There it was. Finally the blow that'd find itself true to Felix's beating heart. Flinching, he barely recovered in his dance, head turning to move their bodies closer toward the center of the floor. In the glimmering lights of Champaign gold, one could find the delicate tightening of his jaw.

"Why is it selfless not to want anything from you?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"I suppose."

But there was more to it than that. Her happiness - it was all he could wish for, especially at that moment, if only for the chance to prove to himself that it is possible. That her mistakes wouldn't weigh on her the way he did.

Those die like an unspoken breath in his throat.

"That's not true."

They clumsily kick into another twirl, the harshness of her words finally finding their mark against the steel of his skin. Fortunately, it doesn't take long for him to correct his form and regain control of their swaying movement.

"You know," He sighed, hand tightening around hers, a bubble of frustration building beneath the pull of his skin, "you make a lot of decisions for people."

This conversation, this waltz, this dance - they've had it countless times before. Leaving him to wonder: when will the music come to an end?

Elisabeth Fiorelli

How was he different?

The question bit into him, teeth sharpened by the newfound care he took to answering. As they took to another spin, arms extending and furling back around her shoulders, all in a grandiose display of shimmering splendor, Felix's expression kept stony, thoughts hectic and fluttering.

"I could answer," he starts, hesitation slipping through, "but I'm not sure it matters."

There was no point. She'll always just pull out another reason to find doubt, then validation for the said seed of doubt.

"I'd rather prove it to you."

Elisabeth Fiorelli

To Elisabeth this might've been a game of chess, prolonged to its final act, but for Felix, there was no game nor no victors to be had. Only losers.

Selfishly, he didn't want her to come out as the loser.

To her question, for the first time, his lips found themselves into a small smile. Then a low chuckle.

"Sure. I have nothing to hide."

Not from you.

He drew their dance to a slow, too occupied by the way his hand reached up toward his simple black mask, pulling it down so that it loosely hung around his neck.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

The light and feathery feeling of happiness was a rarity Felix could never properly capture. Only with a few could he ever feel himself drawing from the pool most others greedily drank from. However, with Elisabeth Fiorelli, even if joy had never been revealed to her, much less reflected off a small smile, Felix always found himself enjoying her presence.

Because, around her, he didn't just find anger, confusion, or sorrow. He found a semblance of peace. Something, for the longest time, he thought to be lost.

It was why he smiled now, below the winking starlight of the ballroom.

"Do you still not trust me, Elisabeth?"

@eliabeth

She should've known by then, Felix wished for nothing in return. Not even an apology had found itself on his list of expectations, harsh as her slings and arrows might've been. He'd be lying if none of them found its mark across his chest, but compared to all she'd experienced, and all he'd been through, it was nothing more than a few more wounds to lick back at home.

But, more than those words, or the bullets of anguish he'd once felt in that forest where their fates had first intertwined with one another, what Elisabeth did next dug into his flesh, tearing muscle into string and mashing heart into mush.

Blinking, he froze beneath the gentle kalsonian farewell on his cheek, then the soft words that accompanied them.

"Elisabeth..."

It wasn't until she twirled away that the frost snapped off from the joints of his bone, allowing oil to slick his system back to life and bring movement back into his legs.

"Elisabeth wait."

He wouldn't let her leave. Not like this.

He reached for her shoulder, looking to anchor her back to him, back to the dance they'd shared.

Elisabeth Fiorelli