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Dimitri was always in the cathedral. He stood silent and still as a statue. His eyes remained lowered to stare at the rubble before him, even whenever Byleth walked in front of him. For the first several weeks, Dimitri would growl and sometimes shouted at the man to go away. He often spat out death threats. Everyday, everytime Byleth made his visit to Dimitri, he never once obeyed Dimitri’s demand. The prince eventually grew tired of the other man’s stubbornness and fell silent once more. He could not deny that he did listen to Byleth talk, whether it be about their army or mundane things he had seen or done.
Now, Dimitri has begun staying in Byleth’s room. He either stands and looks out the window or has pulled away the desk’s chair. Either way, he distanced himself as much as possible in the small room from Byleth’s bed. His lance rests against the wall closest to him and not in his hand. Byleth does not remember when or why the prince had moved to his room. Perhaps it was when he told him of the orphans they had taught swordsmanship to, how he had seen them in a town near the monastery. Even after five years, the children and Byleth recognized each other. They had fled once they did. After telling the brief story, Dimitri’s eye had faintly widened, a flicker of remembrance lighting it up. His lips subtly moved, but not enough to have parted them. Byleth still wonders what he wanted to say. He will continue to wait for him to open up.
It was rare for Byleth to spend time in his room, other than for sleeping. Sometimes he does not bother dragging himself back on his most tiring days and instead sleeps wherever he is. He has been found sleeping in his chair in the cardinals’ room, at a desk in the library, curled up in a corner at the training grounds, and on a pew at the cathedral. No matter what strange location he slept, he always found himself back in his room when he awoke. Dimitri’s watchful, shadowed eye blankly stares at him as Byleth prepares himself for the day. The professor thanks him for bringing him back to his room and asks if he needs anything. Dimitri is silent as ever and looks away from him.This was their own routine.
Whenever Byleth went to the dining hall, he made sure to grab a plate with a cheesy meal for Dimitri. At first, he was met with strange and curious looks as he would quickly leave the hall instead of sitting down with his former students. Ashe’s fellow students pushed him to find out why, and he told the other Blue Lions why once he found out. Mercedes and Annette started to give Byleth some sweets to give to Dimitri. He does not have the heart to tell the pair of girls that the prince has not eaten a single one. Before the sweets went bad, Byleth would secretly and guiltily give them to Lysithea or Cyril.
After battles, Dimitri immediately returned to Byleth’s room. A damp towel would always be handed to him as he is told to wash the blood off him. He only does so when Byleth leaves the room. Today, however, Dimitri had been wounded in battle. It was not life-threatening, yet Byleth insisted that he take a look at it. He crossed his arms and waited for Dimitri to take his armor off. The blonde glared at him for a while. He never wins these battles of stubborness, not when Byleth is unblinking with concern in his eyes, and relented.
Dimitri sits in the chair, his upper body bare for Byleth to tend to the stab wound in Dimitri’s shoulder. On the battlefield, Byleth only managed to cast some healing magic on him before Dimitri stalked away, muttering how his efforts were useless. The wound still has some bleeding, but not as much as it could have. Byleth’s hands have a golden glow to them as the flesh is magically stitched back together. He finds it fortunate that Dimitri reacted fast enough to Byleth’s warning cry. The enemy swordsman had approached Dimitri from his blind spot while he was already fighting another enemy. His reaction speed, as well as his armor, prevented the sword from going deeper.
Byleth cleans the area with a washcloth. With another washcloth, he gently scrubs away the blood on Dimitri’s face. His upper lip and nose twitches as if he is going to snarl. Byleth’s own lips twitch into an amused smile at Dimitri holding himself back. He wraps gauze around his shoulder. Truthfully, Byleth is not confident in his faith magic, and he has no way of knowing if Dimitri will somehow strain the old wound and cause it to bleed again.
The professor takes a step back to look at his work. His eyes sweep over Dimitri’s muscular figure. Satisfied with Dimitri’s physical wellbeing, he nods. Dimitri reaches for his torn black shirt.
“Wait,” Byleth calls out. Dimitri stops but does not look at him. “I will get you another shirt later. For now, sit on the bed for me.”
The blonde withdraws his reaching hand and frowns at him now. He searches for malicious intent in Byleth’s eyes and finds none. Mere curiosity makes him stand and move to sit on the bed’s edge. Byleth takes his boots and gloves off, placing the gloves on his pillow. He climbs onto the bed behind Dimitri, kneeling and sitting on the heels of his feet.
Dimitri sharply inhales and tenses at the touch of Byleth’s hands on his back. Byleth mutters his reassurances. Slowly, Dimitri begins to relax as Byleth’s hands knead the tight muscles of his back. Byleth is quick to apologize whenever Dimitri jumps at a particularly stiff area. Soon enough, even those stiff muscles are as loose as the others. His eye has fluttered shut as his mind focuses on Byleth’s warm hands.
Byleth can feel that he no longer needs to massage Dimitri’s sore muscles, yet continues to do so. His hands mindlessly wander on his back to knead and press at wherever they please. He is grateful to have earned enough trust from Dimitri to be able to touch him like this. Happiness swims through him and he hums a song. A song that Sothis had once written and sung by Rhea on the night of the ball, then later when Byleth’s soul merged with Sothis. He adjusts the song’s notes to suit his voice’s pitch.
His humming stops when he lightly traces the scars on Dimitri’s back. They are old and he undoubtedly obtained them during the five years Byleth was gone. His eyebrows knit together as a familiar guilt rises within him. He had stopped wondering “what if’s” a month after being at Dimitri’s side again, yet the guilt never passed.
“I’m sorry for not being at your side when you needed me most.”
As ever, Byleth does not expect a reply from Dimitri. He can only hope that he can hear the honesty in his monotone voice. They sit in silence while Byleth runs his hands up and down Dimitri’s back.
Dimitri clears his throat. Byleth’s movements stopped, as nearly did his breathing.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” Dimitri hoarsely and quietly replies. Months of unsaid words and pent-up emotions spilled into his voice.
Byleth slowly slips his arms around Dimitri’s bare waist. He tenses at first, then relaxes once more into his touch. He even leans back further into his arms. The strong arms of his kind professor brings a familiar feeling of comfort that he has unknowingly missed. It is selfish of him to have so much of Byleth’s attention and care, his demons scold him. The voices are silenced when Byleth speaks and overpowers them.
“I promise,” he murmurs into Dimitri’s nape, the brush of his lips sending a small shiver down his spine. “Nothing can stop me from coming back to you.”
Were it anyone else, Dimitri would not believe those words. But he had seen Byleth pierce the sky itself with his blade to return from an endless darkness. He had seen him fall into an abyss, his scream embedded within Dimitri’s mind and there to haunt him for the next five years. Yet he had returned, untouched by time, as ethereal as ever. Dimitri’s anger towards him seemed boundless. Byleth had not changed, while he himself had finally given up to the bloodthirsty, vengeance-seeking beast that is a part of him. He cursed him for leaving him, for trying to revive the Dimitri he once knew. It is only now, with Byleth’s arms held tight around him, that he realizes how much Byleth has calmed him. Tamed him. The ghosts of his past flee when Byleth is here with a patient hand outstretched to him, waiting for Dimitri to accept his guidance once more and take him to a bright future.
Dimitri’s eye stings. He yearns for that bright future with Byleth at his side. But he knows he does not deserve it, let alone deserve Byleth. His hands move of their own accord to hold the ones around his waist. Byleth tightens his hold on him and rests his chin on Dimitri’s left shoulder. Dimitri tilts his head to rest it against Byleth and he closes his eye. There will be time to worry about the future later. For now, he willingly and gladly falls to the clutches of sleep.
When Dimitri awakes, he finds himself lying on his side. He can feel one of Byleth’s arms around him, though his tight hold is gone. He blinks at the pink design in his face, recognizing that he is at Byleth’s chest. His faint scent of chamomile registers in Dimitri’s nose and he realizes that the scent was from himself as well. He is wearing a white collared shirt, the same one that Byleth wears beneath his robe. Dimitri slowly looks up while carefully propping himself up on his elbow. He is blessed with the sight of Byleth peacefully sleeping. The moonlight shines down upon him, making him glow even more than he already appeared to do. Dimitri’s eye takes in the sharp features of Byleth’s face, his long eyelashes, his soft lips. He raises a trembling hand to tuck pale green hair behind Byleth’s ear. Dimitri feels his heart soften when the corners of Byleth’s mouth curve upwards.
He takes back his hand, forcing down his desire to hold Byleth’s face. Bloodstained hands should not hold such beauty. It is more than enough for him to admire and appreciate Byleth’s presence.
For the first time in years, Dimitri warmly smiles.