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Himmel has always known, to some extent, that Frieren is incapable of returning his feelings.
Still, he finds himself clinging to the naïve hope that he could be the one exception—the dashing hero who tears down the walls of stone encasing her heart and opens her up to a love she had long-since given up on. Some days, it really feels as if she’s opening up to him in the way he longs for. She holds his gaze and allows him to tangle their fingers together. She looks at him with interest shining in her eyes, and if he squints, he can imagine that’s the same thing as love.
She keeps the ring, too. She doesn’t wear it all the time, but she always has it with her. She’ll bring it out and roll it around between her fingers, staring at it like she’s trying to decipher its meaning. Himmel watches in silence, not wanting to shatter the moment by interrupting.
He believes that maybe, if Frieren holds onto the ring long enough, she’ll grow attached to it. And if she loves the ring, maybe she’ll love the man who gave it to her as well.
So Himmel observes. The dying firelight illuminates Frieren’s hands, coloring her skin golden. The bushes around them buzz softly with the chirp of insects, and somewhere far above, an owl cries out. Much to his surprise, Himmel has grown to enjoy these quiet moments after nightfall, when their companions are sleeping (or passed out, in Heiter’s case), leaving only him and Frieren awake. There are no pretenses here—Himmel does not have to be the great hero who will defeat the Demon King; he does not have to put on a brave face. Not when Frieren already knows the truth.
Not when she has been able to see straight through him from the very first day they met.
It’s one of the many things that makes Himmel love her so dearly. She has never been enchanted by his theatrics or his handsome face, unlike everyone else he comes into contact with. It’s as if she cannot even see his outer shell, instead peering directly into his soul and judging him for that alone. He’s never met someone like that before.
He’s never met someone interested in looking past the surface. After all, who would want to see what exists behind the unshakeable hero?
Frieren glances up, meeting his stare. She tilts her head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. If he thought he could get away with it, he would lean closer, smooth the crease between her eyes with his thumb, and leave a soft kiss in the wake of his touch. But he knows she will push him away if he gets too close, if he gets too intimate. There is a line drawn between them which Himmel cannot cross, though sometimes she allows him to toe it. He isn’t sure if it’s pity, kindness, or a blossoming love.
He hopes it’s the latter, but he knows it’s one of the first two.
He quirks his lips up in a charming smirk that would have any other woman and a great many men falling to his feet. But Frieren only continues looking at him with the same vaguely baffled expression on her face. She holds his gaze for another several beats, then turns away and begins preparing herself to sleep.
And Himmel watches, heart quietly aching with want.
It’s an open secret, how he feels for Frieren.
He won’t confess in so many words, but he’s aware both Heiter and Eisen know full well that he has fallen hopelessly in love. He thinks, it’s likely that Frieren knows, too. She feigns ignorance, but he has made it abundantly clear to anyone who spends even an hour in his presence. Even the strangers they meet on their journey can tell he only has eyes for her.
Frieren, however, never takes the bait he lays out.
Time and time again, he lays his heart out for her to have. And each time, she picks it up only to slot it back into his chest, never desiring to hold it in her hands despite the fact that it belongs to her alone. She acts like she believes it’s an accident, but she handles Himmel’s heart with too much care for that to be the truth.
She loves him in some way, though not the way Himmel would like.
He presses a flower to the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around the stem and pairing the gift with a fond smile. He’s been told he wears his heart on his sleeve, so he is certain Eisen and Heiter both see him for the lovesick fool he is at the moment. But Frieren’s expression betrays no indication that she can see the love shining clear as day on his face.
“What’s this for?” she asks.
“It’s for you. Obviously.”
Her brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because it’s pretty!” Himmel pats the top of her head, and her face scrunches up in that cute way it does whenever someone touches her like this. She ducks away from him as he finishes his explanation with, “Just like you.”
Frieren hums. She brings the flower to her nose, breathing in the scent. Her eyes fall shut, and the smallest of smiles graces her features. Himmel’s heart pounds violently, painfully, in his chest. He commits the sight to memory, as he does whenever Frieren drops her nonchalance and allows her true emotions to shine through. It may not be love, but it is something Himmel treasures all the same.
He vows that for as long as he lives, he will not forget the rare and beautiful sight of Frieren’s smile.
“It’s nice,” Frieren acquiesces, glancing up to meet his eyes.
Warmth floods through Himmel’s veins.
He considers telling her outright more times than he can count, but ultimately, he can never make himself say it aloud. He knows her response will be a rejection, but if he never confesses, he will never hear her voice letting him down, and so, he can pretend there could be a happy ending for the two of them. If he never admits that he is in love to Frieren’s face, she will never admit to him that she does not and never will feel the same. Which means Himmel can continue living in a land of fantasy where reciprocation is possible.
He prefers the uncertain in-between, even if any hope he clings to is empty.
“I don’t understand,” Heiter admits to him one night while they are the only two awake. He’s nursing a bottle of booze from the last town they stopped in. There’s a good chance he won’t even remember this conversation in the morning. “Why are you stringing yourself along?”
“I’m not,” Himmel answers easily, eyes fixed on Frieren’s sleeping form. She’s splayed out on top of her bedroll, snoring softly, the silver moonlight catching on her hair. It’s one of the most lovely sights Himmel has ever seen. “I don’t mind the way things are between us.”
Heiter squints at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You…don’t?”
Himmel shakes his head. “Not at all.”
He longs for Frieren to return his feelings, and there are times when he physically aches with the weight of a love left unreturned. But he cherishes the friendship he and Frieren have built too, and he would never risk destroying that for the sake of a confession he knows will get him nowhere. He will not force her to love him; he cares about her too deeply to even entertain such an idea.
“If she falls in love with me one day, I will be here, waiting,” Himmel says. “But even if she is entirely unable to feel the same, I could never resent her for it. I will love her until my dying day, and I will be content to receive whatever affection she is capable of giving me in return. All I ask from her is that she lets me love her.”
“That sounds sad,” Heiter mumbles. With a sigh, he slumps against Himmel’s shoulder. “But I’m a priest. What do I know?”
“It may be sad for some,” Himmel agrees. He cannot deny he’s known many men who grow vengeful in the wake of rejection, but he can’t imagine that for himself. If they truly loved the women they lusted after, they would never wish pain on them. To Himmel, love is not something that can be squandered by rejection. If being turned down incites rage, the preceding feeling was not love at all. “I don’t find it sad myself, though.” He alleviates the empty bottle from Heiter’s hand, setting it aside.
“Why not?”
Himmel smiles. “I count myself lucky to have even met Frieren. Loving her is a privilege in and of itself.”