Chapter Text
It’s early morning, he’s dressed in all black, and Byleth is staring at the stove blankly. She’s been staring at it for the last thirty minutes, unmoving, the ingredients to an omelet sitting on the counter untouched. He should have declined breakfast when she first asked but her insistence that it was a bed and breakfast felt so crushing Felix found it impossible to dissuade her. However, after waiting in the dining room for what felt like an eternity, he wandered over and found her wistfully staring at the pan. Felix cleared his throat.
Byleth snapped to attention, hands raising as if shocked to note her surroundings. Blinking furiously, she wiped at the corner of her eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, I must have dozed off,” she lied shakily, voice cracking between her words. “Here I’ll get started–”
“I forgot I have to leave early,” Felix muttered, squeezing past her to grab one of the many baked goods that remained from the gifted dishes. The coffee cake seemed the least offensive, he considered, though he still only grabbed the smallest of portions. “I’m meeting someone so I should really just grab something to go.”
It’s a blatant lie but thankfully Byleth nods, still wiping at her face as she turned away. “There’s hot water in the kettle for tea and fresh coffee on the counter.”
“Thanks.” He doesn’t bother telling her both liquids have long cooled since she prepared them, instead pouring a thermos full of water before tossing a random tea bag in his pocket. If she sees this, she says nothing. “I’ll be back in time for the service.”
He doesn’t wait for her response.
Stepping out the backdoor, he rounds the building and against his better judgment, heads into town. Pouring the tepid water over some wilting flowers, he makes for the new bakery he’d spotted on his way into town. If he was going to eat a decent breakfast, he would need to stop there instead. The bakery sits inside an older building but the brightly painted letters on the sign and the people beyond the window stop him in his tracks. Maritz Bakery. Annette speaks a mile a minute, leaning over the counter to show her phone off to Mercedes. He contemplates going elsewhere but reminds himself that’s the city in him now. His tiny podunk town didn’t offer a variety of comforts. It was this or the greasy run down diner that only the tourists visited for a lack of knowing better. Resigning to his fate, he steps inside.
The bell announces his arrival but Mercedes appears to have spotted him through the window because she is already heading to the display case. She points at a few croissants and quiches with a knowing smile. Felix snorts to himself. He motions to a savory ham and cheese croissant before holding up his thermos. She grabs the cup and sets to work. He’d always appreciated Mercedes' intuition and discretion, even if he made no effort to voice it. Annette takes notice at last, phone still clutched firmly as she pressed against the counter. “Hi,” she breathes out at last. “I didn’t expect to see you until the funeral.”
“She needed some space.” It’s difficult to be dishonest with Annette, so he settles for the more compassionate response. How does one voice that his hosts’ raw pain was swirling up his own? That the mourning was suffocating? Annette didn’t seem to believe him completely but nodded solemnly.
“I thought she might,” she mumbled, tucking her phone back into her camel fleece. She shuffled uncomfortably, peeking over at Mercedes before landing her gaze on the floor once more.
“Would you like this toasted Felix?” Mercedes peeks beyond the register, thermos already in hand and filled to the brim. “I can also put it in a bag if you’d like.”
Felix hesitates, eyes locking with Annette for a moment before he hears himself say, “No, I’ll eat here.”
Mercedes smiles pleasantly and sets back to work. Extending a hand out, Felix huffed exasperatedly. “You’re not leaving, right? Sit with me.”
Delighted, Annette bounced forward. “Oh you’re going to love this little table, it’s in the perfect corner and Mercy really outdid herself with the decorations–”
He follows her quietly to the corner of the room, caught in his thoughts. There were only hours left until the funeral, hours until he goes home, hours until he can forget this shitty town and its frigid weather. There’s no reason for him to stay, no reason for him to linger, and yet all those thoughts falter the second Annette sets her hand over his. A single touch and he’s transported back to his teenage years. The look on her face speaks concern at a level only Annette could achieve and it is so very her, his heart aching in a way that it hasn’t in a very long time.
“Felix, do you want to be here?” She asks softly, voice barely audible over the idle chatter of the morning diners but Felix would find her voice even while lost at sea. Her hand is warmer than his and he finds himself split between pulling away and staying in her comfort. “This is…you can leave, you know. You aren’t forced to be here.”
“It’s Byleth,” he mutters, focusing instead on the detailed tablecloths, tracing the lace pattern with his gaze. “She asked. I can’t not go.”
“She would understand. We would all understand.”
He laughs harshly, hating the pinprick of tears itching to break free. If only that were true. Sylvain and Ingrid had all but dragged him here. Favor or not, it took a team to make sure he came. Byleth deserved better than that, her father deserved better than that. “She helped me leave,” he begins softly. “After…I needed to leave. I had to get out of here. She lent me the cash and gave me a ride to the bus station. Didn’t ask any questions.”
Annette listens somberly, hand still placed firmly over his. Mercedes approaches, carefully balancing the thermos, tea cups, croissant and a fruit tart. “I took the liberty to give you a thermos and fresh cup since I know you’ll be at the funeral all day,” she explains cheerily, placing each item down with such care it barely clatters against the table. “And don’t you dare worry about the bill. You’ve been gone almost 5 years. I could never charge a long-lost friend.”
Felix rolls his eyes and pulls away from Annette to grab his meal. “Thanks Mercedes,” he mumbles. “I’ll head out as soon as I’m done–”
She shook her head gently in disapproval, patting him on the shoulder like a silly child. “Nonsense. Take as long as you’d like. It’ll be a busy day. Jeralt was quite loved.”
His gaze wanders back to the table but Annette has pulled her hands back to partake in the glossy tart before her. The words itch in his throat but he somehow finds the energy to voice them. “Do you know what happened to Jeralt?”
Annette hesitates. “...Yes. Do you?”
“Some, I think. I just know it was sudden.”
Annette pauses for all but a microsecond but it is long enough for him to recognize her next words for what they are. “It was sudden. No one expected it.” A lie of omission. She knew more, he could see it in the way her eyes glued to the pastry, a nice trick to anyone who didn’t know her. Annette would never stare at a pastry. It would have been devoured instantly. This was more than an omission. Whatever she knew, it was not meant for him to hear.
“That’s a shame,” he settles. “Everyone liked him. He was a busybody, but I don’t think Byleth knows how to exist without his energy.”
“It’s not easy losing a parent,” Annette replies sadly, lifting the pastry to her mouth. “When my mother died, I wasn’t sure how to feel either. It takes time. Father still hasn’t recovered from it though.”
Neither has she based on the bite in her tone, Felix thinks quietly, but says nothing of it.
“So what have you been up to since you left?” She asks between bites, testing the water.
He shrugs, playing with his croissant as it cooled. “Working mostly,” he admits. “It’s not like I’ve stuck to anything in particular. Worked a few odd jobs here and there. I took up a business management course this year.”
Annette blinked, nearly dropping her tart in shock. “You, in business management? What brought that on?”
“I don’t want to keep taking shitty jobs where all I do is take orders,” he answered simply. It wasn’t a lie. He hated the idea of doing anything close to what his father did with their fishing company, but truly, the bouncer jobs he’d been forced to take were much worse. “I don’t know what type of job I’ll get after this but I’ll have more options.”
“That’s great.” Annette nods pensively, before smiling. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“What about you? What have you been up to?”
“Mostly helping the bakery get started, though I’m not sure I’m as helpful as I could be…”
“Still clumsy to a fault, are you?”
A quick smack against his arm and loud huff informed him how much she disagreed with the statement. “I’ve been saving up to go to the city actually. I’d like to study statistics and take some financial courses. I don’t really want to leave Mercy by herself though.”
“If you’re as destructive as I remember, she might be willing to pay to get rid of you.”
“Felix! You–You–you’re so rude! You’ll never get employees in a business like that!”
“I’ll keep that in mind when you apply after you get fired from here too.”
“I already told you, I didn’t get fired from that job!
“Ingrid’s family was just too nice to tell you. The entire barn was let loose. It took all night to get the horses back. You were fired, Anette.”
“That horse knew exactly how to unlatch his gate! It was entirely his fault.”
Felix chuckled behind his cup, still able to picture Annette screaming as she ran from the barn to the main house, a trail of horses stampeding out into the woods. Ingrid’s father was too kind to fire her, instead explaining that they were overstaffed for the summer and would need to let her go after all. The town had been hesitant to hire her after that year.
“Felix.”
“Yeah?”
“I…you’re still my friend. You know that, right?” A lump rises to his throat, which he quickly tries to drown under his still scalding tea. “I know you’re leaving today and you’re the world's most aggravating introvert, which means you won’t text or call me back, but you should know that you’re still my friend. You’re abrasive, reactive, and repressive but I’m here if you need me today. It’s been five years but I am still here for you. I know today is about Byleth, but if you need anything today, please. Just say something. I’m still here for you.”
He is briefly brought back to a moment in the back porch of his house, Annette whispering those same five words as she kisses him for the first and last time, the wetness from his tears transferring onto her cheeks when their faces slide against one another. The hand in his chest clenches, albeit more shamefully as he turns his head and presses his jaw into the palm of his hand. “I know,” he mutters, unable to meet her gaze. “...sorry for not calling back.”
“I understand.”
“You’re my friend too,” he whispers softly into his palm. If Annette hears this, she does not let on. Gathering up his emotions and shoving them back into the knot in his chest, he turned back. “You’re just as annoyingly persistent and nosey as ever.”
Annette grinned, pastry crumbs coating the corner of her mouth. “That’s why you loved me,” she replied cheekily, thumb brushing off the bits of crumb on her lips.
His hand reached over, wiping the crumbs along the edges of her mouth softly before bringing it back to his side. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” He mumbles again, taking a small bite of the croissant at last.
“Felix, it was Glenn.” Annette interjects gently, grasping his free wrist in both hands. “You don’t need to apologize. Not about family. Not to me.”
The croissant feels thick in his throat. Slowly, he wraps his fingers around one of her own wrists, thumb rubbing small circles into her smooth skin. After a few moments, the lump dissipates and they resume their previous questions over years lost but his hand remains wrapped around hers for the remainder of their breakfast.