The soft chimes of Christmas bells rung throughout the Mauvilee Penthouse. It circulated and swirled about, caressing the polished tables and meticulously prepared line of treats. For anyone else, the sight and aroma of the apartment might've elicited a feeling of delight. Of Christmas cheer, even.

Felix, however, only felt the tightening coil of buried memories around his throat. The memories of forgotten promises and regrets still plagued his mind whenever this peppermint-infested holiday came around.

Typically, his antidote would be to divulge further into his work. Tirelessly training til exhaustion had always cured away any lingering thoughts, and so, it served as the perfect alternative. Alas, these plans were quick to change with one text.

"...sorry," He apologized. The sound of his name sent a shudder of spiders down his spine. Barnaby always had that effect on him -- a power only a few possessed. Felix's steady golden eyes flickered over to the assortment of wines, then back at Barnaby, a tinge of softness hidden beneath the surface of his stare. "Do you have anything stronger?"

BARNABY FINCH

Without hesitation, Felix leaned into Barnaby's gentle hand, allowing its warmth to envelop his icy skin. The hum of comfort melted away any worries of the past and remind him what truly mattered right now: this moment. Because, for at least tonight, he was in the embrace of the only person who made him feel...anything.

A twinge of dejection fiddled with his heart as Barnaby returned his hand to his side. It was odd how the simplest of movements -- of expression --- did that to him. Even the mere flash of his smile plucked at his emotions, one by one, until he felt more than he ever did that entire week. But, as always, every hint of a reaction was tucked neatly behind his expressionless face.

"Scotch." His voice came out tight - like a knot that desperately needed to be unraveled. As Barnaby prepared their glasses, Felix's eyes glanced at the assortment of delicacies that had been prepared. This time, with a softer voice, he spoke out. "Who taught you how to cook?"

BARNABY FINCH

A hushed display of gratitude was exchanged for the glass tumbler. Its ice clinged against the glass as he brought it to his lips, curious of it's quality. After the warm liquid slithered down his throat, his gaze lowered alongside the drink, giving it a long hard stare. Its taste was sharp; high quality. It reminded him of work.

Barnaby's voice gingerly cusped his cheeks, raising his gaze back onto him. Despite the impassive expression Felix wore, the blonde's light laugh and glistening eyes plucked at his heart like a harp, eliciting a discordant sound. Such soft feelings always felt like a crime...but that didn't mean he hated it.

The thumping of his heart only quickened as Barnaby's delicate fingers grasped his own, briefly shortening the space between them before leading him towards the prepared table.

Felix perched himself on his appointed chair, glanced at the porcelain plate set in front of him, then nodded. "It looks good." Though, if he were honest, he was a tad concerned about the casserole looking dish. Him and casseroles had a loooong dark history together, and he'd hope a new chapter wouldn't be created tonight.

A knife soon dug at the meat. After it was properly cut, his nimble fingers went to work by bringing each piece into his mouth, one after another, leaving little space in between. "It's been a while since I've eaten something this good..."

BARNABY FINCH

The question caught him off guard. But that was growing to become a common occurrence with the journalist, as for once...someone was showing interest in Felix and not just his combat abilities. He wasn't sure how felt about it. All he knew was that it made his heart twitch whenever Barnaby dug a little further into his life, especially when he stared back with those eyes of his. Swallowing another mouthful, he glanced back up at his hosts and gave an answer to his question.

"I don't know."

Truth be told, he wasn't quite of the last time he ate food that hadn't been prepared by chef microwave. There were his visits to different restaurants with his supervisor, but he never ate much during those meetings. It didn't feel right to do so.

Subconsciously, the space between each bite began to lengthen after answering Barnaby's question. Almost as if his body was fearing another drought after this meal.

BARNABY FINCH

It was relieving to know that his answers never swayed Barnaby away, or discolored his image. Felix was never one to concern himself with the idea of being embarrassed about his own economic status (or lack thereof), but for whatever reason, the more he grew to care about him, the more it became an unflinching worry in the back of his mind.

"Thank you." Despite his gratefulness, his expression remained untouched, however, a more notable change soon came along with his next words. "I wish I could cook as well as you do. My brother would love this kind of cooking."

Felix's eyes followed Barnaby as he fetched the shared bottle of Whiskey from the kitchen. His glass was at a similar state as his, and well, a refill did sound nice. As the other drew himself closer, he took note of the very apparent red tint to his once pale cheeks. It was cute. "Yes please."

BARNABY FINCH

The sincere interest that lit his face battered at Felix's heart, nearly taking his breath away. Was he that interesting to listen to? He always thought the opposite of himself, as his inability to express his thoughts left much to be desired.

"Okay." After flatly agreeing to Barnaby's wish, the elder Gallagher leaned back into his chair and drifted in gaze back down towards his drink. Sometimes, when speaking of himself, it was harder for him to maintain eye contact. "His name is August Gallagher . He's around 9 years younger than me? By the time I graduated High School he was still a toddler, so we didn't really grow up together. "

His gaze readjusted back onto Barnaby. The shackles that typically weighed down his words felt lighter than before. Without much change in expressions, he continued. "I only took him in a year ago, but I know he likes to play violin and attend those contests around here. I plan to go to one in January."

BARNABY FINCH

Felix nodded along to the compliments, the reactions, and the light comfort that tied both in a pleasant bow.

Though, as soothing as his tipsy wishes were, he couldn't help but notice the persistent twang of his heart whenever Barnaby, or anyone else for that matter, praised him for solely following through with his obligations. He's lucky to have you, was how they phrases it, but did luck play any part in it? Whether Felix wanted to or not, it was his duty to support August when needed, and to make up where their parents had failed.

When the nightmares returned to infest his dreams and thoughts, this question would often make its way back into his mind, haunting him with the worst possible two-word combination: what if.

What if he had a choice? What if he started to matter, too?

Was this regret? He wasn't sure, and to be honest, he didn't want to know.

"I don't mind," Felix ensured, eyes softening at his expression. Barnaby's conscious efforts were more than appreciated. "They're still back in Sinnoh. Alive and well." His voice was hushed, almost a whisper. Then, for once, his eyes darkened into a gloom. "They just have harsh expectations of us. I didn't want him to be forced to live like that, like I did."

@tag