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“Professor, please go out with me!”
Byleth doesn’t even look up from the stash of paper on his desk.
“No.”
Dimitri makes a choked up noise, like it actually surprises him Byleth is rejecting him again.
“B-But why not?”
Class is over for today, so his students— the rest of them, that is — pour out of the classroom as soon as they get their things together.
“I’m your teacher.”
Even without risking a glance in Dimitri’s direction, Byleth can guess with little chance of error the expression Dimitri must be sporting right now, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Because, well, it makes him look like an oversized golden retriever that’s been kicked by accident, and It’s kind of cute, not to mention guilt trippy, so Byleth pointedly keeps his eyes down.
Dimitri sulks beside him for exactly half a second before he comes up with something different.
“At least let me take you out for some coffee. I won’t ask for anything else.”
“I said no.”
Byleth’s gathered his materials and put them into his backpack by this point, even if he tried to do so as slowly as possible so this interaction could end before he’s done, so he just bites the bullet and gazes up. Dimitri’s hair is up in the half ponytail that suits him the best.
“I’m sorry for bothering you,” the blond says, shoulders down and a truthfully embarrassed look on his face.
Byleth can’t help the smile that comes to his lips. He reaches for the other man’s arm and gives him a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” Dimitri’s blue eyes come up to him, and a lovely pink spreads through his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He feels a bit guilty, knowing beforehand the reaction his touch would provoke, so he keeps it brief and decides it’s time to go. He turns on his heel before Dimitri gives him an answer, but once he’s done processing the interaction, Byleth hears his voice behind him, once he’s at the door.
“Y-Yes! Of course, Professor. Have a good weekend!”
Byleth gives him a wave, and Dimitri waves back, a nice smile back in place.
As the school term is about to be over, exams almost past them as well, Garreg Mach is swerling with exhausted but hopeful students, coming and going, some headed to celebrate and some straight up to bed. Byleth himself is feeling pretty tired, in case anyone’s wondering, so he can’t wait until being home again, put on the damn fan and pass out until his sister wakes him up an hour before his first class on Monday.
Bernadetta sits under a three further away, pretends to be immersed into her gaming console as he draws closer, just to avoid saying hi. Byleth chuckles lightly, trying to remember if he has any spare candy in his bag he can give her as a peace offering.
He buries his hands into his pockets, only to find his keys and phone in them, and he’s about to do the same with his bag, but an arm swings over his shoulders and another one clings to his other side.
“Professor!” greets Dorothea, at the same time Sylvain gives him a ‘What’s up?’
Byleth sighs, already drained of any energy he thought he had left after a long day of dealing with college students.
“How can I help you, guys?”
The extra weight of both of them make it a tad harder, but Byleth keeps walking towards the parking lot.
“Aw, don’t be like that to your favorite student,” Dorothea says, pouting before winking at him. Byleth shakes his head, but he’s already smiling. He can hardly resist Dorothea’s charisma, and he knows she is perfectly aware.
“I don’t see Ferdinand anywhere,” he solemnly says.
The girl’s pretty eyes glint with mischief, but she doesn’t take the bait.
“We were looking everywhere for you,” Sylvain cuts in, but Byleth won’t give him the satisfaction of turning to look directly at him. At this distance, Sylvain would surely take advantage of it. So Byleth maintains his eyes up front. If he’s used to Dimitri’s innocent invitations for coffee, he’s unfortunately familiar with Sylvain’s winks across the room and double meaning jokes too.
Bernadetta, as smart as she is, disappeared from her place on the grass long ago.
“You up for some fun tonight?” Sylvain asks him.
“No.”
Sylvain barks out a laugh, leaning into his space in the same way you shouldn’t do with your professors in school grounds. Or ever, really.
“I don’t mean it like that, Professor. Unless you want me to, that is.”
Dorothea gives the redhead a playful shove, and Byleth silently thanks her for forcing Sylvain to let go of him.
“You’ll only make it worse!”
Sylvain raises both hands in rendition, but the smirk doesn’t go anywhere.
They make it to Byleth’s car, and thank God his students take the hint, because they both take a step back as he opens the driver’s door.
“What my good friend meant to say is,” says Dorothea, picking up where Sylvain failed, “That we have a party for the seniors tonight. We all thought it would be fun if you showed up.”
Byleth makes a face. He doesn’t ask who this “all” comprises, but he seriously doubts that as much as everyone at Garreg Mach seems to like him they’d want a professor to attend their party. After all, they surely wouldn’t be sipping on orange juice and inhaling incense, right? He knows he himself wouldn’t, he knows he didn’t, that’s for sure.
He leans on the door, pretending to think about it, arms crossed over the frame.
“And you want me there because…?”
Dorothea rolls her eyes, smacks Sylvain before he even gets the chance to say something stupid.
“Because we all like you, Professor!” she says, a bit exasperated, like it’s obvious. “You’re like, a day older than most of us. And come on, it's the end of term, we all deserve some fun!”
Sylvain nods, soothing the place on his chest Dorothea wronged.
“A lot of people asked for you, really,” he adds, “But we can’t force you, though, so it’s up to you.”
This doesn’t seem like a good idea, but Byleth would be lying if he says he’s not somewhat curious. It’s a bit of a shame he’s not precisely in the mood, when he knows his other option is lying around in bed with a bucket of ice cream on his lap. Also, he’s not very good with alcohol, despite how much he likes drinking.
Sylvain seems to catch on to his thoughts, because he voices, “There will be lots of booze, in case it wasn’t clear.”
Byleth frowns.
“Where is this party taking place?”
“At the dorms!”
Byleth blinks with incredulity, pushes himself away from the door.
“I- okay. You probably shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Aw, Professor you only live once,” says Sylvain, taking his hands to the back of his neck. He doesn’t look worried in the slightest.
Dorothea nods excitedly.
“And we are all adults, right? So it’s all good.”
Byleth doesn’t think there’s anything he can say to disencourage any of this, so he saves his breath. He knows he wouldn’t care himself were he in their shoes.
“I’ll see if I can find the time,” he says, but his voice sounds flat even to his ears.
Sylvain waves at him and Dorothea nods fervently. They wait for him to drive out of the parking lot before going on their merry way.
Okay, so he has a few excuses.
First off, his sister told him to come. She insisted, in the very special way only she knows how to. She’s going out tonight too, clubbing with her friends, so she told him she’d feel a tiny bit guilty if she left him there, all alone with the cat and enough ice cream to make him fat by tomorrow. As Byleth approaches the off-campus men’s dorms, clearly lit up in LEDs and windows buzzing with pounding music, lots of kids scattered around it, a part of his mind believes she just wanted to prevent him from eating up all the ice cream at home.
Secondly, Shamir is there, by the —is that a bonfire?—car parked right in front of the windows, on the grass. And her blond girlfriend is here too. Byleth doesn’t remember how old they are but he seems to recall Shamir is three years older than him, tops. So he technically is allowed to be here too, right? They are talking to students Byleth can’t name but that he hopes go to Garreg Mach. He makes a mental note of coming back and stick with them after reporting his arrival to either Dorothea or Sylvain, just so they know he’s here. Although on second thought, he doubts Shamir will appreciate him crushing what likely was her idea of a date night.
He can’t deny he’s a bit nervous about this, but the fresh air of the night helps a lot. Some people recognize him, much to his own dread, but they all seem genuinely happy to see him, some even pat his back and tell him they’ll see him around, so by the time he crosses the door he’s a little more confident about this little escapade than before.
Also, he might have had something to drink before coming. Just a sip, just enough to make him regard the invitation in a new light.
There’s, as expected, a ton of people inside the dorm. The clogged air smells like weed, which Byleth pointedly tries to ignore, and he’s pretty sure he can spot Ashe at the other end of what he assumes is the lounge —wasn’t he a freshman, though?—. He’s got a red cup on his hand and he’s animatedly talking to a few girls that seem charmed by him. One of them is smoking, and Byleth has to forcibly direct his gaze somewhere else before he strides across the room to warn her Ashe must not come into contact with the damn thing during the entire night.
The lights change regularly from pink to green, yellow and blue, and upon inspecting the ceiling, he can see someone replaced the light bulb with one of those with RGB settings. Byleth can only wonder where the damn custodians are, and how any of this is possible. He’s a bit impressed, though, he’s not going to lie.
“Professor, you made it!” a strong hand comes down on his upper back, and Byleth can immediately place the voice as Sylvain’s. He turns on his heels, only to find the redhead in a stylish Hawaiian shirt with a tank top underneath. “Thea’s gonna lose it.”
“This seems fun,” Byleth yells over the music, and it’s very likely that his words don’t match his face.
Sylvain laughs it off all the same, but once he’s given Byleth a not so subtle once-over, he frowns.
“Ugh, don’t tell me no one has offered you a drink yet.”
Byleth shakes his head no, and Sylvain takes a hand to his forehead in an unnecessarily dramatic gesture.
“Ah, this is so embarrassing,” he says, and Byleth snorts. Sylvain winks at him. “As one of the hosts, I humbly apologize.”
They make their way to the kitchen. He doesn’t hear half of what Sylvain says, as the music is way too loud, but it doesn’t really matter; as usual, Sylvain is popular no matter where he goes and he’s pulled away by more than one person in the short time it takes them to get to their destination. Luckily, the redhead never forgets that Byleth’s hands remain empty, and he promptly sneaks out of whatever conversation people try to initiate with him.
“Sorry about that,” he tells Byleth once again, but he finds he doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s busy looking for familiar faces among the crowd, entirely out of curiosity.
He learns the dorm has several general spaces, while the rooms —allegedly— remain firmly closed upstairs. When they get to the kitchen, Mercedes and Dimitri are there. Here the music isn’t as intrusive as it was back at the lounge, so both look up when they hear Sylvain’s voice at the door. Mercedes smiles at Byleth like she’s surprised to see him but in a good way, while Dimitri gapes at him for a while before he gathers himself together.
“Professor,” he says, “what a pleasant surprise.”
Byleth nods, but he’s more interested in the alarming number of bottles on the counter behind the pair. Sylvain motions for them to move so he has room to work on Byleth’s drink, and the professor is immensely thankful. He only hopes they have vodka.
Dimitri clears his throat, drawing Byleth’s attention once more, and he’s almost sure the cup on the boy’s long fingers is in danger of getting completely crushed by the looks of it.
“We didn’t know you were invited,” he says, and he somehow manages to make it sound the least impolite possible, but Byleth has never been known for playing nice.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get something to drink and I’ll be on my way.”
Both Sylvain and Mercedes laugh, but Dimitri’s cheeks get red instantly.
“N-no, I didn’t mean-”
Mercedes explains he’s messing with him so Byleth doesn’t have to, and that only makes his blush extend all the way to his ears. Byleth chuckles, absentmindedly thinking flustered is a good look on Dimitri.
Mercedes is wearing a yellow summer dress with sneakers, and Dimitri a grey shirt under a royal blue one, and jeans. Byleth hates that everyone is so damn groomed all the time, even in class. He recalls attending his own classes in half his pajamas on Mondays, back in his college days. He’d feel a tad conscious about his rolled up jeans and black tucked shirt if there were zero alcohol in his system.
Truth be told, Byleth is more of drinking off a bottle at the break of dawn on the sidewalk, of stumbling out of bars into dirty streets, of clubbing until seven in the morning and grabbing a shitty burger at Mc Donald’s afterwards, under the judgemental stare of other young people that spent their night working. Not whatever these rich kids have going on here; the dorms of their very private university with half the alcohol of the entire city.
“Ta-dah!” exclaims Sylvain, holding a cup up high before making a show of handing it out to Byleth. “My very special blend, Professor, just for you.”
Byleth knows better than asking what’s in it, and takes an experimental sip. His face twists at the strong taste; it’s tequila, which immediately makes his night better. Now this, he can get behind.
Sylvain eyes him over the rim of his own drink, leaning back on the counter with that smirk of his in place.
“What do you think?”
Byleth didn’t realize sooner, but the three of them appear to be looking at him closely, like he’s some sort of weird bug, or an experiment. Byleth takes another swing to quelch the voice that tells him he should act like a teacher.
“Not as bad the second time around.”
That makes Sylvain bark out a laugh, and he even has to leave his cup on the counter to clap a few times. Mercedes giggles behind her drink, and Dimitri looks just as disoriented.
“I want to see you drunk already, Professor,” says Sylvain, giving what Byleth can only identify as one of his predatory looks.
Byleth suddenly feels the need to clear his throat, because make no mistake, he does have a smart reply to that, but he seriously doubts it’s appropriate in any way.
“They tell me the Professor’s here?!” comes yelling who can only be Dorothea, making everyone look up.
She’s wearing denim shorts that barely cover anything and a tied up black blouse that shows off her flat belly. Byleth thinks his sister would very much like Dorothea, in more than one way. Her outfit also makes Byleth wonder if there’s a pool somewhere. With this heat, it wouldn’t surprise him.
When she recognizes him she emits a screech that makes Mercedes laugh —she’s having the time of her life, isn’t she? She’s always like this, either way—, and she all but jumps her way to him.
“Thank you so much for coming!” Dorothea says, energetically squeezing his arm before looking at Sylvain, “Did you give him something to drink already?”
Byleth nods right away, holds his cup for her to see.
“Oh, good. Then you’re all set!”
Sylvain pushes himself off the counter, takes a swing from his drink.
“Yeah, not that this isn’t fun, but we have a party to oversee.”
Byleth arches an eyebrow.
“Do I get to know how you managed to do this?”
Dorothea shrugs innocently, but her pink lips give him a sharp smile.
“Alois likes expensive whiskey, let’s leave it at that.”
Byleth snorts, almost gives out a laugh, and drinks some more tequila. He knows Dorothea isn’t of a wealthy background like the majority of the students at Garreg Mach, and he appreciates her using the money of, at the very least Sylvain, to get what she wants. He also wonders what would Seteth say about all this, and the idea of him having a heart attack results funnier than it should.
They all go their separate ways. The hosts assure Byleth he should let them know of anything he needs —namely alcohol —, and that he can come find them if he gets bored. Byleth ignores the glint in Sylvain’s eyes when he says this last part, but he thanks them either way. He now knows where the booze is, so he’s pretty sure he won’t be needing either of them for the time being.
He asks Mercedes if Annette is here too, at which she says no. She’s crammed in her own room studying for finals, and Byleth drinks to that. Mercedes does too, and it might be Byleth’s imagination, but Dimitri’s blue eyes have been glued to him for a while. He tries his best to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he feels a bit guilty. He turned the guy down earlier today, so he should probably put some distance between them so Dimitri has the chance to find someone else to fancy tonight.
Byleth tells both his students that he’s going to go do some mingling, says he’ll find them later on even if he doesn’t mean it. Mercedes takes Dimitri’s hand and they walk away after they say their goodbyes, so Byleth is left alone to explore.
His first stop is outside, where he can breathe easier and realize he’s sweating a little. Shamir and Catherine have their own bottle, so him coming to say hi proves to be a good decision. He gets his second and third refills as he pretends to care about what the group is talking about. There’s some guys with them that ask him if he goes to Garreg Mach. They laugh their asses off when he says he’s a teacher, but Shamir doesn’t say she’s one too, limits herself to pour Catherine another drink.
After that, he sees that the only people by the bonfire —it’s a parking lot bonfire, which is stupid in more than one level — are mostly couples messing around. That’s something he’s not interested in right now, not without having seen anyone that isn’t his potential student. Catherine seems to understand his thought process, so she introduces some people, but Byleth remains stoic all the same. His chest starts feeling warm and his head might be a tad lighter than before, but he knows he’s a long way from being properly drunk yet.
He asks if the girl’s dorms are part of the venue, but Shamir is too busy flirting with her girlfriend to give him a proper answer, so Byleth takes the hint and leaves.
The lounge has a pool table, some couches and a huge TV at the back that Byleth kind of wants to remain intact by the end of the night,, but also wants to bet on how long it’ll survive. Here the music is the loudest, so there’s people dancing. It still smells like weed and sweat, but he figures that no one minds it that much. He knows he doesn’t, and it’s been barely an hour since he got here.
There’s a second floor he hasn’t visited yet, so he snatches a beer bottle from a nearby table and makes his way up the stairs. He spots Felix, Ingrid and Petra near the railing, and they seem to recognize him right away, because they look at him with wide eyes. Felix chokes up on his drink, and Ingrid has to palm his black to get him to breathe. Petra motions for him to come closer, all smiles, so he does.
“Didn’t think we’ll see you here, Professor,” she says, and clinks her own beer with his cup.
Byleth takes a sip with a barely contained smile, eyeing Felix’s attempt to cling to life.
“You should stop drinking, Felix,” he says, “You don’t seem to handle it well.”
Petra cackles, but Felix gives him a hard stare.
“Yeah, fuck you.”
Now it’s Ingrid who chokes, and Byleth chuckles.
“Sylvain invited me,” he explains, and it suddenly becomes clear why Felix is looking at him like that. Byleth swears internally, thinking he probably shouldn’t have said that. Maybe Felix is already tipsy, because otherwise he wouldn’t be this hostile towards him. Well, that’s what he’d like to think.
“Edelgard is going to be so happy,” says Petra, oblivious to Ingrid’s frowned lips and Felix’s scowl at Byleth’s words. “Have you run into her already?”
It’s time for him to go, and that’s his way out. Petra deserves a direct ticket to heaven, he’s always believed this.
“I’ll go look for her,” he says, and takes a step back. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Petra nods enthusiastically and Ingrid waves, but Felix looks down, his shoulders a tad sagged, and Byleth promises internally he’ll do his best to avoid Sylvain. He doesn’t know much about his students’ personal lives, but he’s not blind. Felix is way too much of a jerk to everyone, but he lets the redhead linger in his personal space more than anyone else. And the only time Byleth’s seen him blush it was because of something Sylvain said, so.
Before he knows it, he ends up at the other side of the room, where some people are playing beer-pong. Dimitri stands out like a sore thumb, as tall and broad as he is, golden hair drawing Byleth’s eyes in his direction right away. He asks himself if he should turn on his back again, find someone less complicated to be around, or maybe just bail out already instead of going through the trouble, but Dimitri’s blue eyes find him before he can make a decision.
This time, Dimitri smiles upon spotting him, comes to him like he doesn’t have to think twice. Maybe he doesn’t.
“Professor, how are you liking the party?”
The group playing emits an unanimous “Aw!” that makes Byleth look briefly. Someone was close to win, but their aim failed them in the end.
“Everyone seems to be having fun,” he offers as an answer of sorts , even if he knows that’s not what Dimitri asked. He motions to Dimitri’s seemingly untouched drink, “What about you?”
As intended, the boy takes a sip. Byleth does the same. Dimitri appears to notice he’s got a different drink than the one Sylvain poured for him. Not that it’s his second one, far from it, but he’s not about to say that aloud.
“Do you like drinking?” asks Dimitri, and it doesn’t go past Byleth that he didn’t answer either. “It would certainly seem so.”
Byleth tilts his head, giving him the ghost of a grin.
“Surprised?”
Dimitri’s lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile so widely.
“Can’t say I’m not.”
“What happened to Mercedes?”
Dimitri shrugs.
“She wandered off with Dedue and Hubert.”
“This was their last year, right?”
Dimitri nods, and he seems proud. Byleth thinks it’s cute.
“They’ve been working really hard, so I hope they manage to make the most out of tonight.”
Byleth doesn’t know Dedue that much, the man doesn’t really talk much to begin with —not that Byleth himself does—, but he knows Mercedes hides something behind her angelic smile. Also, Hubert is there with them. He hopes they stay out of trouble. As much as they possibly can, that is.
“Professor!” a voice calls for him, and he cringes at everyone that turns to look at him with curiosity. Hilda stares at him expectantly at the other side of the table. “You playing?”
It takes a second for Byleth to understand what she means; she’s standing next to Marianne, a ping pong ball in hand. He can’t say he’s an expert in this, but the worst thing that could happen is that he wins and ends up just as sober. The best possible outcome is to lose consciousness at some point, so he’s in.
He looks up at Dimitri.
“Team up with me?”
The blond boy blinks once, surely taken by surprise, but then he nods.
“Ah, sure.”
Byleth gives him a smile, and he thinks he sees Dimitri’s throat work.
They step up among the people at their side of the table, only to discover the cups are already arranged so the game can begin right away.
Hilda smirks at him as she leans over the flat surface.
“Oh, Professor, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Turns out, she’s right. Marianne and her beat their asses faster than Byleth would like to admit. Luckily, Dimitri has a decent aim, so he doesn’t have to shoulder the burden of being the worst player in the team. Halfway through, they actually manage to make Hilda and Marianne take some of the shots, their moves always followed by a cheer from the crowd. It would seem like the girls are the unbeaten champions, and the possibility of someone dethoning them is rather exciting. The amount of shots he and Dimitri take can’t be compared to the alcohol ingested by the enemy, though.
Byleth misses his next turn, and everyone chants for him to drink, so he does. The liquid burns down his throat as he knocks it back, makes him blink a few times. Hilda is preparing to throw the ball, but Dimitri is still looking straight at him. Byleth doesn’t really know why, but he decides he likes the attention.
Hilda fails too, and she says she’d rather drink some water for now, that she’s not feeling well, but Byleth doesn’t let her. He points at her and warns her that she can’t cheat just because she’s winning. She looks at him like has seen through her deception, which he has, so she smiles and gulps down the shot.
Dimitri nails his next shot, and Hilda has to drink again. Byleth cheers with the crowd, motions for Dimitri to hi-five him. Dimitri laughs, and Byleth discovers he rather likes the sound. No one is paying attention.
Marianne’s next move makes Dimitri drink, and the way his face is all wrinkled when he does makes Byleth laugh.
“What’s so funny?” rasps Dimitri, also smiling. “Why are you always making fun of me?”
Byleth shakes his head no, because it’s his turn, but Dimitri’s hand on his shoulder shakes him lazily and doesn’t let him concentrate.
“Stop,” he says, lifting his free hand to push Dimitri away, but he doesn’t put much force into it. Even if he tried, his brain helpfully supplies that he wouldn’t be able to move the other man an inch. “We’re gonna lose!”
“Stop flirting! You guys are gross!”
Byleth rolls his eyes, but the tiny part of his brain that isn’t as clouded by alcohol stops him from flipping Hilda off. He has to keep in mind that he’s not with his friends, that he has a reputation to uphold, that at the very least, he has to refrain from being too vulgar in front of people he’ll see Monday morning.
It’s not a surprise that they end up losing, but that doesn’t deter Hilda from kissing Marianne like they just won the Olympics. Byleth scoffs, but he’s happy to see Marianne smiling so much. It’s good to see her like this, a big contrast with how she was during her first year. He wants to believe Hilda did more than just being a bad influence for her.
Another thing that isn’t that shocking anymore is that Dimitri has his eyes on him again. This time, though, Byleth stares right back, reaches up to ruffle Dimitri’s locks. The blush on the bridge of the blond’s nose is a good complement for his bright smile and his carefree laugh, and Byleth knows he shouldn’t, really shouldn’t be thinking so much about that.
They step aside for other new teams to take up their place, and as soon as they are away from the group, Byleth feels his fingers itching for something to drink.
A tiny voice reminds him that he should go look for Ashe and tell him to go home, because he’s young and shouldn’t smoke weed, but the thought is immediately interrupted by a guy with lipstick and a crop top that materializes out of thin air. Not that Byleth minds, of course, not right away.
“Heya, friend,” he says over the music, leaning close. “Wanna come play?”
He’s pretty in a way that Byleth finds more than interesting, and he’s fairly sure he’s never seen him on campus, so he’s tempted to say yes. The guy’s name is Yuri, and he asks him if he feels like playing UNO with his friends, both him and Dimitri, that is.
Byleth exchanges a quick look with the blond boy, who seems rather indifferent. Dimitri shrugs, as if saying he doesn’t really mind if they go or not.
“I’m assuming we’re taking shots,” Byleth says to Yuri, who gives him a smile that promises trouble. Byleth is a bit more focused on the piercing of his navel, so he nods either way.
“Lead the way.”
Yuri’s friends are fun to be around. Balthus and Constance are clearly drunk already, and Hapi messes with them as much as possible, takes on filming when Constance gets up to her feet and twerks all the way down to the floor, and when Balthus takes five shots in ten seconds. Byleth doesn’t remember the name of the rest of them, but they are all pretty nice. He can’t say he knows any of these kids, so that is more than enough for him to relax and enjoy himself until they have enough players for this to get interesting.
He’s seated in one of the couches that surround the bottle-riddled coffee table, where he gets a beer and where they play their modified UNO game, with Dimitri to his right and a girl he doesn’t recognize to his left. The actions you have to perform depend on the card you draw, and at the beginning Yuri reads the rules and what every number means for the players, but they get the grasp of it as they go, to the point where they remember the prompts without help.
Byleth doesn’t bother keeping the rules in mind, just drinks a shot every time anyone tells him to. The first rounds are just for show, more for the players to get used to the mechanics than anything else, so it’s pretty standard and nothing to write home about, but once they start getting serious —drunker, that is—, it’s easier to let loose and replace mild punishments such as “take a shot” with “make out with the person in front of you for ten seconds”. Thanks to the numerous players, Byleth himself isn’t too afraid of being humiliated every time it’s his turn. He does notice Dimitri sipping from his own drink once in a while, though, surely to get some liquid courage.
Byleth briefly wonders if he shouldn’t have dragged Dimitri along with him, knowing the kind of person he is, but quickly changes his mind when it’s the boy’s turn and they make him choose between truth or dare, and he ends up confessing how many times a week he masturbates. Dimitri doesn’t even blink when he says he doesn’t follow a schedule, but that he does it at least twice every few days. Everyone cheers, and Byleth has to cover his stupid wobbly smile with a hand, even if his laugh betrays him and Dimitri notices either way. The boy gives him a shrug, with a grin of his own, and Byleth tells himself he could have left anytime now, that Dimitri himself decided to stay here. Besides, there’s this blush on his cheeks that can’t be entirely from embarrassment.
The professor has to kiss the girl in front of him next, which he leans over the table to do. He hears people yelling for them to use some tongue, and the girl doesn’t have any problem doing it, so Byleth plays along until the time’s up. He flops back on his seat afterwards, and drinks the last remainers of his beer. Dimitri doesn’t say anything, but they’re seated closer now, thigh to thigh, and if the contact with Dimitri’s muscular leg doesn’t make Byleth’s stomach flip in every way that kiss didn’t...
Hapi draws a 0, which means she has to place a new rule until another player gets the same number. She’s clearly the intelligent one in Yuri’s group, so she announces no one can say the word “no” until someone sets a new rule, the punishment being more shots. Byleth likes the idea, a very easy way of getting people wasted before long. Yuri doesn’t wait and asks Balthus if he likes sucking dick, and the big guy slams his fist on the table, gritting through his teeth that he’s “no damn fag”. Dimitri snorts, and Byleth does too, seeing Yuri smirk triumphantly as everyone demands that Blathus drinks two shots, double punishment for being that stupid. It’s easier to get people to knock back shots after shots after that.
Dimitri does try his hand at it at some point, asking Byleth if he’s bored. And he’s distracted —or inebriated— enough to fall for it, despite making so much fun of Balthus before. He doesn’t have anything else to drink, so he makes for looking for an unopened bottle on the table, but Dimitri puts his in front of him before he manages to. Byleth gives him a playfully questioning look, but he doesn’t reject the offer. He plucks the bottle from Dimitri’s hand and takes a swing without looking away from his blue eyes.
It might be his imagination, but Dimitri’s arm is thrown over the back of the couch, so Byleth’s entire side is in contact with the boy’s warm body now. It’s hot and the music is still loud, just like everyone around them, but Byleth has no hurry to leave anytime soon. That’s why he loves going out to drink once in a blue moon, how the alcohol makes him forget he hates people being noisy and gives him an excuse to be like that himself.
You just need booze to be fun , his sister told him once, and he couldn’t agree more, even if it’s not something to be proud of.
Yuri raises his voice to claim it’s his turn already, and half of the group, Byleth included, tell him he’s wrong. More specifically, they use the word Yuri likely predicted they would, so they drink, not without flipping Yuri off before. For the first time tonight, though, Byleth thinks he should take it easy from this point on, so he takes advantage of everyone’s attention being elsewhere and doesn’t touch his- Dimitri’s drink. There’s not much left of it anyway.
“You didn’t drink,” Dimitri says at his side, and it sounds accusatory, even if his wide smile gives away how delighted he is by catching on it.
Byleth rolls his eyes, looks up to meet Dimitri’s, and he realizes they are a bit closer than they should. But he doesn’t move away, and neither does Dimitri, so it’s all good.
“Are you keeping track of how much I drink?”
He lets his head fall back, against Dimitri’s arm.
“No, I’m just making sure you don’t cheat.”
Byleth’s thin eyebrows go up.
“You have to drink now, too.”
“Actually, it would seem like you want to get me drunk, Professor.”
Byleth wishes he would stop calling him that.
“Of course not.”
Dimitri tilts his head, eyes widening.
“Does that count?”
It takes a moment for Byleth to understand he means the ‘not’. He wants to say “no, it doesn’t”, but stops himself in time. His brain is getting sluggy. Dimitri chuckles, so Byleth just pushes the beer onto the boy’s chest. Dimitri doesn’t say anything and empties it, and Byleth wants to hoist himself up, place his hands on Dimitri’s chest and lick at his Addam’s apple.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he just takes a moment to breathe. There are coloured lights dancing on the walls. Someone changed the stupid lightbulb again, so he has to close his eyes to prevent his stomatch from turning in on itsef. Can’t someone turn that shit off?
“Are you okay?” asks Dimitri, voice clearly concerned. “Do you want to stop playing?”
He offers to accompany Byleth to get some fresh air, which frankly sounds amazing right now, but Byleth wants to give his body some time to adjust before attempting to move.
Some players are looking for something new to do anyway, so he wants to stay seated like this for a while.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
Byleth opens his eyes upon hearing that, notices for the first time the way Dimitri’s low voice slurs the tiniest bit. He wonders how much alcohol is needed to get someone of his size tipsy, or even drunk. Then again, it’s not like he’s been keeping an eye out for that information.
He’s feeling better, mind as hazy and body as hot, but his stomach has settled down enough for him to push himself off the backrest. He also puts some distance between them, just so he can turn to look at Dimitri properly. His knee digs into the side of Dimitri’s thigh as he folds his right leg under the left.
“Sylvain and Dorothea insisted,” he explains, letting out that they didn’t really have to do much convincing themselves.
At the mention of one of those names, Dimitri’s lips twitch downwards.
“Are you two- Sylvain and you, I mean. Are you… together?”
Byleth makes a face, but his attention is piqued, so he rests the side of his head on his hand, propped on his arm over the back of the couch. Dimitri’s hands play with the empty bottle on his lap.
“What makes you think that?” Byleth asks, but he knows exactly what Dimitri is referring to. He means that he thinks Sylvain and him like each other, rather than being together together , but maybe he didn’t find the words before speaking his mind. Maybe his brain is slacking off too.
“He’s always flirting with you,” Dimitri says, and judging by the way his shoulders look heavier, he doesn’t like it. Byleth doesn’t let himself be bothered by how much he finds he likes making Dimitri say this outloud. “And you weren’t precisely ignoring him earlier.”
Byleth mouths the word “precisely” a few times. He doesn’t think he’d be able to pronounce it properly in his current state. His tongue feels rather heavy in his mouth.
“He’s like that because he only has one class with me,” he says after a while, can’t help making a face of exhaustion. “We see each other once a week, so he doesn’t really care how he comes across.”
Which is what Byleth actually believes. Sylvain probably thinks he doesn’t have much to lose when he sees Byleth once every five days, when flirting with him and making his intentions clear hold nothing to the good work he’s doing in class. Besides, Byleth isn’t really uncomfortable with it, just like he wasn’t with Dimitri. He just finds it tiresome sometimes, that Sylvain is attractive and taller than him and would clearly jump at the chance to mess around with him if Byleth said the word, but....
Dimitri, though, Dimitri is an entirely different matter.
“I don’t like him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Byleth says, carefully eyeing Dimitri’s reaction.
The boy lets his head hang as he chuckles, and the sight makes Byleth smile as well. But he wonders how would Dimitri's laugh feel like in his ear, now that there’s no one else around them, secluded as they are in this corner.
Dimitri gazes up to look at him. Byleth doesn’t feel like running away from his eyes, so he doesn’t. He wants to ask Dimitri to come dance with him downstairs, but he also wants to erase the distance, as small as it is, between them, and see for himself if he’s as strong as he seems.
“You said no because you are my teacher,” says Dimitri then, getting Byleth out of his head. Dimitri looks at him with half-lidded eyes, but somehow manages to pin him in place with his gaze alone. Byleth feels a pressure on his chest that wasn’t there a second ago. “Is that the only reason?”
Dimitri takes a hand to his face, as if he needs to hide to get the words out of his mouth.
“I don't want to keep insisting if I don't have any chance. I don’t want to be annoying.”
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? That Byleth has to remind himself that it’s wrong each time he thinks Dimitri looks rather handsome when he shows up for class, or even worse, when he rolls up his sleeves or wears tight jeans that assure Byleth that he never skips leg day. Being his teacher is terribly inconvenient when he timidly taps Byleth’s shoulder to offer him a granola bar or cookies or candies he has to know Byleth likes, when he’s blushing up to his ears and clearly wants to crawl under a rock each time he gathers the courage to ask Byleth to have lunch with him. The way he holds onto the strap of his bag until his knuckles turn white but he stuborningly keeps eye contact with Byleth, how crestfallen he seems every time Byleth gives him a half-assed excuse, it all makes Byleth’s heart melt a little.
Sleeping with Sylvain once and never bringing it up again is something Byleth considers himself very capable of doing, but he knows Dimitri wants something more from him, something he’s not sure he can give, something he believes will have consequences . And that Dimitri is always so sweet towards him, and that they are both drunk now and the music makes Byleth’s rib cage resonate doesn’t help, and that leaning in close to get a good sniff of Dimitri’s cologne starts seeming more and more like a very good idea.
Well, if Byleth didn’t need air before he’s sure as hell he does now. He attempts to get up, but his legs fail under him and he falls on the couch again. He chokes out a laugh, but Dimitri places a hand on his shoulder, as if trying to keep him steady. The room is floating around them.
It doesn’t help that Dimitri is such a good guy, and that he’s tall and smart and has enchanting blue eyes and broad shoulders and muscles that can make Byleth stop running with sheer force.
“I can go get you some water.”
Byleth grunts, exasperated with himself. He thought he was drunk enough for this, but he turns out to be spectacularly wrong once more. Because otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking , he wouldn’t be capable of anything remotely similar to critical thinking. As he looks up to Dimitri, he wonders why he has to like him this damn much. He had Sylvain right there, Yuri too. Why is Dimitri so fucking handsome, so big, so golden- he looks like a damn prince. He makes Byleth remember when he was a teen and he used to jerk off to Captain America, how guilty he felt afterwards.
Luckily, his head is numb enough for him to rest a hand on Dimitri’s thick thigh and think nothing of it, enough to lean close until they are breathing each other’s air.
“Why are you so damn hot.”
Maybe Byleth does want to see the consequences.
Dimitri doesn’t move away when Byleth all but crushes his mouth against his. If anything, the boy gasps in a way that makes Byleth bold enough to climb into his lap, to feel up his biceps as he licks at his lips. The boy’s muscles shift under the skin of his arms, under Byleth’s rough touch.
Dimitri’s mouth tastes like tequila, and it makes Byleth moan. His nerves set up in fire when he feels Dimitri’s massive hands coming to his hips, one of them going up his lower back, finding its way up his shirt just so skin comes in contact with skin. Byleth lets his full weight fall onto Dimitri’s lap, pressing himself against his chest. Dimitri laps his ear, his tongue goes over the tiny earring there, making Byleth’s breath hitch.
Byleth has positively no idea if there’s people around them, if any of them is paying attention to what is transpiring on the couch at the far corner of the room, but he finds he couldn’t care less, with Dimitri’s body heat so close he can taste the salt of his neck.
But wait, he’s still a teacher, isn’t he? He absentmindedly recalls the existence of cellphones and the internet and people loving to film crazy shit to then share it on social media. He can’t seem to understand what this information implies, but he somehow feels that it’s important. Probably. Most likely.
His poor hazy mind is midway to getting somewhere with this train of thought when Dimitri’s hands come down to rest on the curve of his ass, giving it a hard squeeze that makes him growl in his ear. Byleth feels that sound, trembles because of it, the vibration of it that comes through his chest together with Dimitri’s, making it all the way to his crotch. The idea of Dimitri’s big hands on his ass makes Byleth’s head go blank.
“Professor,” Dimitri heaves, short of air, and funnily enough, it’s that word alone that makes Byleth snap to attention.
They can’t do this.
Dimitri presses Byleth’s hips down as he trusts up, and the distinct shape of the bulge that is pushed against his ass makes Byleth change his mind right away.
They can’t do this here .
Hating every second of it, Byleth gathers what little reason he can find among how much he wants to rip Dimitri’s pants off. He places a hand on Dimitri’s chest and pushes himself away before he loses the will to do so. They’ve sunken on the couch, slid down it, so Dimitri looks up at him with the eyes of someone who has just woken up, confused and blinking the fog away. His skin looks green under the modified lights, but his cheeks are a shade darker than the rest of his face.
Byleth gets to his feet, and this time around his legs cooperate with him. They might be a bit wobbly, but he tries to ignore it as he takes Dimitri’s hand and pulls him up. The boy seems downright lost, but Byleth can’t hope to move him without some semblance of help, so he complies and gets up as well.
“Professor…?”
The older man doesn’t bother with a response, and all but drags Dimitri behind him by the hand. The world is a tad blurry and the music is still too loud, but Byleth wants to believe no one is paying them any heed as they make their way among dancing people. He secretly hopes none of his actual students see this, but the size of Dimitri’s hand as he squeezes it numbs his brain by sending hot liquid down south.
It doesn’t take Byleth long to figure out where the rooms are. The hall narrows into the part of the dorm where dormitories align left and right. Curiously, there’s not a soul nearby.
All doors seem closed tight at first glance, but then God smiles on him —or whoever wants him to get laid tonight —, and a boy that Byleth has to concentrate very hard on to recognize as Felix comes into sight, stepping outside of one of the rooms. Byleth almost trips over his own feet when he strides forward, and the sound draws Felix’s attention.
His glare says he’d rather die than catching another glimpse of him tonight, but right now Byleth doesn’t really remember why he was supposed to avoid running into Felix.
“Lend me your room,” he drawls, his voice only audible because the music is not as strong here.
Felix’s scowl could scare off a bear, even if he seems a bit confused by the request. But then he notices the two men’s linked hands and Byleth can see the exact moment the realization comes down on him .
“Oh, hell no,” says Felix, and he seems positively grossed out. “Fuck off.”
Byleth has no patience for this.
“You won’t have to show up for the final.”
Felix’s eyebrows arch. His red eyes dart from Dimitri to Byleth once, twice, before he presses his lips into a thin line. Byleth doesn’t turn back to look at Dimitri’s reaction, but something tells him he must be just as shocked.
Felix sighs and averts his gaze, but steps away from the entrance to his room, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Deal.”
Dimitri makes a choked sound behind Byleth, but the professor doesn’t waste another second standing there. He hauls Dimitri in, not bothering to look at Felix again.
The interior of Felix’s room isn’t as dark as he was expecting, but that’s the only thing that registers in his brain as he pushes Dimitri against the door, the thud of the motion giving it away as just as awkward and careless as Byleth feels when he brings himself up to kiss Dimitri again.
“Wait,” Dimitri gasps, but makes no effort to pull away.
Byleth reaches up to grab the back of Dimitri’s neck, to sink his fingers into his sweaty locks.
“What is it,” he mumbles against his lips, biting down on already swollen flesh.
Okay, so he might be very drunk, to the point where he can barely stay standing, but he has to ask, right? He’s supposed to. But he doesn't want to, because Dimitri might say no and he doesn't know what he’ll do if that happens, or how he’ll handle that kind of humiliation. Because he isn’t thinking clearly right now, but some tiny, hidden part of his brain knows he’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a hell of a headache and he’ll regret all of this. Wouldn’t it be better if he regretted that something did happen, though?
So he pushes the words out through gritted teeth, “You don’t want to?”
It would appear Dimitri is alien to Byleth’s half-thought doubts, because he rolls his hips into the professor’s with clear intent. Byleth shudders.
“I do, but-.”
So Byleth keeps kissing him. He walks backwards, and Dimitri takes on the task of getting them safely to the bed, where Byleth all but lets himself fall and brings Dimitri down with him. Caged between the boy’s hard body and the mattress, now that they are completely alone, he feels bold enough to sneak a hand under Dimitri’s shirt. The plane of his abs make Byleth tremble from head to toe. He wants to lick the sweat off them.
Dimitri wills Byleth’s legs open, something Byleth is more than happy to comply with, digs his knees onto the bed that creaks under their shared weight. Byleth feels like he’s drowning, like he needs to force air into his lungs, but he’s also very hot, Dimitri’s hands on him too scorching to ignore. But it could be better, Dimitri could be closer. Byleth tugs at Dimitri’s damn shirt, the back of his throat emitting a sound that can only be described as a whine.
“You’re drunk,” Dimitri sighs, and it sounds like an excuse he desperately wants to believe.
Byleth shifts his attention to Dimitri’s neck. He feels Dimitri swallow, the movement of his Adam’s apple against his tongue as he gives him more room to work in . The balls of his feet push Dimitri down, so their hips can seek for delicious friction together once more. But Dimitri’s remain still, even if his hands and mouth don’t.
“We are both drunk,” Byleth grunts, exasperated that Dimitri isn’t helping.
“I don’t think,” Dimitri says, one of his hands holding down Byleth’s hips with a strong grip, “I don’t think we should do this now.”
Byleth doesn’t want to think, but he knows the boy is right. And even if he weren’t it’s not like Byleth can just- keep going, can he? He makes his best effort to slow the movement of his hips, to get his hands back where he can see them.
Dimitri hovers over him, and his blue eyes find him in the poor lighting.
“I’d rather do it when we’re sober,” the boy whispers, and it seems like he’s struggling himself. Not that that fact brings much solace to Byleth right now.
Byleth squeezes his eyes closed. He grunts with real annoyance, curls up into a ball on his side, just so he can detach completely from Dimitri’s warm body. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes; he can feel a migraine coming.
“I hate you’re such a nice guy,” he mutters.
Dimitri chuckles. When he falls to the bed to his side, the base creaks in complaint. “Me too.”
They stay like that for a while, listening to the muted music and cheering outside, letting their breathing recede to a semblance of normal. The silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, because Byleth starts considering just laying there for the rest of the night.
“Sorry I was so pushy,” he manages, letting his hands fall so he can try to get a look at Dimitri.
The boy’s hair is a mess, sprawled like a halo around his head, and it might be due to Byleth’s tired eyes, but his lips seem red and abused. The idea that it was his doing makes intrusive thoughts come to his door, so he swallows back the urge to say something stupid and averts his gaze. Dimitri tells him it’s okay in a quiet voice, and Byleth feels a kiss against his forehead. The gesture makes him feel something very different, something that burns at his heart. He hides his face with a groan.
Dimitri’s breathy laugh brushes Byleth’s hair before the boy gets up and murmurs something about Felix having water somewhere around here. Byleth wants to tell him to stay there with him, but he can’t find his voice. He doesn’t catch the rest Dimitri says either, as his mind is already in the line between this world and sweet unconsciousness. He does hear Dimitri rummaging through stuff, only to find whatever it is he was looking for and place it on the bedside table. His steps sound like he’s dragging his feet over the carpet.
“You should rest, Professor. You aren’t feeling well.”
Byleth hums only because he has no energy to produce an actual answer. He feels Dimitri taking his shoes off so he can bring him higher on the bed, and he downright moans when the side of his head lands on a soft pillow. He kind of remembers his own bed at the school dorms sucked, so this might as well be heaven.
Someone pulls the covers over him, despite how hot it is. His arms aren’t really following instructions right now, so there isn’t much he can do in that regard.
“I’ll close the door from the inside, so you don’t have to worry.”
Byleth is long gone by the time his brain registers the click of the door.
Someone is talking over the phone. Or that’s at least Byleth’s single brain cell’s hypothesis, since he can hear a single voice in the room, no one to answer back before it is saying something again. His eyes open, and he instantly regrets it as sunlight comes pouring out from the window, hurting not only Byleth’s sight, but his head as well. And speaking of which, his head is killing him.
He must make a noise of discomfort or something, because the voice— it’s Felix, he sounds as displeased with life in general as usual— stops on its tracks and hangs up on the call. Byleth wonders how he got in, until he remembers he’s still at the dorms, and that he’s got to have a key.
“You look like shit,” Felix says, louder, from the other side of the room, and Byleth is almost sure he’s talking to him.
He has to blink a few times before his eyes adapt to the ridiculous amount of light in the room. It must be 10 am or something like that, judging by the shade of the sunlight and the way Byleth wants to go back to sleep. He is also incredibly hungover, but he’s confident about his assessment before he checks the hour on his phone.
The screen is blurry and too bright, but he’s right about being somewhat early for a saturday after a party.
“Sorry about this,” he says, but his tongue feels heavy and he can’t really tell if his words are comprehensible. The plastic bottle of water on the bedside table catches his eye, and he barely thinks twice before reaching for it.
The water easies his sore throat, helps him to cross all the way back to the world of the living. Felix is squatting near the desk, getting his laptop out of a backpack. He doesn’t bother saying anything back, so Byleth takes the chance to put on his shoes, as he does his best to fight curling up on the bed again.
The voice that disappeared at some point last night reminds him that he exempted Felix from taking the last exam of his class just so he could get into Dimitri’s pants, and he cringes so hard he considers for a solid second fleeing the country.
Right, Dimitri. Fuck.
Felix comes closer, and Byleth looks up to find the boy is holding what looks like an aspirin in his direction. Byleth thanks him and gulps it down with some water. Hopefully the drilling into his skull will get milder until it disappears,
“Want me to call an uber or something?”
Byleth raises a hand instead of shaking his head no, knowing he would be pushing his luck and his scrambled stomach too much.
“I don’t live that far away.”
It takes some work, but after downing the entire bottle he feels a bit steadier on his feet. He looks at the bed and offers Felix to pay for laundry, but the boy rejects the idea right away, so Byleth doesn’t insist even if he feels kind of guilty for leaving it damped with sweat.
“Just don’t forget about my A+.”
Byleth scoffs, having trouble meeting Felix’s red eyes, sure he’ll find judgment in them, but nods either way. And well, he knows it would be understandable. He made a fool out of himself yesterday night, fueled by lots of shots and tequila, and not only that, but Felix was witness to him acting in an unbecoming way with a fellow student of his. Byleth can only hope that judgement is the only thing he’ll have to face for behaving like a teenager, and not a dismissal letter from the Faculty board later today.
“Ah, yes, Dimitri gave me this for you,” Felix says, interrupting Byleth’s loud thoughts.
He hands him a scrap of paper, where the professor can see a scribbled phone number. Byleth looks owlishly at the numbers for the better part of a whole minute, and when his brain makes sense out of them, his gaze goes back up to Felix. The boy is busy playing on his phone, but it seems to Byleth like he’s not making eye contact on purpose. He gets a glimpse of irritated skin under Felix’s collar, and he remembers now that he probably had to spend the night elsewhere. Which isn’t any of his business, so he hurriedly pockets the paper.
“I’d better go.”
Felix nods, gestures vaguely as he makes his way to his wardrobe, where he produces a clean set of sheets.
Byleth takes a quick look at his reflection on the full body mirror near the door —something he didn’t see when he first came in yesterday, surely because his attention wasn’t precisely fixed in the surroundings —, and he can confirm that he looks positively disgusting. His hair is slightly greasy and his eyes are bloodshot, not to mention the pillow marks on the side of his face. Well, at least he didn’t puke all over himself in his sleep; his clothes don’t look that bad besides being wrinkled, so he doesn’t think anyone will call the police on him. As long as he gets home as soon as possible.
He keeps close to the wall until he’s down the stairs, just so he doesn’t lose balance and falls to his death. He does notice the state the building is in, though; it’s pristine, not a stray red cup or stain on the carpet, and the TV at the back of the lounge is intact. Byleth makes a face. He seriously doubts everyone cleaned after themselves once the party was over, but he knows the explanation can wait. Luckily, he doesn’t run into anyone on his way out, so no one sees him quietly running away from the dorm building.
The sun is well up in the sky, and thankfully, it’s not as late for it to be unbearable yet. The warmth on his skin feels good, even if his temples beg to differ, so it isn’t as hard as he thought it would be to keep walking. He sticks to the sidewalk were the shade of the trees don’t reach him, just so he doesn’t feel tempted to rest and risk falling asleep.
That’s when he remembers his phone in his pocket, along with Dimitri’s number.
He sighs, producing both from his jeans. Byleth thinks he owes Dimitri an apology for the trouble he caused him yesterday. One would think he’d have the decency to at the very least be careful with how much alcohol he’d put into his system, that he’d try to act as the professor he’s supposed to be, but alas. He’s not childish enough to blame Dimitri’s pretty blue eyes for his behavior last night, but he’d like to think he wouldn’t have acted like that with anyone else. He’d like to keep something akin to respect for himself, but it gets harder as he relives what patches he remembers from yesterday.
He swears as he ignores the unread texts he sees in the notification bar and pushes Dimitri’s number into the keyboard. The line beeps a few times in his ear as he passes by an old lady that eyes him suspiciously. He inwardly tries to assure her he’s got a respectable job at a private university, so he isn’t that bad even though he is an alcoholic.
“Hello?” Dimitri’s voice comes through after a few seconds, and Byleth’s brain catches on his actions a tad too late, because after the line stays silent, Dimitri repeats; “Hello.”
“Uh, hi,” Byleth says, eloquent as ever. “It’s Byleth Eisner?”
He can’t help the way his voice goes up at the end, as if he’s asking instead of stating his name. He wants to hang up and throw the phone into a sewer.
“Oh,” Dimitri sounds taken aback, but he’s quick to recover. “Hi, uh, how are you feeling? Good morning.”
“It’s all good,” he lies, feels himself blush when he adds, “Felix gave me something for the headache.”
“Oh, I’m glad.”
Byleth crosses the street, presses his lips together. It’s not silent per se, but he can hear a rhythmic clak clak clak from the call, so he assumes Dimitri is typing away at a computer or something like that. The sound gives Byleth some time to gather his thoughts, even if he absentmindedly wonders why he’s working this early after a night out. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as Byleth was, and it makes sense that the amount of booze that affects Byleth doesn’t do the same for someone as big as Dimitri.
“Hey, so,” Byleth clears his throat, deciding to bite the bullet, “about last night.”
He can hear Dimitri’s fingers coming to a halt at the other side of the line.
“Y-yes?”
Byleth looks up to the sky. The blue is so intense it hurts his eyes, but he focuses on it while he talks.
“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have-” he sighs, “I forgot myself. I was irresponsible and didn’t even ask before... you know.”
Not to mention he didn’t respect the boundaries between them, but he wants to believe it’s implicit somewhere in there that he regrets that too.
“No, please don’t trouble yourself with that!” Dimitri rushes to say, and the urgency of his voice makes Byleth stop on his tracks. “I wouldn’t have- I would've said something if I didn’t…”
It sounds like Dimitri is searching for the best words to express himself, like he’s struggling to grasp them. So Byleth interjects, because that’s not everything he’s sorry about.
“And when you told me to stop, I didn’t even listen. I didn’t think I was that kind of guy but, well, I only needed a few drinks to be that big of a jerk.”
Byleth bites his lower lip to cope with the need of running away, as stupid as that is. He’d rather pretend nothing happened and move on, but he knows that’d only be more immature. Besides, he doesn’t really want to pretend it didn’t happen. Kissing Dimitri was nice, more than nice, in fact, and sitting close to him, and playing games, and holding his hand and having his weight on top of him...
It takes Dimitri a moment, but when he speaks again, his voice is firm.
“Professor, please believe me when I say I didn’t hate anything that happened last night.” Byleth holds his breath upon hearing that, but Dimitri isn’t done yet. “I kissed you back, and even if I said I wanted to wait,” Dimitri swallows, “the truth is I didn’t want to. But I knew it was the right thing to do, for both our sakes.”
Byleth has positively no idea what to say to that. He can only thank the universe he’s having this conversation on the phone. God knows he’d combust on the spot if he had to face Dimitri while he says any of this.
“Dimitri, I-”
“Because you always turn me down so,” Dimitri laughs, but it’s mirthless. The sound of it makes Byleth’s stomach sink. “I thought it was just you being drunk. I thought you’d regret it if things went further.”
Byleth can’t tell him he’s wrong because he’d be lying, so he remains silent. He’s right when he says Byleth would regret things escalating, because, he regrets what did happen now. Although not due to what Dimitri thinks his feelings towards him are, or aren’t. It makes sense that Dimitri would think that they were just messing around, after so many times Byleth has made clear he’s not interested in him. Or well, that he’s not willing to let it show that he is, that he is very much interested in Dimitri.
This is complicated.
His steps bring him home before he knows it, so he pats his pockets for his keys. He doesn’t think his sister is up yet, so when he gets a hold of them he thanks God he didn’t lose them last night, unlike he did with his dignity and reputation.
As he gets his hand on the metallic knob, almost scorching under the sun, he decides he has the right to do whatever he wants even while sober. Not that he’s used to, but he can start with baby steps. He doesn’t dare look at the windows, fearful of what his reflection might tell him.
“Do you still feel like getting that coffee?”
He can swear he hears a ruckus at the other side of the line, and either Dimitri dropped his phone or he himself fell to the floor. Byleth himself feels like he might faint, but it could be due to his current state, rather than the conversation. That’s what he’d like to believe.
After a few seconds, Dimitri’s voice reaches him again.
“W-what do you mean?”
The inside is chillier than the streets, so Byleth can exhale in relief as his pulsing head gets a break from the sun.
His sister is sleeping over the kitchen counter, with what looks like a cold cup of coffee and a sorry excuse for scrambled eggs on a plate in front of her. She must be hungover as well. Byleth gets closer just to confirm that she’s still breathing, and when he does, he wonders what he was so nervous about in the first place.
“I haven’t had breakfast yet,” he says simply.
Dimitri makes a funny sound that makes Byleth chuckle, he can picture the exact pink that is probably painting all the way to his ears.
“Aren’t you tired, Professor? You should rest for today.”
Byleth shakes his head, and the absence of nausea is a good sign. He just needs to get off these clothes that, now that he stops to check, stink of booze and cigarettes. And brush his teeth, gosh, he’s so lame.
“I’m already feeling better.”
It takes Dimitri a moment to say something back, and Byleth actually fears he might say no. It’s a bit ironic, but he thinks he deserves to be the one to feel like this for a change.
“O-okay, I can pick you up,” Dimitri says, but he doesn’t sound confident.
Byleth lets go of the breath caught in his throat, and leaves his sister to her luck in the kitchen to go to his room.
“I’ll text you the address,” he tells Dimitri, and tries to reassure him a little with a smile, knowing he’ll be able to tell it’s there. “Just give me half an hour to shower, I’m disgusting.”
Dimitri gives him a tiny chuckle, and it makes Byleth’s heart a bit fuller, like it swells slightly in his chest. He tells Dimitri he’ll see him later, not wanting to ruin the call by saying stuff he won’t be able to take back, but Dimitri asks him something before he can hang up.
“Professor, are we… going to continue this conversation?”
Byleth stops before his closet, forcing himself to inspect his clothes in lieu of panicking over a simple question.
“Do you want to?” he asks back, but he feels like a coward.
Luckily, Dimitri isn’t as scared of admitting things aloud, Byleth’s known this from day one.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I feel like we should… talk about it.”
Yes, they should. Dimitri has the right to know Byleth feels something for him if they’re going to keep on with- whatever this is. Otherwise, he’d only think Byleth is bored and getting some sort of entertainment out of having Dimitri wrapped around his little finger. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Carefully choosing his next words, Byleth takes a deep breath.
“We can put a pin on it,” he offers after a while, mostly because he can’t think of a better solution, not right now. “And come back to it some other time.”
He hears Dimitri clearing his throat, but when he next speaks, he can tell he’s smiling.
“I think I’d like that, yes.”
Good. He can work with that. It will give him time to think, time to discover how much he’s willing to let Dimitri know about him. How much he wants Dimitri to know about him.
“Okay. Then let’s get through today first,” he says, and he’s talking to both Dimitri and to himself.
He ends the call, and he can’t help the big sigh that leaves his chest afterwards. He wants to see Dimitri, and he also wants to look decent, so he makes his way to the bathroom with a towel and a clean pair of jeans. He seems to remember Dimitri telling him he looked nice in red, so he considers putting on one of his crimson shirts.
He blushes, and he’s short of admonishing himself for thinking that. That’s what he used to do, after all, whenever he allowed himself to let his eyes linger on broad shoulders or mulling over Dimitri praising him for his research. It would be easier, if it were anyone else, he’s sure of it, but he doesn’t really want anyone else, does he?
“You home?” calls her sister from the kitchen then, her words slurred and raspy.
“No,” he answers, and closes the door behind him.
He has a lot to think about.