Félix & Marinette︲Intensity

𝓐𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮

I wake up the next morning and throw up in the toilet since my system had been attacked with excessive amounts of tequila just yesterday. To be honest, the feeling of being drunk and completely mindless is amazing. You no longer feel the pain nor do you remember it. And I DO NOT want to remember it at all or who he was and what he looked like. I want to wipe it clean from my mind exactly the way makeup is wiped using a wet towelette.

Feeling reckless again, I make my way downstairs not caring if it caused me harm one more time. I want to feel that burn going down my throat from the excess alcohol just making its way towards the deeper core of my digestive system. Quietly, I pad down the long hallway and glance behind myself, making sure Félix wasn't in my sight to catch me. I sigh in relief, then walk to the door in which I remember had the huge theatre set and storage for all his drinks. In the silence, I place my hand around the doorknob and turn it clockwise. It doesn't budge. I try again, but this time with my entire strength. It still doesn't budge. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands in frustration, realizing that he locked it probably after what he saw me doing yesterday. This made me even more irritated and impatient. There has to be a key to this door or something, but when I bend down to take a glance into the knob, it is completely smooth with absolutely no keyhole present. I smack my hand on my forehead, feeling stupid. Of course it doesn't have a keyhole because he is capable enough to get the modern security system installed that can easily be controlled from his damn phone. Ugh, I don't know what to do now.

Surprisingly, my body gives up and wants to rest, so I sit down on the couch in front of the TV. A few minutes later, Félix comes into the living room not wearing his professional clothes since he is off from work ever since the pandemic happened. I realize he woke up late today as I glance at the clock on the wall. He never wakes up this late and it's already noon which is something out of the ordinary.

I keep my eyes glued to the mug of water I'm drinking as he sits down on the other couch and yawns. "Good afternoon. How are you feeling now?" He asks while he turns on the huge TV by pressing the power button on the slim remote.

I lean against the cushion and rub my belly, "Um, a bit better. How about you?"

He instantly looks at me, "What do you mean?"

Nervously, I look at him with anxiety running through my veins, "I mean, you usually don't sleep this late. Was it because of work?"

"Oh. Yes, that and sleeping issues. Not a big deal." He looks away and browses through some channels which made the light from the TV screen blare upon our faces. I stare at him closely and see slight dark circles under his eyes for the first time. He has never looked this exhausted before and it makes me wonder if there is more to the cause than just sleep issues and work.

I ask hesitantly, blushing for no reason, "D-Do you want something to eat?"

He shakes his head slowly, and says, "Nah, I'm good. Susanne has already made breakfast and lunch, so I'll just go eat that." He almost gets up, but I speak out loud in confusion.

I blink several times, then remember with my quick memory, "She didn't come today or yesterday."

"Is that so? How come I received zero messages from her about her sudden absence, then..." His forehead creases as he scrolls through his phone to locate any evidence of Susanne notifying him throughout the past 24 hours. In annoyance, he puts his phone down and speaks, "She sent me nothing at all. I pay these maids, but they always happen to be extremely irresponsible. I'm just going to fire her, that's it."

I feel a bit relieved since I never liked her in the first place. Once I finish drinking water, I stand up, "That means I can cook now, right?"

He glares at me and stands up as well, "No. That is not your responsibility, it's mine."