Feeling tense
Felix's pov
As we ate, I listened to Blair attentively as he told me about himself and his life prior to Durham. It was surreal how I had never really asked him some basic questions before getting intimate with him. That was a testament to the undeniable attraction we had for one another, because we completely skipped the small talk stage.
That and also the fact that we had never gone on an actual date, the type normal people go on when they don't have to keep their involvement a secret.
As he spoke, detailing his short-lived time in France, an unsettling thought crept over me, but I chose to push it down. What was I doing? Why was I asking all these questions when I wasn't sure what I wanted with him? It wasn't as if we'd ever have a normal relationship, so why was I feeding that idea and hope?
I pushed those thoughts aside for now. I didn't care about the consequences, I just wanted him, all of him, his body, his person, his history. Besides, I was extremely curious about the boy who had completely enchanted me.
He told me that he was an only child and that his parents decided to move to the U.S. in search for better job opportunities. He had little to no family in France, and the ones he had didn't live in Paris, his hometown. He barely spoke to them, only on Christmas, but he seemed okay with not having a strong relationship with his extended family.
"I don't really remember anything about Paris." He admitted, taking a bite of his sandwich. "I have some memories of home, but not of the city itself. One day I hope to visit, to create a genuine bond with my homeland."
"That's interesting," I commented. "I had the impression that you had lived there for longer. Even if you don't have a strong connection with France, at least you have two nationalities."
"Always useful in case a war breaks out and you have to flea the country." He said playfully. "But what about you? Do you have any exotic nationality I don't know about?"
I cleared my throat. "My life is pretty mundane. I was born and raised here, went to school here, graduated here, got a job at Durham. Nothing special to report, I'm afraid."
"And what about your family? Are you close?"
I knew he'd ask this. I was the only one to blame for his questions because I was the one to bring the subject up.
"We speak sometimes." I simply stated.
He was silent for a while, chewing away his food. I wasn't liking where this was going.
"What about siblings? Are there any more Dr Reynolds' in the world?"
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
No no no.
"Just me." I said quickly, not looking at him. I got up and walked to the kitchen. I felt the need to create some distance, to hide my face.
He was just asking the same questions I asked him. Nothing wrong with that.
"Oh, that's a shame." He stated with that teasing voice he used so well. "The world could benefit from more people with your genes."
My head started pounding, my heart was racing. My mouth was completely dry, and for a moment I thought I would pass out.
"And I'm happy there are no more copies of you. The world couldn't handle more than one Blair." I said, trying to sound lighthearted while completely panicking on the inside. Apparently I wasn't successful since he got up and hugged me from behind.
"You seem tense." He said, resting his head on my back. Then, in a seductive voice, he added. "I could help you with that."
I shook my head. Sex was the last thing on my mind.
"I'm stressed about work." I lied, turning around to face him. "I need to finish the research paper with Mr Turner. You know the one."
I commanded my hands to stop shaking and my eyes to look at him.
"Ah yes, the one you were discussing when I went to your office." I nodded, kissing his forehead. "Do you mind if I go upstairs and work on it? I really need silence and no distractions."
He smirked. "But I'm a good type of distraction, Professor."
I unhooked his arms from around me. I really needed to be alone. "You're gonna finish your work until you have to leave for your interview, understood Mr De Montmorency?"
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I hate it when you're right."
I pecked him on the lips so he wouldn't suspect I was on edge and made my way upstairs. I unlocked the door, stepping inside the dark room. I turned on the lights and immediately reached for my anti-anxiety medication. I closed my eyes, trying to get my emotions under control.
My doctor said to only take it in an emergency, but I wasn't taking any risks. I didn't want Blair to suspect I was feeling uneasy.
Felix, come build a sandcastle with me!
I fisted my hands. After so many years, I could still hear his voice.
Play with me Felix!
The medication wasn't working as quickly as I hoped it would. I just stood there, white-knuckling the pain until it went away. I knew it would go soon. It always did.
I stood in that empty room in silence. Blair jokingly suggested it was a sex room, but that couldn't be further from the truth. No one had ever been there in the first place, much less engage in sexual activity in there.
The only thing I did there was paint.
I felt embarrassed to admit I painted in secret. Ever since I got my job at Durham and my dreams of becoming an artist went down the drain, I didn't want anyone to know I still did it. The only person who knew I painted regularly was Kent, but I never showed him anything. Just the thought of him seeing my work made my stomach twist painfully.
My art room was a mess. There were paintings hanging on the walls, some of them crooked and on the verge of falling. Others were stacked carelessly on the floor, others were packed in folders and cabinets. I tried to keep my art supplies and easels to one side, but even that corner was a mess.
I guess it was a reflection of my own goddamn mind.
My whole life was in that room, my emotions, my fears, my regrets. I never threw anything away because painting was quite therapeutic. In a way, that room was my safe place where all my emotions were harbored.
My most recent painting was a portrait of Blair. It was incomplete, but I left it unfinished on purpose. I wanted to work on it when he wasn't around so even when he was gone I could still feel his presence.
The medication was working, my breathing had settled down, but I couldn't shake the intrusive thoughts.