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Caspar von Bergliez arrives home from his daily run at precisely eight thirty each morning. On any other day the house would have been silent when he returned; Linhardt rarely rises before noon. This morning, though, his beloved (albeit lazy) partner is very much awake, pacing the kitchen floor, his eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance, and muttering under his breath.
“Babe? Babe! What happened? Did… did I forget something at the grocery store? Hold tight, babe! I’m on it! What did I miss? You know what? Don’t even tell me, just text it to me while I drive there, okay? Wh–”
Caspar catches the words “Dimitri” and “oregano” as he grabs his keys and pauses.
“Baaabe! You didn’t tell me Dimitri came by while I was gone! He’s my actual literal gym crush! I mean, have you seen his thighs? You could crush a melon with those things! Oh wait, did I forget a honeydew? Is that it?”
“Caspar, I’m allergic to honeydew.”
“But they’re green like your hair!” He reaches out and grabs a fistful of Linhardt’s dark locks, shaking it with a little too much enthusiasm.
“It’s the oregano, but–”
“Oregano? But I thought you were growing some! Silly Linhardt, you must have forgotten! Here, let me take you there!” Caspar bends down to pick Linhardt up, but the taller man steps back before he could do any more damage.
“I know where my oregano is, you moron!”
“Oh. Okaaay. So… what’s wrong?”
“You know how Dimitri’s therapist kept telling him to eat healthier to improve his mental health?”
“Yeah! We never hear the end of–”
“Goddess above, shut up and let me finish. He’s caught wind of the ‘nutritional benefits
of weeds’ and interpreted that to be, you know, weed. He saw my oregano bushes and came to the conclusion that I, Linhardt von Hevring, am running an illegal drug ring in Garreg Mach, and who am I to pass up a business opportunity? He’s been buying my fake weed for two years–two years, Caspar–and hasn’t figured it out yet. Now word’s got around to Edelgard at the HOA, and you know how Edelgard is. She’ll find a way to search the house, and then what? My oregano bushes are doomed!” Linhardt finishes his monologue by hurling himself onto the couch, the back of his hand to his forehead.
Caspar’s eyebrows knit in serious thought, “So, do we just… eat it all?”
“Absolutely not. We’ve already been to the emergency room this month after you punched a hole in the wall. Twice. We’re on a first-name basis with the RNs there, and I have no interest in seeing Manuela again so soon.”
“What about fire?”
“What about it?”
“We’ll burn the evidence!” Caspar says, punching the air and barely missing the ceiling light.
“My love, we live in an apartment complex. Are you suggesting we burn the building down as well? Then we’ll really be in trouble with the HOA.”
Caspar sighs dramatically and slumps onto the couch, landing on Linhardt. The apartment is quiet for a minute before the silence is broken by the elevator ding and the sound of raised voices permeates the walls. Linhardt groans, the sound muffled under Caspar’s body.
“Are those two still arguing over breakfast beverages? Pathetic.”
Caspar springs to his feet, hitting the lamp this time,
“I’ve got it! Don’t those two have a tea bush outside their door?”
“You mean… their strawberry plant?”
“Yeah! Yeah, that one! The one I always trip over!”
“The pot you’ve broken three times?”
"Exactly! What if we just put the oregano in there?”
“That doesn’t make any–but Dimitri said–you know what? Fine. Why not? Go get the shovels.”