#{ ooc: *LOUDLY APOLOGIZES FOR GOING FULL FRIGGIN' HAM ON THIS* }

[macuilsung]

"I want the K!" for Dorothea c:

via Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number (closed!):

Result: 7: Romantic kiss!

He couldn’t believe he went and finally said it. Despite the heart-to-heart with Byleth and the few rounds of liquid courage he indulged in before the professor cut him off, he still couldn’t believe he went and told them all the very next day. The Abyssian thought for certain that he would have chickened out of his decision come morning, but no, he followed through, much to his own surprise.

Whether it was the best call in the long run, he could not yet know, but after what happened with Monica and Jeralt? Blurring the lines between “Forwin Tyrell” and “Wyndell von Gerth” felt like the right thing to do in the present, and now there were no more secrets between himself and the others. For better or worse... now the Black Eagles and Ashen Wolves knew everything. His name, background, and Crest. Not one stone was left unturned where it could be helped.

With all of that madness out of the way, the bard simply opted to retire for today. Give his brain some much-needed rest after answering question after question. Ruminate on some of the reactions he received, bracing on how his relationships might change now that all the Eagles know he’s a fellow blue-blood. Nurse his sore cheek with some vulnerary after a robust slap from an upset Constance, which wasn’t unexpected, given their families’ shared history.

Have some needed peace and quiet to himself after sundown.

It was just him and his lute behind the greenhouse, the moon high above in a clear sky reflecting on the fishing pond, and the crickets singing their tune in the grass.

“...what the hell am I even doing?” Forwin groaned in self-admonishment, his hand stilling from strumming so that he may reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose hard. Did he only just wind up ruining everything for himself, and alienate everyone he’s befriended in Garreg Mach in the process? Much weighed on his mind yet.

For one... it concerned him that Dorothea didn’t say anything to him, standing there today in the classroom like a number of thoughts were crashing in on her all at once. No, that’s not quite it—it actually frightened him deep down, to the point he can’t commit to playing his instrument so that he can even relax at all. After all, she was many things to him now: his first real crush ever since he saw her perform onstage in Enbarr as the Mystical Songstress; a close friend among a house full of elites; someone with whom he could hold day-long conversations about their shared craft, let alone sing and play with; a woman he’s come to pine for all over again the closer they became with time.

Yet he kept mum while she tried to find a decent man to care for her in the future, as much as it pained him to see her continue her romantic pursuits. Besides, he knew it too well: what lifetime comforts can an Abyssian provide from an underground hovel for someone like her? Someone whom he felt is entitled to the world at her feet and the stars above, if he could will it?

No, it was far worse than that. He was an Abyssian whose real identity made for the very sort of person she despised most: a noble. Not that she begrudged her own housemates, save an unfortunate Ferdinand von Aegir, but she once confided in the bard some of her hatred towards the uppermost class and Forwin completely agreed with her at that, even validated it! Hell, who knows better the cruelties of nobility than a noble?

An honest one at least, but honest was the last thing he’s been with her all year round.

With enough regret to make his own chest feel heavier with sorrow than it healthily should, he set his lute aside so he could simply lean forward from his cobblestone seat, stare into the water, and be miserable. Hah, a miserable bard! Such a tale would be worth a good comedy production on its own.

“I’m... so sorry, Dorothea,” he murmured mournfully to none but his moonlit reflection in the pond, and hers. “There... There’s still so much I want to tell you I didn’t want to say in front of the others. Stories I want you to hear first, so you could understand why I’m...”

The pang in his chest only grew deeper, to the point he fell silent as he watched their images ripple in the water from the wind’s late night chill.

“...and not... just those. I also want you to know how painfully my heart burned for you all this time too, but... hey, not that I think I deserve your friendship at this point, anyway.” ‘It’s probably for the best.’ Those last words, he would keep to himself behind a sad smile and a long, tired sigh, as his eyes kept staring into those of her persisting like...ness... in... the water...?

...wait just a Sothis-damned second-

“DOROTHEA-?!”

With renewed vigour, the wide-eyed musician finally snapped to attention, scrambling up on his feet and turning to face the genuine article in question. Had he shouted any louder, he would’ve risked waking up the students in the dorms! What was with that look on the woman’s face right now? It’s almost like the one from this morning—wait, how long has she been there? She didn’t really hear all that just now, did she?!

...

...

...

OH GODDESS SHE HEARD IT ALL!!!

Mouth hung agape in belated realization, leaving an embarrassed Forwin to unravel at the seams! At this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be buried six feet under with growing panic. Tears weren’t welling up in his eyes now of all times, were they?! Saints above, this was mortifying-!!! How could this get any worse?!

“L...look, I, I know you have every possible reason to be upset with me, because I lied to you about everything, but please, j...just know that I-I never wanted to hurt y-”

“—MHFF?!”

So caught up he was in his own head that he failed to see her coming, as the former starlet practically threw herself onto the Ashen Wolf and pushed her lips against his own so that he may finally shut up. Suddenly, Forwin found himself acutely aware of sensations he never expected to have the privilege of feeling: the intoxicating beat of her breath against his skin with warmth; the full weight of her body onto his engraving itself into his mind; her fingers gripping tightly onto the aged white fabric of his facsimile Academy uniform...

All of it and more overwhelmed enough to melt into the kiss and almost forget the basic human instinct of breathing. Still, it took little time for him to gather his wits anew, and so did one arm wrap itself taut around Dorothea’s waistline while his other brought his cool palm up to her cheek.

Relief within him blossomed into sheer bliss and his worries waned as though they’ve already passed innumerable eons ago. Why, his heart felt so full to bursting that he could sing whole ballads of their first kiss alone, for never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine she would...