently, she detests shouting in her infirmary.”
“And with you three, it will almost certainly come to that,” Manuela chips in. And Caspar has no argument against that; if Edelgard and Hubert come to yell at him for protecting his boyfriend, Caspar will totally end up yelling back, leading to a massive argument.
“Professor…” Caspar says, the sharp drop in volume puzzling Byleth enough to make them lean forwards. “H-How are Ashe and Linhardt?”
Byleth shares a look with Manuela, before speaking to him again. “Distressed. Given their relationship with you, I gave them permission to skip afternoon classes, and I think they have been Linhardt’s dorm room since then. This morning, when we brought you back to Garreg Mach, Ashe spent a lot of time crying, and Linhardt got nauseated and passed out from dealing with your very bloody wound.”
Caspar grits his jaw and lets out a long, slow sigh. When Byleth said he worried his boyfriends, he never thought they’d get this messed up at the sight of him injured. He wants to kick himself for upsetting them, but he’s still too achy to move.
“Professor, can I see them?” he asks, swallowing hard when a stupid lump appears in his throat.
“Of course. I’ll get them myself,” Byleth says, standing up. “And, please try not to annoy Manuela. She spent hours fixing you up with spells, medicines and other things I have never heard of. She was covered in your blood by the time she finished. So… be patient with her, please.”
Caspar’s eyes widen. “I… I didn’t know.” Although Manuela is always so rude and often drunk when he ends up in the infirmary for minor injuries, it never occurred to him how hard Manuela must have worked to patch him up after this whole disaster. And so, even though apologies have never been a part of his vocabulary, Caspar sighs, looks straight at her and says with as much sincerity as he can, “I’m really sorry, Professor Manuela. I had no idea.”
Manuela sighs, walking towards him as Byleth takes their leave without another word. “It’s okay. I know I’ve never had the best bedside manner, but…” She turns her head, and Caspar swears he sees tears in her eyes before she blinks them away. “I haven’t seen injuries like yours in years, Caspar. I… when the Professor and Hubert carried you in here, and I saw your shirt drenched in blood and that hideous wound barely held closed by makeshift bandages and the healing magic your classmates used on you… I told the Professor straight to their face that… there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to save you.” Manuela swallows hard and forces herself to smile. “But I’m so glad I did.”
Caspar gulps, unused to such raw emotions from a person like Manuela. And despite his voice trembling more than he had hoped, he nods as he says, “So am I, Professor.”
---
Linhardt lies on his side on his bed, slightly squashed with Ashe crammed in beside him, but he doesn’t complain. He just lies there, fingers idly stroking Ashe’s soft hair as Ashe snuggles into Linhardt’s chest, and listening to Ashe’s shaky breaths despite the tears having long dried up.
For the first time in his life, Linhardt doesn’t want to have a nap. After getting pulled out of afternoon classes, he and Ashe have been in his room for hours, but not once has Linhardt felt like sleeping. How can he sleep when he keeps seeing Caspar crumpled in a bloody heap whenever he closes his eyes?
No! He must stop thinking about that before the nausea comes back. He has already fainted once today, and his head cannot take that again.
A knock on the door startles them, and Ashe jumps out of bed and hurtles over to the door before Linhardt has even sat up. Taking a moment to scrub the drying tears from his face (not that it does anything to stop his eyes being so red and puffy), Ashe flings the door open, and beams as he says, “Professor!”
Yawning, Linhardt climbs out of bed and wanders over, nodding at his Professor when they notice him. “Hello, Professor.”
“Is Caspar okay?!” Ashe cries.
Byleth nods. “Yes, he’s doing well. In fact, you two have been given permission to visit him, if you—”
“Thank you, Professor!” Ashe says, so much pent-up nervous energy bursting out of him as he cuts their Professor off.
“We would love that, Professor,” Linhardt says, putting a hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
---
He didn’t cry when Caspar screamed and collapsed, he didn’t cry as he tried to fix his wounds despite his fear of blood, and he didn’t cry when Manuela gasped at the sight of Caspar and kicked him and Ashe out of the infirmary to tend to their boyfriend, but the sight of Caspar lying in his infirmary bed, clearly exhausted but beaming at them both, is enough for Linhardt’s eyes to fill with tears. There is no blood, and the formally mangled arm sits beneath a crisp white sling, so it must be finally seeing Caspar safe and grinning like his normal self that sends the rare wave of emotions smashing over Linhardt. But whatever the cause, Linhardt finds himself desperately holding the tears back and stood frozen in the doorway, unsure what to do next.
Ashe, on the other hand, simply hurtles over to Caspar without hesitation. He collapses into a chair at Caspar’s bedside and clasps his good hand, squeezing like he cannot let go. “Caspar, how do you feel?”
Caspar grins awkwardly, obviously noticing Ashe’s pink, puffy eyes from crying. “Uh, much better, man. The painkiller Professor Manuela gave me means I can barely feel my arm, and, um, until it wears off, I can’t even remember what happened. But… Professor Byleth told me. About what I did. And… I’m so, so sorry, Ashe.”
“Why’re you apologizing?” Ashe asks, his lip trembling.
“Because it was stupid,” Caspar says, and he stares over at Linhardt. “Right, Linhardt?”
Finally remembering how to move, Linhardt nods and approaches. “In hindsight, yes… it was an unnecessary maneuver. With Ashe’s position amongst the trees, it was very unlikely to hit him in the first place.”
“Y-Yeah, that’s what the Professor said,” Caspar says, giving them a pathetic attempt at a sheepish smile. “So… I’m sorry.”
Ashe sniffs, tears in his eyes all over again. “I… I know you were looking out for me, and… I’m glad you care so much to take risks like that. But… please don’t do that again, Caspar,” Ashe says, voice breaking as the tears spill over. “I couldn’t bear it if you died! I just couldn’t!”
“Oh shit, please don’t cry!” Caspar says. “Please…”
Realizing Caspar wants to hug Ashe but cannot with his arm bound, Linhardt steps closer and hugs Ashe from behind, resting his chin atop his hair. Ashe shudders and cries even harder, and Linhardt’s eyes burn with the effort of holding his own tears back. Which is when it occurs to him: as much as crying exhausts him, holding back tears is even worse. So he just lets go, crying silently as he holds Ashe close.
“I know it d-doesn’t seem it, but…” Linhardt swallows and smiles through the tears. “I love you, Caspar, and…”
“Sh-Shit, now you’re gonna make me cry too, you bastard,” Caspar says, voice hitching as he sees Linhardt crying and lets their words sink in. He sniffs, eyes sparkling. “I’m so sorry I scared you, guys…”
And, for the first time in the decade they have know each other, Linhardt can tell that this apology is sincere.