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Dimitri almost has a heart attack at the sight; a pile of books tall enough to bury a man coming around the corner. The black boots that support the weight are familiar, though.
“Professor! Are you alright? Y-you have quite the load there.”
Byleth stops at the sound of his voice, but since there are simply too many books in the way, he can’t quite take a look at Dimitri’s face. He can’t see anything in front of him, which is already dangerous in itself.
“Dimitri.”
Since it’s pretty much useless to try to make eye contact like this, Dimitri takes a step closer and carefully gets a hold of half the pile.
“Here, let me give you a hand.”
Byleth’s vibrant green eyes look at him over the rim of books, calm as always. Dimitri’s weak heart skips a beat, so he forces himself not to be weird about it and shows the professor a smile.
“These are a bit heavy,” Byleth warns, and Dimitri can’t help but chuckle at this, genuinely finding it funny.
“Please, do not worry about that. It would be rude of me to stand and watch you struggle like this anyway.”
Besides, even if he might not say it aloud, Dimitri is quite certain that he won’t break a sweat carrying all, let alone half, of these books. He takes some more off the professor’s hands and piles them up on top of the others already in his hold, until the man’s whole face is visible. He doesn’t appear particularly tired, but he nods either way, thankful.
Once Dimitri is certain he won’t lose balance and slip, he asks, genuinely curious, “What are all of these, anyway?”
“I’m just doing some research. Accompany me to the library?”
“Of course, Professor. Lead the way, I will be right behind you.”
They fall into step easily and, as expected, Dimitri has no problem handling the frankly concerning amount of tomes Byleth is intending to read.
“Did you get these from Seteth?” he asks, noticing they are rather thick to be light readings one could find elsewhere. “One would think he’d offer some help carrying them.”
It’s getting a bit late beyond the big windows, the sky already morphing from blue to pinks and oranges, shreds of clouds moving lazily with the breeze.
“It’s not much distance from his office, so he probably didn’t think it necessary,” Byleth muses, silently greeting a nun that walks by.
Dimitri begs to disagree, but he knows better than to speak out. The professor isn’t the kind of person to hold people accountable for relying on him a tad too much, so he can only be grateful he ran into him the moment he did and thus was the one to help. It’s not selfish if the goal is someone else’s benefit, right?
Once in the library, he places the books onto one of the tables at the back, deciding that navigating the stairs like this might be an avoidable risk — not that he’d say no if the professor asked.
“Thank you,” Byleth says, setting his books down, too. “You made this much quicker.”
Dimitri feels invigorated just by those words, his good mood spinking immediately.
“It was the least I could do for you. Besides, you always seem to have your hands full here.”
Byleth gives him one of his rare smiles, tiny and easily missable.
“You are very considerate.”
Dimitri blinks, a bit taken aback. He rushes to brush it off.
“I’m not sure if I would go that far. I’m simply trying to be helpful.”
“That is what it means to be considerate.”
The professor reaches up, and Dimitri feels a gloved hand pat the side of his head. The first thing that comes to Dimitri is surprise, since it’s the first time that the professor does something like this for him so casually, or for anyone, as far as he knows. The second is a… nice feeling, similar to how it used to be when his father and Rodrigue did something like this for him when he was much younger. He blushes slightly at the touch, a secluded part of his mind suggesting Byleth is not tall enough to pet the top of his head without having to stand on his tiptoes.
Byleth looks like he doesn’t think much of what he is doing, so Dimitri tells himself he should probably do the same. He lets out a minute laugh, both at the situation and himself.
“Is that so? I appreciate your kind words, Professor.”
Byleth takes a moment to let his eyes scan Dimitri’s face with mild interest. Then, Dimitri feels him gently pinching his cheeks, the rough material of his gloves against his warm skin.
“You are blushing.”
Breath hitching, Dimitri tells himself to swallow before attempting to speak.
“I apologize. I am not used to… well…”
The professor thumbs at Dimitri’s cheekbone, as if he wants to taint the black fabric of his glove with the bright red that must extend all the way to Dimitri’s ears. Dimitri has to desperately hold onto his entire self control so as not to lean into the touch. He does gently grab Byleth’s wrist though, maybe to keep him from pulling away.
“I read a book about this,” Byleth muses, pensive yet with his eyes very much still on Dimitri.
“A-about what, exactly?”
The professor brings a hand back to Dimitri’s hair, fingers slowly carding through it. The prince instinctively sighs in contentment, enjoying the feeling of the professor’s gentle hands on him. His self control is weak like that, because he discovers himself closing his eyes and angling his face towards the caress.
“Reassurance and praise’s role in education.”
Dimitri can’t think for the life of his of a book that covers this kind of thing with teenagers as the recipients, but then again, he can’t really put two thoughts together at all at the moment, so he just nods slowly.
“Is this alright?” Byleth asks, but Dimitri can’t really answer, his voice nowhere to be found.
He is practically melting under the professor's touch. He is not used to receiving affection in the form of physical touch. Or perhaps the most accurate thing to say is that he’s forgotten how it feels at all. How many years has it been? And, well, it coming from the professor, of all people, certainly doesn’t help.
Dimitri hears the professor hum, as if considering something that escapes Dimitri’s knowledge entirely.
“You look like you are about to doze off.”
Dimitri exhales a shaky breath.
“Perhaps I am. Your touch is so relaxing... I feel like I could fall asleep right here and now.”
Byleth takes a step closer. He gently brings Dimitri’s head to rest on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around him, his hand gently running on Dimitri’s nape, where his hair runs the shortest. The prince can feel the exact moment his mind starts going empty. His body instinctively relaxes as he leans against Byleth, and he lets out a content sigh, feeling safe and secure in his embrace, somehow small enough to curl into it and fit like a puzzle piece. He revels in the feeling of the professor's fingers playing with his hair, a shiver running down his spine.
Byleth smells amazing.
They stay like that for an undetermined amount of time. For Dimitri, it feels both like ages and a single second, both long and not enough in the slightest.
“You give wonderful head scratches, Professor,” he mumbles, dragging his words and not thinking much about it.
Byleth’s soft laugh rings close to his ear, the proximity sending vibrations through the boy’s body. Byleth’s voice, low and rich and right there, real, makes Dimitri feel the need to nuzzle into the crook of the professor’s neck.
“I suppose you are my favorite student.”
The prince's heart skips a beat at the words. He feels his face heat up again, but he does not pull away from the professor's embrace.
“Please do not toy with me.”
“I’m not.”
The prince is not sure what to say. He feels a mixture of disbelief, joy, and nervousness all at once. With so many options out there, undeniably better ones, he cannot believe that the professor considers him his favorite student. Has he always thought of him this way?
He lifts his head from the professor's shoulder, only enough to timidly look into his eyes. Having Byleth so close to him emboldens Dimitri to ask, voice barely there, “Am I really your favorite?”
“Does that bother you?”
The prince shakes his head, his expression earnest.
“No, it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I am... honored. To know that you consider me your favorite student... It means a lot to me.”
The professor tucks a lock of blond hair behind Dimitri’s ear, and Dimitri’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in all the details of Byleth's face under the light of the candles around the library— the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, the curve of his mouth, the way his eyes seem to look through him. He swallows hard, trying to quench the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“What are you thinking about?” asks the professor.
Dimitri realizes that he has been staring a little too intently and quickly averts his eyes.
“Ah, it's nothing. Just, um. Admiring your... your eyes.” He clears his throat. “They are a very unique color.”
Byleth blinks, as if taken aback.
“Oh. Do you like it?”
Dimitri looks back at him, and he is struck by that vivid shade of green, the color of a summer forest, the color of the Goddess ripping the sky open. The color of divinity.
“Yes,” he breathes. “It is a beautiful color. It reminds me of the forest we were in the day we met.”
Byleth smiles for him, and Dimitri feels blinded by that smile, as if it burns everything in its way until it deprives him of his eyesight. He feels his heart thrash inside of his chest as he looks at Byleth's expressive face.
“That is a very nice thing to say,” says Byleth. “I hope it’s a compliment, though.”
“Of course it's a compliment. I could never say anything negative about you, Professor.”
Byleth’s lashes lower as he looks away. For some reason, it’s him who appears a tad bashful now.
“You are always so good to me.”
It’s a look to him so refreshing and new that the prince's heart is practically bursting, that pink flush on Byleth's face a whole new reason to get up in the mornings. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch it, to feel the warmth of the professor's skin underneath his fingers. He holds himself back though, afraid of crossing a boundary. His own gloves getting in the way is as good an excuse as any, he figures.
He shakes his head.
“I am only treating you as you deserve to be treated. You are a very special person to me, Professor.”
Byleth nods slowly, as if he doesn’t know what to say.
“So it goes both ways...”
The prince lets out a soft chuckle at the professor's words. He is very fortunate the object of his affections returns some of the fondness, that he feels that candid fire in his chest as well. Dimitri thinks, perhaps for the first time, that he might very well be satisfied with this. If it’s truly all Byleth can give him, then it’s more than enough. Dimitri would be ecstatic about each and every crumb if they all looked like this.
Byleth resumes his light motions on the back of Dimitri’s head. The prince allows it happily, leaning into the touch and feeling his eyelids grow a tad heavy. He feels like a rag doll.
“You are devious,” he sighs, no ill will to it whatsoever, nor the tiniest wish for him to stop.
“You seem to like it,” Byleth argues, with the tone of someone defending himself.
Dimitri’s takes a deep breath, loving how Byleth’s scent envelops him in a protective embrace.
“I do like it, very much so. It feels so nice. But it also makes me blush like a fool, so it can be... a little torturous, I suppose.”
Byleth shakes his head in a gesture that looks awfully fond.
“You are not a fool, Dimitri. You just happen to be very honest.”
The prince feels his cheeks heat up again at the professor's compliment. He wonders if Byleth knows just how much his praise affects him.
“I suppose I am. But it is only because I feel comfortable around you, Professor. You have a way of making me feel at ease, like I can be myself without fear of judgment.”
“You can always be yourself around me. You are enough.”
Dimitri feels a wave of emotions wash over him at that. He knows that he has always struggled with feeling like he’s never been enough when it mattered the most— not good enough, not strong enough, not brave enough. But hearing Byleth say that he is enough, just as he is, means more to him than anything else. He swallows with a bit of difficulty.
“Thank you, Professor. Those words… They mean more to me than you know.”
Byleth nods. The hand at the back of Dimitri’s head withdraws, and then Byleth gives him a squeeze on the arm.
“Thank you again for the help. I should get to work.”
It happens suddenly and just like that— the spell around them is broken. Dimitri is reluctant to step away from the professor, but he knows that he shouldn’t bother him any further, especially when he has so many things on his plate already. Dimitri wants to stay here and watch him work, maybe receive a pet or two sneaked in between the tomes Byleth goes through, but he knows he is being delusional.
He gives the professor a small smile, trying to hide his disappointment at the idea of parting ways.
“Of course, Professor. It was no trouble at all. If you ever need any help again, I am more than happy to lend a hand.”
Byleth does the work for him and takes a step back. Dimitri mourns his body’s warmth and his calming scent right away. Feels a bit anxious at the loss of them.
“In the same way, know that I am always around for you.”
Dimitri nods, touched by the professor's words and forcing himself to focus on them to distract his body from its more basic need.
“I will remember that, Professor. Thank you.”
The prince hesitates for a moment, his eyes roving over the professor's face, as if trying to memorize every detail. Byleth stares right back, patient as ever. Then, Dimitri reluctantly takes a step back as well.
“I suppose I should let you get back to work, then,” he says, taking his hand to his nape, where the ghost of the professor’s gentle touch makes his skin tingle.
“Yeah. Get some rest.”
The prince lets out a small laugh, moved by the professor's concern for his well-being.
“Will do. Have a good evening, Professor.”
Dimitri truly wishes he could stay. He takes one more look at Byleth's face, storing the image in his mind, before reluctantly turning on his heels.
As Dimitri walks down the hallway away from the library, he can't help but feel a sense of longing. He is already missing Byleth's presence and the way it makes him feel. He sighs softly to himself, a hand up his face, reminding himself that he has to keep it together.
With so many things tickling his stomach from the inside, he knows for a fact that attempting to find sleep would be inconceivable, so he visits the training grounds to blow off some steam before heading to bed. Once there, he picks up a training lance and, without no one else around to spar with, the next best thing is to bully a dummy for the next two hours or so.
Later, when it’s dark outside and he is walking back to the dorms, he spots a lonely book on the ground. He stops and picks it up, examining the cover in the dim moonlight. While inspecting it carefully, he tries to recall if he saw anyone reading it earlier or if it belongs to one of his classmates. The handwriting inside is strikingly familiar, and recognition dawns on Dimitri as he realizes that it belongs to the professor. He can't help but feel giddy at the possibility of returning the book right now; it would give him the perfect excuse to see the professor again before bed.
The logical part of his brain tells him he should wait until he sees him in class tomorrow, that he shouldn’t intrude on his work again, especially when it’s already this late. Maybe he is not even at the library anymore, maybe he has already retired to his room for the day. Dimitri knows himself well enough to know how crestfallen he would get if he were to look for the professor at the library only to find it empty, not to mention he shouldn’t even be up by now. He can perfectly picture himself running into Seteth, of all people, given his disastrously poor luck.
Whatever the case, despite his better judgment, his legs carry him towards the library, and his footsteps seem to quicken involuntarily at the thought of seeing the professor again. His heart pounds in his chest, his stomach tightening with nervous anticipation. He truly is beyond salvation, he thinks, getting this excited at the prospect of spending time with Byleth again, even if it is only to return a misplaced book.
When he gets to the library, the room is very quiet. On the table, surrounded by heinous piles of tomes and pergamins, Byleth is using his arms as a makeshift pillow, slumped over as he is, candles flickering around him, guarding his sleep.
Dimitri cannot help but feel a rush of fondness at the sight of the professor having succumbed to sleep in the midst of his work. The dim light of the candles cast shadows on his face, making him look almost angelic. Would it be weird if he remained by the threshold to observe him, for once without the fear of being overbearing or getting interrupted?
Yes, it probably would.
Dimitri feels a pang of guilt at disturbing Byleth's rest, but he approaches quietly, not wanting to startle him. The prince’s eyes go to the rising and falling of Byleth's shoulders as he sleeps. He stands next to him for several long moments, taking in the rare sight of the professor breathing so peacefully, and he takes note of the way Byleth's face looks so much younger and less guarded when he is asleep, the ever-present blank face replaced by a calm, almost childlike expression.
Distractedly, Dimitri condemns his nonexistent skills for the arts, wishing he was dexterous enough to sketch the sight in front of him and keep it with him at all times, or to compose a sonnet for the slumbering goddess and reciting it every night his window to bring his way her blessings upon his dreams.
Which is not weird , per se.
Dimitri startles a little, thinking about this as he is, when Byleth's eyes flutter open for seemingly no motive, not alarmed but clearly alert
Maybe a habit from his mercenary days.
Dimitri stands there for a few moments, feeling a tad awkward at being caught watching the professor sleep. He clears his throat slightly, holding up the book in his hand. He feels guilty already, knowing it was no excuse to wake Byleth over it.
“Professor,” he begins softly either way, figuring he might as well go through with it. “I believe this is yours. I thought I would return it to you.”
Byleth looks up at him and blinks lazily, still drowsy.
“Dimitri…?”
The prince feels a rush of warmth at the sound of his name on Byleth's lips. His voice sounds a tad husky, and hearing the professor say his name like this makes Dimitri’s chest feel very warm. He takes a step closer to the table, holding the book out in front of him.
“Y-Yes, it’s me again. I didn't mean to wake you.”
Byleth takes a deep breath while rubbing at his eyes, something noble folk usually are taught not to do very early on.
“I was even dreaming. How unbecoming.”
The prince can't help but smile at the professor's sleepy reply. Seteth would certainly think that way, but Dimitri doesn't find the sight of Byleth sleeping unbecoming in the slightest— quite the opposite, in fact. But he keeps this thought to himself, not wanting to embarrass the professor further.
“Is that so? What were you dreaming about, Professor?”
Byleth hums.
“You were there.”
Dimitri’s eyes go a bit wide at that. The thought of Byleth dreaming about him makes him feel a strange mix of pleased and flustered. Because if he is being honest, he has not enough fingers in his hands to count the times he’s seen Byleth in his dreams. Most of these dreams are fairly innocent and leave him giddy and staring emptily at the window of his room for minutes on end, but some of them are rather… well, different. Point being, whenever the nightmares feel generous enough to make way for anything else, for anyone else at all, it’s usually the professor. Be it light that bursts from Dimitri’s chest or the heat that dries his throat, the dreams always bring him something he never imagined before.
So now, saying he is curious to know more would be an understatement.
“I was? What was I doing in your dream, Professor?”
Byleth notices he was slumping over one of Seteth’s books, and he swiftly tries, albeit with little success, to return the crumpled page to its original pristine state.
“I can’t remember much, but it was a nice dream.”
The prince's eyes soften at Byleth's words.
“I see,” he says, unable to keep a smile off his lips. ”I'm glad to hear that.”
He pauses for a moment, hesitant to ask more questions but rapidly losing the battle against his own curiosity.
“Can I sit with you for a few minutes, Professor?”
Contrary to Dimitri’s reservations, Byleth nods easily, clearing the space on the table and offering Dimitri the chair next to him. He takes the seat, trying not to show how happy he is to be sitting there and not all the way across the table.
“I hope I'm not disturbing your sleep any more than I already have.”
The professor shakes his head, showing him a little smile.
“It’s not your fault. I should be sleeping in my bed to begin with. The library is more peaceful at night, though, so I often find myself making use of it rather late.”
Dimitri nods in agreement. He knows all too well the appeal of late-night solitude and peace, not to mention the Professor has to face the always challenging task that is balancing his duties with the time his students, including Dimitri, often demand of him. Which is a funny thought, because here he is, yet again. Byleth always puts away his work to indulge his students, and today is no exception.
But he did say that Dimitri was his… favorite, right?
He stops that train of thought before the red of his face betrays him.
“I understand completely,” he says instead. “There is something about the stillness of the night that is almost meditative.”
He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. Byleth tilts his head.
“Is something bothering you?”
The prince hesitates for a moment, wondering how to phrase his next words. He fiddles with the cover of the book in his hands, avoiding the professor's gaze. He knows it might be overstepping a boundary, but he can't help himself. He looks up and meets Byleth's eyes, suddenly feeling a little sheepish.
“Not quite. It's just... I was wondering if I could ask more about your dream, if that is alright. You said I was in it, correct?”
Byleth’s eyebrows raise, but he seems inquisitive rather than affronted.
“Well, yes. What about it?”
Dimitri purses his lips. He hopes that he doesn't come off as too forward or intrusive.
“I was wondering... what I was like in your dream. What was I doing, and... how did it make you feel?”
Byleth frowns a bit, as if trying to pinpoint hazy memories, perhaps untangling weaved threads to make sense of them.
“I can’t recall everything clearly, but…”
Dimitri leans a little closer, his heart beating a tad faster as he awaits the professor's answer. He hangs off every word that comes out of Byleth's mouth, desperate to know what pictures the professor’s mind conjures about him. He understands how hard it can be to remember a dream, how easily it slips through one’s fingers like water even right after waking, but he genuinely hopes Byleth wants to make the effort for him.
“Anything you can remember is fine.”
Byleth takes his time to answer, enough for Dimitri to think twice about how troublesome he is being. He is about to backtrack and apologize when the professor starts recounting, eyes fixed on the book between Dimitri’s hands, albeit absent at the same time.
“We were at war,” he says slowly. “I was traveling with Jeralt, but the Kingdom needed blades for hire so we answered the call.”
Dimitri listens intently to the professor's voice. He can't help but feel a pang of numb sadness at the mention of Jeralt, and even more so at prospect of armed conflict and gratuitous violence, but he keeps quiet, eager to hear what else the dream entailed.
“There was death everywhere and… needless destruction. When we got there, it was your men that came to our encounter, to hire us. You were king.”
The prince's eyes widen in surprise as the professor continues on. To imagine himself as king, in charge of the kingdom and its soldiers, being as immature as he is at the moment, strikes him as completely ludicrous. There is so much for him to learn still before he is ready. He keeps his thoughts to himself.
“Jeralt and I fought for you and your cause,” Byleth makes a pause, in which his gaze comes back up to Dimitri. “You looked bright and beautiful, but as if you were carrying the weight of the world.”
Dimitri’s breath hitches, and Byleth hesitates for a second.
“I couldn’t help but feel… like I wanted to make your burden lighter.”
The prince feels a wave of tenderness crash over him at the professor's words. The idea of Byleth wanting to help alleviate his burden, even if it was just in a dream, makes his heart swell in his chest. Emotions he never seems to be able to control obstruct his throat— gratitude, pure adoration, and a hint of guilt at the thought of troubling the professor even in his dreams.
Byleth looks pensive.
“The details are kind of hazy. But that is the gist of it, more or less.”
The prince shakes his head, dismissive of the professor's apology. He's still trying to process everything, to find something appropriate to say. He swallows the excess of saliva in his mouth, feeling like he’s been running for miles.
“I'm honored that you would think of me in such a way, Professor, words cannot express how—”
“Also we kinda kissed.”
The prince's eyes widen to saucers as the professor casually drops that bomb. He feels his face heat up immediately, turning a bright red that burns his skin from within.
“W-We k-kissed!?” he sputters, mind swimming.
Byleth nods, indifferent.
“I think so, yeah.”
Dimitri can't believe what he's hearing, how nonchalantly Byleth says it, too. The mere thought of him and the professor kissing, even in a fictional world, completely outside of reality, makes him fear he might go into cardiac arrest. Why is the professor dreaming about things like that?
He takes a moment to collect himself before speaking.
“W-What— What exactly happened in the dream? If you're willing to share.”
Byleth presses his lips into a line.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Dimitri quickly shakes his head, desperate to know more. He is going to die if he doesn’t learn more.
“Please, Professor! I want to know what happened. It won't be uncomfortable, I promise.”
Byleth observes him for a silent moment, surely entirely aware of how loud Dimitri’s poor heartbeat is, and then his eyes go up, probably to get the dream to the forefront of his mind again.
“Well, we were in the woods during an expedition, sharing tea. We were lying side by side on a blanket over the grass. There were flowers and a stream, and so much green.”
Dimitri listens intently, imagining the scene playing out in his mind. He pictures the two of them lying on a blanket under the trees, enjoying some snacks and each other's company. He can feel his heart flutter in his chest at the image, wishing he could experience something like that with the professor for real.
“We were talking about war. It was not a happy topic, and you were too deep into your own thoughts.”
Byleth tilts his head, as if observing the scene in his mind’s eyes from a different angle.
“You told me…. it hurt you to look at my face,” he muses, the sound of his voice betraying something underneath, a sorrow that isn’t his but that it’s there all the same. His eyes enthrall Dimitri, holding his soul with his bare hands. “And it was like I could understand what you were feeling, I had… I had the strangest feeling, like I had met you before all that, and I felt that pain in my chest, too.”
Dimitri has to remind himself to breathe. It’s almost bizarre to hear this, like a glimpse into an alternate reality where he and the professor had met under very different circumstances. But they were connected in that world, too, somehow, a thread that bound them so tightly together it was starting to hurt.
Then Byleth’s eyes are on Dimitri, on his lips.
“I felt like I was going to drown in that pain, so I pulled you closer.”
Dimitri feels like he is suffocating. He's on the edge of his seat, waiting to hear what happens next. He doesn’t have to wait long though, because Byleth’s hand finds his nape, just like it did earlier today, making his brain halt in the process. His fingers play with the hair there, his eyes far away, as if seeing something else through Dimitri.
Dimitri can feel goosebumps forming on his skin under the professor's touch. He feels a shiver go up his spine, his heart fighting for a way out of his ribs.
“So I just…”
Byleth pulls him closer, gently, slowly, giving him more than enough time to resist if he wished to. It doesn’t even cross Dimitri’s mind. If anything, he finds his body moving almost on its own accord. His eyes flicker down to the professor’s mouth.
“Then I…”
He can feel his entire body trembling as Byleth’s face comes close to his own, the gush of his breath brushing against his lips. It's like the electric current of Thoron, his skin tingling with anticipation. He can hardly breathe, completely mesmerized by half lidded green eyes.
And all he can do is nod slightly, giving the professor permission to continue.
The kiss that comes is small, quiet, barely a brush of warmth, a butterfly landing gently on Dimitri’s lips. It makes Dimitri’s every sense sing, every fiber of his being frozen in time. It's a brief, soft kiss, the ghost of a moment that feels like it's passed by in an instant. But the sensation of it leaves him reeling, his head spinning.
Dimitri can hardly believe that it happened at all, and when the professor pulls back, leaving him hungry for more, Byleth’s voice is a soft whisper.
“… something like that.”
All Dimitri can manage to respond with is a shaky mumble of his own, a dumb parroting of the professor’s words.
"...Like that..."
Byleth nods, thumbing at the boy’s lips, a little tingling spreading from them outwards, dying him with a new color entirely, completely changed forever.
“That’s it. As far as I can remember.”
He can feel the professor’s thumb caressing his lips, and all he can do is stare at him in amazement, struggling to form a response.
“I... that’s… I…” He trails off, the rest of his thoughts lodged somewhere in his throat. All he can do is gaze at the professor, his heart thundering in his chest.
Byleth gives Dimitri a little smile. He draws back, hand falling to his lap.
The prince can’t help but feel a wave of panic, and he understands then how naive he’s been, thinking he could ever subsist on crumbs alone. He can feel his heart ache, his head swimming with unanswered questions and unfulfilled desires. He’s suddenly very aware of the space between them, separated by a few inches and yet it feels like an entire chasm.
“Is— is that everything?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He is a bit hopeful he is wrong.
Byleth nods.
Dimitri swallows.
“I see,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.
“I’m sorry I brought it up at all.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just— I’m sorry, I guess I was just hoping you’d remember more.” The prince sighs, running a hand through his hair.
Dimitri lets out a breath, trying to collect himself. A clock is ticking somewhere in the room.
“I’m being ridiculous,” he says, trying to dismiss the whole thing, even as he’s still burning inside, “It’s just a dream after all, I shouldn’t be fixating on it.”
Byleth brings a hand to his own face, and a moment passes before Dimitri understands he is covering a blush. His gaze then comes up to Dimitri, green eyes peeking at him from over his fingers.
“Have you ever… had dreams like that, too?”
The question catches Dimitri off guard, mind immediately going to the many times his thoughts have strayed towards the professor late at night, unbidden but ever-present. He’s never admitted these thoughts to anyone, barely even to himself.
Dimitri stutters, trying to come up with a response, struggling to verbalize the tangled web of emotions and feelings swirling around in his whole body.
“It’s alright,” Byleth muses, clearing his throat. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
It’s not that Dimitri doesn’t want to, but rather, he knows most of his dreams concerning the professor are not something meant to be said aloud. A kiss is something way more pure that the fantasies Dimitri’s tired brain comes up with when he is alone in bed.
“It’s just very embarrassing,” he says, his voice shaky and uncertain, his eyes flickering up to meet the professor’s gaze. “I’d rather keep the contents to myself for the time being.”
“So you have had them.”
“Y-yes. Quite a few times.”
Dimitri knows he should just play dumb, not burden the professor with his own confused, intense emotions, but at the same time he can’t help the part of him that yearns to confide in him, just like Byleth himself just did, to perhaps… let his feelings free. It wouldn’t be fair, right? To have listened to Byleth’s dream without sharing something private of his own?
Byleth hums, seemingly to bring the topic to a close, but he still looks curious and, worst of all, a bit disappointed.
Frantically, Dimitri mentally goes over the myriad of dreams that have given him a reason to want to go to bed at the end of the day, if only for the possibility of them occurring again at all. He tries to discard the most, uh, inappropriate fictional storylines in favor of savaging the most innocent ones.
He’s feeling much braver than usual, perhaps because of the intimacy they’d shared during the quiet darkness, so he wants, needs to hold onto this moment.
“Well, I had one where we got married?”
Byleth’s eyes go comically wide.
“We what ?”
Dimitri immediately covers his burning face with both hands, shrinking in his seat. He screwed up.
“Oh, Goddess. I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”
“No, I don’t mind. I just… I never pictured myself getting married,” Byleth admits, his voice coming out softer and more vulnerable than Dimitiri has ever heard it.
“Neither have I,” he rushes to say. Only with you , he leaves out.
Byleth’s eyes are fixed on him, and it’s like he is observing Dimitri under a new light. Somehow, it’s like he just heard Dimitri’s thoughts. That blush powdering his cheeks pink is still there, beautiful and enticing, just as Dimitri has always imagined it.
When the professor speaks again, he does so carefully.
“Do you… want me to marry you?”
“Y-yes!” Dimitri almost shouts, then, “I mean, no?” He cringes. “I-I mean—” He decides he’s better off shutting his mouth altogether. “You think— you think we could stop talking about this? I doubt my heart could take any more.”
Byleth observes him for a while, then huffs. It sounds affectionate, but maybe Dimitri is seeing what he wants to see. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“We should both get some rest.” Says the professor. “Help me one last time? With the books?”
Part of Dimitri wants to resist the suggestion, to stay here a bit longer and keep talking, but the more logical part of him knows the professor is right. It’s late, and they both should get some rest.
An d he feels like he’s trembling, like his whole body is buzzing with nervous energy. Perhaps a tactical retreat might be in order.
They return the books to a semblance of order on the table, knowing the first thing the librarian will do when they get back in the morning is just that. Byleth says he told them beforehand that he’d leave his consulting material here overnight, so he is not worried about the books magically disappearing next time he visits. Dimitri works in silence, and he is a tad disappointed at thinking that this tiny window into the night, just for the two of them, is about to come to a close.
“Dimitri,” Byleth calls, and the prince’s heart answers.
“Professor?”
“You told me about your nightmares once.”
Byleth takes a step forward, a hand reaching out to play with Dimitri’s hair again. His touch is gentle and almost reverent, as if he is handling something precious and fragile, both things Dimitri wonders what on earth he did to deserve. The prince shivers at the feeling of the professor’s hand on his head as it’s soothing, comforting , like respite from the cold.
He manages to nod, albeit his attention starts to wander a little.
“If dreaming about me brings you some solace,” Byleth says, “I can only hope the memory of me comes to cradle your dreams every night.”
Dimitri sighs, content, nearly floating. What a sweet thought.
“Thank you, Professor.”
There is a pause, in which Dimitri wishes he could simply fall asleep right here, with that loving touch and Byleth’s voice lullabying him into a pleasant rest.
But, there is something else Dimitri wants to ask before the intention gets lost among so much cotton stuffing his head.
“Do you think… you could tell me more about your own dreams? Sometime?”
Byleth nods, smiling.
“Yeah, sure.”
Dimitri goes back to his room that night feeling like his body is not touching the ground, the breeze fresh filling his lungs and caressing his warm face.
He isn’t visited in dreams, not by the ghosts nor by anyone else, but as the birds chirp outside next morning and he slowly rouses, taking the first deep breath of the day, the memory of Byleth kissing him last night assaults him with full force, like a punch in the face that quite literally throws him off the bed.