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Félix sneaked through the ribbon-adorned hallways with red and pink heart-shaped paper chains attached to the lockers, walls, and classroom doors. Red balloons hovering over their heads with swirl ribbons swaying on the students' and employees' walking through the school halls faces.
The explosion of color wasn't as bad as the collegé and even lycée students squealing and jumping around to get their letters, chocolate boxes, or flowers to each other, making the halls more rowdy than they already were on a regular school day.
Félix slipped into his homeroom and silently closed the door behind him with a sigh, glad to be in a calmer place. One of the few benefits of days like these was that his peers spent more time in the hallways than in the classrooms between periods, giving him more time to prepare himself mentally for the rest of the noisy day.
“Wow, you don't like a day to celebrate love, how shocking,” Alina said flatly as he took a seat next to Flora, sending him a side-glance from where she sat diagonally from him.
Félix rolled his eyes. “And you're crazy about any chance to fill this building with obnoxious colors, what a revelation.”
“Excuse me–” Alina turned around on her seat to fix him with a glare. “Reds and pinks combination is a classic–”
“Exactly, I expected more from you, Alina, going for the obvious?” Félix shook his head, leaning on the backseat with folded arms. “How disappointing.”
“Now, now–” Flora put her hands on the desk between the two of them with a nervous smile. “Today's not the day for arguments, it's Valentine's!” She clapped her hands together and looked from Félix to Alina with a pleading look. “Couldn't you two be nicer for one day?”
“I'm always nice,” Alina said with a hand to her chest.
“Sure you are,” Félix muttered.
“It's this dumbwit–” She kicked Félix under the desk, who kicked back, making her retaliate, and Flora had to stomp on their feet to make them stop. “–who needs to loosen up a bit,” Alina exhaled, snatching her foot back. “And you wonder why everyone calls you heartless.”
Félix huffed, massaging his ankle. “I don't care what they call me,” he muttered. “And it's not particular to Valentine's, I don't like any holiday. They're always way too loud, way too bright, and way too crowded.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot, you're also allergic to fun.”
“Alina!” Flora smacked her friend's shoulder.
“What? It's true.”
Félix tuned the girls out, wondering, not for the first time, why he bothered with them. Flora he knew since maternalle, and he appreciated her sticking to him for so long, but he didn't really need to tolerate her other friends, and he had a feeling they also didn't like having to withstand him just because they couldn't stop her when she put it in her head she wanted all her friends to be friends with each other.
“Um... Félix?”
Félix turned his gaze away from the bickering girls and settled it on the other, smaller, girl hunched over on her seat as if trying to fuse to it as she fiddled with one of her black pigtails.
“Don't you– Isn't–” Marinette shook her head and took a deep breath before finally raising her eyes to him, though her head was still downcasted. “Isn't there anything you like about Holidays?”
“No.”
She sagged at his curt reply and turned around with an “I see.”
“I mean, not personally,” Félix said, frowning at how fast he amended his first statement upon seeing her eyes dimming. “I don't personally like any of them, but I understand it's important to others–” He felt the need to do something with his hands so he grabbed his bag and started to take out his materials. “I just wished most of them weren't so loud about it.” She giggled and that made Félix relax a bit. “And to trade gifts. I imagine that last one is the main reason most people celebrate holidays.”
“I mean, yeah, everyone likes gifts.” She seemed more at ease, and that made pride bloom in Félix for some reason. “Don't you?”
Félix shrugged, organizing his textbooks, notebook, pencils, pen, and eraser on the desktop.
“Not Valentine's ones. Besides, you can get chocolate, plushies, or flowers for someone any time of the year, I don't see what difference the day it's done makes.”
“For what it symbolizes, I guess? And, uh,” Marinette pulled back a bit, averting her eyes. “It might just be the push some people need,” she said barely above a whisper, pink tinting her cheeks.
“I guess,” Félix relented. “But I still wouldn't like to receive dying corpses as a symbol of love.”
Marinette choked on air.
“W-What.”
“Just think about it. How many people do you think managed to save the flowers they received, if they even kept them at all?”
“Oh no, Félix!” She covered her face with her hands. “Why did you have to say it like that? Now I'll never be able to look at people gifting bouquets the same way.”
He grinned. “You're welcome.”
Marinette giggled and turned around when the teacher entered, demanding attention.
Feeling eyes on him, Félix chanced a glance to the side. Alina grinned widely at him, wagging her brows up and down, while Flora covered her own self-satisfied smile with a hand.
Félix scowled at both of them and buried his face on his textbook.
~•~
Somehow, Alina had managed to convince Félix to help in putting down the decorations—if they only stay up for one day, why even bother with that much work?—so the rest of his afternoon was spent walking around the school halls, ripping out heart-shaped paper chains and popping balloons.
“Could you not do that!” Alina shouted from around the corridor when another pow resonated through the building.
“You asked for my help, I'm helping!”
Félix pressed two balloons together and popped them at the same time. It left his palms burning and his ears ringing, but it would make Alina think twice before asking for his help again.
Grumbles and stomps going further down the corridor made Félix's lips twitch up and he turned back to the few balloons remaining, only four left, then he would have to wipe the floor from the red rubber pieces scattered around it…
He should have thought it over a bit more before starting popping the balloons in a tantrum fit.
Félix groaned inwardly and kicked the red rubber on the floor. He sighed and walked off to the janitor's closet. Turning the corner, he raised his brows at the girl muttering under her breath as she walked back and forth, hugging a white package tied with a pink lace tightly to her chest.
Félix cleared his throat. She didn't stop pacing nor rambling and was now gesturing with her hand, making weird faces as if really engaged in a heated argument.
Félix coughed louder.
She stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head slowly to him, eyes blown wide and knuckles paling from gripping at the package.
“Um–” Félix flickered his eyes away then back at her. “Are you here to help put the decorations away?”
“What?” She blinked, tilting her head in confusion for a second, then straightened up, whipping her head to the hearts and ribbons still around this hall. “Oh, yes, I just–” She bit her lip then ran to him, pressing the box to his chest. “Here.”
Félix could only let out a surprised “oof” as she ran away at the speed of lightning.
After what felt like an hour of Félix just staring stupidly at where Marinette had disappeared around the corner, he finally turned his attention to the package in his hands. It was a vertical box with most of its weight centered on its square bottom and a light pink lace ribbon tying it together in the middle. Sitting on the floor, he balanced it on his knees and carefully pulled the ribbon undone.
Félix paused and furrowed his brows at the light blue bud that was revealed on top of it as he tugged down the wrapping paper. Touching it though, it didn't have the soft texture of a flower, and the way it caught the light certainly wasn't that of a petal.
Ripping off the wrapping paper completely, what was on his lap was a flower vase. But the flower's petals were made out of a plastic material—bottles, maybe?—the caule was a wire tube firmly pierced in the light clay on the wooden vase with plastic green blades spreading around it.
Félix passed some time admiring the handcraft before taking the note attached to the silver ribbon around the vase.
If it's a day later, it's not technically a Valentine's gift, right? And I doubt this one will die.
Marinette.
Ps.: Pull the gold line.
Félix turned the vase around and, finding a gold line coming out of the bud, gently pulled it. His smile widened as the bud blossomed into a blue rose. He held the vase closer as more roses blossomed in his chest.