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Dedue has never been easy to have a conversation with, but that doesn't stop her from coming to the greenhouse at least once a day to see if he'll be there. Sometimes he speaks to her, sometimes he's silent as he tenderly prunes any excess leaves, checks on the roots, brushes away any aphids and sends any ladybugs flying away so they won't make a meal of the Duscur flowers he works so hard to cultivate.
He's not easy to talk to, and Byleth is well aware of the irony. She remembers very well how unnerved Dimitri was by her lack of emotion after they won the first mock battle, and later how excited he was when she smiled with relief at Flayn's safety. People still tell her she's hard to read, mysterious, sometimes even intimidating.
Maybe that's why she finds herself drawn to Dedue, conversational difficulties aside.
"Your reputation is going to take a beating if you continue to seek me out," he tells her, just like he does every time he finds her in the greenhouse, or she invites him to eat with her, or she tries to talk to him anywhere outside the classroom. She understands why he believes it, but she personally does not.
"Unless Lady Rhea or Seteth says anything I'm going to assume otherwise." As much as some of the knights and the monks badmouth and complain about Dedue (she'd still like to deck the one who accused him of abducting Flayn), she has yet to be reprimanded or given any warnings. "Why shouldn't I spend time with my students outside of class?"
"Because this is not the same as Annette having tea with Professor Hanneman," he says. "Surely by now you've learned enough about the Tragedy of Duscur to understand."
"Not everything. But I know you, and I know you're a person I want to spend time with." She examines the leaves of a sunflower, suddenly frowning. "I think the cabbage worms may be snacking behind our backs," she murmurs. Dedue looks over her shoulder, shaking his head.
"Cabbage worms would have left bigger holes than this," he explains. "Nibbles left by aphids can easily be fixed. All we have to do is plant a few batches of sour herbs to keep the bugs away, and the wounds will heal on their own." He turns to her. "Would you like to help?"
Her cheeks going warm, she nods a bit more eagerly than she means to.
"Lead the way."
He's slightly more talkative when they're working; commenting on how her gardening skills have improved since she first came here and planted the seeds he gave her, telling her anything she still needs to know, gently correcting her mistakes, explaining what to look for and how to tell if a plant is in serious danger or just needs a little more care.
"That should be enough," he says once the last of the seeds are watered. "Most greenhouse pests can't stand the scent of these herbs. As for the threat of cabbage worms, we're not likely to get any as long as we're growing onions and lavender."
"You know so much." She feels a strange sensation where her still heart rests. "I can only imagine how well cared for your gardens in Duscur were." He doesn't answer, and she wonders if she said the wrong thing. But before she can apologize, his face softens ever so slightly...and the line of his mouth curves slightly upward.
"They were, but even our best cared for gardens paled in comparison to the fields of wildflowers that grew outside my village," he says. "Those did not need tending, but sometimes I would anyway. Even wild plant life appreciates a little care now and then."
"Ah..." She relaxes, feeling her own lips turn up at the corners. "I can see that. I never had much time to think about wild plant life, but..."
But when he talks about it, with such gentle authority and bright eyes and that look on his face, she could listen all day.
"You have certainly taken more of a shine to it since coming here." Her cheeks heat up again.
"I have more of a reason now...that is, I'm an employee here, and I want to help out wherever I can," she says, even though the only place she feels more at home and excited to visit than the greenhouse is the kitchen, and it's because he's more likely to be there.
His smile grows, very slightly.
"I usually prefer to work alone and avoid conversation," he says, "but I suppose I can make an exception." He pauses. "You have a very nice smile, by the way. I do not believe I've ever seen it until now." The warmth in her face spreads to her chest.
I could say the same about you.
"I'm glad I can be the exception, then."
Later, when she comes to check on the sunflower, it's grown a few inches and is even more vibrant than it was that morning.