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Ingrid wasn’t usually annoying by herself, Felix thought. She was usually a bother because of something someone else (i.e. Sylvain) did. But some time in Academy was enough for her to learn to be a nuisance on her own. Good on her for branching out and learning to live a little. Felix was almost proud of her.
He just wished she wouldn’t be annoying while he was trying to get an assignment done.
“…and I was caught totally off-guard by that plot twist!” Ingrid whispered enthusiastically before reaching into the bag of snacks on the table. “But looking back on it, there were so many subtle hints that I feel I should’ve caught on earlier.”
“I know just what you mean.” Ashe, who seemed to be competing with Ingrid today to see who could annoy Felix more, grinned like an excited schoolchild. “I was so sure that the Shadow Knight was going to be Lord Ilrath, but when it turned out to be Sir Fulgrim, I was thrown for a loop!”
Felix scowled at the empty piece of parchment on his table that had stayed empty for the last twenty minutes. The assignment should not have taken this long. All he needed was 150 words explaining the importance of proper tactics training. Realistically he probably could’ve written 100 and called it a day, since he highly doubted that Professor Byleth was taking the time to individually count every word scribbled on parchment.
But the last twenty or so minutes had not been kind to him. For some reason, the library was packed when he entered, and the only seat available was at Ashe and Ingrid’s table. So Felix swallowed his pride, grit his teeth, and very politely asked if he could sit with them.
Felix tried not to begrudge the duo their excitement since he was a guest at their table and not the other way around. Even if their attempts at polite whispers were still very audible and their hands were too close to each other on the tabletop. Even if Felix was sure that Ingrid had tucked the same loose lock of blonde hair behind her ear at least five times in the last twenty minutes. Even if the snacks Ashe had brought in smelled sickeningly sweet.
He could stomach a few more minutes of overeager literary discussion if it meant he would finally finish his assignment.
“Ashe, you know who you remind me of? Reuben Spyre, the young squire!” Ingrid’s green eyes twinkled as she patted Ashe’s hand almost aggressively. “He was dauntless in the face of danger, and ever so loyal to Sir Rory. And he had freckles, just like you!”
“You know, when I read about Lady Liliana, who escaped from her castle to help save her kingdom, I couldn’t help but think of you!” Ashe replied. “She was so headstrong and dedicated, and she always held her ground, even if Lord Ilrath had his doubts about her.”
Never mind.
Felix’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shoved it back and packed up his things. His amber eyes narrowed as he glanced around, hoping to find an empty seat. He spied a nearby table that was empty save for a stack of books piled atop it.
As Felix strode towards the table, he could just barely make out a flash of orange just behind the tower of books. With a frown, he peered over and saw Annette scribbling away in her notebook. Most of what she was writing looked like gibberish to him, strange symbols and scratches that might as well have been in another language. She looked deep in concentration, too, with the way her brow was furrowed and her lips were turned downwards in a slight pout. Felix almost wanted to chuckle when he saw her mumble something to herself before scrunching up her nose and chewing on her bottom lip absent-mindedly.
When Annette glanced up and gave him a wide smile, he was caught off-guard. “Oh, hi Felix! How long have you been standing there?”
“Not very long,” he replied before realizing he’d been staring.
“Ohh, okay. Can I help you with something?”
Felix shot a furtive glance around the room before taking a deep breath. “Can I sit with you, Annette?”
“Sure!” She beamed at him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and plopped into the seat across her and brought out his still-blank assignment.
“You know,” Annette chirped excitedly, “I’m surprised you stayed with Ashe and Ingrid as long as you did! I thought for sure you’d leave almost immediately, but you were there for quite a while.”
The implications of her words were not lost on him. “Were you watching me?”
Immediately she flushed red, and she shook her head so vehemently that her orange braids flopped about around her head in a strangely captivating way. “No! Not really. I could just kinda see you out the corner of my eye, you know?”
“Uh huh.”
“So what made you change your mind?” It suddenly felt like Annette’s bright blue eyes were boring into him, and she closed the book in front of her. “What made you finally switch tables?”
“I just felt like I’d had enough,” Felix replied and fished into his bag for a quill.
“Ooh, you got tired of being a third wheel? I get that.”
“That is not what that was.”
Annette let out a little giggle that left his chest feeling all squishy. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to! It just happens. You’re minding your own business, and then suddenly-”
“There’s nothing between those two,” he said.
When he looked up, she was leaning forward and resting her chin against her palms, and he could just make out the freckles that dotted her face like a strange constellation.
“How sure are you of that?” she challenged.
He made some sort of vague gesture with his hand. “I’d say about halfway sure. Try not to read into it too much. Dorks just like spending time with other dorks, just like those two.”
A strange playfulness, equal parts smug and endearing, was laced through her voice. “But you don’t know what I know.”
“Alright, then.”
Immediately the mischievous smile on her face twisted into a tiny frown. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Don’t you want to know?” Annette asked him.
“Not particularly,” Felix said dryly. “Do I look like Sylvain to you? I’m not really one for gossip.”
“Come on.” She pouted at him, and even he had to admit that the sight of it was already sapping at his resolve. “Pretty please, can I tell you?”
Felix leaned back in his chair and gave her a half-smile. “Fine, sure, if you want to.”
She clapped her hands excitedly and leaned in some more. “You know last week when we went on that mission? The two of them spent the entire journey there and back with each other. Their horses were practically attached at the hip with how close they were riding together. And the other day, I invited Ashe to tea, but he said he was busy. Then I found him having tea with Ingrid!”
“So if I found you having tea with Sylvain, it’s fine for me to assume that you’re into him?” Felix asked. “Because that’s what that sounds like.”
“Ordinarily, I’d be inclined to agree with you, but here’s the clincher,” Annette whispered conspiratorially. “I heard he cooks for her.”
She had a point now.
“I have to admit, that’s some strong evidence.” Felix nodded reluctantly. “You know, maybe you’re right.”
The swordsman turned his head towards Ashe and Ingrid, who were now seated beside each other and had their noses buried in a ridiculously large book.
“So what do you think?”
He turned his gaze back towards Annette, who was still looking at him intently. “About what?”
“Them!” Annette replied, as if that cleared anything up.
“I don’t.” Felix raised a curious eyebrow at her. “Who am I? Ingrid’s dad? It’s her life, she can do what she wants so that she stops butting into mine.”
Annette laughed at that, and Felix could feel his heart stuttering in his chest. It’d be nice to hear her laugh more.
“Oh, I thought you’d be more protective since you’ve known her so long! Mercie’s always watching out for me, telling me things like ‘Annie, he’s so grumpy!’”
“Who’s grumpy?”
Her eyes started to dart around the room, now looking at anything but him. “Oh, no one! That was just a hypothetical thing.”
Felix nodded, unsure of what else to say. He picked his quill back up, and somehow his parchment was still as blank as Sylvain’s notes. In the abrupt silence, he could feel his heart still stuttering in his chest and beating erratically in his eardrums. From across the table, Annette blinked at him, and something warm coursed through his veins at the sight of it.
“I actually didn’t think Ashe would be Ingrid’s type,” Annette said out of the blue. “But I guess a lifetime of hanging around Sylvain would probably turn her off those ‘charming rogues’ types.”
“Type?” Felix repeated dumbly.
“Yeah! You know, the kind of person you like! Most people generally have a type. I’m sure you do, too, and I’m sure it’s more than just ‘good at swords.’ Or ‘looks like a sword.’ Or ‘is a sword.’”
He leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. “Why are you so interested in my type, Annette?”
She pulled back and frowned at him, seemingly caught off-guard by his sudden proximity. “The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Felix. I’m just interested in what people like! I can’t help it — I love a little bit of gossip.”
“Well, what’s your type, then?” Felix huffed.
Her eyes widened at him, and a pretty pink blush bloomed on her cheeks. “You can’t just ask me!”
The corner of his mouth turned down in a tiny frown. “So I can’t ask you, but it’s okay for you to gossip with me about someone else’s type?”
She pouted at him again, and some strange fuzzy feeling started to fill in the gaps between his ribs. “F-fine! I’ll tell you a bit.”
She paused and idly twirled a strand of hair with her index finger.
“Taller than me,” she finally said.
“And grumpy?” Felix offered with a tiny, self-satisfied smirk.
“No!” she shook her head at him. “The grumpy thing was just a hypothetical! That’s all you’re getting: taller than me.”
“That sounds like the entire school, Annette.”
She jabbed a tiny finger at him. “Shut up, Felix!”
He raised his hands in surrender and leaned back in his chair, a barely repressed smile on his face.
“Hey, this isn’t fair!” Annette grumbled. “I told you my type, so you have to tell me yours.”
“I don’t want to tell you, because you’ll tell Mercedes, and she’ll tell Sylvain, and next thing I know, he’ll be pestering me about it. So no, thanks.”
She held out her pinky finger towards him and offered him a tiny smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Her smile was already doing something funny to his breathing, and before he realized what was happening, his pinky was already wrapped around hers.
“And now our pact is sealed. Spill it, Felix!”
“Wait,” he said and held up a finger. “Can I have a moment to think about it?”
“Fine.” Annette pouted again and leaned back into her seat.
The more Felix thought about it, the more he realized how little he knew. Romance was never something that he actively sought. But when he looked at Annette, the need to think of an actual, proper answer only intensified. To honor their pact. That was all there was to it.
“Not annoying,” he finally said.
“Wow,” Annette deadpanned. “That really narrows it down.”
“You’d be surprised,” Felix chuckled. “I know a lot of annoying people.”
Another silence fell upon them, and the pleasant warmth that had taken root in his chest still lingered, and it only seemed to get stronger when he looked at her.
And before his brain could stop him, he added, “Not you, though. You’re not annoying.”
“What?” she said, suddenly sounding very alarmed.
“I said you’re not annoying,” he repeated. “Other people annoy me, but you don’t.”
“O-ohh!” Her face flushed a deep and vibrant crimson, and she tried to hide behind the untouched stack of textbooks in front of her.
Felix raised a curious eyebrow and leaned in towards her. “Annette? Are you alright?”
“I have to go!” she popped out from behind her stack of books and stood up in a rush. “I just remembered, I have stuff to do with Mercie!”
Before he could say anything else, Annette hastily started stuffing books into her bag like the world’s clumsiest thief.
“Bye, Felix!” she all but yelped before scampering out of the library in a flurry.
He watched her leave and scratched at some phantom itch behind his neck before turning his attention back to his still not-done assignment.
But now that he was granted the solitude he wanted, his focus was now elsewhere. What did he do to set her off? All he said was that his type was not annoying, and that she wasn’t annoying, and-
Oh.
The implications of his words were not lost on him.