[It is harder to ignore Byleth's physical presence at his side than it should be. Far worse than when he is at a distance somewhere on the grounds. After so long alone, with nothing but ghosts and regret for company, he's grown accustomed to the solitude, used to seeing his own shadow in the corners of his periphery at every turn—not another's, not the second pair of footfalls that follow him down the stairwell into heart of the monastery. He is caught between resentment at that fact and a darker, aching wonder at what is going on in the professor's mind. He looks no older than the day Dimitri thought him dead.
Where had he been? What had happened? Had he thought of him, even once, in those five years?
It seems he cannot help but think of him as the professor even now. Byleth. Calm, mysterious, concrete at his side—until he wasn't. Anger is a blister inside of him, but it comes second to the dragging sense of shame; Dimitri does not turn his head as they descend, route automatically carrying him toward the room near the dormitories where he's put a cache of supplies. The location is strategic, meant to make it difficult for bandits or thieves to find and ransack. He expects Byleth has already come across the hoard of food and medicinal supplies since his earlier exploration.
He hasn't asked why Byleth is wasting his time cleaning out other rooms. A single blue eye widens and flickers over at the suggestion, then darts again away.]
... That isn't necessary. I will not be sleeping. [So the heavy shadows of exhaustion and fatigue on his face have a plain culprit now.] The monastery must be guarded. The Cathedral is suitable enough for a short rest, should I find myself too tired. Don't bother with my room. It is not mine any longer.
[The Cathedral, which is huge and empty, where footsteps would alert him to anyone's presence on the glazed stone floor, where if he wakes up to the screams of nightmares he will not bother anyone else.]
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Where had he been? What had happened? Had he thought of him, even once, in those five years?
It seems he cannot help but think of him as the professor even now. Byleth. Calm, mysterious, concrete at his side—until he wasn't. Anger is a blister inside of him, but it comes second to the dragging sense of shame; Dimitri does not turn his head as they descend, route automatically carrying him toward the room near the dormitories where he's put a cache of supplies. The location is strategic, meant to make it difficult for bandits or thieves to find and ransack. He expects Byleth has already come across the hoard of food and medicinal supplies since his earlier exploration.
He hasn't asked why Byleth is wasting his time cleaning out other rooms. A single blue eye widens and flickers over at the suggestion, then darts again away.]
... That isn't necessary. I will not be sleeping. [So the heavy shadows of exhaustion and fatigue on his face have a plain culprit now.] The monastery must be guarded. The Cathedral is suitable enough for a short rest, should I find myself too tired. Don't bother with my room. It is not mine any longer.
[The Cathedral, which is huge and empty, where footsteps would alert him to anyone's presence on the glazed stone floor, where if he wakes up to the screams of nightmares he will not bother anyone else.]