"Mel, I have tried everything."

Bridgette lay collapsed on top of her desk, cheek pressed flat against the wood. She stared sullenly at Félix through the view of her classmates packing their bookbags, excited for only one more day to go before their anticipated weekend break.

"You can't have possibly tried everything," Melodie patted her head. "Did you try cracking funny jokes?"

"Tuesday morning."

"Making puns?"

"Wednesday at lunch."

Melodie paused. "Funny faces?"

"Five minutes ago," Bridgette groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what else to do! I tripped in front of him on a banana peel, I tried offering to carry his bookbag, I even put memes in my class presentation. Memes, Melodie. He doesn't even find memes funny."

She sighed.

"In your defense," Melodie pointed out, "It doesn't look like he's ever smiled a day in his life."

The two girls glanced over to where Félix was. He was looking away from them- away from everyone, actually, slowly putting his notebooks away. He was, clearly, listening to their conversation, but did not react in any conceivable manner.

Bridgette was pretty sure she could light a firecracker next to him and he wouldn't even jump.

The entire week, Félix hadn't talked to anyone, although others in their class had made attempts to befriend him. Mercury asked what games he played (none, he had no time between homework and extra lessons), Wilson asked him to study together afterschool (he couldn't, as he had a private tutor), and Melodie even had the guts to ask if he wanted to join them for ice cream during lunch.

The answer, of course, was a simple straightforward 'no, thanks'.

"You know, you could always give up," Melodie said reassuringly. "Some games can't be won, you know?"

"You know full well how stubborn I am, though," Bridgette pouted. She watched as Felix left the classroom, his gaze a blank stare ahead of him. "I have one more day. Come on, let's go follow him!"

Félix took a deep breath as he stepped out of the classroom.

She was absolutely relentless, moreso than he had initially expected, but nevertheless her attempts at humouring him were undoubtedly foolish and simple-minded.

A banana peel. A freaking banana peel. He watched her put it on the ground in front of him, only to totally not-on-purpose trip on it a couple minutes later. Did she think she was a cartoon?

And what was with that presentation on the history of French pastries? There was a plethora of seemingly random images of characters he wasn't familiar with with the most ridiculous captions and unintelligible grammar. Even the teacher chuckled at a few of them, but he couldn't fathom why. Every time one of those pictures popped up, Bridgette's eyes were drawn immediately toward him. He could see hope in her eyes, a wish for him to crack up, smile, or even just… blink. Something. Anything.

She made awful puns, terrible jokes, and the ugliest faces he had probably ever seen a girl make in his life. She offered to carry his books, pay for his lunch, offered him homemade pastries, gave him copies of her notes, and even asked to walk home with him once.

The only redeeming quality of Bridgette, he thought, was probably her sheer will to keep going despite all odds.

Her hair is kind of pretty, though…

Long black pigtails suddenly ribbonned around him as the thought crossed his mind, and Bridgette appeared in front of him, stopping Félix in his tracks.

He stood silently, cocking his head to one side.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak in some sort of exclamation, then sighed when he didn't.

"You like classical music, right?" She asked innocently.

"It is one of the kinds of music I find tolerable, yes." He replied.

"Great," she grinned. "My cousin's playing in a symphony tomorrow night. Violin. She's actually really good-"

"Your point?" He interrupted, sliding around her.

She grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back. "She scored two tickets, so go with me!"

"No." He kept moving.

"Your dad's gonna be there."

"So?"

"Doesn't that mean you're gonna be there anyway?"

Shit. He stopped. She smiled brighter. He groaned heavily, resisting the urge to say no and just beeline for the exit. But he knew, he knew that even if he said no, she would find him there, with his father, and cause a scene.

How annoying.

"Fine," he accepted defeat. "Under a few conditions."

"Deal!" She pumped her fist in the air, finally letting him go.

"One, you must- hey are you even listening?"

She'd jumped away from him, jogging toward the exit. "Sorry!" She waved her arms up in the air. "Gotta go help out my mom! Just text me!"

With a dainty twirl she flew outside the school, leaving him dumbstruck.

I don't even have your number…

The door chime whistled as the well-dressed blond customer entered and approached the bakery counter. He stood pondering the collection of delicious treats laid out in front of them, a bit lacking in quantity as the end of the day was near.

"How may I help you," Sabine asked cheerfully, taking a pause in her sweeping to greet the late-night guest.

She could see his eyes settled on one of the remaining croissants, and when they switched over to meet hers, a glitter of recognition flashed in them.

He seemed almost perfectly composed, but she could sense a hint of nervousness in him. Mother's intuition, you might say.

"Are you perhaps," she started before he could respond, "a friend of Bridgette's?"

His eyebrows raised slightly. "You could say that."

"Oh," Sabine leaned on the counter. "Are you then perhaps," she smiled cheekily, "her boyfriend?"

"I think the best way to describe it is casual acquaintance."

"I see."

He frowned. "Would it be possible to see her at this moment. I have some things to discuss with her."

"Of course," Sabine nodded. "Anything for a casual acquaintance of Bridgette's."

She stepped around the counter toward the spiral staircase leading upstairs, and climbed up halfway.

"Bridgette!" She called out loudly.

A muffled 'yes, maman' could be heard in response.

"Your casual acquaintance, uh-" Sabine looked back at the boy.

"Félix."

"Félix is here to see you!"

A door opening, then footsteps pattering down the stairs. Bridgette's face popped into view.

"What's up? I told you to text me," she said.

"I don't have your number."

"What? But I left it for you on that post-it note!"

He faintly recalled a small pink note attached to his history textbook with some numbers scrawled on it.

"I threw that out."

She groaned. Sabine giggled. Félix stood motionless.

"Come on up," Bridgette motioned for him to climb the steps. My room's a mess though."

He quickly went up the stairs, ignoring the stare of Bridgette's mom on his back. He followed the pigtails up another flight to her room, which was, he thought, aptly described, if not understated.

It was an absolute disaster, papers and fabrics littered everywhere. At first Félix thought it was just her clothes, until he noticed the presence of mannequins and countless sewing supplies scattered across the floor.

"You… design clothes?" He asked, a hint of surprise floating in his voice.

"Oh, yeah," Bridgette chuckled, tossing things off her bed onto the floor. "It's a hobby. Here, sit."

He carefully tip-toed across to her hastily-made bed, taking a hesitant seat at the foot and folding his hands in his lap. She scrambled on completely, squeezing a large pink teddy bear tightly with her arms. Félix could tell she was trying to put some distance between them.

It was, in a way, a bit awkward. She pursed her lips together, refusing to meet his gaze.

He cleared his throat. "So," he began, "my conditions."

"Mmhm," she acknowledged him.

"One. If around my father or his people, speak only when spoken to."

She frowned.

"You can speak freely when we are in private-"

"You're telling me I can't talk?" She asked indignantly.

"I speak only when spoken to as well."

Bridgette fell quiet. "That's awful," she said.

"I'm used to it. Two," Félix continued. "You are to always stay with me."

She bristled.

"I know, I'm not a fan of your company much either. Three-"

"Will you ever smile?"

The question took him off guard. "You're still on that? I thought I told you there was no point."

"I get it if nothing I do will make you smile," she replied. "But isn't there something that makes you happy?"

Félix considered it for a moment.

"Honestly, not even just that," she continued. "Is there anything that makes you… feel anything?"

"Feel?" He glanced up toward her. She was staring at him with that usual determination he was familiar with, but in a few moments it was replaced with a face of worry and… pity.

And he realized that, for the first time in a long time, he must have let something slip on his expression, because she had tossed away the bear and was hugging him, hugging him tighter than anyone ever had, and this newfound warmth and pressure- well, he could almost say that he welcomed it.

Feel? He answered to himself silently. No, there's nothing that's made me feel in a long, long time.

Except maybe… right now.

Author's Note

I just wrote this and I didn't proofread it oh well pls enjoy thank 3