“I,” Byleth tries to find the words of what he wants, this feeling inside of him that never completely goes away when he’s with Linhardt. It’s not the kind of feeling that comes with victory; it’s not heightened emotions of joy or the roars of the crowd. It’s butterbeer light on his tongue, a quiet kind of realization, the opening of eyes upon waking and the steady warmth of sunlight.

“我,”拜勒斯试图找到他想要的话，这种感觉在他心里永远不会完全消失，当他与林哈尔特。它不是那种伴随着胜利而来的感觉; 它不是高涨的喜悦情绪或人群的咆哮。他的舌头上有黄油啤酒般的光芒，一种安静的领悟，醒来时睁开的眼睛和阳光的稳定温暖。

😭我草，写太好了