#i dont know how im going to put this damn ficlet on twt neither lol rip

[dimmestmorn13]

"...Come here for a bit." "...Okay."

based on the mukuyuki story cg bc the mental image wouldn't leave me alone after ryu-san said romamero were like mkyk in a different font

mini-ficlet under the cut

notes: uses concepts from the timeline theory and the idea that merold remembers timelines with my own spin on it (HCs and such), needless to say it's a bit of an AU/canon divergence from what little we know in fragmem canon

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It starts with the Red Bouquet's first roundtable meeting as a complete unit.

Merold had greeted Hallritt with the typical easygoing callousness Romarriche had expected from his childhood friend. What he hadn't anticipated was that brief flash of animosity. It was a familiar sight, if an oddity by the time and place, because Merold had tensed up as if he'd been in the middle of battle.

Whatever it is that Merold saw in the rookie knight, it bleeds through his actions, and Romarriche can tell that Merold, consciously or not, viewed the man as a threat.

"I would like to think that despite our time apart, I'd still be the one to know you best."

This weariness that looms over his friend is coming to be familiar to him. It's minute. He's seen this before. If it were anyone else other than him, one would be bereft of suspect of Merold ever being in anything else than tip-top shape.

Merold turns to him, that strand of pink hair on top of his head bouncing with the sharp movement as he tilts his head at him with what could be construed as confusion. He knows better, however. "Romarriche? That's pretty sudden to drop on me~" Merold's eyes crinkle with amusement. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're feeling some jealousy."

"Yes, yes," he humors him, the smile that leaves him is unerringly fond. "However, you do know better."

Romarriche halts, lays his palm flat against his chest, determined. In the middle of the hallways of Lord Marroncream's castle, the two come to a standstill.

"I'm worried." About you.

"You always are. That's just the type of guy you are."

Here's the thing: Merold knows Romarriche just as Romarriche knows Merold. They've known each other since childhood, long before there even was a Merold, the Fragaria of My Melody, and Romarriche, the Fragaria of Marroncream.

"You've been having nightmares." He says slowly. It's come back to him. This had happened before Merold left to travel around the continent. There hadn't been a cure then, he hopes there would be a cure now.

There's a small breadth of distance between them, and yet somehow, Merold seemed no less further away than when he'd been out and about and doing his work. Yet, most intriguingly, "And Hallritt seems to be the trigger, however odd that notion be."

Merold does not respond.

"…Come here for a bit."

Until he does, and Romarriche has always been weak for his childhood friend, and so, he obliges him.

"…Okay," Romarriche says, stepping forward until he and Merold were face to face. Or as much as they can be, when Merold hadn't grown since the last time he'd seen him, leaving the gates and waving goodbye to fulfill the duties expected of the Greatest Knight.

They had been the same height, then.

Merold places his head onto Romarriche's shoulder, hands shaking where he held onto Romarriche's pink coat. His neck tickles at the shuddering breath Merold releases.

Romarriche figures he wouldn't say anything about the sniffles. Nor the wetness that spreads across his shirt.

"Okay," he repeats, wrapping his arms around his friend. "I'm here."

(Romarriche felt real.

In this world that continued to change, Romarriche felt real and alive. He may not remember like he did, but his presence was a comfort that Merold never realized he'd taken for granted, much in the same way those instances of losing Kurode continued to haunt him.

He doesn't know what tipped the man off in this run of events. He'd confronted him before, in the past timelines, but ultimately left the matter well alone before Merold could succumb to the notion of telling his childhood friend anything.

Perhaps, it was Merold himself that had changed. Whichever it was, one thing was certain.

This warmth…

I won't forget this.)