[Doctrine of Labyrinths]: The Boy Is Doing Fine
Title: The Boy Is Doing Fine
Fandom: Doctrine of Labyrinths
Summary: Malkar is gone. Felix is free.
Notes: Written for pitselly for Yuletide 2011. I liked the idea of an awkward Felix just realizing his own freedom and joyful but also just out of the dark. Here he is, just post-Malkar and realizing everything the wide world has to offer. And some of you thought I forgot this fandom! (...sort of. BUT NOT COMPLETELY.)
It was raining on the first day of the rest of his life.
He could have stuck his tongue out and tasted the drops. Could have danced in the street, could have, could have, could have. Felix was giddy with possibility and almost didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do - and didn’t care.
The future was open. The present was open, laid out like a list to choose from, and he was almost giddy with the realization that after sweat and blood and tears it was over. And he’d won.
Felix grinned at a passersby, who glanced at him askance and sped their steps somewhat. He wondered self-consciously what he looked like; he’d spent the entire night sleepless, waiting, half expecting…Felix shivered very slightly, grin fading. But it was over. That was the thing he had to remember. It was over.
Felix paused to look at himself in a window, took in red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, and frowned. He looked a mess. A madman.
Felix hesitated only a moment before turning sharply away from his reflection. Why think about it now? There was no one looking over his shoulder, no one to say anything about the way he looked, no one to tell him he ought to walk so and speak so and-
He looked over his shoulder, just in case, but there was no one watching. Felix was alone, truly alone, and maybe his hair was a wreck and maybe his clothes were worn and maybe the rain was splashing mud up onto his feet, but he was happier than he could remember being. Perhaps ever.
He drew himself up and moved with new purpose down the street. He didn’t need a place to stay, but he wanted a place to drink. To celebrate without someone looking over his shoulder. To celebrate that no one was looking over his shoulder.
Sliding in through the first appropriate door he found, Felix sat down and stretched out his legs. He almost asked for wine, but as he was reaching for the money he remembered learning how to hold a glass, how to drink it properly, how to…
“I don’t care,” he said at last, with a smile. “Whatever you have will do.”
The money he paid with was his own.
A woman (dressed well, but not luxuriantly) wandered by his table, and Felix flirted with her because he could, and kept his eyes wandering. Whatever he’d ordered to drink tasted foul, but he drank the whole thing anyway.
The man his eyes caught on was dark-haired and small and alone, and Felix called him over with a smile. There were butterflies in his stomach but when the man saw him and answered with a small, almost shy smile of his own, they melted just a little bit.
They talked about nothing much at all, and when the man (who called himself Claudio) asked Felix quietly to return home with him, Felix said no, because he could, and then waited a moment, almost (but not quite) cringing.
When nothing happened but a shrug and a slightly regretful glance away, it was a little like taking a breath for the first time.
**
He slept poorly and woke panting, sure that he’d dreamed it all, sure that it was a beautiful, beautiful lie that would break as soon as he reached out.
The wind blowing in the open window brought the smell of rain and rot and sewage, of city, and it was the third day and he was still free. Felix almost wished he’d taken Claudio home last night. Almost. He was still savoring the sense of real solitude a little too much for that.
He did want new clothes, though. Everything that smelled of - him had been left behind. He would have burned them, but that had seemed a little…melodramatic. (He heard that in his voice, and flinched, and took a deep breath of the city smell to remember.) Felix was someone new, now, someone else. Someone who wasn’t…that.
Everything you are you owe to him everything you are is poisonous thoughts, worming into his mind. Felix worried his lower lip, then stopped, then did it again because no one was telling him to stop.
Clothes. He wanted something new. He had enough money for that, and for transportation away from here - not that he was in a hurry to leave, but he wasn’t in a hurry to stay either, not with a whole world that he’d never seen, never lived in, never touched, never loved.
And he would love it, embrace it all and glory in its very existence.
Clothes first, though.
Finding a shop wasn’t hard. Finding one with clothes he wanted was harder, but the moment he stepped into it he knew it was the one he wanted. Everything in it was gaudy and tawdry and overly colorful. Everything he never would have worn before, that he would have called “obscene” at best. Felix smiled and dove right in.
He chose things randomly, wildly, without thought. Tried on a green coat, discarded it, and chose a purple one. He looked at everything he wanted and didn’t want, and no one chastised him for his taste. In the end, he didn’t end up buying very much at all, but that was all right. He could always come back.
No one was telling him not to.
Felix changed into his new clothes and admired himself in every reflective surface he could find.
**
It was early evening when Felix first noticed someone eying his jacket. They didn’t look pleased. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow, still drunk on his triumph, on freedom, and maybe a little on the clothes. “Yes?” he said, perfectly biting.
The man made a rude gesture and muttered something. Felix’s hackles went up. “What did you call me?” He asked, and felt a momentary chagrin at the shrill note in his own voice. It was overwhelmed by indignation.
He didn’t repeat it, just hunched his shoulders and walked away. Felix stared after him, feeling suddenly shaken. They can tell, he thought wildly, they can tell just by looking at me, they can see what I am- what I was-
He wanted to wrap his arms around himself and curl up like the small child he’d last been in a place like this, but no. This was his. This world was his. He wasn’t going to let it-
Felix forced himself to stand tall, opened his stride and looked for a different kind of inn than the one he’d gone to the night before. It didn’t take him long. He knew the type of neighborhood to look for.
The first two he glanced at felt wrong, so he went to the third and accepted the first to tip his head in Felix’s direction. The room he was led to was clean and quiet (so unlike, but he could still smell, still feel) and he looked the - whore in the eye and tried to see himself there. “Who do you think I am?” He asked, without thinking, and the boy (because he was a boy, really) looked startled, and then like he was trying to come up with the right answer.
“You’re whoever you want to be, with me,” he said, finally, and Felix knew it was a trained answer but felt better anyway. He faced the boy and thought of him and-
“Kiss me,” he said, without thinking about that either. The boy approached almost timidly - not so old at this, then, Felix thought idly, and kissed him. His body was suddenly rigid and he jerked away.
“Sir,” the boy said, and Felix closed his eyes.
This is me. This is mine.
“No,” he said, more to himself than anything. “No.”
This time he closed the distance, murmured “Don’t move,” and kissed the boy until his breath came short and his heart was pounding and Felix didn’t know if it was fear or exhilaration. Don’t surrender never surrender again never-
He pulled back when he was sure he could control himself, and took three steps away. “You can go,” he said, reaching into his pocket for some money, enough for the whole night. The boy hesitated, reaching for it, but Felix snapped “Leave,” and he grabbed it and bolted.
Felix stood alone for a few seconds, trembling. It’s still my body. Mine. Mine mine mine. I’m not that anymore. I can choose. I can choose whatever I want, whoever I want, whenever I want.
He took a deep breath.
**
Felix looked for a way out of the city the next morning. He debated over methods and ultimately decided on carriage, though he half-expected slant-eyed gazes and mutterings from the drivers. None of them was anything but polite. Deferential, even.
They can’t see, Felix reminded himself. They don’t know. And they never will.
He was something new now. Not a kept-thief, not a whore, not a slave to his will. Something new.
Felix paid the fee and went to pack his things. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to start. Enough to build a life on. Enough to go somewhere and be whoever he liked. And he could do that now.
Mine, Felix thought, looking down at the small pile of things on the bed. It’s not much, but it only belongs to me.
And that was enough.
Fandom: Doctrine of Labyrinths
Summary: Malkar is gone. Felix is free.
Notes: Written for pitselly for Yuletide 2011. I liked the idea of an awkward Felix just realizing his own freedom and joyful but also just out of the dark. Here he is, just post-Malkar and realizing everything the wide world has to offer. And some of you thought I forgot this fandom! (...sort of. BUT NOT COMPLETELY.)
It was raining on the first day of the rest of his life.
He could have stuck his tongue out and tasted the drops. Could have danced in the street, could have, could have, could have. Felix was giddy with possibility and almost didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do - and didn’t care.
The future was open. The present was open, laid out like a list to choose from, and he was almost giddy with the realization that after sweat and blood and tears it was over. And he’d won.
Felix grinned at a passersby, who glanced at him askance and sped their steps somewhat. He wondered self-consciously what he looked like; he’d spent the entire night sleepless, waiting, half expecting…Felix shivered very slightly, grin fading. But it was over. That was the thing he had to remember. It was over.
Felix paused to look at himself in a window, took in red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, and frowned. He looked a mess. A madman.
Felix hesitated only a moment before turning sharply away from his reflection. Why think about it now? There was no one looking over his shoulder, no one to say anything about the way he looked, no one to tell him he ought to walk so and speak so and-
He looked over his shoulder, just in case, but there was no one watching. Felix was alone, truly alone, and maybe his hair was a wreck and maybe his clothes were worn and maybe the rain was splashing mud up onto his feet, but he was happier than he could remember being. Perhaps ever.
He drew himself up and moved with new purpose down the street. He didn’t need a place to stay, but he wanted a place to drink. To celebrate without someone looking over his shoulder. To celebrate that no one was looking over his shoulder.
Sliding in through the first appropriate door he found, Felix sat down and stretched out his legs. He almost asked for wine, but as he was reaching for the money he remembered learning how to hold a glass, how to drink it properly, how to…
“I don’t care,” he said at last, with a smile. “Whatever you have will do.”
The money he paid with was his own.
A woman (dressed well, but not luxuriantly) wandered by his table, and Felix flirted with her because he could, and kept his eyes wandering. Whatever he’d ordered to drink tasted foul, but he drank the whole thing anyway.
The man his eyes caught on was dark-haired and small and alone, and Felix called him over with a smile. There were butterflies in his stomach but when the man saw him and answered with a small, almost shy smile of his own, they melted just a little bit.
They talked about nothing much at all, and when the man (who called himself Claudio) asked Felix quietly to return home with him, Felix said no, because he could, and then waited a moment, almost (but not quite) cringing.
When nothing happened but a shrug and a slightly regretful glance away, it was a little like taking a breath for the first time.
**
He slept poorly and woke panting, sure that he’d dreamed it all, sure that it was a beautiful, beautiful lie that would break as soon as he reached out.
The wind blowing in the open window brought the smell of rain and rot and sewage, of city, and it was the third day and he was still free. Felix almost wished he’d taken Claudio home last night. Almost. He was still savoring the sense of real solitude a little too much for that.
He did want new clothes, though. Everything that smelled of - him had been left behind. He would have burned them, but that had seemed a little…melodramatic. (He heard that in his voice, and flinched, and took a deep breath of the city smell to remember.) Felix was someone new, now, someone else. Someone who wasn’t…that.
Everything you are you owe to him everything you are is poisonous thoughts, worming into his mind. Felix worried his lower lip, then stopped, then did it again because no one was telling him to stop.
Clothes. He wanted something new. He had enough money for that, and for transportation away from here - not that he was in a hurry to leave, but he wasn’t in a hurry to stay either, not with a whole world that he’d never seen, never lived in, never touched, never loved.
And he would love it, embrace it all and glory in its very existence.
Clothes first, though.
Finding a shop wasn’t hard. Finding one with clothes he wanted was harder, but the moment he stepped into it he knew it was the one he wanted. Everything in it was gaudy and tawdry and overly colorful. Everything he never would have worn before, that he would have called “obscene” at best. Felix smiled and dove right in.
He chose things randomly, wildly, without thought. Tried on a green coat, discarded it, and chose a purple one. He looked at everything he wanted and didn’t want, and no one chastised him for his taste. In the end, he didn’t end up buying very much at all, but that was all right. He could always come back.
No one was telling him not to.
Felix changed into his new clothes and admired himself in every reflective surface he could find.
**
It was early evening when Felix first noticed someone eying his jacket. They didn’t look pleased. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow, still drunk on his triumph, on freedom, and maybe a little on the clothes. “Yes?” he said, perfectly biting.
The man made a rude gesture and muttered something. Felix’s hackles went up. “What did you call me?” He asked, and felt a momentary chagrin at the shrill note in his own voice. It was overwhelmed by indignation.
He didn’t repeat it, just hunched his shoulders and walked away. Felix stared after him, feeling suddenly shaken. They can tell, he thought wildly, they can tell just by looking at me, they can see what I am- what I was-
He wanted to wrap his arms around himself and curl up like the small child he’d last been in a place like this, but no. This was his. This world was his. He wasn’t going to let it-
Felix forced himself to stand tall, opened his stride and looked for a different kind of inn than the one he’d gone to the night before. It didn’t take him long. He knew the type of neighborhood to look for.
The first two he glanced at felt wrong, so he went to the third and accepted the first to tip his head in Felix’s direction. The room he was led to was clean and quiet (so unlike, but he could still smell, still feel) and he looked the - whore in the eye and tried to see himself there. “Who do you think I am?” He asked, without thinking, and the boy (because he was a boy, really) looked startled, and then like he was trying to come up with the right answer.
“You’re whoever you want to be, with me,” he said, finally, and Felix knew it was a trained answer but felt better anyway. He faced the boy and thought of him and-
“Kiss me,” he said, without thinking about that either. The boy approached almost timidly - not so old at this, then, Felix thought idly, and kissed him. His body was suddenly rigid and he jerked away.
“Sir,” the boy said, and Felix closed his eyes.
This is me. This is mine.
“No,” he said, more to himself than anything. “No.”
This time he closed the distance, murmured “Don’t move,” and kissed the boy until his breath came short and his heart was pounding and Felix didn’t know if it was fear or exhilaration. Don’t surrender never surrender again never-
He pulled back when he was sure he could control himself, and took three steps away. “You can go,” he said, reaching into his pocket for some money, enough for the whole night. The boy hesitated, reaching for it, but Felix snapped “Leave,” and he grabbed it and bolted.
Felix stood alone for a few seconds, trembling. It’s still my body. Mine. Mine mine mine. I’m not that anymore. I can choose. I can choose whatever I want, whoever I want, whenever I want.
He took a deep breath.
**
Felix looked for a way out of the city the next morning. He debated over methods and ultimately decided on carriage, though he half-expected slant-eyed gazes and mutterings from the drivers. None of them was anything but polite. Deferential, even.
They can’t see, Felix reminded himself. They don’t know. And they never will.
He was something new now. Not a kept-thief, not a whore, not a slave to his will. Something new.
Felix paid the fee and went to pack his things. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to start. Enough to build a life on. Enough to go somewhere and be whoever he liked. And he could do that now.
Mine, Felix thought, looking down at the small pile of things on the bed. It’s not much, but it only belongs to me.
And that was enough.