hey there my favorite angel beans sooo this is my first fan fiction i know it's not a v good plot i need inspiration i promise i'll write some phan or something in the future and i'll try to make these chapters around/roughly 1.5k words or something like that but that might change if im too lazy anyway these are annoying so enjoy byeee
Felix's POV;;
The computer screen is the only light in the room. It is quiet. It is dark. And it is peaceful. Editing is tiresome- it can take hours, or days. I've lost track of time. The sun set long ago, but I didn't notice. This is how I spend most nights, hidden away in a room, hunched over my computer. Working. Always working. I bet it's unhealthy. Do I care? Not really.
I've been editing the same video for hours on end. My every fiber aches with tiredness. I stopped looking at the clock long ago, for fear of what I would see. But now I check. It is five twelve. I've worked the whole night through.
The sun should be rising soon, I realize. I stand and walk slowly to my window and peer out, pulling the curtains aside.
The world is dark. Birds call out to me, probably wondering why on earth I am awake at this hour. The sky is inky and colorless, a great void stretched over the earth. Stars decorate the sky, sprinkled everywhere, glowing like lanterns. On the horizon the sky is turning a slight navy.
What if I go watch the sunrise?
What a foolish thought. Why would I do that? But something within me forced my legs to move and I left the room, headed for the back porch.
When I arrived outside, the navy color had spread across the sky. I sat down on the top step. The morning air was biting and cold but I tried to ignore it and just watch the sunrise, for it was something that I did not get to experience very often. I tilted my head up and watched in awe.
Color swirls across the sky, like streaks of paint from an unseen brush. Slowly, the navy faded to a lighter color and bursts of yellow arose. The sky was so many colors at once- yellow, orange, red. They each spoke of a different story. Fresh mango-orange. The color of sweet honey. The color of autumn maple leaves strewn across the sidewalk.
It was hypnotizing to watch the colors emerge. There was no darkness anymore, and light engulfed the world, as the sun peaked over the trees. The sickly-sweet pink of frosting. More colors, blossoming, filling the sky and then dying down again. The color of faded candy canes and of pastel blue chalk.
Soon the colors diminished, until the sun was one color and the sky was another. My interest faded quickly. I turned and jumped to see Marzia standing by the doorway, head tilted skywards.
"Marzia?" I ask, surprised. "When did you come out here?"
She sighs. "I woke up a bit after five, and got up to see how you were doing. When you weren't at your computer, I don't know. I had assumed you'd come out here. I was correct." She gives me sideways smile.
She knows me very well.
"Did you watch it?" I ask her, assuming she knows what I'm talking about.
I'm correct, as she just nods silently. She finally tears her eyes off of the sky, which she had been staring at the entire time.
"How's the work coming along?" She asks in a small voice.
"It's..." Good? Not really. "...coming along well."
She observes me slowly. If she doesn't buy it, she isn't showing it so the just says, "Oh, okay."
I hope my facial expression isn't giving away too much as I think, She seems upset. Why would she seem upset?
In moments whatever had crossed her face fades away and she pastes on a thin smile.
"Would you like breakfast?" She asks.
"I may need to get back to work." I explain to her, feeling guilty the moment the words leave my lips.
If she is disappointed, she brushes it off before I can notice.
"That's fine. I can bring you some pancakes, if you'd like." She tells me.
I smile gratefully. "That'd be wonderful." I tell her, hoping my appreciation shows.
We stare at each other in silence. Sometimes I wonder what she's thinking at times like this. Is she mad, or just sad? Does she feel dejected? Or does she not care? Nothing shows on her face to give any hint as to what she's feeling right now. I don't want to seem inconsiderate if I say the wrong thing, but I don't want to seem insensitive if I'm just not saying anything at all. Or could it be both ways? I don't know.
We sit in silence for what may have been minutes but what seems like hours before she turns, gives me a look I cannot read, and goes inside. All in silence.
I don't go inside after her just yet. So many thoughts are swirling in my mind.
She wasn't like this before.
I want to feel angry, or some specific emotion, but instead I feel a terrible mix of so many feelings that I cannot make any sense of.
I'm not angry, because I shouldn't be, but I'm kind of mad at her for not making any sense or giving any indication of whatever she's feeling, but, then again, that's unfair too, because I'm sure I have some part in this that I just don't understand, but perhaps that's exactly what she's feeling towards me, and that would explain why she's not doing anything, because maybe she's just as confused as I am and she's just as unsure of her emotions, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing which, of course, would explain why she seemed so reluctant to bring up my work.
My work. Is this something to do with my work?
Nothing makes sense, and now I've given myself a headache, so it's probably time to go back inside.
I open the sliding glass door slowly, trying not to make any noise. As soon as I close the door behind me I hear the satisfying sizzle of a pan, and smell the delicious smell of blueberry pancakes wafting into the room.
"That smells great, Marzia!" I yell into the kitchen.
"They're almost done! I'll bring some to you in a second!" She yells back.
I don't respond, but head into the recording room, smiling slightly.
I sit down at the computer and bring up the video I was previously editing, but wasn't quite done with.
Soon, Marzia enters the room carrying a plate. I look up and watch as she sets it down on the table. The pancakes are slightly blue from the blueberries, and are drizzled in maple syrup, then topped off with strawberries.
"Wow, Marzia. These look great, thank you so much!" I tell her.
"No problem." She replies, and smiles back at me, but the light doesn't seem to reach her eyes, which is off-putting.
"I'll leave you to your work then." She tells me.
"Thanks again." I say again, trying my best to cheer her up.
For whatever reason...
She gives me a curt nod and leaves the room. I stare at the place that she'd been standing for a while, awash in my own thoughts before I turn my head, put back on my headphones and keep editing, which seems even worse than ever now.
With every click of the mouse and every tap of my keyboard her tone echoes in my mind.
I'll leave you- click- to your- click- work.
I'll leave you- click- to your- click- work.
I'll leave you- click- to your- click- work.
On that last word her voice had hardened a bit.
I peered over at the pancakes, sitting cold and untouched beside me. The room felt smaller somehow, and I felt trapped.
I'm bound to my work. I have to do this, I don't have a choice.
What else would I be doing with my morning-
I check my watch and wince at how fast the time has passed-
-afternoon, that is, anyway?
Spending time with Marzia, enjoying her company.
Maybe I could cook, or we could go out.
I try to eat the rest of the pancakes, but they don't taste sweet anymore, just soggy and bland.
I hate having to choose anything. Choices have never been my strong point. I have to weigh both sides of the argument and then decide from there. I need some pointer as to which direction I should go in.
Then there's always the possibility that this is all happening inside my mind. Perhaps I am not even the thing bothering Marzia, if she is bothered at all.
I really hope it's within my head, because I have no idea how to handle a situation like this, with two large things like this at stake.
I bury my head in my arms atop the desk, head swimming.
Nothing makes sense.