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There was a storm coming.
Linhardt blinked at the text he’d been reading, then glanced up at the windows of the library. It was dark out now, certainly well past the time when the library would have been closed if it still had a librarian to enforce those hours, which meant the dining hall would also be closed. A shame, really. He’d only come in with the intent of checking out books, not falling asleep on top of one, and he’d planned on enjoying the weekly specialty of sweets afterward.
There was a flash outside the window, and an almighty bang shortly thereafter. As if on cue, rain started to fall, tapping its long fingers against the windowpane with desperate, quick knocks. Linhardt sighed softly and closed the book. He wouldn’t be reading any more tonight, not with the dim lights and excessive noise. He made a note of the title and shelved the book as outside, the sky cracked open again with another flash of lightning.
Linhardt ran his fingers over the charm in his pocket and frowned. There was still one more thing to do before he could sleep, it seemed. With another soft sigh, he made his way out of the library and into the storm.
The sky was falling. The sky was falling or maybe it wasn’t, but it certainly sounded like it was about to, like it was breaking into a thousand separate pieces and they were all about to come crashing down to smash Garreg Mach flatter than a pancake. Caspar had stuffed his head under a pillow and curled up tight, but he could still see it – the searing flashes of light behind his eyelids, the arcs of electricity slicing across the churning clouds. A rumble sounded through the monastery grounds, deep and bassy and ominous, and Caspar couldn’t help the way he flinched, stiffening even more than he already had.
Goddess, but he hated lightning storms. He was tough, and he knew he was tough, because sure he couldn’t beat any of the knights in hand-to-hand combat yet and sure most people had the height advantage on him but he could still out-brawl anyone his age and he hadn’t even cried when he’d broken two fingers in training a few weeks ago, even though it had hurt like crazy and he’d really wanted to do just that. He was tough, rough and tumble, the whole gamut of those cool adjectives that flashy people used to describe their top fighters, and yet every time another bolt of lightning cracked across the sky he still found himself curling up into a tiny ball with terror.
What was even the point of lightning? Whose stupid idea was it to make that a thing? Why couldn’t it have been puppies that showed up during a storm, or rabbits on chariots, or-
There was a knock on the door, so quiet in comparison to the sheeting rain that Caspar assumed he’d imagined it. A few seconds later, it came again, this time accompanied by a familiar voice. “Caspar, please. I know that you’re awake in there.”
“Linhardt?” Caspar squawked, his tone far less composed than he’d have liked it to be. He scrambled toward the door and flung it open, gawking at the sight before him.
Linhardt stood in the hallway, green hair pasted to the back of his neck and his forehead. In fact, everything was pasted to him, because he was soaking wet and dripping everywhere like he’d been snoozing outside and had sleep walked his way to Caspar’s dorm purely by accident. “I knew it,” he said with a smug smile. Then he sneezed.
It was enough to finally shake Caspar from his stupor. “Lin! What were you doing out there? It’s raining everywhere – what are you, crazy?”
“No, I’m Linhardt. I’m also wet, and tired. May I come in?”
Caspar stepped back, rolling his eyes. “Duh, you can come in. I can’t believe you waited.”
“I had few other options. I’m not as skilled as some of our classmates at breaking down doors. It takes too much effort.”
“Whatever – hang on, lemme grab some towels or blankets or something you can dry off with. You’re soaked.”
“I’d noticed,” Linhardt mused dryly as Caspar began to dig through the numerous messy piles on the floor of his room. “How do you find anything in here? I’m fascinated by your organisational methods.”
“I just know where everything is, okay? Here.” He handed over a towel and looked once more at Linhardt, shaking his head. “What were you doing anyway?”
“I was studying,” Linhardt said, scrubbing lazily at his hair. “And sleeping. When I’d finished it was too late to go to the dining hall for their sweet tooth celebration, so I thought I would come here. Surely you have sweets stashed away somewhere.”
Caspar rolled his eyes. “I mean, duh, but – Lin, you could’ve gotten sick, or-” Another bolt of lightning flashed outside the window, and Caspar flinched, his hands tightening into fists at his side.
Linhardt raised an eyebrow, but the look he was giving Caspar suggested he already knew the answer to whatever question he was thinking of asking. The thunder rolled again, louder this time, and Caspar wrapped his arms around himself. When he spoke, Linhardt’s voice was curious, but far softer than Caspar had expected. “You’re still afraid of lightning, then?”
Caspar scowled, his arms crossed tight. “No.” Crack. “Yes. Shut up.”
Linhardt scoffed. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You thought it.”
“Actually, I thought I may have something that could help with your fear. Hold out your hand.” Without hesitation, Caspar did as he was told, and he didn’t miss the way surprise flashed across Linhardt’s face at the lack of hesitation. A moment later, he deposited a familiar string of stones in Caspar’s palm, and his face lit up.
“My grounding charm! You found it!” Caspar drew the string up closer to his face, examining the beads in the dim light, each one marked by a familiar groove where he’d run his fingers over the stones time and time again. He grinned, and without warning threw his arms around Linhardt, ignoring the soft huff of surprise it earned him, the way Linhardt stiffened momentarily before relaxing and, very awkwardly, hugging Caspar back.
He pulled away after a moment, still smiling so broadly he felt his face would crack. “You’re amazing, Lin. I’ve been looking everywhere for this – where did you-?”
“In the dining hall. You probably lost it while eating or something. It’s a miracle it didn’t end up in your stomach, since I doubt you would have noticed.”
Caspar rolled his eyes and elbowed Linhardt in the side. “Oh, ha, ha. I think I’d notice eating rocks, thank you.”
“Mm, I’m not convinced. I seem to recall once when-“
“Okay, point taken,” Caspar interrupted, feeling his cheeks heat with the memory. “Why is your memory so good?”
“Because I save it for the things I actually want to remember and don’t store useless things there.” There was a crack of lightning, farther away this time, but still close enough that Caspar flinched. Linhardt held out a hand. “Would you like a hand putting that on?” Caspar nodded mutely and held out his arm, fingers drumming anxiously at his side as Linhardt took the charm back and went to work fastening it around Caspar’s wrist. “You know, it’s strange. As I recall, this used to be a necklace.”
Caspar nodded. “Yeah, but it got smaller. Or my neck got bigger, I guess. I’ve grown up a lot since we were kids.”
“And yet you’re somehow still shorter than me,” Linhardt mused, finishing off the knot. “All that heavy lifting you do must have weighted you down. What a pity.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” Caspar huffed as he examined his arm, running a finger along the stones of the bracelet again.
“Perhaps,” Linhardt admitted. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for it. The hour’s late, and I’m told my humour is lacking when I’m awake.”
“Forgive you? Don’t be stupid. There’s nothing to forgive.” Caspar grinned up at Linhardt again, waving his arm. “You brought back my charm, and anyway, we’re friends. I couldn’t stay mad at you even if I wanted to.”
Linhardt yawned, covering his mouth with a hand. “Is that so?”
“Sure is- oh, candy!” Caspar cried, suddenly reminded of the original reason for Linhardt’s visit. “Hang on, I’ve definitely got some around here somewhere, since you came all this way for it – hey, what’s so funny? Why are you laughing?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Linhardt waved a hand, then started to turn. “I should be going, though. It’s well past time for my evening nap.”
Caspar immediately moved to block the doorway, standing in front of the handle. “Oh no, you don’t. It’s still pouring out there and you’re just getting dry. Anyway, you’d just fall asleep on the stairs, and then the Professor would be weirded out and take you to Manuela again. Why don’t you stay here instead? It’ll be a sleepover, like old times.”
“While normally I would object, you have a point about the practicality of avoiding Manuela. People have a terrible tendency of bleeding all over the place when they visit the infirmary.” Linhardt made a face, shaking his head. “I suppose I’ll concede the fact that, just this once, you’re correct.”
“Alright! I’m gonna put that on record, I hope you know that.”
“Do as you wish,” Linhardt murmured, sounding bored as he waved a hand and his uniform became conspicuously drier. His eyelids fluttered, and Caspar smiled. It was easy to forget sometimes, how quickly he could fall asleep once he was comfortable and didn’t see a reason to be awake anymore.
A few minutes later, the pair of them were both settled in Caspar’s bed. Though it was only meant for one person, Linhardt had always been skinny, and Caspar was small enough that the pair of them fit without any discomfort. Caspar had just tugged the covers up over them when Linhardt, half-asleep, rolled over and slung an arm over his side. “I’m tired now, so I won’t bother eating, but I hope you know I still intend to raid your sweets stash in the morning,” he murmured.
Caspar laughed, touching the charm and savoring its familiar weight, the friendly warmth of Linhardt at his side. “Raid away, Linny,” he said, waiting for a smart remark. Instead, there was only a soft huff of air at his side, then another, rhythmic and calming.
Linhardt was already asleep. Caspar smiled, and even though the storm continued to roll its way past Garreg Mach, it wasn’t long before sleep found him as well.