` SHELL / BONE.

      THE HURT IN DIMITRI’S EYES DOES NOT GO UNNOTICED. how could it be when he is all ashe is looking at, all ashe has ever wanted to look at. guilt twists painfully in his stomach as he watches the king twist his hands. he thinks maybe, maybe if he hadn’t been the cause of dimitri’s pain ashe would like to reach out & take them to provide some sort of comfort. but he won’t. he can’t.

      DESPITE OVERWHELMING ACHE IN HIS CHEST, ashe knows in the end this is the right choice. if he can hurt dimitri like this, as a friend & companion – who’s to say how he could hurt him if he dared to voice what lies inside his heart. he never wants to hurt the ones he cares for; that’s how he’s been for his whole life. but hurting dimitri is a pain like no other, a double edged sword plunging into his chest.

      ASHE WOULD NOT CONSIDER HIMSELF A SELFISH MAN, but there is some inherent selfishness in what he’s doing isn’t it? withholding such a significant part of himself from the one he cherishes most. & for what? — so that he can shield his heart from the inevitable damage that this risk would bring? so that he can supposedly protect dimitri from hurting while simultaneously hurting him more? it’s nothing short of foolishness. 

                  BUT ASHE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A FOOL, HASN’T HE?

      ❛  DIMITRI, I  —  ❜  ashe stops himself short, his hand flinching as he resists the urge to reach for his king once more. ❛  i’m sorry. please don’t worry about me.  ❜  his voice is timid now, just barely above a shy whisper as he struggles to find the right words to say. ❛  i don’t know what i would do with myself if i had caused you any sorrow. you  —  ❜ ashe swallows as earnestly tries to meet dimitri’s gaze. ❛  you are the last person i’ve ever wanted to hurt.  ❜

      IT’S THE CLOSEST ASHE WILL ALLOW HIMSELF to speaking his truth. he’s far too cowardly to say it outright. yet even in all his fear & worry he sill wants dimitri to know…at least to some extent. for what is the point of loving anyone if the ones you love don’t know just how much you’d do for them? & oh how much he’d do for dimitri, more than he would ever ask of ashe. he’ll shatter his own heart just to assure that dimitri may never hurt again. which is what he’s doing now…more or less. 

The sincerity of Ashe’s plea doesn’t go unnoticed, nor the genuine solace shining through emerald that leave Dimitri wanting. Of what, he isn’t sure; it’s the suffocation of this emotion that clams his throat. Faerghus’ newfound king finds a vulnerability that exists with the way his stubborn will melts into a mute compliance compelled by Ashe’s wavering voice and heartfelt concerns. From his defiance, too – unwilling to compromise and potentially hurt Dimitri of anything in spite of his desperate wishes to find hidden conveyances.

It’s because of this kindness that Dimitri finds himself humbled – though stunned and guilty. Dimitri knows Ashe doesn’t mean to hurt him, but Dimitri hurts in spite of the intention. This pain blooms – like a needle pricked against his ventricles. It’s similar, to the pain for his lost family and friends, but different. It’s a pain that conflicts within him – that begs for a pry and breach in Ashe’s intentions, in spite of Dimitri’s nature. It’s something that completely breaks from the selfless punishment he’d inflicted upon himself with the lingering memories and will of those lost. No, instead... this pain...

     “...I understand,” Dimitri hums – calmed, now. It’s not quite a calm he can call himself. Its weight leaves him without air to call his own – a battle that Dimitri was failing to win as his gaze falls from Ashe’s own. He falls silent after, and the pause stretches itself thin as his hands curl into fists – an azure eye fixated on the floor as though it were the most interesting thing in the room. There’s a strain growing tighter, and tighter – threatening to burst as vision grows bleary with an inner frustration Dimitri, still, cannot name.

Then, a breach with a breathless laugh.

     “I... truly, sincerely apologize, Ashe,” Dimitri blurts – his laughter more nervous and hushed, “I’m unsure about what came over me just then.” 

And now – like a flood – Dimitri finds his tongue moving of its own accord, willed by the blossom of roses in his throat and thorns stabbing his lungs. 

     “It’s strange,” comes a sigh, now – the laughter wrung out to dry, “I grow selfish with you, and this selfishness is unlike anything I have ever known. I find myself dissatisfied, when you...” a pause – contemplation in the stutter of his tongue, “retreat – the way you do... like I am always so close to something I’m struggling to find an answer for. I find myself selfish, too, wanting to steal your time as I’m doing now. It’s as though...” Dimitri looks up now, his gaze distant – fogged in the wake of freckled skin and spring kissed eyes.

He would have. The man who saw the boar long ago, would have left. Never would he have interacted with this beast who bore fangs. That man died. The one who stood before the animal had come to terms with reality, and sought past such tedious thoughts and traumas. Growth was required to move forward, and Felix needed to take these steps toward his own goals – which led him here before Dimitri. Fickle, was fate. Yet, he never relied on such thing to guide his life.

〝  No. I don’t plan to.   〞  Blunt, immediate response.    〝  Wish me to leave all you’d like. I’m not going anywhere.   〞  That Felix may have died, but his stubbornness still lingered.Even his darts of gaze would throw daggers when armed. For now, they would yield, as he sat in a pew.

First, there is heavy silence – the weight of it nestled in Dimitri’s chest. His eye only narrows – lips pursing as, at first, he makes the choice of doing nothing. Then, Dimitri breathes in the thick air, and it leaves his lungs wanting. His fingers twitch, and shallow breath leaves through an open mouth – blood hot under his skin. There’s a pressure now, traveled from chest to ribs – squeezing at the bones. The mute anger finds his lungs – never compromising to anyone in spite of wishes and plans.

        〝What are you doing out here??               The weather doesn’t agree with               being idle. You’ll freeze.〞

Breath was show with every exhale, defining the crisp air surrounding them. Walls reached up to the sky, decorated in stain glass and ivory stone – ruined by time and war. Sitting in a pew wouldn’t right all his wrongs, or wash the blood from their hands or save their souls. No, pondering on such pathetic forgiveness would never truly sanctify him – neither of them. 

        〝Go to bed. You look awful.〞 

The tremors are worse, tonight. Dimitri cannot keep his eye open this time -- memory unbearable with the addled weight of his academy days. It doesn’t stop them, though -- crawling into the spaces between skin and skeleton. As his breath quickens, illusion of death becomes reality -- whispers clearer in the caverns of his listening ears. The grip on his lance tightens -- his hand trembling.

Then, a clear cut through it all -- clairvoyance in the wake of his punishment. Dimitri doesn’t open his eye, nor turn to acknowledge the disrupter of a madness he deserved.

❛❛  No no no no !!! I promise NOT to tell anyone if you PROMISE to do the same. ❜❜