It's hard not to feel as though it's something personal, the way he had just sort of been a presence one moment and then vanished the next. It weighs on his conscience, darkening his mood and leaving him a little sulkier and more withdrawn than usual; Felix needles him about it and Ashe asks tactfully after him and Dedue simply dotes in his quiet, solemn way, but nothing really does anything to help. Even Byleth takes a minute out to remark on his change in demeanor, and the fact of the matter is he almost confesses everything to the professor right then and there, except that some odd twinge of bashful shame gets the better of him, and he winds up simply making excuses instead.
He knows, rationally, that it's nothing he did or didn't do. It's not a result of dissatisfaction with his...his...conduct, probably. And he hasn't turned up in Manuela's infirmary so it couldn't be that he somehow hurt his omega, so —
"His omega". He's got to stop thinking like that. It had been one thing to indulge the whim in the heat of passion, but he has no real claim on Yuri Leclerc and he knows it.
He just wishes the alpha in him would recognize that, too.
But then, one day, he goes to dinner in the dining hall, and like some miracle from the Goddess, Yuri is there. And not just there, but there and sitting with...Sylvain. Sylvain, who seems to be telling some sort of joke or making some variety of quip. Sylvain, making Yuri laugh. Sylvain, with his arm around Yuri's shoulders —
A hand falls on his arm. Byleth. He's told to put his fangs away and stop snarling in public. He hadn't even realized he was baring his teeth to begin with. And Byleth is a fellow alpha, and one whose strength he respects, but even that isn't necessarily enough to calm him entirely.
Moodily, he stalks over to the table where Sylvain and Yuri have taken up residence, reflexively scenting the air in search of Yuri's scent even as he approaches like a dark little thundercloud.
"Sylvain," he says in a voice so ragged it's nearly a growl, his blue eyes sharp as sapphires. "You normally sit with Felix and Ingrid, don't you?"
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It's hard not to feel as though it's something personal, the way he had just sort of been a presence one moment and then vanished the next. It weighs on his conscience, darkening his mood and leaving him a little sulkier and more withdrawn than usual; Felix needles him about it and Ashe asks tactfully after him and Dedue simply dotes in his quiet, solemn way, but nothing really does anything to help. Even Byleth takes a minute out to remark on his change in demeanor, and the fact of the matter is he almost confesses everything to the professor right then and there, except that some odd twinge of bashful shame gets the better of him, and he winds up simply making excuses instead.
He knows, rationally, that it's nothing he did or didn't do. It's not a result of dissatisfaction with his...his...conduct, probably. And he hasn't turned up in Manuela's infirmary so it couldn't be that he somehow hurt his omega, so —
"His omega". He's got to stop thinking like that. It had been one thing to indulge the whim in the heat of passion, but he has no real claim on Yuri Leclerc and he knows it.
He just wishes the alpha in him would recognize that, too.
But then, one day, he goes to dinner in the dining hall, and like some miracle from the Goddess, Yuri is there. And not just there, but there and sitting with...Sylvain. Sylvain, who seems to be telling some sort of joke or making some variety of quip. Sylvain, making Yuri laugh. Sylvain, with his arm around Yuri's shoulders —
A hand falls on his arm. Byleth. He's told to put his fangs away and stop snarling in public. He hadn't even realized he was baring his teeth to begin with. And Byleth is a fellow alpha, and one whose strength he respects, but even that isn't necessarily enough to calm him entirely.
Moodily, he stalks over to the table where Sylvain and Yuri have taken up residence, reflexively scenting the air in search of Yuri's scent even as he approaches like a dark little thundercloud.
"Sylvain," he says in a voice so ragged it's nearly a growl, his blue eyes sharp as sapphires. "You normally sit with Felix and Ingrid, don't you?"