Battle Buddies Part Five: Battle Bros
***this one is a lot shorter than previous chapters. Sorry for the shortness. But hey! I made it on time ;D
—to be fair, I’ve had this written since 4 was published, I’m almost done editing part six. You’ll likey. Promise <3–=
Again, these characters are not mine. The world and the characters exist in a copyrighted game called Rune Factory 4. I’m just playing with them 😉
The artwork in this post are from the tumblr blog: http://dylas-doug.tumblr.com/ and drawn by the folks there. I do not claim any of it as my own. If you like their work, I highly recommend you follow them. 😀
I hope you enjoy this installment. And as I promised, I should hopefully get started on an Arthur x Frey fic soon. Look forward to it!
Without further ado, I give you…****
Arthur was silent for a long time. Dylas alternated from pacing to leaning against the desk with his arms crossed and back again. He ran his hands over and through his mane, catching snarls. “I took the fish,” he sighed, throwing up his hands. “I should have just left them at her room… or… something.”
“She said she liked you?” Arthur murmured in bespectacled wonder, his eyes wide beneath the thin glass. He removed the frames from his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “She confessed her feelings to you and you’re pacing my study talking about fish.”
Dylas all but threw himself backwards into a chair and his face hit his palms, and he let out a low groan. “What do I do?”
Arthur stared at him, long and hard. “Do you like her?”
Dylas threw up his hands, face red, “I… of course I do.” He put his face into his hands. “Who wouldn’t?” he grumbled.
Arthur couldn’t really say anything to that. He ran his hands over his hair, leaning back on his desk and letting out a low whistle of breath. “Well. I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but it makes sense.”
Dylas raised his head from his hands and gave the prince a fierce look, “You can’t tell Leon. Or Doug.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, and moved across the room to take up a seat on his sofa. He crossed his hands over his knees. “Why would I?”
“They seem to know too much about me,” Dylas grumbled, crossing his arms and putting on an aloof face.
Arthur shook his head. “Do you love her?” He pressed on.
Dylas stared blankly at him for a moment, and red began to creep across his features until he was almost purple.
“So you do?”
“Don’t—Love? Isn’t that…” Dylas floundered. Arthur could almost see the steam coming off of him.
“Do you love her,” Arthur tried again, interrupting the horseman with a firmer voice.
Dylas sighed. “I… I think so.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Dylas frowned and stomped across the room again. “I just…” His voice drifted and he stomped the other way across the room. Arthur watched him march from one side of the room to the other over and over. Finally, Dylas stopped in front of the couch where Arthur sat. “My thoughts and my heart are going different ways,” he muttered, face red.
Arthur would have loved to applaud the man for formulating the expression. “What do your thoughts say?”
“That I’m no good at this thing. And it would be more trouble to her.”
Arthur stared at him, waiting for the man to continue. When he didn’t, he continued, “What does your heart say?”
Dylas frowned and he sat beside Arthur. “It hurts when she’s by me. I want to… h…hug her. And other stuff.”
Arthur put his arm around his friend, patting his shoulder. “Here’s what I think. I think Frey has seen enough of your bad sides to know what she’s getting herself into.” He retracted his arm. “She’s a smart… young woman.” He smiled to himself, “She’s probably given it a lot of thought. She confessed to you, after all.”
Dylas nodded to himself. “Guess so.”
“And let’s just assume something here for a moment,” Arthur suggested, “Maybe she wants to do those things with you too.”
Dylas recoiled, practically standing on the couch in a way that made him appear that he was going to flee, his long face reddened to such an extreme that Arthur was honestly worried about the man’s health. “B-B-B—” he blubbered.
Arthur shook his head. “So, here’s what I think you should do tomorrow.” He splayed his hands. “I think you should go to Doug and practice what you’re going to say in the morning.”
Dylas glared at him, his face going a stark white. “No way. He can’t know.”
“He’s your best friend, Dylas. You should be there now, not with me.”
Dylas shook his head, “No, he’s fucking obnoxious.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow, “Language.” Dylas’ expression softened and the prince continued, “It’s not gonna hurt anything to work off some of your worries before you talk to her tomorrow morning.”
Dylas huffed, “Fine.” He made to head up the stairs but Arthur held up a hand.
“Hang on, I think I have something that might be able to help you.”
Dylas sat back down and rubbed his arms gruffly, thinking about the day ahead and wondering what Arthur could have in mind. The last thing he was expecting was his reflection thrust upon his lap. “A… A mirror??” Dylas frowned.
“Yes. A mirror. Practice tonight before you get to Doug.”
Dylas grimaced. “Do I have to?”
“Do you want to date Frey?” Arthur challenged, blond eyebrows raised.
Dylas blushed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “Well… yeah…”
“So you’ll practice. If you need someone to practice on, I’m just down the hallway.” Arthur straightened and went to his desk, “I have some work to do now, Dylas, if you wouldn’t mind scuttling?”
Dylas clomped up the stairs, turning the mirror over in his hands.
“I… I know I’m not the best with words, but… I like you…”
Doug blushed fiercely, thanking all the gods that the shop was empty. It was early in the morning, and here Dylas was standing with a fierce blush on his face. “W-Whaat?” Doug erupted. “I… I’, sorry, but you know don’t swing that way, man!”
Dylas’ blush turned to a sour anger. “Not you, asshole! I’m practicing!” He yelled.
Doug gave him a loud hushing, “Will you not talk like that in the store?” he demanded, pink eyes glaring. He pulled the man from the counter to a corner between the shelves. “What are you talking about, practicing?”
Dylas grimaced, “Frey… Frey confessed to me last night… I have to give her an answer at 10.”
Doug’s mouth fell into solid circle, and he stared at the man in disbelief. “Frey… confessed… to you?”
Dylas nodded, grumbling.
Dylas glared again, “I told you, last night.”
Doug’s head was obviously swimming. “Seriously?!”
Dylas shoved the dwarf. “I have an hour. Are you going to help me or not?”
Doug crossed his arms over his chest, “Well, you’re not confessing like that,” he asserted, “Not in a million years.”