Blue in Green

“Your condition?”

Fatigue seemed like it could ruin someone's focus for studies, at the very least. To Félix it was hardly believable, but he didn't know how to confront her about it. Maybe she did have chronic fatigue. Maybe she was severely anemic or something.

“I didn't mistake you, I was just curious,” Félix corrected. He stood up from the sand to meet her eye to eye. Or well, he was a good few inches taller than her. He lowered his head to see her.

“It's twice I've seen you by this beach, however. Do you come here often? To the school?” Félix picked up his recording system and started to walk off of the sand and onto more stable ground, towards the school.

Instead of a usual answer, Félix was essentially tackled by the girl. He struggled to keep his balance as her arms wrapped around him. He blushed, trying to pull her back from burying her face in his clothes. What was with her?

“Look, I really need to-” she didn't want to listen. Félix stopped trying to pull her off, and instead was tempted with the thought of breakfast. He only had a small breakfast earlier, and he was hungry. It wasn't like he had classes early anyway... he just wanted to practise some of his music.

“Okay. If you insist.” Félix hugged her back, hoping she'd remove herself before she embarrassed him any further. There was something terribly unnerving about a beautiful woman literally throwing herself at him. That was territory for his brother.

“What's your name? You haven't told me yet.”

The one thing Félix really wanted, and she wasn't going to give it to him. By the time they were halfway to her house, Félix thought of it more as a challenge than a nuisance. The way she sang and the way she skipped to her home were a hint to her peculiarity. Sometimes it didn't make sense, but then he'd pick up a phrase here and there, about himself or what they were about to do.

Félix practised something similar, but he never thought he'd hear someone with so much effect on him. Sometimes, it didn't just seem like he was listening to her sing. Sometimes it felt like he was waiting to hear her instruction. He wanted to do... something for her. More than just follow her.

“My hair? Um...” he never had anyone compliment his hair. He was glad someone noticed though. Félix kept it clean, perhaps a little too rigidly so. He showered more than once a day and in order for his hair to maintain its sheen he needed to treat it every time. Without any oils, it was up to him to supplement them.

Her house was an entirely unexpected site. It barely resembled a house at all, more closer to someone's backyard shed than a home. It was probably smaller than even his bedroom back home. He didn't comment about that, so much as the wondrous colours it was painted. The red reminded him strongly of the girl's hair, and a quick comparison easily explained why.

“It looks lovely,” Félix compliment the girl about the house, just before they walked inside.

There was only one room, and after that the most surprising element was how little there was. Discounting his music, Félix was far from the hoarder Eric or Délise could be, but even his wardrobe was more expansive than hers.

One thing he didn't have was a harp, but the triangle was what stood out in this house. The woman took pride in it, as far as Félix could surmise. While Nerina prepared the gas stove, Félix examined the triangle and offered it a gentle tap with the metal rod nearby. It was a single, typical chime.

“I'd love some tea,” Félix could smell the fish. At first he thought it was just a matter of being near the ocean, but he realized it was much closer than that. This girl had her own fish, or at least, she recently bought some.

“How about I help?” Félix didn't want to just sit down and wait. He was happy to lend a hand, “I am pretty good with my hands.”

“I can do that,” Félix smiled at the girl, taking over the cutting board. He was a little better at talking and working with his hands at the same time. A part of how he trained, really. Félix wasn't especially fast at with cutting fruit and vegetables, but he was very precise.

“Yeah. I play the piano. I study Jazz mostly, actually,” the girl presented him with a package of quinoa. Félix smiled thoughtfully, it was the same kind of brand Eric used. “Oh yeah, I prepare this all the time for my brother. I've gotten used to eating it.” Since he was still cutting tomatoes and chopping garlic, he'd offer the woman some instructions.

“Put in one cup quinoa and two cups water. You can bring it to a boil on the stove, and stir while you do. Then cover the pan with a lid and let it sit on low heat for a bit.” He could watch the clock while the quinoa cooked.

Once she managed to put everything in the pot, Félix threw in some garlic and a dash of oil. He didn't really like it straight, and Eric could survive with a few extra calories per day. He always overworked hismelf, anyway.

“I'd like to hear you play the harp,” Félix brought up music again, smiling at the girl, “I haven't heard someone play it in a while.”

“Huh? Why not?” Félix stopped cutting the tomatoes altogether. Hearing her say that had him stunned. “What happened to your swing?” It sounded almost like Félix's predicament, except he didn't lose anything. Rather he gained something, but it was a curse more than it was ever a boon.

In any case, he needed to complete their meal. “My brother is like that too,” Félix chuckled, “I usually carefully place most of the quinoa on one side when I mix it in. That way I can scoop up the other side.”

With the meal finished, Félix and the girl sat around a small coffee table. With the absence of chairs or even a sofa, they sat on nothing more than cushions. Félix tried not to mind, but a thought in the back of his head had him wondering just how this girl managed to survive at all. What was her job?

“Somebody?” She seemed to be blushing, but Félix realized she didn't say boyfriend. Was it a secret admirer or something? “I might be able to help you learn the basics, if you'd like.” Félix hadn't played the harp himself, but he knew the basics of string instruments.