Episode seven
Felix arrived back at his sprawling mansion, its grand marble entryway and towering windows.
He made his way up the sweeping staircase to his room, ignoring the emptiness that came with living in such a massive space. As he reached his bedroom, with its king-sized bed and the sleek, modern decor, he tried to shake off the unease that had followed him home.
Just as he dropped onto his bed, his little brother, Freddie, poked his head through the door. Freddie, with wide eyes full of excitement, held up a game controller. "Hey Felix, can we play on the PlayStation?"
Felix sighed, forcing a small smile for his brother. "No, I'm not feeling well, Freddie. Maybe later, okay?"
Freddie's face fell a bit, but he nodded before slipping back out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Felix let out a long breath, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence settle around him. Despite the comfort of his plush surroundings, his thoughts were anything but calm.
His mind drifted back to Faerie—her sharp tongue, the confidence in her eyes, the way she didn't seem fazed by his world. There was something about her that he couldn't shake, something that made him feel... intrigued. But mixed with that fascination was the pressure he felt from his family. The constant, unspoken expectations to be perfect, to uphold the family name. It was all so suffocating, and he couldn't help but feel like he was sinking under it.
Reaching for his phone, he stared at the screen, scrolling through his contacts. He hesitated, lingering over Faerie's number. A part of him wanted to call her, to hear that bold, mocking tone of hers again—anything to distract from the thoughts swirling in his head.
But then he shook his head, tossing the phone aside. "No, no, it's not a good idea," he muttered to himself. "She'd probably just laugh at me."
He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to push away the confusion and frustration that were building inside of him. He couldn't understand why she occupied his mind so much, why her presence felt so different from everyone else he'd ever met. And as much as he tried to focus on anything else, she kept slipping back into his thoughts.
Felix turned over in bed, pulling a pillow over his head as if he could block out the noise in his own mind. But no matter how he tried, the thoughts of Faerie—and everything else he was struggling with—refused to go away.
Felix continued to stare at the ceiling, lost in the swirl of emotions and thoughts that tugged at him. He found himself wondering, "Is it love?
"Is that the love they talk about?"
"Am I... falling for her?"
The idea felt foreign to him, like it didn't quite fit with who he was. He quickly shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts from his mind. "No, no, Felix, what's that crap? It's not love. It can't be."
He sat up, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain some sense of composure. "It's just pity," he muttered, almost as if convincing himself. "Poor scholarship girl, living alone in that hell of a neighborhood. I feel bad for her, that's all."
He spoke the words with conviction, but somewhere in the back of his mind, a nagging doubt lingered. Felix tried to shove it away, focusing on the rational part of his mind that told him he was only concerned for her because of the sharp contrast between their lives.
"It's not love, it's pity," he repeated to himself, almost like a mantra, hoping that saying it enough times would make it true. But even as he tried to convince himself, the thought of Faerie's smirk and the look in her eyes refused to leave him alone.
Felix found himself drifting back into thoughts of her, unable to suppress the images that flashed in his mind.
"God, she's beautiful," he thought, a strange mix of frustration and awe pulling at him.
Her smile—so effortless yet guarded. The smirk that teased at her lips whenever she looked at him, the glint in her eyes that challenged him. And the way she carried herself, with a confidence that seemed unshakeable, even in a world that clearly wasn't built for her.
"The way she always mocks me," he mused with a bitter smile, "reminding me I'm just another rich, stupid guy." She never hesitated to throw his privilege back in his face, but even that—especially that—only made her more intriguing.
"God, do I really love her?" he wondered, a twinge of something unfamiliar gnawing at his chest. His head swam with the possibilities and contradictions, the impossible gap between their worlds. It didn't make sense; it couldn't make sense. But the more he thought about it, the more tangled his feelings became.
He sighed, staring out into the empty darkness beyond his window, wishing for a simpler answer. "I wish she was richer... maybe then..."
He didn't finish the thought. Maybe then he could entertain whatever this was between them—without guilt, without expectations. But that was just a fantasy, and he knew it.
Felix closed his eyes, trying to block out the turmoil swirling in his head, but it only seemed to amplify his thoughts. "What am I even thinking?" he scolded himself. "This isn't some romance movie, and I'm not supposed to care about her like that."
He sat up in his bed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—his family's expectations, the pressure to keep up the image of the perfect son, and now, this strange, unsettling connection he felt toward Faerie.
"She's just a scholarship girl in way over her head," he muttered under his breath, as if saying it out loud would make it true. He repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince himself. "She's just another girl." But deep down, he knew it wasn't that simple.
Images of her flashed again—her sharp eyes and the way she never seemed intimidated, even when facing the cruelty of people like Chanelle. The way she'd smirk, as if she had the upper hand, even when the world seemed stacked against her. And that spark in her, something he couldn't quite place. A kind of strength he rarely saw, even among his silver-tie peers.
"But it's not love," he told himself once more, shaking his head. "It's just... curiosity, maybe. Pity. That's all." He knew his family wouldn't approve of his growing fascination with her. His father's stern voice echoed in his mind, warning him about getting too close to people who didn't belong to their world. But Felix couldn't help it; Faerie was nothing like the other girls he knew.
He fell back onto his bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling. "Maybe if I help her, get her out of that hellhole of a neighborhood... maybe then I'd feel better." He tried to convince himself that his concern for her was just a side effect of his upbringing—charity, compassion, the duties of the elite. But as he lay there, a deeper truth lingered in the back of his mind, one that he wasn't ready to face.
As the night crept in and the mansion around him grew quiet, Felix found himself wishing he could understand what he truly felt—about Faerie, about himself, about everything. He hated this confusion, this vulnerability that seemed to crack the perfect image he'd built up for years.
Eventually, his thoughts grew too heavy, and sleep overtook him. But even in his dreams, she lingered, just out of reach, like a mystery he couldn't solve. And for the first time in a long time, Felix felt genuinely unsure of what tomorrow would bring.