11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven

I didn't kiss Felix. And I didn't get to use the condoms Winnie gave me. Not that I was ready for that, as we've already established. They sat in my pocket, a silent promise that while tonight was not the night, someday…it would be. The thought should've frightened me—because it was new, and scary, and foreign—but it didn't.

It felt right.

As right as Felix had in my arms the first time I'd held him and the monster inside me had opened its eyes.

The weight of the unused condoms was almost soothing. It was a reminder that we would have more nights like this. That the tragedy Felix thought his life was, wouldn't come to be. The clouds opened up above us, blocking out the stars, and rain poured down on the night-black roads. Ignoring the rumble of thunder, and the shimmery slick reflections that danced on the quiet streets, Felix and I sped through town late into the night.

The rain fell and fell and fell.

Lightning flared along the treetops .

Felix took off the hat I'd bought him. He tipped his head back against the headrest like he'd done in my car. He didn't speak. Just closed his eyes, and relaxed in the silence. When the torrent of rain softened, he rolled the window down—manually with the lever on the door.

I pulled to a stop at a red light, my mouth dry as I took the opportunity to watch water droplets slip through the open window and decorate his ivory skin.

He was porcelain perfect, like a doll almost.

Angelic, even at times like this.

Times that should've been ordinary, but weren't. It was only Friday. It was only rain. But it was…more than that too. Felix elevated everything he touched. The more I looked at him, the more certain I was that I'd never tire of those soft, sweet lips. Never tire of the shadows beneath his eyes, or the little mole beneath his eye—the one I really wanted to kiss.

Felix's dark roots hadn't grown back in, but the nearly black shade of his brows made it obvious, even now, that blond was not his natural color.

It suited him, but I couldn't help but wonder what he'd look like without the bleach. Would the raven-esque strands make him appear paler than he already did? Or would they lend his milky complexion color?

Why dye his hair at all? Was it another part of his disguise?

Felix was so still as he listened to the rain .

Deathly still.

So still, if he'd been lying inside a casket he would have looked at home.

His chest didn't move, and no breaths slipped from his lips as he remained relaxed against the vintage leather of his frankly fantastic car. He fit in more here than he had at the fair. More than he did even in his own home. There was something about this car that rang… true somehow.

Once again, I got the feeling that I was missing something.

Something vital.

But…as I stole glances to the right, memorizing the way the flashes of thunder lit him up—I realized I didn't care. I didn't care about the murder. I didn't care about the secrets, the rumors, or the fact I'd never wanted someone before.

I wanted Felix.

I wanted him so badly there was nothing I wouldn't give to have him.

My sanity included.

When Felix finally opened his eyes, relief flooded my body. It wasn't that I'd actually thought he'd died while sitting in the passenger seat. It was just reassuring to know he hadn't?

For a man that often fantasized about death, I was sure frightened of Felix's.

I knew better than anyone how quickly a life could end.

Intimately, even.

I decided then, as I watched his lips curl into a soft smile, his pointy teeth flashing—that I would rather die than let something bad happen to Felix. He was mine. He just…maybe didn't know it yet.

And at the end of the night, when we returned to the parking lot to split ways, I didn't kiss him even though I wanted to.

I didn't kiss him because, though I knew I wanted to keep him, I didn't know how exactly to make that happen yet. I wasn't ready for the physical side of a relationship. Tonight had been a dream, really truly, even before I'd driven the car of my fantasies. Tomorrow, the cold harsh reality of my inexperience would come rushing back in.

I'd do more research.

I'd plan better.

I'd continue to carry these condoms and maybe—one day—when I was ready, we'd need them.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I spent a frankly obscene amount of time on porn websites. Yes. Me. Marshall Warden, the proudly self-proclaimed prude—was watching porn. And not just a little of it—no. No. I was watching so much that when my office got pizza delivered on a particularly busy Friday, I immediately reached for the mace in my desk, ready to fend off the delivery boy should it be necessary .

It wasn't.

But still.

When I closed my eyes I saw dicks behind my eyelids.

So. Many. Dicks.

It was horrifying .

Porn was ridiculous. It really was. I didn't understand why people seemed able to just…walk into a room—in this case, on set—look at another person, and immediately want to tear their clothes off. I had never felt that about anyone . In fact, most of the time when I saw people out in the wild I wanted to put more clothes on them, rather than take them off.

I'd never looked at someone and thought about fucking them.

At least, until now.

I tried that a few times, during periods of research, putting myself in the shoes of the "characters" I was watching on screen. I wanted to understand. And I figured the best way to do that was to expose myself, the same way I'd exposed myself to cat sounds. Perhaps if I became desensitized, I wouldn't look like a fool when the time finally came to share physical intimacy with Felix?

That was the plan anyway.

And the plan went awry rather quickly.

On the first night, actually.

Sitting at my desk in my home office that first time the night after the carnival, with a water bottle and an aspirin—should the sounds prove irritating—I prepared to become a new man. I had a few weeks before our next date—Felix was once again acting cagey and like his social calendar was quite full, so I had time. I had tissues on hand—not because I intended to masturbate, but because I always had tissues at my desk. Because I was a planner, like Winnie had said, and even planners needed tissues.

Unfortunately, when I imagined fucking my fake stepmom, the delivery man, or the mechanic that worked on my car—instead of having a positive physical reaction, I became violently uncomfortable.

This was clearly not working, so I switched tactics.

I thought about Felix.

And well , that was a different story.

The idea of Felix without clothing made something shivery and needy awake inside me. The thought of unbuttoning his trousers made my breath unsteady. Heat coiled in my belly, my cock twitching to life.

I could free his cock. The one I'd—maybe—stared a bit at during the carnival, bare. Slick. Pink. See just how big it was in real life. Touch the silky skin and watch his face scrunch with pleasure. Would he push it inside my mouth? Would he hold me steady, plunging in and out, whimpering and whining above me like a needy beast in heat?

When I thought about slicking up my fingers—about slipping them inside him—about…about… shoving him onto his belly. And pushing his legs open and tasting him where he was filthiest, I just—

Fuck .

Yes.

Okay.

That was better.

It was wrong, wrong, wrong for me to want to touch someone else like that. To want to violate their body with my own. Sticky sweat. Naked . The slap of our hips meeting as I forced my cock inside his cherry pink hole and grabbed his ass cheeks like I often grabbed his face. Would the back of his neck taste like salt? Would he cry when I fucked into his sweet little hole?

I hoped so.

I wonder if his tears would taste better if I was the one who had caused them.

Perhaps he'd take charge like he had at the fair and with Barry? Perhaps he'd push me onto my back, straddle my hips—and with no complaints from me whatsoever—slide himself down onto my cock. Would he get violent with me?

The thought made me shiver.

Would he bite and choke—would he attempt to kill me as he had his other paramours?

The beast inside me paced in circles.

He was a twisted, hungry thing. Desperate for praise and touch. Frothing at the mouth the moment Felix came to mind.

Locked away, I hadn't even known such a creature existed inside my psyche before, but I became achingly familiar with him as my days, my nights, my weekends spent mowing Felix's lawn—were filled with thoughts of fucking him.

I masturbated a lot more over those few weeks than I had in all my life.

When I was doing laundry, I thought about having Felix over the dryer.

When I was doing dishes, I thought about having him over the sink.

When I was mowing his lawn, I thought about having him on his front porch, bent over, trousers pushed down his legs, his desperate needy cries echoing through the air as I fucked him till he cried.

When I wasn't thinking about sitting Felix on my cock, dodging Winnie's well-meaning but annoying questions, and ignoring Harold's teasing…I went on dates.

Felix was a hard man to pin down. I couldn't get him to text me back for the life of me. Our dates were spread out—and always, unfortunately, happened after I'd seen men and women alike over at his place. I knew I was one of many suitors, but I was determined to be the only one who crossed the finish line so to speak.

If I had to bludgeon every last one of them to make that happen—so be it.

Though my time with Felix was infrequent, each date was more perfect than the last.

One warm, sticky summer night a few weeks after the carnival, I went over to Felix's home. It was a redo of the night we should've had, and I was excited to say the least. Armed with my new knowledge and confidence, I couldn't wait to spend the night with him. Felix had opened the door wearing his ridiculous disguise again, but—before I even had to prompt—he took his hat off and hung it on the hook by the door.

"No hat, right?" He smiled.

My heart fluttered.

Dolly and Tiffany glared at me the entire time I prepared dinner, their beady little eyes following my movements. Felix helped me set the table, a polite little gentleman—because of course he was.

Felix and I sat in the formal dining room, surrounded by his clutter. At one point, when I tripped over a stray dusty radio and nearly brained myself—I'd had enough.

"I'm cleaning your house," I declared. Felix stared at me from across the room where he'd been setting the plates in their places.

"You are?" He blinked.

"I am."

A flush spread across his face, and rather than get offended, a happy, fizzy smile escaped. "Thank you, Marshall."

It was clear that Felix was trying. Every space in the house that was clean—was also full of his crocheted wisteria—but it was obvious that there was too much junk for one person to be able to fully manage .

Clearly he liked vintage things, judging by his clothing and his hoarding. But it seemed he'd slowly begun to siphon them out. Almost like…he didn't need to cling to the past anymore.

Perhaps one day I could convince him to learn how to text.

"Do you really need all this stuff?" I asked, sweaty, a lock of hair slipping into my eyes. I was lucky I hadn't fallen. I probably would've crushed the reading glasses in my pocket.

"I thought I did," Felix answered honestly, eyes trembling and far away like they often were. "But…" he glanced around the room, at all the lost, old things—then his gaze met mine and all I felt was warm, warm, warm. "I don't anymore."

I cleared my throat. "Okay," I said simply, even though my heart was pounding.

"Out with the old, in with the new—" Felix added, lips tipping up.

We finished setting the table together in silence. As I carried dinner in I couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to collect so much in the first place. There had to have been a lack in his life, right? A hole that only items from the past could fill.

Before I'd even come over, it seemed he'd begun to change, however.

Ready to move on.

And now that I was here, I could help.

Felix had an entire ornate dining room table, bedecked in dripping candles. It was far longer than any one person would ever need it to be, even considering the amount of visitors he had. There was only one chair at the table, however, which made it clear that he didn't often bring guests here.

I could so easily picture him sitting there, quietly eating his dinner, the giant house far too quiet. As alone as he'd been on Christmas Eve, a silent, solemn figure.

When the candles dipped low, I asked him about his cats.

Part of me was curious, because I couldn't fathom why anyone would keep cats indoors. We'd had barn cats growing up—kept around for the mice, of course. They served a purpose.

These cats…didn't.

Dolly was a fat, fluffy, white thing who Felix told me had a penchant for hiding atop the fridge and spooking him when he least expected it. Tiffany was her slimmer, friendlier counterpart. Which wasn't all that friendly—as neither cat did anything but glare at me like the intruder I was.

I supposed I could understand their reluctance to trust me.

I didn't trust strangers either.

"Two cats," I said, by way of conversation starter.

"Two cats," Felix repeated, obviously amused. "What about them?"

"Why—" Do not be an asshole, Marshall, you are trying to woo this man. "In God's name would you subject yourself to that ? Twice over."

Christ.

Fuck .

Felix laughed, his eyes dancing with mirth, head tossed back. The long line of his throat bobbed, those extraordinary twin scars on his neck flickering as his delight filled the room.

I'd gone to a symphony once in the city. The trill of the violins had lit my soul on fire, and the smooth crooning of the bass had buzzed beneath the surface of my skin. At the end of the performance, I'd been tempted to cry. Which was unlike me, as I couldn't recall ever crying. Not once.

That was one thing Felix and I had in common.

Our aversion to tears.

Felix's laughter was far more beautiful than the symphony had been. I'd thought then, sitting in my assigned seat, surrounded by the lithe dance of notes flitting through the air, that I would never hear anything prettier in all my life.

I committed his laugh to memory, locking it away in the back of my mind. Deeply hidden inside the space where I sometimes retreated when my thoughts were a mess and I needed a reminder that the world carried beauty as much as it carried filth.

When he dropped his head down to look at me, his expression was…fond.

I locked the memory of his laughter away, replacing the symphony as my new favorite sound—settled, precious, and perfect into its space inside my head.

Unaware that he was the second coming of Christ, Felix spoke, "I found them," he said simply—referring to the mongrels that were currently giving me what Winnie would refer to as "side-eye". "There was this shop I drove past when I was coming home a few years ago. My car broke down. It was raining, so I went inside," Felix continued.

A far away expression crossed over his face as he described the shop he'd stumbled upon by accident. It had been a stormy day—like the night we'd driven around town in his car. The clouds had been dark and angry, a torrent of cold rain spattering his windshield. The moon had been hidden between the gaps in the trees, and Felix had been frightened.

He'd entered the shop looking for a good Samaritan and was lucky enough to find one. It was a book shop—or what appeared to be one. Tall, musty bookshelves. A dust-coated snack counter with a closed sign. The narrow aisles and two checkout counters he described struck a chord within me, but it wasn't until he talked about the thin but tall shopkeep who worked the floor of the shop that I realized why .

I'd been there.

"Both the cats were sitting in a little basket behind the counter, and before I left, the owner asked me if I wanted to take them home." Felix smiled wistfully, like remembering Dolly and Tiffany as children made him blissfully happy. I would've found it adorable, if my thoughts were not spinning. "Turned out I just needed gas!" Felix laughed again, tinkling and bright. "He was happy to provide that, as well as the two kittens."

"I think I've been there," I said, quiet and curious. It was an odd thing. Not because visiting the same store as someone else was all that odd, but because—for the last ten years I'd tried and tried to find that shop again. After my first visit, no matter how hard I looked, it was nowhere to be found.

It was almost like it hadn't existed at all.

As a very logical person who is quite rooted in reality, I found it more than a little concerning that I had memories of a place that didn't seem to exist. After doing some digging, I discovered that there was no reference to the shop on social media or any sign of it on my map app.

Searching for it every time I left town became a compulsion I could not ignore. For years, I'd done just that, hunting the winding roads for a place I was certain I'd once been.

After a while, I'd been forced to face defeat.

I knew my mind was not what most would consider " healthy. " Part of me wondered if I'd imagined the entire encounter—but that was unlike me. When I dreamed, normally I saw violent visions, memories from a past I'd tried to forget, or worked mundane jobs at a variety of boring places.

I was not the kind of man that simply made things up.

I always remained firmly rooted in reality.

For example…one time, while I was dreaming I'd given a prescription to a customer at the pharmacy. The next day, I'd Googled the medication I'd filled, only to discover that it was somehow very real . I'd never been certain how my brain knew about it, only that it did .

Which was why the "shop" in my mind had become somewhat of a demon.

Now though…

Now I knew I hadn't made it up at all. If Felix had been there, it had been very real. Which didn't explain where the hell it had gone.

I still had no idea how the shop had disappeared.

"Oh," Felix responded, clearly not understanding how monumental the fact that he had been inside the missing shop was. "How fun! When did you go?" As a person who very rarely left the house, I could see why he'd be curious. There was no reason for him to believe anything was amiss if he'd never tried to hunt for the shop in vain himself.

"It was ten years ago. When I was passing through this area to visit my sister, Melissa," still feeling a little shell-shocked, I was certain my expression looked off. " Before I'd moved to Beach Town."

"Huh." Felix cocked his head to the side, regarding me curiously.

At the time, I'd still lived with my father and Winnie in the city, and I'd been looking for independence.

"It was how I found Beach Town in the first place. I'd been wanting to move away from home, but I didn't want to live in the city with Winnie and my dad. I love them, but not enough that I want either of them popping their heads into my business. Besides, I missed the small town life we'd left behind when we moved away from the farm." Realizing I'd gotten off track, I realigned. "The owner of the shop was the one that pointed me in this direction. He said I'd like it here. That I'd find what I was missing."

A town off the beaten path.

A town with a club for murderers.

A town where Felix lived with his cats, his secrets, and his pretty pointy smile.

Though, I'm almost certain the owner of the shop hadn't known that last tidbit. Unless…of course…he had. Maybe disappearing shop owners were matchmakers who could see the future? What a joke! I was too shell-shocked to muster any mirth, despite how fantastical that thought was.

"Are you okay?" Felix asked, frowning at me. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"It feels like I have." I stared at him, then the cats. "Have you ever tried to go back?" I asked, curious.

"No. Why?" Felix laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I don't often leave, as you know."

"I…" I was acting irrational. "Never mind. I suppose I found it odd. There are a lot of things I'm finding odd lately. Perhaps you feel the same?"

There was a strange expression on Felix's face…almost guilty? Though I could've been imagining things, because the next moment it was gone, and he was peering at me like he always did, red eyes soft.

I'd stopped questioning their color and appreciated it instead .

"I do," Felix said, honesty quaking in those two simple words. "So much has changed in such a small time. I don't know how to wrap my head around it."

"The murders?"

"Yes, that too." His expression pinched and he curled into himself, before glancing at me through his lashes. "I never expected to have you here," he admitted, voice low and sweet. The candles flickered, and my pulse skittered. "At my table. In my home."

"I never expected this either," I replied, just as honest. "But I like it."

"You do?" Felix perked up. If he'd had a tail, it would be wagging. I wanted to reach across the table and touch him—but he was too far away, and I was too much of a coward to leave my seat, surprised once again by the compulsion to comfort him when I'd never felt that way about anyone before.

How he could be so powerful one moment and so vulnerable the next, I couldn't understand.

"I do," my voice was rough, my pulse racing. His gaze snapped to my throat, almost like he could hear the way my heart galloped, attracted to it like a siren song.

"Do you ever get lonely, Marshall?" Felix asked. He looked so small all of a sudden, sitting at his end of the table with his dinner untouched in front of him. There was such raw vulnerability on his face, I couldn't bear to look away.

It was beautiful .

Devastating.

As lovely as an avalanche destroying everything in its path. That's how he made me feel. Like he'd come into my life, rolled through everything I'd known, and pulled it into him. Remade it into something bigger, and better—and twice as terrifying.

His question was an interesting one.

Loneliness wasn't something I often contemplated. I was too busy with my rituals. Too busy planning my next kill. Too busy helping Harold with his messes. Too busy warding off Winnie's nosiness, and trying to figure out what to get my sisters for Christmas. There wasn't time to be lonely.

At least…I hadn't thought so.

But then I thought about all the nights I sat at my dining room table, eating the same meal, listening to the same songs on the playlist I'd created specifically to cultivate peace. The lulling twists and trills of the same symphony I'd attended all those years ago. Chasing a feeling I hadn't thought I'd ever feel again.

Until now.

I thought about the emptiness in my home the moment Winnie left after visiting.

The silence I'd always loved, but now felt…hollow knowing Felix was across the street, sitting silent on his own.

It hadn't occurred to me before that I might be lonely.

But…perhaps I was.

"Yes," I admitted just as softly, answering his question after what was probably an awkward pause. Felix didn't say a word about my awkwardness though. Instead, he just nodded, that same faraway look in his eyes. "Do you get lonely, Finley?" I countered, gripping my fork tight.

"I can't remember a time when I wasn't," Felix admitted, voice tight. He swallowed, and I watched his throat bob with fascination.

I was a bad person.

I knew that.

Because the idea that I could fill that gap in Felix's life made me fizzy with elation . I should've felt sad for him, probably. Pity. A normal person would've. Instead, I was excited for the opportunity this offered.

An opportunity to be everything for him.

To make him need me even more than he already did.

"Why?" I asked, curious. "You're often having guests over."

"They mean nothing to me. Friends at best."

The beast inside me reached toward his. Hungry .

" Nothing ?"

Felix nodded his head in agreement. "Sometimes…when they're here they make me feel even lonelier than I did before," he admitted, a sad twist to his lips. "They remind me of what I've lost—of who I used to be."

"Then stop inviting them over," I huffed—totally not biased or anything at all.

"I wish it were that simple," Felix's eyes danced. "I need them, so that I can see you ."

Well, that made no sense.

"Why?"

Felix mimed zipping his lips shut, and I sighed, frustrated. Another secret to add to the ever-growing pile. "What about your family?" I asked, thinking about that Christmas he'd been all alone. "Your actual friends?"

I suppose I could allow him to have his paramours for now. At least…until I was ready to fill in the gaps they left behind. If he needed them to spend time with me, then I would let him have them.

Though that wouldn't stop me from imagining running them over with my car.

"Everyone I've ever cared for is dead," he said simply, like that wasn't a horribly depressing thing to say.

"My mother is dead," I told him, in an attempt to relate. "My sister too."

"Do you miss them?" Felix blinked, shaking his head a little to clear it, his eyes centered in the present once again as he turned to look at me.

This felt like a trick question.

I should probably say yes.

Instead, I settled for the truth. "Sometimes." I shrugged. "When I remember them." I remembered Alberta most, once a year on her birthday. After the first time I'd enacted my ritual, it had stopped being the worst time of year, and quickly became my favorite part of it. I'd right the wrongs committed against her, and until it rolled around again the following spring, I'd feel the itch beneath my skin settle .

Right after their deaths, I'd thought of them more often. But as the years passed, the instances I recalled of them grew farther and farther apart. Sometimes I could go days or weeks without thinking of either of them at all.

And sometimes—like lately, I thought about them often.

Felix tipped his head to the side, watching me curiously, so I added, "Mostly I miss my mother's pie," in an attempt to make him laugh again.

He snorted, face scrunching up with delight as he shook his head. "Gosh, that must've been a swell pie."

"It was."

"What kind?"

"Rhubarb."

"Rhubarb?" Felix snorted again, fingers tapping a happy dance on the table as he shook his head. "You look exactly like the kind of person who likes rhubarb."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, mock offended. "First I'm an old cartoon man, and now I look like I like rhubarb."

Felix grinned. "It means whatever you think it means."

"An insult then. And here I was, about to tell you that the next time you felt lonely I'd come over," I scoffed, surprised to find how fun it was to play with him this way. Like our beasts were circling one another. "Offer rescinded."

"The offer you didn't make?"

"Exactly. "

Felix's grin never fell. He leaned against the table, almost like he was trying to get closer to me, despite the wood barrier between us.

"Would you like to know my most closely guarded secret?" Felix asked out of the blue, his eyes still dancing. Immediately I nodded, my heart skipping a beat. He took a fortifying breath. "When I'm with you , I'm not lonely," he said softly, lips twisting up. "I don't feel like a ghost."

I had no idea what he meant by that , but it was a nice statement all the same. It was comforting to know that I was not lumped in with the other people he had over, but special. Separate. The cream of the crop. The only one that offered him true companionship.

"I should be here all the time then, shouldn't I?" My pulse raced, my hands sweaty as I waited for his answer. "So that you don't feel that way."

"As often as you can," Felix countered. The need simmering in the air between us was palpable. "Until you can't anymore."

That was a morose statement.

I didn't plan on dying anytime soon.

"What if I want forever?" I offered, voice a little hoarse. We were getting more… personal than I'd expected for a second date, but it was nice all the same. I'd always struggled with people. I hated them. I avoided them. I found them tricky, obnoxious—annoying.

Felix was none of those things.

Talking to him was easy .

My masks fell away.

I was Marshall, in all my prickly, unpalatable glory. And Felix seemed to like that.

"Nothing good lasts forever," Felix countered, that faraway look threatening to overtake him again. To take him away from me. To steal him, despite the fact that I was right here—in front of him—physically present when the demons that lurked in his head were far, far away.

"One day, you'll tell me why you say that," I countered, voice low.

"Will I?" Felix's eyes were present again, and I nearly sagged in relief as his attention flickered back to me. Those lovely red eyes almost seemed to glow in the dwindling candle light.

"You will," I commanded confidently, voice soft. "You'll tell me all your secrets." It was a promise. Felix knew that as well as I did, because he hummed back thoughtfully. "I'll know why you lock yourself up in here. I'll know why you hide. I'll know why you kill. I'll know all your wants, your needs, your desires."

"And what will I receive in return? You're getting an awful lot from me in this hypothetical future."

"Only the truth."

"My secrets are all I have," he countered.

"And your cats."

"And my cats." Felix blinked. "So. Make it fair, Marshall. Wow me. What great, wonderful thing will you offer me in exchange? "

"Hmm," I mulled this over, tapping my lip. What could I offer him? What could I give him that might make him laugh, but wasn't a promise I couldn't keep? I'd already offered forever. He hadn't responded to that the way I'd hoped when I made the statement. Almost like he didn't trust my words.

Maybe…huge declarations were not the way to Felix's heart.

Ah. Yes. I knew what to do.

If he didn't respond well to big declarations, a small one would do.

Simple, but to the point.

Perfect.

"Marshall?" Felix waited, impatient. I clucked my tongue at him, but responded to his cajoling anyway—confident that for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what to say.

"Two eyes, two hands…" My cheeks hurt, and I realized—once again—I was smiling. "And a grin."

The bare minimum.

But everything all the same.

I promised him my attention, my help, my humor.

My presence in its barest bones.

"How generous of you," Felix joked—but I could tell he truly meant the words. Like my promise to be present in his life was the best gift I could've offered him. Like he understood the subtext so subtly offered. Like he spoke my language, when no one else ever had.

"What, did you think you were special?" I scoffed, pulse racing, as we both pretended I hadn't offered him everything I had.

Felix's face pinched playfully as he hemmed and hawed , before shaking his head. "That would be presumptuous of me." He nodded, faux seriously. "It's not like you mow my lawn for me every Saturday—or are quite doggedly trying to go steady with me or anything."

"Exactly." I shrugged. "I do this for all my neighbors."

"Even Barry."

Gagging, I was tempted to throw my napkin at him. "Never say that to me again, you little floppy-hatted bitch."

Felix cackled. "If I'm a floppy-hatted bitch, I wonder what you call Barry in your head. It'll be colorful, I'm sure. Creative."

"You don't want to know."

"Fluffy-haired ass kisser?" Felix blinked innocently. I snorted out a laugh. "Nosy, inconsiderate floral-pattern-wearing-asshole?"

"What is it with you and asses?" I leaned my chin on my hand, staring at him, my heart thumping unsteadily.

"Pink-cheeked—"

"Oh god."

"Hawaiian-shirted gremlin man?"

"No, that would be you." I grinned, and Felix grinned back.

My heart was full.

I didn't think it'd ever been full before.

For five minutes, Felix came up with more and more Barry-themed insults. We traded barbs back and forth. I never stopped staring, reluctant to even blink for fear of missing even a second of his smile. Every time he cackled, I logged the memories away for the future. Drops of sunshine saved for rainy days. It seemed my head would be full of his laughter, his smiles, and his jokes. I couldn't bring myself to be mad about it.

Not at all.

Not even a little.

Not one bit.