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My Bachelors’ Pick entry for xseedgames #RF4Scontest !

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My Selphia Special entry for xseedgames #RF4Scontest !

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my RF4S contest entry!! dylas is such an endearing tsundere :’ )

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Dylas catching glimpses of Doug’s eyes staring directly into his and struggling to figure out what that expression means. This is all I didn’t know I needed and I thought about it all day, thanks to this adorable fanfic! Go read it, it’s super cute: 

“The importance of keeping it cool” by mezzosaka 

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[RF4] the importance of keeping cool

title: the importance of keeping cool rating: g fandom: rune factory 4 pairing: doug/dylas additional tags: n/a read on ao3

They weren’t always quiet like this.

In the middle of summer, there was nothing to do but sweat. As high up as Selphia was, it still got unbearably hot, and if Dylas had to spend one more minute listening to Porcoline’s commentary about it, he thought he was going to go crazy. He’d excused himself from lunch and headed down to the lake, and he was pleasantly surprised to find no one there.

Well, maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Today was one of those days where a trip to Autumn Road wasn’t too outrageous of an idea; Dylas supposed that most people decided to head out that way instead. Maybe he would have, too, if he’d thought of it earlier in the day. For now, he was content to sit by the lake and wait for a fish to bite.

At some point, Doug had joined him, with nothing more to say but hey. He sat down next to Dylas and stayed sitting up for all of ten minutes before he shed his coat and flopped down into the grass. And it was quiet—save for the lapping of the lake against the shore—which was both a blessing and a curse. It was easier for Dylas to not have to think about what to say for a little while, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Doug was thinking about.

Not like it actually mattered to Dylas. It was probably just something they’d end up fighting over, anyway.

...Right? Right.

The first time either of them spoke was when the sun was beginning to paint the sky dusty blues and pinks. Dylas’s bucket of fish was only half-full; it seemed like not even those under the water could stand the heat, but he made a promise to Porco to at least come back with something.

“I feel like an ice cream cone,” Doug said, and Dylas was entirely too focused on the charming lilt of his voice than what he was actually saying. “Except, like, in a puddle on the ground. A melted ice cream cone.”

Dylas looked away from the water, examining Doug from head to toe. Still completely intact, even with the shed coat and discarded boots. “You’re not melted, rice brain.”

Doug laughed. “Rice brain? What kinda insult is that?”

“The kind for you,” Dylas said. “Your brain’s only as big as a grain of rice.”

Doug rolled his eyes, and Dylas turned back to the water. 

Times like these were when Dylas really didn’t know whether he and Doug liked each other or hated each other. They spent so much time hurling insults at each other, but Dylas almost felt like he trusted Doug more than anyone else in this town, despite everything that had happened before. He knew that if he told Doug something secret, Doug would carry it to his grave. Likewise, he’d do the same for Doug.

But it was just too hard to read that damn dwarf! Sometimes Dylas would catch flashes of expressions across Doug’s face that didn’t seem intentional, but he just didn’t understand him. He talked so much about girls and being bored and wondering what he was going to eat next, but Dylas was always left wondering if any of those things actually interested Doug past a surface-level sort of interest. And if Doug didn’t care much about those things, then what did he care about?

Dylas didn’t even know how to approach a subject like that. He’d learned from Lest that there are some things you can’t just ask outright, and that definitely seemed like what Lest was talking about. But Lest was impossibly good at figuring things like that out—it’d taken Dylas nearly a whole season to even recognize that he and Doug were kind of friends.

He shook his head. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to think about stuff like that. He had fish to catch, anyway, even though it felt like nothing had bitten in the past half hour.

He decided to give himself ten more minutes: it was way too hot, still, to wait for ten more minutes, but whether or not he caught something, he was going home. And when those ten minutes were up, he kept his word, standing and collecting his bucket and his fishing rod.

“We’re leaving,” Dylas said, lightly kicking Doug in the side. “Get up, or I’ll leave you here.”

Doug was quick to collect himself, tossing his coat over his shoulder. “Felt like I was laying there for hours. Want me to carry that?”

“I’ve got it. And you were laying there for hours.”

The sun hung even lower in the sky by the time they reached the restaurant, but only because they stopped to talk to Lest on the way back. It seemed like the heat didn’t bother him, even though he’d been working all day. He was telling them all about how he and Dolce were running deliveries all day for someone named Eliza. Somehow, Doug had gotten hold of the bucket during the conversation, and he held it with both hands in front of him, swaying back and forth.

They said goodbye to the prince and resumed their walk back to the restaurant. The same sort of silence from the lake fell over them again. Doug was smiling, though; he didn’t look bored or like he was searching for something to say. Was he really content just taking a walk with Dylas?

No one was inside the restaurant when they arrived—aside from Arthur, maybe—and Doug set down the bucket in the kitchen as instructed. He lingered for a moment, looking like he had something to say.

“You can stay for a little,” Dylas blurted. “Until the sun goes down. So it’s not as hot when you go back.”

Doug raised an eyebrow, like it was completely outrageous that Dylas would extend any sort of kindness towards him, but he nodded. “Works for me.”

“I just don’t want to hear you whining about how hot it was.”

“I don’t whine! You’re way more of a whiner than me!”

“Am not! Did you hear me complain at all about the heat?”

Doug thought about it, just for a few seconds. “Well, no, but you looked so damn miserable hauling that bucket back here that you were practically whining. It was all in the eyes.”

“The hell you lookin’ at my eyes for?”

Doug stammered, but then it was silent again. He didn’t look at Dylas. Instead, he was looking somewhere off to the side, probably trying to come up with some sort of explanation. The thought of there being any sort of explanation made Dylas feel all kinds of strange. It’d be easier to accept that it was just some weird offhanded remark. Maybe it was just a dwarf thing. Or maybe it was something else.

No matter what it was, Dylas didn’t want to know, and the more time Doug had to think about it, the closer an answer came. So Dylas decided to talk about the first thing that came to mind.

“Porco makes ice cream in the summer,” Dylas said, like it wasn’t a fact Doug knew well. “You want one?”

Dylas could almost see Doug’s train of thought crash and burn at the mere mention of ice cream. The topic of Dylas’s eyes was completely abandoned, and they were back to their usual back-and-forth about whatever Doug had to start mouthing off about. It seemed like he’d done a lot of thinking while he was staring at the clouds earlier, and Dylas was half-sure that Doug was just spouting hot air rather than trying to pick a fight.

Still, this felt normal, and normal was something Dylas could handle.

(It was so hot that the ice cream started to melt when they’d barely started eating it. Dylas decided that it must have been the very same heat that warmed his cheeks whenever he thought about staring into Doug’s eyes—or rather, glancing to the side and catching Doug staring at him. He wondered how many of those moments he’d missed in the time they knew each other. He wondered if he’d catch them now that he was paying attention. He wondered if Doug felt the same heat, the same blush, the same feeling in his stomach like there were a bunch of wasps trapped in there instead of the butterflies he’d read about in books and heard about in songs.)

  Dylas was sure he’d wiped the same empty table about six times over.

It’d been a few days since he’d had that whole conversation with Doug, but things with him seemed to be normal. They didn’t talk about Dylas’s eyes again, and Dylas wasn’t even sure if that whole thing crossed Doug’s mind nearly as much as it crossed his. 

Maybe it was just a ridiculous thing to focus on. If Doug wasn’t thinking about it, then there was no reason for Dylas to be focusing on it either. Right now, anyway, Dylas had to focus on wiping the table for the seventh time. He could see his reflection in it already, but if he looked too bored, Porcoline would surely give him something else to do, and that something else had enormous potential to be something ridiculous. Or just plain unappealing, like going out to pick berries or flowers when it was twice as hot as the day he’d gone fishing.

Arthur walked in from the other room while Dylas was in the middle of his eighth table-wiping, and it was the most activity the entire place had seen for the past hour. Porcoline even stopped his singing to say hello.

“Are you hungry?” Porcoline asked. “You keep yourself cooped up in there all day and all night! You must be hungry.”

“No, I’m alright,” Arthur said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s quite hot today, though. I was wondering if it was cooler on this side of the building.”

Porcoline shook his head. “I can’t say it is. But! What I can say is that you should one-hundred percent stick around for a hot minute, as my darling Dylas has to go on a Porcomission starting right now!”

That seemed to perk Arthur up. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Dylas, what sort of mission are you going on?”

“Not one I was aware of,” Dylas said, tossing his rag over his shoulder and meeting the two at the counter. “What do you want?”

Porcoline spun around in much too big of a circle than was actually necessary, retrieving a basket that sat by the window. It looked rather delicate, and its contents were covered by a red and white checkered cloth. Knowing Porcoline, it was some sort of care package.

“I’ve prepared the most special soup in the entire world! Or at least this side of the world. You must take this to Blossom, okay?” Porcoline asked, with an unusual sort of seriousness. “Arthur has no problem covering for you until you get back. And if she offers you money, do not take it.”

Dylas wasn’t sure when Arthur volunteered himself for something like that, and by the look on the blond’s face, he didn’t know either. But Dylas knew he was more willing to take a walk in the heat than Arthur was, anyway, so he took the basket and started on his way.

The air felt hot even when Dylas breathed. It was no surprise that not many were willing to head all the way to the restaurant for a bite to eat. The path to the general store was pretty empty, save for a few tourists sitting with their feet in the river. Amber was around, too, looking like she was about three minutes away from wilting.

It was somewhat cooler when Dylas stepped inside the store. Doug was fiddling with something behind the counter, but it must not have been very important. He was staring off into space, and he didn’t even realize Dylas was standing there until Dylas cleared his throat.

“Hey!” Doug greeted him without half as much of his usual energy, looking like he was about to die of boredom. He probably was. “Why are you here?”

“None of your business,” Dylas said. “I have a delivery. It’s not for you.”

“Fine, don’t save me from the icy grip of death. Granny Blossom’s upstairs.” Doug came out from around the counter, and Dylas stepped back. “I’m not gonna hit ya. I just wanna take a peek.”

“No.”

“What? Why not?!”

“You’ll mess it up, you stupid dwarf! Porco said it was special!”

“I won’t mess it up!” Doug huffed. “Alright, keep your secrets. See if I care!”

At some point during all of that, Dylas had ended up looking at the ground. But when he looked up, Doug was staring straight into his eyes. He looked hurt. Like Dylas had wronged him far greater than refusing to let him look into the basket.

It hardly lasted a second, and Doug’s eyes flitted away towards the stairs, where Blossom was slowly descending.

“I thought I heard some commotion down here,” she said, a smile growing on her face. “You’re looking well today, Dylas. What brings you all this way?”

“I-It’s not that far,” Dylas said. He held the basket out in front of him. “Porco told me to bring this to you.”

He wasn’t sure why someone would need soup on such a hot day, but as he passed it to her, he felt her icy hands touch his, and it all made sense. She pushed aside the cloth, and inside, there was a jar of soup, two pieces of bread, and two different types of onigiri. Porcoline must have taken Doug into consideration, too.

“Oh, my! This is so lovely.” Blossom smiled and stretched out her hand. Dylas took it as a sign to lean down a bit so she could touch his cheek. “Aren’t you such a sweet boy?”

Doug snickered off to the side, and Dylas shot a glare at him.

“There’s something here for you too, Doug,” Blossom said, placing the basket on the table. “See, your friend cares about you just as much as you care about him.”

Doug laughed a little louder at that. “Me? Care about that guy?! I’d rather die!”

Dylas never in a million years thought hearing something like that from Doug would hurt, but it did, and he was pretty sure it showed on his face with the way that Doug’s expression changed to something unreadable. Concern? Regret? Dylas didn’t know and didn’t care, and he said his goodbyes and walked all the way back to the restaurant before he punched something.

Or more like some one. Really, he wanted to punch Doug. He also didn’t want to punch Doug at the same time, because he wanted to do something else, too, but punching was the thing that Dylas felt like he could actually do.Something like asking what Doug meant by preferring death over admitting whether or not he cared about Dylas was completely out of the question—Dylas already knew right now that he wouldn’t be able to do that even if he went back right now, fueled by adrenaline.

The restaurant was still as empty as it was when Dylas left. Margaret was there now, too, and her, Porcoline, and Arthur were all crowded around the counter. Their conversation stopped when Dylas walked in.

“Welcome back! Did she absolutely love it?” Porcoline asked.

“Yeah, she was happy,” Dylas said.

“Did Doug absolutely love the goodies I snuck in there for him? How was Doug?”

“He was awful, as usual.” Dylas rolled his eyes. “I can’t deal with him.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Margaret said, touching a gentle hand to Dylas’s shoulder. “He’s not horrible! I know you know that.”

“Whatever.”

Dylas picked up his rag again. He was sure that the table was due for its ninth scrub now that he’d left it for a little while. Porcoline started up some weird conversation about something Dylas didn’t understand, and Arthur excused himself shortly after that got started. Margaret started tuning one of her instruments, only half-listening to Porcoline’s monologuing.

Business didn’t pick up again until the evening, and even then there were no more than five customers. It was a good enough distraction, though. Dylas had managed to get his mind off of Doug for almost the entire rest of the evening.

(He didn’t think about him until he was starting to fall asleep. His bedroom was way too hot, even with the window open, so he had no choice but to think about it. The look in Doug’s eyes was what got to him. Was that what Doug meant about it all being in the eyes? Doug hadn’t said anything else, but after thinking about it so much, Dylas felt like he could get a good idea of what was going through his head just by looking into his eyes. And as he fell asleep, he ended up committing each silver tone in those eyes to memory.)

“Today’s the Firefly Festival!”

Porcoline’s voice rang out through the entire restaurant. It didn’t really need to, considering Dylas was about five feet away from him, but if he needed to make sure every nook and cranny of the building heard him, then he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

“And?” Dylas asked, a bit flatly.

He didn’t know what the Firefly Festival had to do with him, unless Porcoline just thought he was daft and was making sure he knew it was today. Dylas was pretty good at keeping track of festivals, though, and Porcoline knew that, so it must have been something else.

Dylas was fond of festivals, but on this one, he usually watched the fireflies by himself. He didn’t have anyone special to watch them with, and it was somewhat nicer to find a quiet spot where he could sit and watch them fly around without the pressure of talking to someone else about it. It was probably a dreadful way of spending such a romantic holiday, but really, who was he supposed to spend it with? Doug?

...The thought sent chills down Dylas’s spine, and he wasn’t sure if they were bad chills or good chills.

“Hello? Aren’t you excited?” Porcoline asked, his face falling a bit.

Dylas shrugged. He couldn’t meet Porcoline’s eyes like this. “It happens every year.”

“Yes! Every year we get to see those scrumptious little lightning bugs, and every year I am so very excited!” Porcoline crossed his arms. “What’s got you being such a sourpuss?”

Now that was a good stopping point. Dylas trusted Porcoline well enough, but he really did not want to get into whatever was going on with Doug. Not with Porcoline or anyone—besides, if it was like one of their usual fights, it’d clear itself up in a few days, and neither of them would even remember it by next week.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So there is something,” Arthur said, and Dylas nearly jumped out of his skin. When did he even get here?

“Who asked you?!” Dylas took a step back, nearly bumping into Margaret.

She thwacked him quickly on the back of his head. “You need to get yourself sorted out, Dylas. It’s not like you to get like this.”

“I have a wonderful idea!” Porcoline said. “You can clear your head by helping Arthur today! Wouldn’t that be a treat, Arthur? You’ve got a nice, strong boy to do all the heavy lifting for you.”

Dylas never actually agreed, but Arthur swept him up faster than he could protest to it. They met up with Lest along the way, and the three of them were off to Dragon Lake in no time—which appeared to have gotten a facelift since the last time Dylas was there, and that was hardly more than a week ago.

“You don’t have to stay for the actual festival if you’d prefer not to,” Arthur said. “I just need you beforehand, so if you’ve got any business to take care of after that, then please feel free.”

The way Arthur looked at him made Dylas feel like he knew a lot more than he let on. And while Arthur’s gaze was sharp and knowing, Lest’s eyes were wide and asked a million questions. The two looked at each other, and Lest seemed to understand whatever Arthur did. When did these two get so close?!

“You can do it, Dylas!” Lest said. “I believe in you!”

“Weirdo,” Dylas scoffed, but Lest smiled, and it almost made him feel better.

Evening came quicker than Dylas thought it would, the fireflies settling into the venue just as he finished preparing the last booth that Arthur had given him to work on. The area was more flooded with tourists, too, most choosing to sit by the lake or in front of the small stage Arthur and Lest (more Lest than Arthur, really) had spent all day on. Margaret was currently setting up to sing; it was no surprise that dozens and dozens of men were sat waiting for her. It made Dylas bristle a bit.

Regardless of what Arthur had said about leaving, Dylas figured he could stay for a little while. There were so many unfamiliar faces that he didn’t expect someone he actually knew to find him very easily, which, of course, made it a little easier for Dylas to relax.

Margaret’s song began, and the fireflies were drawn to her voice. The lanterns they’d set up earlier were rendered almost useless with how much light the bugs gave off. In the distance, standing near the stage, Arthur seemed quite pleased.

“I caught one!”

Somehow, Doug was in front of Dylas now, cupping a firefly in his hands. He grinned, holding it up to Dylas’s face. The firefly stood in Doug’s hands for a moment, almost as if it were staring at Dylas, before it flew away and joined the rest.

“What do you want?” Dylas asked flatly.

“Can I stand here with you?” Doug asked. “It’s kinda lame to watch these all by yourself.”

Dylas didn’t say anything. He just nodded, chest tight, and Doug stood much closer to him than he probably usually would have. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it wasn’t.

Margaret continued to sing, and when Doug got bored of standing still, he started to catch whichever firefly flew too close. He let Dylas hold one of them. Things almost felt normal, and Dylas felt stupid for expecting this fight to be any different than their usual. Saying sorry was tough for both of them, anyway, so it was probably best that they didn’t try.

Still, Dylas felt like there was something missing. Doug’s voice didn’t carry the life it usually did. Dylas couldn’t find it within himself to argue like they usually did. Nothing was the same at all, now that Dylas really thought about it, and it was weird and scary and Dylas didn’t want to lose what they’d built together, even if it was a careless little thing with a foundation of bickering and secret gifts and making sure the world knew they hated each other.

Dylas didn’t hate Doug. He never had.

Margaret’s song finished, and they were quiet, still, in the interim. Dylas had a million words to say that wouldn’t come out right even if he wrote them down and read them off. Doug looked like he had something to say too, but knowing him, he wouldn’t say it anytime soon.

Arthur was on the stage next, thanking everyone for coming and starting something about a beach beauty contest.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Dylas said.

“I’ll see you home,” Doug said, a little too quickly. “I mean, you’ll probably get lost or something in the dark. And I can see better in the dark. Duh.”

Dylas decided to just start walking, and if Doug followed, then he followed. The crowd was a little thinner now that it was later, but not by much, and Dylas instinctively kept checking behind him to make sure they didn’t get separated.

He nearly ran into Porcoline during one of these checks. The man put his hands on Dylas’s shoulders to steady him.

“Oho? Leaving early?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Have fun, you two. Not too much fun.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Dylas snapped.

“Oh, nothing! Au revoir!”

Porcoline was away in a whirl, and Dylas felt like maybe something was up there, but Arthur was starting to announce the participants of whatever stupid contest he made up, and Dylas continued on. There were still people milling around just outside of the lake area, and Doug grabbed on to his sleeve at some point to make sure they’d stay together.

The crowd didn’t thin until they’d gotten past the castle square. He felt like he could breathe a little easier on the east side of Selphia, even if each breath was full of the flowery fragrance of Illuminata’s shop. The fireflies seemed even more plentiful with no one around.

They were halfway across one of the bridges when Doug finally spoke up.

“I wanted to apologize. Kinda,” he said, leaning against the railing.

“You wanted to kinda apologize?”

“I’m bad at this sort of thing, okay?” Doug looked away, staring at a point in the water. “Sorry for what I said.”

Dylas was silent—he didn’t expect an actual apology, especially since Doug said it would only be a kinda apology. The dwarf seemed sincere, though, even with his crossed arms, even with how he fiddled with a button on his coat. He took a breath, like he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth. 

He looked at Dylas, then looked away, then looked at him again and said, “Actually, I-I care about you way too much. So I kinda lied when I said that thing before.”

Dylas’s breath caught in his throat. “Y-You…”

“Granny Blossom said it’s best if I just say what I feel. Just to you. So I’m gonna say it.” He breathed in, breathed out, uncrossed his arms. “I like you. You don’t have to say it back.”

“I-Idiot!” was the first thing that came to Dylas’s mind. Doug flinched, and he added, “Wait. Sorry. I…”

Doug shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I just needed to tell you. Don’t worry about—”

“No, I called you an idiot ‘cause you…” Dylas shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Did you think I wouldn’t say it back?”

Doug’s eyes widened. In the glow of the fireflies, his cheeks were pink. “Well, yeah, we kinda have that rivalry going on.”

“I’m not a good talker,” Dylas said, “so you’re gonna have to keep dealing with that. But I li-li-li—Dammit! This is so hard!”

“Don’t force it like that! It’s fine, I getcha.” Doug grinned, clapping Dylas on the shoulder. “Cool! I didn’t think we’d be on the same page. I’m gonna kiss you now. I mean—can I do that? Do you want to—”

Doug’s lips were warm and kind of soft and Dylas had to tilt Doug’s face up so they could kiss properly. Dylas was way better at this—at kissing, at showing what he felt—than talking, and he was glad Doug was used to that by now. At some point during the kiss, Doug wrapped his arms around Dylas’s neck, and they parted for a moment before another long kiss.

A galaxy of fireflies surrounded them, and their moment felt like forever. Even when they parted for good, Dylas just wanted to stay close, to touch Doug’s face and brush away the fireflies that landed in his hair. Doug was whispering a whole bunch of things, but Dylas could only focus on how each high and low sounded like music, and if Dylas could capture it on paper, he’d want to play it for the whole country.

It was much cooler at night. Standing so close to someone seemed like it’d be too hot of an activity for summer, but it was quite comfortable like this.

The world only resumed when they heard Lest’s voice in the castle square, and they both figured out it’d be better to get out of there before the crowds followed.

(They walked hand-in-hand the rest of the way to the restaurant. There was ice cream in the freezer, and it was much easier to talk to Doug now that everything was pretty clear between them. They talked for hours, about the fireflies, about the feelings they’d been holding back, about everything, and the next time they kissed, Doug tasted like vanilla, and all of it made Dylas feel like things were going to be fine between the two of them for a very long time.)

  The minute Dylas came down the stairs the next morning, Porcoline asked, “No Doug?”

Dylas felt like he was going to die right then and there. “No,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Why would Doug be here?”

Porocline batted his eyelashes. “It was such an innocent question.”

“Not when you say it.”

“But you did leave the festival with him, did you not?” Arthur asked. “During the main event. I’ve got very sharp eyes.”

“Just because I left with him doesn’t mean he came here!” Dylas huffed. “How the hell would you know that anyway?”

“Well, it was a guess.” Arthur took a sip of his tea. “Thank you for confirming it, though.”

Margaret finally looked up from tuning her harp. “We’re so happy for you guys! Porco’s been waiting for this for weeks. You seem like you’re a lot happier, too.”

Dylas scowled. “I didn’t even say anything about what happened! You’re all the worst!”

“Oh, do tell us!” Porcoline urged. “I’ll make a delectable carrot stew if you tell us every single detail.”

In the end, Dylas didn’t tell them much. He cut his losses and kept it simple: he and Doug were a thing now, and that was that. If he said any more, then Porcoline would tell everyone, and he’d rather have the short and simple version be spread across the town by noon.

(Doug showed up to hide in the restaurant’s upstairs at around one o’clock. Something or other about getting way too much attention about the whole thing, and Dylas joined him when the usual lunch crowd came in with more questions than Dylas had answers. He joined Doug in sitting on his bedroom floor, and Doug took his hand, and he was perfectly content waiting there until everyone’s excitement died down. The summer sun shone through the window, and Doug let his head fall against Dylas’s shoulder.)

(With Doug, the heat didn’t feel so bad.)