Anne-Marie couldn't help watching Felicity when she slept. In that she literally couldn't help it. Felicity would get out of bed and walk in her sleep. It was a most alarming sight. Anne-Marie just had to follow her. She was sure anyone else would. She did every time she saw Felicity sleepwalking. She would stare at Felicity as she raised her arms as if playing the violin, her eyes wide open. For a moment, Anne-Marie thought she might be awake after all. But if she was, she was a very good actress.
Anne-Marie thought that if she got a bow and violin, she could give it to Felicity and she'd continue playing without missing a beat. She seemed as if she really did grip a bow in one hand and held the violin under her chin, playing every chord as seriously and elegantly as when she was awake. The only difference was that Felicity looked much more peaceful in her sleep. There was a relaxed expression on her face, as if she was dreaming. When she was awake, she always looked stressed, even when she was playing. It was the only thing that convinced Anne-Marie she was asleep. She couldn't help thinking that she looked more beautiful that way. She noticed the bags under her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks for the first time.
Anne-Marie kept staring at Felicity as she played, before glancing away as she felt the jealousy overtake. It must be because Felicity was a genius, and geniuses did crazy things. But she couldn't help thinking her jealousy came from somewhere else. She would wave her arms in front of Felicity and yell her name as loudly as she dared, trying to get her attention, but she wouldn't even stir. Anne-Marie knew Felicity would never stare at her the way she did. She only cared about her music.
After her most recent spell of sleepwalking, Anne-Marie felt inspired to jot down a poem. She gently guided Felicity back to bed and watched as she snuggled down. Anne-Marie couldn't help watching, thinking about how peaceful she looked. Then she put down all of her thoughts in a poem, a poem about sleepwalking. She wrote about Felicity's dreamy stare and stiff movements, imagining the dreams she was having while playing the imaginary violin. The words came much easier than usual, though they were as solemn as one of her usual poems. Soon she forgot to sound impressive and began writing how she felt. She began to realize it was more about the sleepwalker than sleepwalking, but she never mentioned Felicity's name. When Anne-Marie realized she had written herself into the poem as she woke the sleepwalker who turned to gaze at her, she suddenly stood up.
She reread everything she had written. It wasn't as long-winded and pretentious as her usual poems. The words were much simpler, but the lines were as solemn and mournful, mixed with longing. Anne-Marie told herself it was longing to be a genius like Felicity. She'd never do anything incredible like that. That was when she got the idea to copy Felicity's sleepwalking. It would get everyone's attention and impress them, but especially one person, and that was Felicity. She got the idea to fall asleep before Felicity and make sure she was watching when she sleepwalked. She wasn't sure if Felicity would notice at all. She'd probably be too worried about her music. But even if she didn't, somebody else would, and word would spread. Anne-Marie told herself it was only so Felicity, the alleged genius, could see that Anne-Marie was a genius as well.
Anne-Marie practiced the blank, glassy stare and stiff, stilted walk. She wouldn't even need to close her eyes, since Felicity often slept with her eyes open. On the night, Anne-Marie pretended to fall asleep as planned. Felicity briefly glanced up from the tune she was humming, and Anne-Marie raised her head hopefully from her pillow, not expecting her to notice.
"Going to sleep already, Anne-Marie?" Felicity asked. "Well, that's a relief. You won't keep me awake with your mutterings and rhymes."
Anne-Marie's heart sank, but at least Felicity had noticed at all. "As if you don't do the same to me every night?" Anne-Marie retorted. She trailed off, not wanting to reveal she knew about Felicity's sleepwalking. "With your tunes and music, that is."
"I do not," Felicity protested. "Well, maybe at first, but now I always make sure I get to sleep earlier. I don't stay up late at night playing anymore."
Felicity didn't even know she was sleepwalking, as Anne-Marie had guessed. "Well, that's good," Anne-Marie remarked. "You should get a good night's sleep. It can't be healthy to be playing day and night. Can't you ever take a break from your music?"
"Can't you ever take a break from your poems?" Felicity shot back. "You just string together any words that sound big and impressive. It doesn't really mean anything."
"Well, you string together any tunes you can think of," Anne-Marie accused, thinking about how desperate she was to prove Felicity wrong when she realized what a genius she was. "And your music doesn't mean anything, either. It's just a bunch of notes and chords."
Anne-Marie said it to convince herself, not wanting to admit how impressed she was by Felicity's music. Felicity was too good-natured to flare up at this, and only yawned. "Well, get to sleep. I probably will be soon as well."
Anne-Marie quickly lay down and closed her eyes, realizing she needed to put her plan into action. She opened her eyes every few seconds, worried she really would doze off. She recited the poem she had written in her head, but tried to stop herself, knowing she always fell asleep that way. To her delight, Felicity stayed up late, humming tunes and tapping her pencil on the desk. Anne-Marie opened her eyes and fixed her blank, glassy stare. She got out of bed the stiff way she had seen Felicity do, holding her arms outstretched. As she glanced over, she realized Felicity had fallen asleep at her desk on top of her desk as she often did. Anne-Marie thought about how pretty she looked when she slept even when she wasn't sleepwalking, but she quickly put the thought out of her mind. She made sure to bump into the desk and knock over a few of Felicity's notes. Felicity jumped up as Anne-Marie bumped her shoulder, and Anne-Marie quickly straightened and fixed her glassy stare again.
Anne-Marie walked to the door of the study as Felicity started muttering and gathering her things. She couldn't help tilting her head slightly to glance at Felicity, making sure she had noticed. To her relief, she was staring at her with a strange, sleepy look on her face. Anne-Marie knew she had woken her, and quickly glanced away. She was secretly thrilled that she had gotten her attention. She told herself that now, Felicity would realize she was a genius.
She hesitated outside the door, wanting to see if Felicity would follow. She had left the door open, as Felicity often did. She was too caught up in her music to remember anything else. That was how she often sleepwalked out of the study and to the assembly as if playing in an orchestra. But the few times she didn't, she clamoured around the study while Anne-Marie tried to prevent her from knocking anything over and gently guide her back to bed. Anne-Marie stepped forward, disappointed as she heard silence. Felicity had to have noticed, but she didn't seem to think Anne-Marie was worth following. She began to lower her arms when she heard footsteps behind her. She straightened as she heard Felicity getting closer. She let out a sigh of relief as she stepped outside, her heart pounding with excitement.
Anne-Marie glanced blankly around in the darkness. She felt a thrill at wandering around St Clare's in the middle of the night. She walked as slowly as possible, making sure she could hear Felicity behind her. Felicity didn't say a thing, even her name. She started walking faster, making her way to the assembly like Felicity always did. Felicity's footsteps followed close behind. Anne-Marie climbed up the steps the way she had seen Felicity do, only she couldn't pretend to be playing. Instead, she began reciting the poem she had written in a low murmur. She glanced over, relieved to see Felicity. To Anne-Marie's delight, she was staring raptly at her, her dull blue eyes wide with surprise and confusion. There wasn't any awe like when Anne-Marie stared at Felicity, but she was overjoyed that Felicity had noticed at all.
Anne-Marie rose her voice as she kept reciting the poem, hoping to see Felicity's reaction. "The dreams behind the vacant eyes are filled with music and spotlight." Anne-Marie paused, thinking about how presumptuous that was. She wasn't sure what Felicity dreamed, but she was sure it had to do with music. It was all she thought about when she was awake. Anne-Marie often dreamed of her poems. She was sure Felicity dreamed of performing on stage in front of an applauding crowd, from what she did when she sleepwalked.
Anne-Marie trailed off as Felicity stared intently at her, wondering if she should keep reciting the poem. It would seem too fitting, and Felicity might suspect that she was awake. But she was now staring in the same intent awe and admiration, her eyes shining as she gazed at Anne-Marie. None of the other girls ever stared at her like that, and Anne-Marie couldn't resist going on.
"As she plays silently throughout the night," Anne-Marie continued. "She hears invisible music, created in her dreams." Invisible was the wrong word, maybe, but it seemed to fit better than silent music, which seemed like a contradiction. "But in reality, not all is as it seems." She wasn't sure what that line meant. It was probably just a forced rhyme.
It was very different from her usual poems, less long-winded and wordy, but Anne-Marie realized that was a good thing. It might convince Felicity that she was sleepwalking after all, and muttered poetry when she slept.
Felicity suddenly muttered something, and Anne-Marie lowered her voice, desperate to hear her. She listened intently as Felicity began to speak.
"Anne-Marie, is that really you?" Felicity whispered. "I never knew you sleepwalked as well."
Anne-Marie faltered slightly, tempted to respond to Felicity. But she remembered the whole illusion would be ruined, so she didn't.
Felicity rose her voice, seeming relieved that Anne-Marie didn't answer her. Anne-Marie remembered how confident she had been about speaking in front of Felicity when she was sleepwalking, knowing she couldn't understand a word.
"It used to be a terrible habit of mine, when I was younger," Felicity admitted. "I would wake up my parents, and they would give me a terrible scolding. They'd threaten to take my violin away until I stopped, even though I couldn't help it. If anything, it was their fault, with all the pressure they put on me. But I didn't dare to tell them that."
Anne-Marie lowered her voice to a whisper, unable to prevent listening to Felicity. She never spoke so openly in the day. She barely spoke at all, and she only was now since she thought Anne-Marie couldn't hear her. But Anne-Marie felt touched by Felicity's words, remembering how her parents praised her poems and said they were marvelous. It was an unexpected awakening when the girls at school dismissed her poems and Miss Wilcox called her talentless. She had told herself they were just too stupid to understand, as Carlotta had said. But now, she couldn't help wondering if they were right.
Felicity took a step closer. Anne-Marie enjoyed the awed look on her face, so much that she forgot to fix her blank stare as she gazed back at her. "I reach out to give her arm a shake. She turns to me, now fully awake."
Felicity never woke up from sleep, and certainly not because of Anne-Marie. The next parts were what Anne-Marie wished would happen, though she told herself it wasn't when she began writing the poem. "My trepidant gaze meets bleary eyes. Deep brown pierces dull skies."
But now, it came to her in a wave. She realized for the first time now intimate the words were, even though they were less fancy than her usual poems. She was writing what the felt, without trying to impress anyone. She realized it wasn't just a poem. It was her secret desires, disguised as a poem.
Anne-Marie was so lost in her thoughts as she recited the rest of the poem that she barely heard the footsteps in the background. She stumbled over the words as she realized what they went. She had never written Felicity's name, but it was definitely based on her. The realization came to her like an epiphany, the same way ideas for lines and rhymes did. That was why she was so determined to get Felicity's attention, why she was so eager to copy her. She had kept her feelings buried, trying to convince herself she couldn't feel that way. She told herself the jealousy was of Felicity's genius, but it was more towards Felicity's music, for taking all of her attention while she ignored Anne-Marie.
Anne-Marie jumped out of her skin as she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She dropped her arms, her heart pounding. As she turned her head, she stared straight at Felicity. The other girl's face was flushed, her eyes shining as she gazed at Anne-Marie. There was a silence as they stared at each other. Anne-Marie started breathing heavily, realizing it was just like in her poem. She only briefly realized that she had given up the act of sleepwalking.
"Felicity," Anne-Marie whispered, realizing there was no point in pretending anymore. "You…"
Thankfully, Felicity didn't yell at her like she expected. "I knew from the start that you were pretending," she admitted. "I've sleepwalked many times, and even though I didn't know when I did, my parents let me know. And I'm sure I never did like that. But I can't imagine why you'd pretend."
Anne-Marie's face flushed, realizing what an idiot she was. Of course Felicity would be able to tell she wasn't really sleepwalking. "I… I'm sorry," she apologized. "I wasn't trying to mock you. But I saw you walking in your sleep as well…"
"I did?" Felicity gasped.
"I… I often watch you," Anne-Marie admitted. "Sometimes I follow you out. It's amazing, the way you can play in your sleep."
"My parents did say I did that. I had a feeling I would, like I always do when I get overstressed," Felicity admitted. "But I was too proud to tell anyone. I worried you'd all look down on me."
"Look down on you?" Anne-Marie demanded. "They all think you're a genius. And I do, too. I thought that was the only reason you'd do things like that. And if I did, they'd think I was a genius as well…" Anne-Marie lowered her head. "But I suppose I'm not. I'm not even good at pretending to be one. I thought I could impress you, but…"
"I am impressed," Felicity assured. "I didn't think anyone could say poetry while they were sleeping. I forgot you were pretending for a moment."
"You played the violin in your sleep," Anne-Marie reminded. "Well, an invisible violin, but still. So I thought you'd believe I could recite poetry. Then again, I suppose you're right. It requires more thought than just moving your arm up and down."
"There's more to playing than that," Felicity insisted indignantly. "Yes, my parents said I did that. Playing the violin was second nature to me. I did it without even thinking, or knowing I did."
"Probably because you're a genius," Anne-Marie sighed.
"Sometimes, I wish I wasn't," Felicity admitted. "My parents expect so much from me. Everyone does, just because I'm supposed to be a musical genius. You don't know how lucky you are, Anne-Marie."
Anne-Marie hadn't thought of it that way before. "I wanted to impress people as well," she admitted. "If my poetry didn't impress them, I thought sleepwalking would. But… it was mostly just to get your attention." Felicity stared at Anne-Marie in surprise. "But I see now I shouldn't have. It must cause a lot of stress for you, and here I am pretending, just to get attention."
"It isn't that stressful," Felicity assured. "At least, the sleepwalking itself isn't. I always dream of music. That must be when I'm sleepwalking. Or sleep playing, as it is. I suppose I do the same thing in real life that I'm dreaming about, only somewhere else. I feel like I'm far away in my dreams, performing on a high stage above everyone…"
"I feel the same way when I dream about my poems," Anne-Marie admitted. A thought occurred to her. "You don't suppose I've sleepwalked as well?" Then she shook her head. "No, I couldn't have. My parents would've said something. They're always telling me what a brilliant poet I am. They'd be even more convinced I was a genius. At least someone is, if none of you here."
"It's better if they don't think you are," Felicity insisted. "The only stressful part was my parents. They got cross with me when I started sleepwalking, even though it was partly their fault." She glanced away. "Oh, I shouldn't speak like that. I suppose it is nice that they think I'm a genius. But I focus so much on impressing them, I forget to enjoy the music. Sometimes, it feels like a chore."
"I do as well, I suppose," Anne-Marie admitted. "I focus so much on sounding intelligent and impressive. The poems have words that don't say anything."
"But that one did say something," Felicity insisted, her eyes shining as she gazed at Anne-Marie. "It was a very good poem. For one thing, I could actually understand most of the words."
Anne-Marie blushed. "It was just the first thing I thought of, after I saw you sleepwalking. Oh, I know I shouldn't have. You must think it strange, even more than what I pretended."
"A little, but not because of that," Felicity said. "It didn't feel like one of your poems. It felt… different, somehow. I thought you might be reciting somebody else's poem, like I always play music created by others. It would be easy for you to say it in your sleep if you'd memorized the poem and kept thinking about it while you drifted off."
"I was," Anne-Marie admitted. "I can't sleep until I go over my poems."
"I do the same with my music," Felicity admitted. "It keeps playing in my head. I remembered my parents saying I played the violin in my sleep, and as you recited the poem, I thought for a moment you might really be sleepwalking. That's why I…" She trailed off.
Anne-Marie remembered what Felicity had said in front of her. "You must think I'm awfully strange, copying you and writing poetry about you," Anne-Marie said.
Felicity laughed. "Just a little. Maybe you've confused me for Miss Wilcox. I always thought you had feelings for her."
"I never did, even if Alison might," Anne-Marie protested. "I've never written a poem about her, either. You're much kinder, and prettier."
Felicity stared at Anne-Marie in surprise. Anne-Marie went silent, thinking she had said too much. But then Felicity spoke up again in a low voice.
"Anne Marie, how does your poem end?" Felicity asked, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Do tell me. The sleepwalker wakes and turns to you, and then…"
"I… I don't know," Anne-Marie confessed. "I didn't get to finish it."
A smile spread across Felicity's face. "I know how it ends."
And then she leaned forward, her eyes glistening in the same way as when she was sleepwalking. Anne-Marie was taken aback, thinking for a brief moment that she was asleep again. But as their faces met, Anne-Marie was convinced that she couldn't be. She grabbed the other girl tightly, wrapping her arms around Felicity's waist while Felicity gripped Anne-Marie's arms. Anne-Marie realized Felicity was right. This was how she had wanted the poem to end, but she never thought it'd come true.
The second pairing with Anne-Marie I've done, strangely. I've even seen this pairing before, as one-sided love. It's kind of an extra from my Sins story, featuring Envy.
