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Felix leaned back in his seat, ignoring the textbook that was in front of him as he watched Annette. She was a flurry of activity as she studied, muttering to herself as she alternated between two tomes and a notebook, her hands making gestures that made no sense to him but apparently were a part of Annette’s thought process.
That was his current focus - trying to decipher the meaning behind the madness that was Annette studying. There were splatters of ink on her hand and her cheek, and Felix had been observing that spot when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder.
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword by habit, and Felix turned to find Sylvain grinning insufferably down at him. Felix hated how he had been startled, he should have heard Sylvain coming from a mile away. Maybe a glare would have kept the redhead from disturbing him.
“At the library again, Felix?” Sylvain said, his mocking tone grating to Felix’s ears.
“Don’t you have girls to annoy?”
Sylvain ignored him, choosing to greet Annette instead. It was the first time she had looked up in the past hour, the last time having been to offer him a snack. Felix had confusedly replied that he thought they weren’t allowed to eat in the library, and Annette looked down with a blush as she muttered “candies don’t leave a mess, you villain.”
Perhaps he really was a villain, for he certainly found it amusing that this was the one rule Annette was willing to break.
Sylvain peered down over his shoulder to look at the textbook. “Is that the same page you were reading last week? If you needed help you should’ve asked Annette.”
Felix was going to murder him.
Annette leaned forward, glancing at the page. “Oh I remember that problem, it was fun to solve. I can go through it with you.”
“I was just reviewing,” Felix said through clenched teeth, but he tried to mellow out his tone for Annette’s sake.
Sylvain guffawed above him, and Felix had half a mind to demand a sparring match. They’d see if he’d still be laughing when he was face first on the floor.
His idiotic friend must have sensed the rising threat to his life, for he lifted his hands up in surrender.
“I get it, you two are busy. Sorry for interrupting, Felix.”
A grunt and a chirped reply was all Sylvain got in response. Luckily for Felix, Ingrid barged into the library at that moment, eyes ablaze as they locked on Sylvain. The man left in a rush without a word, which was more than Felix could have hoped for. He’d have to buy Ingrid some meat skewers later.
Felix sighed, turning the page and starting to read in an attempt to save face. Part of him felt the itch to go to the training grounds to dispel the lingering annoyance he felt, but the professor had commanded him to work on his Reason skills, and Felix supposed he made sure Annette went to bed at a reasonable time.
When he lifted his head up not long after (how did Annette have such a long attention span for stationary words?) he found her blue eyes on him.
“What?”
“Oh, um, it’s silly,” she stammered.
Felix remained silent, a brow raised as he waited for her to continue.
“You see, I was studying the difference in the physics behind the trajectory of a wind and fire spell, and how that affects the angle a caster should have their hands.” Annette spoke rapidly, but trailed off as she saw Felix’s blank expression.
“Well, the point is, your hair doesn’t follow the laws of science.”
“What?” He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.
Annette motioned at his head. “Yeah, I mean, I can’t understand how strands of your hair stick out in all those different directions. And your bangs. It’s like they have a will of their own. Which they don’t.”
Felix had never done more to his hair than a quick comb through before efficiently pulling it up. How was he supposed to reply to that?
Annette, in her own nervousness, didn’t give him a chance too, anyways. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have pointed that out. I mean, why would you care? You’re just a guy who doesn’t care about anything except swords.”
Something lit in her features as a realization seemed to flash through her- literally, for Felix was caught at how she nearly jumped in her seat as her eyes brightened.
“Oh Felix, would you let me do your hair? I’m sure I could make it into a neat bun.”
Felix blinked, needing a moment to understand her as he had been too focused on the way her features illuminated. But once her words did register, he shot the idea down resoundingly.
“Aw Felix, why not? You owe me!”
“I owe you?”
“Yes! You eavesdropped on me singing, this is only fair.”
“Fair? That was months ago,” Felix spluttered.
He should’ve known there was something wrong with this day the second Sylvain showed up. He couldn’t comprehend how Annette was interested in doing his hair when it was a struggle to get her to agree to leave the library every night.
“Come on Felix, it would be fun. I’ll do anything you want,” she pleaded.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Yes!”
Felix drummed his fingers against his leg. He was sure Annette hadn’t considered what ‘anything’ entailed when she desperately offered. But that wasn’t his problem.
“Fine. You can do it if you’ll sing,” Felix replied, keeping his tone nonchalant even as he couldn’t deny the tiny ball of… anticipation he felt. He had only ever caught snatches of her songs since the greenhouse incident, and most of the time she only whispered to herself.
“Don’t say that so loudly,” she hissed. “And that’s not fair.”
Felix shrugged. “Then we don’t have a deal.”
Annette eyed him warily, tapping her quill angrily against the table.
Thirty minutes later, they were outside the doors to her room. Not that that was the first choice of either of them, but Annette refused to sing anywhere someone could discover her, and Felix pointed out that she couldn’t guarantee no one would unless they were in a room that could be locked.
With the way the moon cast their shadows and the stillness of the monastery around them, Felix suddenly found it difficult to meet her gaze. He stared instead at the pile of books he was carrying for Annette.
“Since I’m doing you a favor,” Annette started, “you- you can’t judge my room.”
He couldn’t imagine what she was worried about. But then again, he never understood Annette when it came to something that embarrassed her.
“Okay,” he said.
Annette huffed, and led him inside. Felix eyed the room, taking in how neat it was, the stacks of books not surprising him. There were colorful bottles of assorted sizes on her dresser, and he vaguely recalled seeing similar items in the marketplace. Girl stuff, he supposed. The corner of his mouth pulled up at the basket of food in one corner of the room. Typical Annette.
“I told you not to judge anything!” Annette chastised.
Felix looked at her, bewildered. “I wasn’t judging.”
She muttered something, and while he couldn’t hear he could guess at the adjectives she used. With a sigh, Annette pulled up her desk chair to the mirror, motioning for him to sit.
Felix walked over tentatively, his movements awkward and stilted as he set the books aside and sat. It had seemed like a good idea in the library, anything to hear her lyrics instead of imagine it. Now though, Felix could feel the warmth creeping up his neck.
Annette didn’t seem upset anymore as she grabbed a hairbrush, and he watched her in the mirror as she observed his hair as seriously as she would one of their professor’s demonstrations.
Felix cleared his throat. “You’ll still, uh.”
Annette cut him off with a groan. “Yes, a deal is a deal. Don’t be so impatient.”
For once, he felt chagrined at one of her accusations, and tapped his foot incessantly against the floor. He watched her hands hesitate as they neared his hair tie, but determination crossed her features and seconds later his hair was resting below his shoulders.
Slowly, she began combing her fingers through his hair, and Felix was glad her gaze was resolutely set on the back of his head, for even he could see the red tips of his ears.
When was the last time someone had brushed his hair? Or done anything that made him feel far too vulnerable? He felt the whispers of a memory tug at his mind, when laughter still bounced off the walls of his home. It unsettled him, how odd this was.
But then Annette started humming, and his focus was redirected. To her voice. To her.
He wondered how her hair would look down, out of its loops, and how long it was. Even so, he didn’t dare ask, not wanting to give her any reason to stop singing.
Felix decided to close his eyes, leaning back against the seat as he did so, the feel of her hands gently parting his hair eventually settling his restlessness.
In that moment it was easy to forget the threats that loomed or the memories tinted with fury that drove him to slice the training dummies to shreds. He was just a man who realized that something as mundane as Annette brushing his hair was a sensation far more comforting than he could have expected.
Soon after, when his embarrassment faded and Annette was singing a soft Fearghan folk tune (why wouldn’t she sing one of her own songs?), his eyes began to feel heavier.
Maybe he should stop spending so many late nights at the library.
No, he needed to find quicker ways to convince Annette to leave that didn’t involve resorting to threats. If only she would listen to reason when it came to her own health.
Reason, he was supposed to be studying Reason, he thought groggily.
Felix woke up to the sound of giggling. Where in Fodlan did he fall asleep if someone was giggling? He sat up, startling Annette with how rapidly he did so. He blinked, disoriented, before he remembered why he was in Annette’s room. His gaze swung to the mirror, and the sight he found shocked him so much he jumped out of his seat.
“What- what did you do to me?” He asked, as if she had stolen one of his swords.
In the mirror’s reflection was him and Annette sporting the same hairstyle.
Annette only continued laughing in response. “I couldn’t resist. It’s your fault for dozing off,” she said, her accusatory tone the same as when she’d blame him for overhearing what she sang in public. Things that reasonably should not be his fault. “Isn’t it cute?”
“What?” He spluttered. “No. It’s supposed to be-” Felix cut himself off.
He was about to say it was her who was supposed to be cute. Wrong response. Wrong thought.
“I shouldn’t have let you touch my hair.”
“Aw no, Felix! I’m sorry. I just wanted to see what it would look like, I was going to let it out immediately.” She continued apologizing as Felix roughly pulled his hair out of the loops she had made.
Loops. She had turned his hair into loops.
Annette planted herself in front of him, worrying her bottom lip. “I’m really sorry, Felix. You won’t stay mad at me, will you?”
Felix knew he should reply, but she was standing too close, and now that his arms had lowered the barrier of space between them lessened.
How could he stay mad at her with the way her wide eyes were looking at him?
Annette seemed to notice the short distance between them, for she squeaked and jumped back. Felix hardly noticed how she turned away, his mind needing a second to recalibrate.
“It’s fine,” he finally answered. He knew Annette would push herself into an endless cycle of guilt and apologies if he didn’t say so.
The silence that stretched between them was painfully awkward.
Annette jumped into action, scurrying to her desk to grab his hair tie before offering it to him.
“I- uh, I tried to recreate the way you do your hair but couldn’t. Can I see you do it?”
Felix nodded, pulling his hair up. It had only taken a few seconds, but he caught her expression in the mirror as she observed him. She was leaning forward, her nose scrunched and visage pensive.
His mind unhelpfully supplied one word to describe it.
Cute.
Felix was not one to think something was cute, no matter how often Annette squealed about cats or children. The word shouldn’t even be a part of his vocabulary.
“Perplexing! I wonder if it’s because of how you twisted it,” she mused, tapping her chin.
If he was grateful for one thing, it was that Annette had no idea what was going on through his mind. What Felix needed to do was train. Far away from here. Before he thought more about her earnestness or freckles or disarming smile.
“Uh, maybe,” he said. “I should go. Goodnight.”.
Annette barely got to squeak out a goodbye as Felix rushed out of the room, aiming for the training grounds. Drills would help clear his mind of this… foreign warm feeling Annette elicited.
But deep down, Felix had the sneaking suspicion that it would be as futile as an attempt to forget her songs.