[The kiss is gentle and warm, and Byleth couldn't help but think back to the kissing booth, strangely.
Maybe because it was already at the forefront of his mind, but he couldn't help but draw stark comparisons to the chaste peck on the lips that had been then, and the lingering yet gentle kiss of now. There was no stiff awkwardness, no bumping of their noses or feeling like they hadn't quite gotten the angle right, or slight discomfort at being so close to someone while pressing your mouth somewhere unsanitary...
Was this the fruit of his practise? Of refining his technique until the kiss felt perfectly natural and comfortable and reassuring, rather than mildly invasive yet pleasant in an alien kind of way? Or was it a sign of his deepening bond with Shez, that they had achieved a level in their relationship where such intimate touches became so comfortable it was as if it was never a foreign sensation? Maybe it was both...
...
Byleth didn't quite have the sudden divine revelation that Shez might've hoped for with that kiss, but he did experience something, his mind gaining two puzzle pieces it looked between and started to uncertainly snap together. Because if it was both - practice, and a deepening bond - then didn't that mean that their friendship had reached its pinnicle, that their affection was on the verge of evolution?
Was this how it felt, to achieve love that wasn't the instinctive kind a child had for its parent?
Byleth understood what love was, of course, factually. He researched it obsessively in his romance books, and he understood how the familial kind felt with Jeralt. But he never knew how it felt personally. Every book described it differently, and love was a multi-faceted thing that wasn't strictly romantic. The love towards your ideals, the love towards your nation, the love towards your comrades, your friends, your partner, your weapons, your soul's roommate...
...he just needed to figure out where Shez sat, on that venn diagram of love.]
...
[The kiss ended, Byleth pulling back to fix Shez with a look that... said a lot but also nothing at all, a contemplative head tilt one usually reserved for a tricky mathematical problem they were on the verge of solving, but not quite. He was aware he couldn't quite ask if platonic love involved kissing in front of the merchant, not if they wanted the scam to succeed, but his analytical mind hungered for Shez's perspective on things. It might help him categorise this whole thing...
Hm. Maybe he'll think on it some more, first. So, instead of engaging Shez in the philosophy of love right there in front of the merchant and his pastries, he said:]
We've improved a lot since our first kiss. We've stopped bumping noses.
no subject
Maybe because it was already at the forefront of his mind, but he couldn't help but draw stark comparisons to the chaste peck on the lips that had been then, and the lingering yet gentle kiss of now. There was no stiff awkwardness, no bumping of their noses or feeling like they hadn't quite gotten the angle right, or slight discomfort at being so close to someone while pressing your mouth somewhere unsanitary...
Was this the fruit of his practise? Of refining his technique until the kiss felt perfectly natural and comfortable and reassuring, rather than mildly invasive yet pleasant in an alien kind of way? Or was it a sign of his deepening bond with Shez, that they had achieved a level in their relationship where such intimate touches became so comfortable it was as if it was never a foreign sensation? Maybe it was both...
...
Byleth didn't quite have the sudden divine revelation that Shez might've hoped for with that kiss, but he did experience something, his mind gaining two puzzle pieces it looked between and started to uncertainly snap together. Because if it was both - practice, and a deepening bond - then didn't that mean that their friendship had reached its pinnicle, that their affection was on the verge of evolution?
Was this how it felt, to achieve love that wasn't the instinctive kind a child had for its parent?
Byleth understood what love was, of course, factually. He researched it obsessively in his romance books, and he understood how the familial kind felt with Jeralt. But he never knew how it felt personally. Every book described it differently, and love was a multi-faceted thing that wasn't strictly romantic. The love towards your ideals, the love towards your nation, the love towards your comrades, your friends, your partner, your weapons, your soul's roommate...
...he just needed to figure out where Shez sat, on that venn diagram of love.]
...
[The kiss ended, Byleth pulling back to fix Shez with a look that... said a lot but also nothing at all, a contemplative head tilt one usually reserved for a tricky mathematical problem they were on the verge of solving, but not quite. He was aware he couldn't quite ask if platonic love involved kissing in front of the merchant, not if they wanted the scam to succeed, but his analytical mind hungered for Shez's perspective on things. It might help him categorise this whole thing...
Hm. Maybe he'll think on it some more, first. So, instead of engaging Shez in the philosophy of love right there in front of the merchant and his pastries, he said:]
We've improved a lot since our first kiss. We've stopped bumping noses.