let's go back to life.

…let you sit in his lap while he's playing computer games. There are two best ways to do this: the first is chest to chest, your legs resting on either side of his hips, your arms tucked comfortably between your bodies and your face buried against the warm crook of his neck. He keeps one arm securely around your waist while the other moves the mouse, occasionally squeezing you closer when he feels you adjust in his lap. The second way is when you lounge back against his chest, your body fitting easily between his arms as he guides your hands over the keyboard. His chin rests on your shoulder while he patiently teaches you the controls, his fingers settling over yours whenever you forget which keys to press. And somehow, between the warmth of his chest against your back and his hands covering yours, you stop caring whether you ever actually learn how to play. It's less about playing the game and more about being close anyway. Snuggles and practice are usually the reasons you find yourself in his lap, but if you ever climb into it because you're having a genuinely awful day, especially with tears already slipping down your cheeks — that quit button has never been pressed so fast. Keyboard abandoned. Headset off. Game forgotten. His arms are around you before you even explain what's wrong, pulling you against his chest as his hands move gently up and down your back.

"Hold on, let me pull you up a bit. There we go, just needed you a bit closer. Comfy, baby? Wanna wear my hoodie while we play?"

…teach you how to bake, only to accidentally teach you the wrong thing and then have to teach you all over again. Which, honestly, you should've known was going to happen the second he came strutting into the kitchen with that all too familiar cocky attitude and swagger he puts on when he wants to impress you. The kitchen is a mess by the time you're halfway through the recipe. Milk spilt on the counter, sugar on the floor, cocoa powder on Felix's cheek. You don't even know how the flour got in your hair. And yet, each time he gives you instructions — no matter how against logic they may seem — you do exactly what he says. And apparently, his solution to teaching you “properly” is to stand directly behind you, reach around your waist, and place his hand over yours on the mixing spoon. As if the mixing is the most arduous part of the recipe. But you don't mind. He's laughing. And his chin is resting on your shoulder while he guides your hands around the bowl. And you turn your head just enough to give him a suspicious look when he not-so-secretly sticks his finger in the batter for the millionth time.

"No, they're supposed to look like that. They're...special recipe brownies. Of course, I know what I'm doing!"

…share one of his airpods with you whenever you go out together. It’s more unusual to find Felix without music playing. There's almost always something filling the background of his day. Music drifting quietly from his speaker while he's getting ready, headphones on while he's working, one earbud in while he's walking around the house listening to some half-finished demo Channie sent him. Music is simply part of how he exists. And because it's such a big part of his world, sharing it with you feels really natural. He loves letting you into the little things that make him happy, even when they're completely insignificant to everyone else. A song he discovered at two in the morning. An artist he's suddenly obsessed with. A strange genre rabbit hole he's fallen into recently. A playlist he's spent far too much time arranging because the transition between two songs sounded way too good. Oh yes, he's constantly making new playlists. Some carefully curated. Some basically musical chaos. And some just fifteen random songs he happened to like that day. Eventually, you start doing the same thing. You hear a song and immediately think of him. You find something you know he'll like and save it for the next time he puts an airpod in your ear. You start sending him songs, too. It becomes like your own little secret language. And Felix absolutely treasures that. Because to him, sharing music isn't just sharing something to listen to. It's sharing little pieces of himself.

"Wait wait, listen to this one next! This song is my favorite."

…actively listen when you come to him with your worries and frustrations. And not the kind of listening where someone nods along while secretly thinking about what they're going to say next. Felix actually listens. You can tell by the way he looks at you when you're talking, even when you're rambling or going in circles trying to explain what happened. He remembers little details, like when you change your opinion mid-rant or when your voice changes while talking about a certain person. He somehow has cracked the code and can tell when you're upset about what happened versus when you're upset about how it made you feel. And then he asks questions. Not a million all at once or so many you feel like you're being interrogated, but the ones that show he's actually paying attention, and he wants to understand. It's nice that he doesn't immediately jump into problem-solving mode, either. If you want advice, he'll give it. If you want to complain about the same thing in three different ways, he'll let you. When you do ask what he thinks, he's honest, but gentle about it. Sometimes his advice is practical. Sometimes it's simply reminding you that you don't have to deal with everything tonight. In the end, he just makes sure you don't feel alone in whatever it is. Your feelings matter to him, even when the problem seems small. Even when you think you're being dramatic. Even when you're frustrated over something you'll probably laugh about tomorrow. He never makes you feel stupid for caring. Because when you come to Felix with something weighing on your mind, you're never wondering whether he's actually on your side. He is. Not blindly, and not just because you're his girlfriend. But because he genuinely cares about you.

"You know you can always come to me, right, baby? Tell me what's upsetting you, and don't be so hard on yourself. You're not bothering me. I love you. I want to listen."

::