#felidgette

...

There are no security cameras in the library, and therefore, Felix's parents cannot demand the footage. The halls aren't entirely safe, of course. But the library isn't filmed. The thought is comforting to Felix, as he exchanges messages with someone he'll never meet, someone who probably doesn't even live on the same continent, someone who he can talk to in a way you can't talk to someone who comes with a face and a body. 

'Ladybug,' he types. 'I'm not sure I'll be around much this week. It's got to do with some family stuff.' That's putting it mildly. 'Don't block me or die or anything while I'm gone, okay? ;3' 

The message pings back quickly. One thing for Ladybug, whoever she- or he, or they, Felix can't really know, and can't bring himself to care- has going for her(him them) is punctuality. 'Whatever kitty. U safe?' 

'I am. I promise.' 

'U better not send me spam again or I block ur ass.' 

He laughs, the first time he's laughed since the last fight. It's not even that funny. It's downright insulting, but it's so normal, and such an empty threat at this point that he can't bring himself to feel even a hint of annoyance. 

'I got hacked, my Queen. Seriously! 3':' 

'Yeah, right. See ya, Kitty.' 

'Goodbye.' 

He shuts down the chatroom and clears his history as quickly as he can, heart pounding as he packs up his computer and steps out, to where the large black car with dark windows and a tall, imposing man inside is parked. "Hey Dad." There is no response. Felix doesn't press for one. It won't be good. 

...

He runs a hand through fresh-cut hair, taking deep breaths, and wishing that the door locked. God, he'd love a lock. He'd love to be allowed to just keep the door closed, keep the world out, keep his family out, keep every curse and shout and sickness on the other side, while he would be safe on this side, trapped maybe, but in a cell of his own making, not in a corner, not with someone else trapping. Not in something unpredictable and wild. Something that never hit him, but never let him rest, or breathe, or think, something that never let him forget who he was and that who he was wasn't enough. 

Something that was always quick to point to where he'd failed, and never to where he's succeeded. Something that favored his brother sometimes, but that he also knew he couldn't protect his brother from, something that- 

He'd sure like a lock. 

But he can still make sure the door is all the way shut, because the knob is rusted and doesn't automatically turn on it's own, and his father says he prefers that all the doors creak, so he knows where everyone is. He can still pull the blankets up and shut his eyes. He can still grab a battered journal and just rub the pages, trying to calm himself down and remind himself that he's not 'nonsense' and he's not going to disappear. He's not going to be stuck in this house forever. He's going to be okay. 

So what if he doesn't talk to anyone at school? It's just high school. He'll be fine in college. He can go to college, he'll be okay. He won't fail. He's smart. He knows he's smart, and his father's wrong. He just has to keep telling himself that, and he'll survive this. And someday, he'll have his own door, and he'll be able to put a lock on it, and won't have to listen for footsteps anymore. 

...

"Are you going to prom?" 

He looks up at Bridgette Dexter, surprised. "I... I guess, I haven't decided yet." 

"You need to decide soon," she laughs. "Ticket sales close tomorrow." 

He bites his lip, and flinched when his tooth hits the sore he's already worn into it recently. "Are you going with someone?" 

"No, I'm going alone," she shrugs. "I didn't get asked, but it's prom. It's not like I can miss it."

"Plenty do..." he hesitates. "I'll try to go." 

"If you do, I'll-" she's cut off as her phone rings, and Felix looks away, not listening, until she shuts the phone. "I gotta go, see you." 

"Bye..." he smiles softly. That was a normal conversation. And yeah, it was with Bridgette, but at least he wasn't alone, for a few minutes... and maybe he doesn't have to be. 

Maybe. 

...

He hands in the prom permission slip, signed by his mother, the next morning. Why not? 

...

He closes his eyes, letting hot water hit his face as he breathes, focusing on anything else but the most recent fight. He washes his hair, and he's not hurting. He's not upset. He'll be fine, a few well-placed lies and he'll be fine, just a little, just- 

...

Bridgette's the one who finds him on prom night, in a suit that allows for dancing but hasn't required that feature thus far, sitting in a corner and shaking. 

"What's wrong?" she asks softly. 

"I..." 

"You...?" 

He gets up offering her a hand. "Dance with me." It's not a request. It's somewhere between a demand and a plea, but it doesn't leave room for a negative response. 

She places her hand in his, and Felix smiles, stepping onto the dance floor, and spinning her over it. He feels as though he's found the person he was looking for.