Gutter Ball: Chapter 2
An Amazing Digital Circus Fanfic
Felix made no less than three jabs at her non-existent boyfriend on the way home, and Christine only barely managed to avoid grabbing him by the shoulders. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what she would do with him if she did, equally torn between shaking him and covering his mouth with hers. Both would probably shut him up, but neither would be exactly helpful.
As soon as they made it back, she headed to her room to change into pajamas. Clothes were a luxury she doubted she would ever take for granted again, and while she didn’t really mind the more professional outfits she wore to work and afterwards, it was always nice to come home and be able to change into something much comfier.
When she came out, she sank onto the couch and reached for her book, feeling just done with people for the night. She used to enjoy nights out. Now it just felt exhausting.
She watched Felix, searching the fridge for a snack. He had already changed as well, into pajama pants and the purple hoodie he liked to wear around the apartment. It was almost the exact same color he used to be, which she guessed was why he liked it. Felt bunny ears she’d tacked on a few weeks ago hung from the hood down his back. She’d done it as a joke, hoping for a reaction, but he pretended not to notice. He hadn’t tried to take them off, though, which she assumed meant he liked them.
She wasn’t reading into this, right? He had definitely been acting jealous ever since Kaitlyn mentioned her “boyfriend”, just in the most ridiculously petty and childish ways possible.
Seriously? Stealing her turn to bowl? Okay, so she did the exact same thing to him five minutes later, but he started it!
She wanted to just talk about it. She had suspected for a while that he might be interested in her too, and tonight seemed to guarantee it. If she brought it up, could they talk like adults? Or would he just try to push her away again?
Felix came back into the living room and dropped onto the other side of the couch, sitting sideways so he could rest his feet on the middle cushion. “Here.” He tossed a cup of chocolate pudding and a spoon at her.
She caught it out of reflex, blinked at it a few times, then stared at him.
He calmly started eating his applesauce, raising an eyebrow when he noticed her staring. “What?”
This man.
She wanted to throw her book at him. She slid it across the table to hopefully remove the temptation to throw it at this infuriating, ridiculous man who came up with a bunch of schoolyard insults for a guy that didn’t even exist, but paid enough attention to know exactly what snack she was craving. This rude, thoughtful, adorable man.
Screw it. They were having this conversation.
She slammed the cup of pudding on the table. “I do not have a boyfriend.”
He jumped slightly at the sound, eyes widening. “Uh, ok.” He swallowed. “So?”
She sucked in a slow breath, trying to decide the best way to continue this conversation. Apparently she took too long to decide, because he started rambling as he set his now-empty applesauce cup on the coffee table, then reached over, trying to grab the remote from beside the tv. The movement made his hoodie ride up, exposing a stripe of bare skin. Not that she was paying attention.
“I don’t know what you’re telling me for. I don’t care. You might want to tell Kaitlyn, though, before she accidentally makes it awkward with this guy.”
Oh yeah. He sure sounded like he “didn’t care”. Her eye twitched.
“It’s probably a good thing, though. I mean, getting into a relationship right now would probably lead to a lot of awkward questions.” His hand only just missed the remote, and he leaned a little further. “It’s not like you can just tell people, ‘oh yeah, I was trapped in a computer game for months and that’s why I disappeared. No I’m not psychotic, why?’.”
“Kaitlyn was talking about you, you idiot! You’re the “boyfriend”!”
Thud.
Christine blinked a couple times at the now-empty couch, then glanced down at the tangle of ridiculously-long limbs on the floor. She smirked.
She slid over on the couch until she was right in front of him, then she set her elbow on her knees and rested her chin in her hand, leaning forward. “I bet you’re feeling pretty dumb right now, realizing you were jealous all night of yourself.”
He sat up, and she grinned. It was kind of nice to be able to look down at him for once. “I–jealous? Ha. As if.”
“So you wouldn’t have a problem if I dated someone else?”
“Pfft, of course not. Why would I–” He cut off abruptly as she cupped his face in her hands. His eyes widened and she could almost picture large bunny ears pinning back against his head. “What–what are you doing?”
She let one hand slide up and into his hair. “Does this bother you?”
His eyes darted away, but he didn’t try to pull back. “N–no.”
She continued to comb her fingers through his hair, quickly realizing the sensation was rather addicting. She was startled when he seemed to agree, closing his eyes and leaning further into her touch.
“If I tell you I like being your friend, are you going to try to push me away again?”
His shoulders hunched in. “Chris . . .”
“I know you didn’t mean any of it before,” she said quickly, “and I told you I forgive you, but it still hurt and I’m not interested in having that conversation a second time.”
“No.” Something brushed her leg and she looked down to see he had pinched the hem of her pajama pants in his fist, just . . . holding her in place. “I’m not either.”
She bit her lip. “What if I say I like you? Like, romantically?”
His eyes popped open, just staring at her for a minute, then he smirked. “So this time you are coming onto me?”
She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder, but she was grinning. “Shut up.”
Slowly, his grin fell away, and he shifted closer, putting his feet on either side of hers, then draping one arm over her knees. “I’m really bad at this.”
“Bad at what?” she asked. He shrugged, seemingly unwilling to finish the thought, so she continued for him. “Feelings? Talking about feelings? Hugging?”
He stayed silent, and she chewed her lip, wondering what she could say that might startle him into talking again. “Kissing?”
He jerked back, eyes wide. “Pom–Christine!”
“What?” she asked innocently. “You can tell me. I won’t mind.”
“No, that’s not what I was–uhg. Feelings. I don’t–I don’t do feelings.”
“Yeah, I’ve kind of noticed,” she said dryly.
He huffed out a disgruntled breath and rested his chin on his arm, looking away. “But . . . I like you too.”
She froze.
Sure she had guessed he probably felt the same way, but she wasn’t expecting him to say it.
His gaze flicked back up to hers, and he pushed away from her, rocking back to crouch on his toes. “What?”
She blinked a few times, then wet her lips, pretending she didn’t notice his eyes tracking the movement. “I . . . wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
He poked her forehead. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” He folded his arms over his knees and sat there staring at her long enough that she wondered if she should say something.
Then he leaned over, pressing a brief, soft kiss against her lips.
Before she could react, he stood up and stretched. “Changed my mind. I’m going to bed. Night, Chris.”
“Good night–” He was already gone. “–Felix.”
The End