"W-where are you going?! I just got here!"
Annette barely crossed the threshold of Garreg Mach's infirmary carrying a simple tray from the dining hall. She cast the monastery's medical professor a panicked glance, but Manuela was too busy dusting her cheeks with a powder puff to pay much attention. "He'll be fine. You're not children anymore, and it's not like he has anything serious—the fever broke hours ago," the older woman quipped as she touched up her lipstick. "Anyways. I have...a prior engagement this evening, so I really can't stay behind. I'm sure you understand."
"Not really…" Annette frowned in response.
"Don't worry. If you're really in a bind, I'm sure Hanneman will lend a hand," Manuela chuckled to herself as she grabbed her satchel. "I'll be back in a few hours...maybe. Actually, scratch that, if things go in my favor I probably won't be back until tomorrow morning," she added under her breath and adjusted her shawl as she strolled past Annette
"B-but—!"
Manuela clicked the door shut. The steam from the hot cup of tea sitting atop the tray curled upwards without a care. Annette sighed and lowered herself into the nearest chair by the occupied infirmary bed after setting the tray down.
After a moment of silence, she cast a wary glance at Felix's sleeping form next to her. The indigo blanket draped across the bed was thick and fluffy. It was unusual to see the stern swordsman looking so cozy, although she imagined anyone would look peaceful and snug when wrapped up in the infirmary bedding. But for someone who typically wore a scowl on their face, his sleeping expression was much softer and not at all unpleasant to look at.
"Hmph." Annette blushed and looked away. After all those weeks flustering under his stare, it didn't feel right to return the gesture and gawk at him sleeping, no matter how peaceful he looked. A steady rain pelted the windowpanes. The constant drumming rhythm was comforting. She couldn't help but study his face again. In sleep, his expression was calm. When was the last time she actually got a good look at him like this?
"This is all my fault," Annette sighed. "If...if I hadn't run off in the fog…"
I should have been looking more closely from the start…maybe I would've noticed he wasn't feeling well.
She shook her head. If he was sick, splitting up wouldn't have changed that in the first place. Felix wasn't the type to complain, and she couldn't even recall a single instance where the swordsman had ever fallen ill. If anything, he'd probably chalk it up to 'showing weakness' or something like that.
"You know, keeping that sort of thing to yourself doesn't do you any favors," Annette chastised out loud. "Next time don't be so stubborn and say something if you feel sick! In fact, if you had simply spoken up, we wouldn't have deployed in the first place."
That was true. The professor never would have sent them out on the mission if he knew Felix was ill. Which meant they wouldn't have worked together, and she wouldn't have been set as his adjutant...a notion that didn't exactly sit well with Annette despite all the protests she made earlier to Mercedes.
"And...then you wouldn't have to work with me. Isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"
Maybe that's why he didn't say anything. Because he wanted to work together?
The idea was laughably self-centered. Annette instantly felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought. She swung her feet behind the chair legs and let her mind wander to less embarrassing topics. Stopping by with hot tea without confirming if Felix was even awake first was probably not the best decision.
Then again, going out on a mission when he was sick with a fever wasn't the best decision either!
It didn't take much work to rally the rest of their team up once the swordsman passed out in the bushes, and thanks to Professor Byleth's quick thinking, they were able to quickly transport Felix to the infirmary without any mishaps. Annette wondered just how Byleth managed to move so quickly across the forest in such a thick fog, but the days of questioning whatever strange, new abilities their professor acquired had long since passed. The man was full of mystery, and it was better to leave those questions unanswered. But there were other questions she did want the answers to…
He said he remembered all my songs. I wonder if that's true.
A new song quietly stirred awake within her imagination, a continuation of the fragments she started piecing together while traipsing through the fog earlier in the day. She closed her eyes and searched for the right words, then began to hum to herself without any direction or predetermined melody. Her feet swung in time with the tune from beneath the chair.
"A bitter lemon, sour and sharp, you cut through every dish you meet…"
Annette paused and glanced over at the steaming mug of tea—lemon and honey, a combination Mercedes heartily recommended as the perfect companion for a pesky fever.
"All that's missing to curb your edge is a little dash of something sweet!"
A satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. Rhyming wasn't a requirement when crafting new songs, but if a rhyme just so happened to conveniently fall into place, well...it was a pleasant surprise all the same.
"Lemons, huh? No meringue this time?"
"F-Felix! How long have you been awake?!"
The swordsman darted her a curious look, then closed his eyes and frowned. Annette didn't doubt Manuela's assurances that his fever had passed, but color still lingered across his cheeks. For a fleeting moment she almost considered reaching out and touching his forehead again, but she quickly shook the thought from her mind.
"Long enough," he answered after a pause and looked at her again. "Why lemons?"
"Well… you're like a lemon, you see."
Another silent stretch passed between them. She played with the cuff of her sleeves and desperately tried to push down the flush of embarrassment coloring her face.
Augh, there goes Annette again! Saying funny things about food!
"...How am I like a lemon?"
"If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song!"
"No, I think I got it," Felix's brow furrowed. "Bitter, sour, and sharp, in fact."
Urk.
How could she have doubted his memory? Spot-on, as usual.
Which meant he really was telling the truth about remembering the lyrics to her library song.
Which meant the entire source of their argument was founded on absolutely nothing.
Which meant she made an absolute fool of herself in addition to likening him to a lemon, of all things.
"Ughhhh…" Annette buried her face in her hands. "Just forget it!"
"I'd...rather not," he responded after a pause and looked away.
"You have to!"
"Are you yelling at someone in the infirmary now?"
"I'm not yelling! Well, maybe I am, but you look plenty healthy to me! So just forget what you heard, okay?!"
"You're asking me to forget a song about myself. That's next to impossible," Felix's tone was flat.
Augh. It's just like Mercie said. Obviously he's not going to forget! Why did I even listen in the first place?! Of course she was right all along!
But Annette couldn't ignore the little spark of delight glowing inside upon hearing his guarantee. Every single song he clearly remembered. It motivated her to make sure each new piece was up to his standards. After all, she was performing for an audience now, right?
"Fine then, if you won't forget, you'll just have to wait for me to finish writing this one next!"
"I don't know, it seemed pretty complete to me."
"Really?"
Felix frowned again and almost appeared to sink deeper into the pillow, as if he were shirking away from her watchful eyes. "If you have to ask, you didn't get the point of the song," he muttered. His choice of words—the same accusation she made moments earlier—did not go unnoticed.
"W-what's that supposed to mean, Felix?! It's my song, of course I know the point! I'm the one who came up with it!"
"And I'm the lemon, so what's that make you?"
"That'd obviously make me the honey!"
Oh.
Oh.
The unintentional implication behind her words slowly dawned on her. Even if that wasn't the initial meaning she intended by the metaphor, it was a marked shift from his literal interpretation of her library song. Annette immediately rose from the chair and dusted herself off, suddenly desiring nothing more than to run out the door.
"Anyways! This tea is for you. But you seem totally recovered, so I'm sure you don't even need it! Professor Manuela is out, so I'll leave you to your peace and quiet, just like you prefer!"
"Tch," he promptly rolled over.
Annette strode to the door with a scowl. It served her right for getting all worked up. Just another song for him to add to his embarrassing list. Thankfully there was no silly dance to accompany it. But making awkward metaphors felt ten times worse than simply twirling around with a feather duster when no one was watching.
Her hand rested on the door handle in mid-turn when he spoke again, his voice quiet.
"Thanks for the tea."
"...You're welcome."