#and feeling secure in Frieren's love for her

[boku-no-anime-phase]

Do you ever just Cry

[everydayfrimmel]

July 19, 2024

"The L Word (Love and/or Leaking Roofs and/or Late-Night Television)" 1800 words, roommate au, part 13/?

Apparently, Himmel thinks a lot of things are romantic.

It’s the answer he gives when Frieren notices him staring out the window and smiling at the snow: I just think it’s romantic. And when she asks why he chose a certain song to play on repeat as he makes his dinner. And why he makes two portions of freezer-section salmon and tries to plate them nicely on a greens with a dollop of herb butter instead of offering her his usual instant noodles: sounded more romantic. It is his most common response these days when Frieren asks him why he did anything. 

And normally, she would find it naïve to romanticize everyday things so insistently, but he looks so happy doing it that even Frieren isn’t cold enough to begrudge him. 

And sometimes she likes the things he calls romantic a little, too. 

That night they go into the city, for one. And how, after sitting patiently through Frieren’s very logically sound analysis of why the movie they saw was unrealistic over pizza at a place with oil stains on the tablecloths and the best crust Frieren’s ever had, he bought a whole second pie for tomorrow. How he pulls over on a deserted country road on the way back home doesn’t say anything when she takes a slice from the box, still almost warm, to eat while lying on the roof of his car (it’s freezing, she barely minds). How he knows what all of the constellations are called and admits with the freest and most triumphant laugh she’s ever heard that he only learned because he’s been daydreaming about taking a girl stargazing since he saw it in a movie when he was fourteen. 

“What can I say,” he laughs, knocking his elbow gently into Frieren’s arm. “I’ve always been a romantic guy.” 

How he’s always putting his arms around her, and how he always asks. 

How much more warmth stays trapped under a blanket when he’s there, too. 

How excited he always looks when Frieren approaches him in the kitchen while he’s doing something else and bumps her forehead into his chest to indicate that he should redirect his hands’ attention to holding her instead. 

If she had to answer the question of whether or not Himmel’s feelings are mutual, she wouldn’t know quite what to say. But she knows that she likes those things, and that, although she forgot after she grew up enough for Flamme to start giving her a little more space, it feels good to be held. 

It’s warm, secure. It makes her feel as if Himmel really means the ridiculous things he says. Sometimes it makes warmth pool in her stomach in a way she can’t quite put a pin in. 

None of this meant anything to her back in high school or college, when everyone but Frieren seemed fixated on finding someone to love. And if it weren’t Himmel—if she didn’t already know who she was trusting so well, if she hadn’t seen all the cards he has to show—she might not care even now. But the last weeks of December melt into January, and January into February, and he takes to greeting her at breakfast with a quick kiss to her forehead, cupping her face to brush back her hair, and all of the data she’s compiled thus far is promising.

She doesn’t even dust off her beloved seasonal rant about how Valentine’s Day is nothing more than an excuse for the profit-hungry to exploit the passing infatuations of people who don’t know any better. It doesn’t seem as logical this year. 

(Maybe just because Himmel, who forgoes the typical human-sized teddy bear and eight dozen roses in favor of a case of instant noodles, a tiny Erlenmeyer flask of the fuchsia Frieren loves, and a stack of five of the strangest books he could find at the secondhand store, is one of those people who don’t know any better.

Or maybe just because the kitchen smells like fuchsia, and he swallows hard when she comes up for dinner with her hair twisted up off her neck and tells her he doesn’t understand how she’s missed that she’s stunning, and because this effectively kills any desire she ever might’ve had to be cynical.

He has that effect on people.) 

They have someone deliver them pasta, pretend it’s plated on china instead of in plastic, and Frieren calls Flamme that night even though she knows that Flamme will sus out the meaning of a call on Valentine’s Day in seconds and never let Frieren know a moment’s peace about it. 

“He gave me books,” she opens, just to get it out of the way, and to catch Flamme off-guard.

“Did he?”  

That’s it? Frieren is almost disappointed.

“And…and fuchsia,” she says. “In a little flask.”

“Aw.” 

“Why are you not being weirder about this? You’re usually weird about this.” 

“What, am I supposed to be surprised?” Flamme asks. “That Himmel was sweet on Valentine’s Day? You can’t expect me to be.” 

“But-“ 

“What I wanna know is what you gave him.” 

“N-nothing,” she stammers. 

“Oh, Frieren…” 

She feels her cheeks warm and looks down at the floor even with nobody’s eyes to avoid. “I…I couldn’t think of anything.”

Except that she could. And it’s in her desk now because she hadn’t been able to convince herself it wasn’t idiotic. 

“You’re definitely lying.” 

So that’s how you’re gonna be, huh.

“I didn’t-“ 

“Frieren,” Flamme asks gently, “did he not like it?”

“I…I couldn’t give it to him.” 

“Because it was…” 

“…Taiwanese cola gummies and contact lens fluid.” 

“Oh, Frieren, contact lens fluid?”

“I said it was dumb, okay?” Frieren hates how pinched her face feels, how close a lump might be to forming in her throat. “He just ran out of it, and-“ 

“It’s not a bad gift, sweet pea,” she says. “Not at all.” 

“But you just said-“ 

“It’s just so you, Frieren.” She laughs softly. “He’ll love it.” 

“But it’s-“ 

“Go hang up the phone and give it to him, okay?” 

“But I don’t-“ 

“That boy would walk off a cliff if you asked him to,” Flamme says. “And you think he’s not going to be out of his mind with excitement about your contact lens fluid?”

And she feels silly, like she’s playing a game she doesn’t know the rules to and breaking every single one, but Frieren halfheartedly packs the gift bag she bought when she was feeling braver with contact lens fluid and gummies and tissue paper and knocks on Himmel’s bedroom door. 

“I promise I’m not being cheap,” she says when he opens the door, holding the gift bag as far from her body as she can. “I just didn’t give it to you earlier because it’s a really dumb gift.” 

His whole face seems to lift, take on color, and his eyes widen a little, and his lips part, and every movement of his body is alert, and even for Frieren, it is impossible not to see it.

All he means by love is the joy of being acknowledged and cared-for by somebody he likes and admires and could never get to know well enough.

“Frieren,” he chokes, “you got me a gift?” 

She thrusts it into his hands, red-faced with embarrassment. “I already told you it’s a really dumb gift.”

He ignores this, tossing the wads of tissue paper she stuffed in only a few moments ago onto his bed, grabbing eagerly for the first thing inside (the gummies, good, he’s gone for the normal thing first). 

“You remembered?” he asks, as if nothing has ever made him happier in his life. 

“You weren’t exactly subtle about it.” 

The last time she ordered those, she only got to eat about four of them. It had been an obvious choice.

“Bro,” he says rapturously, falling back against his pillows with the gummies clutched to his chest. “I’m gonna eat this whole thing in, like, two hours.” 

Frieren frowns. “You’re going to make yourself sick.” 

“I don’t care, man, Frieren got me cola gummies.” He looks up at her, his face aglow—“Frieren got me cola gummies!”

Oh, how she hates that her whole entire body feels warm at that.

“Well,” she says, hoping to spare herself the embarrassment, “I’m glad you liked it, goodbye,” and then he reaches out to grab for her wrist and she stops. 

There is no aggression whatsoever in his face, only a naked adoration that makes Frieren feel like she’s shrunk to the size of an ant and crawled onto the deck of a microscope. 

“How did you know?”

He holds up the bottle of contact lens fluid, and Frieren can’t even bear to look at it. 

“I saw the empty bottle in the trash a few days ago,” she mumbles. “I couldn’t think of anything better.”

He doesn’t ask this time if he can pull her into his arms. She’s glad—she wouldn’t trust her voice to answer if it did.

And she wouldn’t want to refuse. Not when Himmel is, for once, forgetting to be delicate, allowing himself to hold on as tightly as he wants to, and when the pressure of his arms around her feels so wonderful.

“I don’t care if it’s too soon,” he murmurs, cradling her head to his shoulder (oh, it’s wonderful when he does that). “Or if it’s selfish, Frieren, I love you.”

She is not surprised. He expects surprise, but she has none to give. 

“The data trends that way.” 

“Data,” he laughs, pressing his lips to her hair. “Don’t ever change, Frieren. Don’t ever.” 

I could say the same to you, she wants to reply. But it’s a thought she’s never even considered, so she simply murmurs, “hm.”

“Not even a little.” 

“Mmkay,” she says.

Contact lens fluid, huh?

And she messages Flamme after he’s gone to bed, after she can hear him snoring down the hall—he loves me—like she has a secret, even though it’s not, and like it might be the most wonderful thing in the world, which it is. Her cheeks feel warm, not just from burrowing her head under the covers, and her hands shake a little, but not unpleasantly, and she thinks, so this is what it all means, and lies back against one of her pillows with the other hugged tightly to her chest, and smiles at nothing. 

Maybe all those people lining the pockets of the retail empires this time of year do know what they’re talking about. Just a little. 

Go to bed, Frieren, Flamme texts back. He’ll still be there in the morning. 

And she falls asleep with her phone face-down on her chest, smiling, because—yes. That is the wonderful thing about Himmel: that he will be.

[kikuism]

''everything about frieren is so so special to me'' i just finished frieren today and i totally second you. this story has now a well secured place in my heart, i loved every second of it ! (thanks for the frieren post idk why it made me happy seeing someone else loving it)

i'm glad you loved it too! i just feel like it's a once in a decade kind of production. madhouse delivering such a high quality production consistently right through to the end feels so surreal to me. and i feel like it's been a long time since i've seen a season of anime with 28 episodes. i was never bored throughout. the world is so immersive too, and the soundtrack only elevates it. it felt like such a complete experience, like i was stepping into a fully fledged world. there was so much tenderness and care in the way the story was told. i was really touched for the whole runtime, especially by frieren’s character, the lessons she learns, the way she opens up to the fleeting beauty of the mortal world. i'm really drawn to immortal characters and how they are a steady pillar in an ever changing landscape, and how this affects their emotions (marcille dungeon meshi is another great example). i'm also a sucker for stories that stretch out across generations—the tragedy and hope of it all really gets me. even just thinking about how stark and fern will eventually pass on really makes my chest ache—only frieren will remain. it's so bittersweet. interestingly, and this is a tangent, but i love how marcille deals with her immortality on a completely different spectrum, with a desperation to preserve her bonds with those she loves, no matter the cost, whereas frieren never had such sentiments, until it was too late of course and she can only learn now in retrospect from her friends to appreciate what she has. the way the story starts at the end, after the big bad is defeated, and in tragedy with the death of her dearest companion, was so fascinating to me. the mingling of the past and the present with stark/eisen and fern/frieren is great too. one detail i really loved is how stark’s hands shake just like eisen’s. it's like her friends are never really gone—so frieren is never really alone.

this was such a standout series to me—i've really never experienced anything quite like it. special is the best word for it. i'm eagerly awaiting season 2!