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'Shit, shit, shit!' Felix cursed himself as he ran from the training grounds and through the hallways of Castle Fhirdiad. Inside his chest, his heart beat with the force of a thousand war horses galloping across Gronder Field. Oxygen, coming only in short rapid breaths was not enough. He felt he might be sick. He'd screwed up. Again. It was becoming ridiculous. Why was he so…? Come on! Pull yourself together, damn it! He berated himself as he advanced without looking back to see if Dimitri was following. He had survived to worse horrors . He'd been raised during the Regency; he'd been part of the Academy class which saw the beginning of the war; he'd made it through the war, and he had survived a couple of assassination attempts, both against himself and Dimitri. Why was he able to steel himself against all of them, but he wasn't able to endure this.
He had always known he was different. He had never cared, until now. Yet, there had always been signs. As a teenager, his old man had sat down with him and had explained the changes his body would undergo and the urges that would come with it. He never felt them. When Sylvain talked about his conquests and exploits, he couldn't help but feel grossed out. Even when the professor, someone he admired deeply, had sought him in the goddess tower, he had turned her down. Dorothea had berated him for days for rejecting one of the most popular women in Garreg Mach, her own crush on their professor evident from miles away. But Felix had told them that he'd always feel more comfortable holding a sword than a woman's hand, and he had meant it.
At the time, he figured it was because he was simply not attracted to women; though truth be told, not even Yuri's advances on him had any effect either. He was devoted to the sword; then, to the war. And when not busy with either, his mind was always concerned with something, or rather somebody else. Perhaps all could be explained by the simple fact that his heart was already taken by the then Prince of Faerghus. Even at the academy, behind each deprecating comment, Felix knew that long-buried feelings for Dimitri stirred within his chest. And during the war, of course, he wasn't remotely interested in any romantic advances from other potential partners since he was constantly worrying about the troubled mind of the Boar Prince. When Dimitri finally regained his sense of self, Felix stepped up as the person who Dimitri needed as an ear to listen to his woes, a sparring partner, a friend who was not afraid to push the boundaries set by their titles to gently but firmly coax him into healing.
If asked now, Felix would say he loved Dimitri. After the war, it had happened so easily, it felt as natural as breathing. Felix was proud of the person Dimitri had become, embodying qualities he admired: tenacity, perseverance, a willingness to help and overcome any obstacles. Dimitri was also kind, sometimes to a fault, but it never failed to make Felix curve his lips into a subtle smile when he saw the King of Faerghus surrounded by a handful of children, or tending to his horses at the stable. Besides, there were many common interests between the two of them: their love for rare weapons, for one, as well as their shared passion for training. But Felix had discovered that Dimitri enjoyed the opera, his eyes tearing up at the renditions of tragic stories accompanied by orchestral music. And while Felix did not share Dimitri's love for horses, he had come to look forward to their riding outings when they could spare the time. When Dimitri had finally confessed his feelings, Felix had only smirked and answered 'I love you too, you idiot'.
Felix had expected whatever was wrong with him to be fixed then —if not immediately, at least hand in hand with the development of his relationship with Dimitri. It turned out, not even love could fix him. It hadn't been a problem, at first. Dimitri was quick to blush, quick to shy away from any form of physical contact beyond scandalous hand-holding. Felix was content with that. He could even admit enjoying the sensation of Dimitri's lips pressed to his in a kiss. But Felix didn't need more— didn't want more. It seemed, however, that Dimitri did.
Felix was no fool. Of course, Dimitri expected intimacy. It was the next natural step in their relationship. Even if he didn't say it, Felix noticed how Dimitri's body reacted to his. He was aware of Dimitri's restraint when they lay next to each other, when his hands stopped their wandering to always give Felix a way out. Felix wanted to want it, to let Dimitri continue his exploration and finally understand what the big deal about sex was about. Maybe, if he let him, the blissful promise of two people becoming one and all that nonsense would rewire him and fix him.
Yet, the idea of sex felt so wrong, so strange, so disconnected from his feelings for Dimitri. He felt his skin crawl and his ears ringing. And so, whenever Dimitri looked at him with desire in his eye, he pushed him away. And every time it happened, Felix was left with a spiral of thoughts, regrets and one deep-rooted fear: one day, what little he had to offer wouldn't be enough for Dimitri. And so, he kept struggling against himself.
That had led him to this moment. The worst thing was that Felix had initiated everything. They had been sparring. He had sent Dimitri tumbling back using one of the professor's techniques. Playfully, he had straddled Dimitri, pinning him down and waiting for his King to yield. Dimitri had just stared at him with his wide blue eye open in awe, raising a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Felix's ear. Felix had then gone in for a kiss. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps he wasn't thinking it, it was the spur of the moment, but he thought he was enjoying it.
Then, a chill went down his spine when Dimitri's hands slipped inside his shirt, taking hold of his sides. He felt Dimitri's calloused hands directly on his skin —too close, too strong. Dimitri was warm below him —no, Dimitri was burning, searing his own skin with his touch. He stilled. He suddenly became aware of his short breath —too loud, too quick. And then he saw the way Dimitri was staring at him; his expression was tender, but his eye was dark with lust.
'Felix, are you alright?' Dimitri asked, forcing Felix back into reality.
'Yes,' he lied, leaning down to hide his anxiety in the crook of Dimitri's neck.
Dimitri's hands moved to Felix's shoulder, gently pushing him away. 'Are you sure?'
Felix turned away before his eyes met. He couldn't face Dimitri. He had to go on. This is what Dimitri wanted. He would comply. Why was Dimitri stopping? Had he seen through him? Couldn't he see he wanted him? Yes. But not like this.
Dimitri's fingers brushed against his face. His voice, a plea. 'Felix, please. Look at me. What's wrong?'
Felix flinched away. No. He couldn't. His voice was caught in his throat like a lump obstructing the air flow. And around him, the world was turning, caging him, making him dizzy. He was about to be sick. There was only one thing he could do: he fled.
Dimitri's voice calling for him and begging him to wait was lost under the haze of his mind. He did not look back. He did not look at the people he trampled against as his steps echoes through Castle Fhirdiad's halls. His vision tunnelled, leading him to the safety of his room. The door slammed closed behind him as he entered.
But once inside, there was no reprieve from his own mind. 'Idiot. Freak. The ice-cold duke Fraldarius.' His blood boiled with frustration as he confronted his reflection on the mirror. 'Why? Why are you like this? Why can't you be… normal?' His voice trembled as the string of insults continued. He could feel his own heart clenching, a pain made worse by the memory of Dimitri's expecting and heart-broken eye. He was a failure of a lover.
His chest tightened. He needed air. And the walls around him were closing in. He couldn't breathe. He needed a way out. He needed to run. He…
'That's enough, Felix.' Dimitri's voice cut through the haze, an anchor —or a trap? He wasn't sure. But it helped his racing thoughts to stop in their tracks. 'Breathe in, Felix,' he commanded, firm but gentle, a simple instruction he could follow.
Little by little, Felix's world cleared around him, each breath returning a small amount of clarity to his surroundings. Felix had not noticed when he had toppled his night stand. He had not cared for the trinkets that littered his room's floor when it fell. He had not heard the shattering sound of the glass mirror. He had not felt himself scratching at his arms through his clothes —surely red lines were already appearing underneath his sleeves.
'There, Felix. Easy.' Dimitri continued from where he was standing, just at the entrance of his quarters but, having closed the door behind him. He stood still, back against the wall as if trying to occupy as little space as possible. His movements were hesitant, slow, trying not to startle Felix any further. 'May I come near?'
Felix shook his head, his grip tightening around his arms. He wanted to curl into himself and disappear. He didn't want Dimitri to see him. If only he could become smaller, invisible.
'I won't, then,' Dimitri continued with a gentle tone. 'But please, Felix, let go. You are harming yourself. Breathe.'
Felix listened to Dimitri's instructions. Deep breath in, hold, and deep breath out. His fingers relaxed and he let his arms fall limply to his lap. He kept breathing. In, two, three. Hold, five, six. Out, eight, nine, ten. Again. Again. Again.
'That's it,' Dimitri spoke from the opposite side of the room. His voiced was laced with concern, making Felix flinch at his own weakness. 'You are safe, Felix. I'm here for you.'
Felix shook his head again. 'You don't understand,' he managed.
'I want to, please. Let me help.'
And that was the problem. Felix didn't understand it himself. Felix didn't know how Dimitri could help, or if he could help at all. Yet, here he was, offering to take on his burdens on top of everything else that came with his crown. He really was too kind. He had become better. He deserved better. Felix gave his head another shake, wrapping his own arms around him.
'Is it something I did?' Another no. 'Did I hurt you, in any way?' No, again. 'Please, Felix. Talk to me.'
Deep breath in, two, three, four. Hold it, six, seven, eight. Let it out, ten, eleven, twelve. 'It's me,' Felix answered with a trembling voice. Below him, a single amber eye stared back from a broken piece of silver glass with judgemental anger. 'It's… I… There's something wrong with me, and… I didn't want you to find out.'
Dimitri's brow furrowed and his mouth puckered into a thin line. His warm radiance suddenly cold and distance. A pit formed in Felix's stomach at the sight. 'Felix…'
'I'm sorry! I love you. And I've really tried to… But when you… I can't reciprocate your affections, Dimitri.'
'Did I do something wrong?'
'No!' Felix could feel his voice breaking, almost a desperate plea. 'I want you! I love you! But I can't correspond… physically. And I don't know why.'
Dimitri was silent for a moment. From the corners of his eye, he could see Dimitri's feet shifting his weight and Felix could almost imagine him bringing a hand to his lips in a pensive expression. He turned to find Dimitri's face tinted by a subtle pink flash and his mouth opened in hesitation, mulling his words before speaking them. 'Felix, is this, is this… ,' he cleared his throat, 'is this about you not wanting to have sex?'
Felix looked away, feeling his own blood rising to his ears as he nodded. He had said it. He had told Dimitri. Surely, now Dimitri would feel disappointed, rejected. If he walked away without another word, Felix would understand.
Except Dimitri let out a relieved sigh. 'May I come closer? Please, beloved.'
Felix hesitated, just enough to see Dimitri's reflection on one of the largest pieces. Where he expected disgust and a scowl, Felix welcomed the sight of Dimitri's gentle, caring smile —a rare sight, reserved for moments when he was tender and protective, mostly towards him in his even rarer moments of vulnerability.
Felix allowed Dimitri to approach with a nod. The King, carefully made his way across the room, his heavy boots unable to avoid the finer pieces of glass as they crushed beneath him. 'May I?' He asked softly, holding his hand in front of Felix. Felix allowed it. Gently, Dimitri took his hand, guiding him to sit on his bed and kneeling before him.
'Thank you,' he murmured, rubbing circles on the back of Felix's hands. 'You know? It is alright if you don't want sex, Felix.'
Felix scoffed, part of him wanting to pull his hands off and run away once more. He couldn't see his reflection any longer, but he knew what he would find if he did: the confirmation that beneath of his layers of armour he was incomplete. Couldn't Dimitri see that? If that was the case, he at least had to let him know. 'I really wanted to desire it, desire you. I wish I could give you that, but I'm… I think I'm broken. Maybe I have always been.'
Dimitri squeezed his hands tighter. 'When we started courting, I faced a similar situation. Too many of Ashe's novels gave me expectations of what I would feel towards you. When that didn't happen, I panicked, and went to Sylvain for advice.'
That earned him a gentle knock on the head from Felix. Dimitri chuckled at the aggression, making Felix frown with annoyance. Here he was, baring his heart to Dimitri and this was how he answered? 'What sort of dumb advice could that oaf give you?'
Dimitri laughed. 'You'd be surprised how helpful that was.' Felix almost wanted to hit him again, but he was weak to see Dimitri's eyes crinkle at the edges. He allowed the King to continue. 'You see, not everybody has the same inclination towards sex. The same way that some people are attracted to one another, there are many who do not feel the urge for sex in varying degrees. Does that sound familiar?'
Felix bit his lip before giving a shy nod.
Dimitri cupped Felix's face to turn it towards him, making him look into his icy blue eye. 'You are not broken, Felix. Your experience is completely normal. And if you do not want sex, we don't have to ever do it.'
Relief washed over Felix like a wave breaking off in the cliffs of the Rhodos Coast: the raging current was suddenly reduced into the calming steady sound of the ocean after a storm. And overwhelmed with clarity, suddenly all seemed so obvious, so stupid. Of course Dimitri would be so accepting, he almost felt guilty for doubting him.
But as he allowed his muscles to relax, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection, still looking at him disapprovingly from the floor. 'Does that bother you? Knowing that there will be a part of our relationship that will never be fulfilled?'
'Not at all, Felix' Dimitri said, bringing Felix's hands to his lips and placing a reverent kiss on them. 'I think, our relationship is fulfilling enough as it is.'
'But you want it, don't you?' Felix pressed further, anxiety still creeping under his skin.
'I might,' Dimitri admitted. He was blushing now, too, and he needed to clear his throat before continuing. 'But it's not something that I feel the urge to act upon. I think we are more similar than you think. I never craved for sex before, not even when we started courting. My desire for you stemmed from our own bond. Besides, I could never crave for such intimacy with anybody else. And I was just as scared as you of not being able to reciprocate had you ever asked for it. It seems I never had much cause to worry, after all.'
Felix smirked. Somehow, that sounded just like Dimitri. Now, he felt like a fool. 'I'm sorry, if I couldn't tell you sooner. It's hard, to voice something that goes against everything you've been taught to want and expect. I don't even have a name for it.'
Dimitri nodded, rising to sit next to Felix and wrap his arm around him, letting the swordsman's head fall on his shoulder. 'Our language could use new vocabulary to describe so many things we don't have words for yet. But until then, rest assured that I'll do my best to remind you that you are cherished, loved, and not broken.'