Vintage Vanquish (boyxboy)

[4] Scarf.

Felix was on that fine margin between dreaming and waking up. Elements of his surroundings merged with those of the subconscious realm, and so he was left in the hypostasis of a young boy with his head bent up in order to glance at two tall figures, while a deafening, vivacious, most colorful piano tune didn't match the atmosphere one bit.

Once his eyes fluttered open, the pale Autumn morning shone some light on the silhouettes he'd dreamed. Tall, slim, with broad shoulders and age lines traced over his stoic face, was his father. Next to him there was a young, cheerful woman with short, curly hair and bright red lips. Surely, the difference of age between them was outstanding, merely because Felix had only seen his mother in pictures and so he could only dream her as so.

Clearer than the mental picture of his parents, the piano notes stole his attention.

He sat up and, in a haze, thought back to Otilia's hands, always in sight since she was ever so animated. Yes, those long fingers could only belong to a pianist's.

After closing his eyes to let the melody sink in, Felix wobbled and fell right back on the mattress with a sigh. His heart throbbed unpleasantly while his stomach was all tingly.

It's been one night since he's met her. Just enough time to pick on every tiny piece of perfect that assembled part of the puzzle that was her. Sure, give it a few weeks at most and the edge pieces, flaws, will start popping.

Until then, though, he would sit and bat his lashes dreamily.

A knock on the door made him halt to a sitting position.

"Sir Felix?"

An unfamiliar feminine voice.

"Y-yes?"

"This is the servant. I was sent to invite you to breakfast."

"Thank you, I'll be there in just a second."

----

Felix went down the creaky stairs and peeked into the grand living room, bright thanks to the big stained glass that occupied most of a wall. The faint blue, yellow, pink and green patterns of the window were sometimes interrupted by the thin black lines of the frame, shaped so that it gave the impression of a spider web.

Hence, the light that fell onto the pianist was a mixture of colors that mixed depending on the shadow cast by trees outside. Felix leaned on the door frame and knitted his brows, head tilted in melancholy.

The thin, pale fingers danced left and right with smooth movements of no sharp angle until they came to a slow, gentle stop.

Otilia's light blue dress made her seem as though she was part of the room's decoration, what with the white piano, beige walls with rare thin stripes of floral texture, vintage furniture and maple flooring.

"Good morning! Slept well? Loving the suit!"

Felix rubbed at his nose. "Good morning, I've had a splendid rest and I'll dare say you present yourself dashingly, no less."

Otilia spun on the piano chair to face him, the dress pooled around her tiny waist. "Felix..." she giggled brightly. "You must be hungry out of your mind to talk such nonsense." she waved a hand and stood up, sliding towards him like a phantom.

Felix could feel her perfume only once she sneaked right past him and let his eyes flutter. With a sly smile, he let his shoulder slip off the door frame before walking to the kitchen.