Chapter Text
The atmosphere out here was disgustingly peaceful.
Leaning against the dusty old truck, Felix fiddled with his old house keys, flipping them almost religiously around the thin plastic ring in an effort to ignore the gentle soothing sounds of nature. He watched as Ingrid and Sylvain spoke with the gas station owner, Sylvain laughing warmly at some joke he wasn’t privy to. They were still piling small essentials onto the counter, the plastic bottles of water glistening in the late autumn sun through the dirty window. The tall beach grass rustled softly around him, the ocean breeze tickling his cheeks. Felix sighed tiredly, giving his keys one final spin before latching them back to his belt. He’d kept the spares out of habit, one of three things he kept as memorabilia the day he left town. Of all the things he thought he would return for, a funeral was the last thing he imagined. Going on this trip was likely to prove itself a mistake, he mused, stepping away from the rickety vehicle and towards the endless sea of beach grass beckoning him forward. Nearly all his childhood memories were of this town, every bitter feeling he’d shoved down with an extra scoop of resentment to seal the lid tight on his past and yet he came back.
The tall golden grass brushed against his bare hands, threatening to peek through the weave of his thick blue sweater. He could spot the town off in the distance if he tried, just beyond the illusion of endless sand. It was a skill all the town inhabitants had mustered, some from their daily travels while others keyed in the skill from their time out at sea. Felix toyed mildly with the notion of hot wiring the truck and driving all the way back to the city.
Sylvains shout interrupts his daydream, forcing him back to reality. Ingrid was already piling the supplies into the back, leaving space for where Felix had laid out his own seat.
"I take it we can finally keep moving forward," Felix called out as he walked towards the gas station once more. "Or does the owner have another story to share?"
"He's not that bad," Sylvain stated cheerily, already popping open the driver's door. "Are you sure you want to keep riding out back? Ingrid said she'd swap with you if you'd like."
"I prefer it this way," he replied curtly, grasping the side of the truck bed firmly before hauling himself up and into the bed. "Just drive fast so we can get this over with sooner."
"Funerals don't just happen sooner because you want them to Fe'," Sylvain sang but leapt into the driver's seat regardless. Ingrid frowned, casting one final disapproving look.
"Are you going to be able to handle this?" She asked worriedly.
Felix scowled. "Will you be able to?" He snapped, almost resenting the bitterness that crept into his tone if it weren't for the unchanging expression on Ingrid's face. She shrugged, walking around the front and stepping into the car. Felix fell back into the rolled-out duvet, feeling the rumble of the engine starting against his back and watching the clouds speed on by as they drove onto the main road once more.
The funeral couldn't happen sooner in his opinion.
The drive to town was always longer than one expected, the curving of the beach side road lengthening the process by at least an hour past the time one intended. Yet by the time they were driving into the town center, Felix found himself wishing he'd leapt out of the car and into the ocean. Peering over the edge of the bed, he watched as the buildings blew by, counting the older ones he recognized. The bakery was new, though the building itself was not. The library still stood steadfast. Others looked open, though not in the best of conditions. Feeling the truck slowing to a park, Felix grabbed his duffle bag, slinging it overhead and securing it to his chest. Sylvain rolled down his window, leaning out the side to greet him as he jumped off the truck bed.
"Are you sure you want to stay at the inn?" He asked seriously. Ingrid cast him a curious glance from behind. "Ingrid's got plenty of space at her family's stable, I'm sure she can host us both."
Felix scoffed. "It's fine. I won't be here very long anyways."
He tried not to focus on Ingrid's visible relief, all too aware that her family was stretched thin enough to accommodate Sylvain and herself. If Sylvain had any social tact he would stay in the inn too. Brushing them off with an emotionless wave, Felix turned towards the inn and started walking. The place itself hadn't changed much aside from its owner, the chipped paint adding to its ancient feel. Yet as he stepped into the creaky building, the inside was still warm and welcoming, the aroma of many home cooked meals adding to the atmosphere. Byleth looked up from the table burdened with an abundance of dishes, as if surprised to have a guest. "Oh. You're early."
He wasn't but there was no sense in arguing. Instead he shrugged. "Traffic was light. No one comes to town this late in the fall," he stated, adjusting the strap to his bag. He hesitated, taking in the sheer number of dishes on the table. "Did everyone in town leave you a meal?"
"Just about," she replied tiredly, rising from her seat. The chair groaned under her strength, scraping lightly as she pushed it aside. "I'll show you to your room."
"It's fine—just give me the key."
"No, I should take you," Byleth insisted, already at the small counter by the staircase, rummaging through the unsorted drawer. She emerged with a small key attached to an old silver keychain. "I should get used to this after all. It's my inn now."
Felix cleared his throat awkwardly as she strode past him and up the stairs, following close behind. "Sorry for your loss," he murmured uncomfortably.
Byleth smiled weakly and shrugged, the stairs creaking loudly beneath her feet as she arrived at the landing. "It's...thank you." She motioned towards the door at the end of the hall, passing off the key as he walked past. "Dinner is at six, though if you don't mind I think I'll just serve out what was delivered. I'm not sure I can get through it all by myself."
"I seem to remember you as someone who ate with every customer, no matter how many meals you'd eaten." He could hear Ingrid’s voice in the back of his head, chiding him for being so brunt and casual but the words emerged all the same. Thankfully, Byleth seemed to acknowledge his lack of tact as an unchangeable part of him.
"I can still eat with you if that's what you'd like but I'm fairly certain this would feed a small army." She headed back towards the stairs, waving dismissively. “If you end up going anywhere, feel free to invite people over to eat. There’s more than enough for everyone.”
He lasted all but ten minutes in his room. Ingrid would say it was a record. Sylvain would have bet on two minutes, and he hated the idea of actually running into anyone outside but the nostalgia seeping from his creaky room made his skin crawl. So rather than lay in bed and get the rest he should have attempted, Felix changed into his running gear, zipped into a thick downy vest, and slipped down the stairs. Closing the door softly behind him, he felt vaguely guilty as he passed by Byleth dead asleep on the chair, still surrounded by the plethora of grief dishes. A better person would have woken her or better yet, helped move the plates out of her way. Felix prided himself on practicality, not his empathy, so he placed a fleece throw around her and left the creaky home. The old inn was only steps away from the sand, something he’d held a different appreciation for as a child. Right now, it just meant a quick and easy escape from the suffocating feeling that had been haunting him since they drove into town. Pulling his hair up as he stretched out his calves against the washed-up driftwood, he inhaled the salty ocean air deeply. Satisfied with his stretch, he began his run along the cold beach front.
It was far too cold for anyone to be out here he reminded himself, heart already pounding despite how little he’d exerted himself. The wind howled at his ears, another reminder that no one would be out here. The only ones who dared to venture out these days were people like himself, those who sought solitude and the fish mongers who sailed out to sea in search of fresh catches, people with absolutely no care as to who stayed behind on shore—
Felix exhaled forcefully through his mouth and sprinted faster. He should have brought his headphones. Old music that he barely listened to, just sounds that buried out the noises around him, a melancholy white noise he could rely on for times like these. When he got too into his head, too buried in his thoughts and repressed emotions bubbled up like bile. Running was just another way to hold back the thoughts. Exercise was just another excuse to avoid the conversation he knew would come up at some point in this atrocious visit home. If he could manage this every day, he might make it through. Attend the funeral, grace his friends with the most minimal of goodbyes, and leave before the night fell. He could manage that much at least. With luck, he wouldn't have to see either of them .
The run was horrendously cold and his nose felt damn near frozen by the time he made it back to the inn, but the weather had calmed his stormy temperament enough to consider going back inside. The porch steps creaked under his weight as he approached the entrance, the porch swing groaning as he sat. Shoes yanked off without a care for his joints, he began dumping out the sand that had accumulated over the course of his run. Perhaps if he'd been less wrapped in his thoughts, he would have heard them approach. Instead what interrupted his cleaning was a clear shot at his head. Wincing as something collided against his head before bouncing loudly to the floor, he glanced up to see a small figure storming off back towards the town. The hood obscured the view but given the now misshapen muffin that now rolled at his feet, he could gander a guess at who it was.
"Annette."
The figure hesitated, hands clearly balled at their sides as if considering landing a punch instead. They took two more steps forward.
"Annette, I know it's you. Byleth is inside if you want to see her."
Annette whirled furiously, hair nearly whipping her in the face as she spun to face him. "I know that! That was for her!"
"The toss?" He replied, completely baffled.
"No, the muffin you dolt! I thought she would appreciate something sweet, especially now that your sour attitude came back to town!"
Felix rolled his eyes, picking up the second shoe to dump yet more offensive sand. "It's good to see you too," he mumbled to himself sarcastically, watching the sand pour from his shoes. Crunchy grains felt embedded in his toes. He would need to wash his feet as well.
"I heard that!"
"Nothing is stopping you from coming in."
"Oh yes there is," she hollered, approaching the house tentatively. "Your odious manners are probably ruining the atmosphere of the place. Byleth ought to feel terrible."
"I think the funeral is doing that for me," he replied dryly.
Annette flushed pink, running a hand from her temple down to her nose. "Wait no–you're right–I just—" she sighed heavily through her nose, taking a deep inhale before glancing back at him. "I didn't think you would be back."
Porch whining under their combined weight, she took a seat beside him. "You're back." She said simply.
He nodded, tapping the heel of his shoes to expel the final grains before turning to his socks. "I'm back."
"You said you weren't coming back," Annette breathed, now hunched over. Hands pressed to her face, she exhaled, warm air streaming her skin. "It's been years."
He ignored her pointed glares. "You never answered my calls."
"I didn't."
"Or answer my texts."
"No."
"Why are you back Felix? You've made it very clear you want nothing to do with us or this place."
He shrugged. Thoroughly exhausted from his run and ready for a hot meal and shower, he was feeling fairly done with the conversation. Still. It was Annette. Despite her incessant texting and harassing in spite of his radio silence, she was the only one who did not ask questions about why he left. The only one who seemed to respect his need to stay away. Her questions always varied; what was it like where he was? How were the people? Was he enjoying the food or did he miss the fresh seafood from the town? Never once did she ask how he fared. A simple response. She deserved that much at the least.
"...Byleth invited me to the funeral," he answered quietly, removing a sock. Sticking the fabric between his toes, he scraped away the hidden grains. "I'm not staying. It's just a favor. Until the funeral is over."
"But that's tomorrow!" She balked. "Why would you come just to leave–"She cuts off sharply, slapping a palm over her mouth but the damage is done. That nasty grip in his chest squeezes harshly and Felix grimaces. He ignores her, cleaning off more of the sand from the other foot.
"How are you even leaving?"
"I have a bus ticket." He rose to his feet, grabbing the shoes and socks in one hand. The damp floorboards made his feet ache but he didn't move. "I need to clean up, so if you're going to see Byleth this would be a good time."
"Felix, I’m sorry, I’m just worried–"
The door clattered behind him. The creaky staircase sang its tune as he ascended to his room. The bathroom was shared for the floor but given he was still the only visitor, he had no issue being asked to give up his privacy. Stripping off the remainder of his sweaty clothes, he stepped into the shower.
He hadn't expected to run into Annette. At least, not this early into his stay. The water felt like fire against his skin but he would warm up quickly. She hadn’t meant the harm. It wasn’t her fault her words struck inconsiderate, that his skin was about as thick as a wet napkin, yet he felt resentful either way. Running his hands up and through his hair, he sighed heavily. The sooner he left the better.