Your Slightest Look

“Jesus Christ, and I thought my Christmas was depressing,” was the very first thing that came rolling off Felix’s mouth when he entered Ángela’s hotel room.

She looked up from her bowl of mint chocolate cookie ice cream, legs tucked underneath her body. Brushing a lavender lock of hair behind her ear, she swallowed and offered him a spoonful, to which he shook his head and sighed.

“What do you mean?” she rolled her eyes. “I’m celebrating Christmas, see?”

“You could catch a cold,” the redhead frowned at her legs, which were only covered partially by pajama shorts. “I know you don’t feel it, but you could get sick. Didn’t you want to do a meet up on Thursday?”

“Yeah,” she swirled the spoon around and said nothing else. Felix picked her feet and placed them in his lap, rubbing her skin with a calloused thumb. “I know Christmas is supposed to be full of presents and a tree and everything, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

“I get it,” the guitarist patted her feet. “You miss your dad, that’s okay, he was a great guy.”

“He should’ve been the one playing with me on Thursday,” her knuckles whitened. “I know he wanted to see where I was raised. I would’ve showed him Eden Park and mom’s house. My High School, or maybe the Conservatory.”

“God, Krohn Conservatory,” he laughed. “We spent so much time there.”

“What are you doing here, Felix?” she sighed. “You should be in Baltimore with your family.”

“Lina got engaged,” he explained with a cool tone of voice. “So she told my mother and Kyle to go with her to Belgium, since her new husband’s French, apparently. A chef. Maybe this one’s the real thing.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“I’m used to it, so shut up,” he looked around the room. “We should buy a tree.”

“I’m only staying for four days, Felix,” she laughed. “I’m not buying a goddamn tree.”

“Well, we could take the camera tripod and put lights around it,” he offered, standing to look at her set up camera on the corner of the room. “I watched your last vlog, by the way, have you been looking for new lenses?”

“Yeah,” she pushed the ice cream aside. “Stop making small talk, it’s killing me. Ask away.”

“Let’s do covers on Thursday,” he grinned.

“Covers?” she cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Felix, they’re expecting our songs.”

“So?” he shrugged. “We can do a few. But let’s do covers! Eden Park is where everything began, Angy! Remember when we were just four stupid kids covering Blink with really bad hair dye jobs?”

“Uh, you had terrible hair,” she smirked. “I had great hair.”

“Because you’re a goddamn girl,” he scowled jokingly. “You should play trumpet.”

“No way,” she laughed. “I haven’t played trumpet since fucking Mark Fischbach left High School.”

“Fuck, that guy,” Felix began to snicker. “I wonder what’s become of him.”

“You don’t know?” Ángela’s eyebrows shot up.

Immediately, perfectly manicured hands found her sleek laptop and she was clicking away. Felix gabbed a blanket and threw it over her head before he sat next to her.

“Subtle,” she kicked him.

“What’s up with Fischbach?” he rolled his eyes.

“He’s famous,” she widened her eyes at him and laughed when he mumbled ‘no way’ under his breath. “God, you really don’t go on YouTube lately.”

“I never go on YouTube,” he paused. “Well, I do follow this channel that posts videos about baby sloths.”

“Here,” she turned her laptop to him. “My former trumpet master is a YouTube Let’s Play star. How about that?”

“Holy shit, that’s him alright,” Felix ran a hand through his mop of hair, freckles clear in the light of the screen. “I’m glad he’s doing fine. He was always real nice to you.”

“Yeah,” she bit her nail, then gave a breathy laugh. “I’ve watched a few of his videos, and he’s still pretty much the same. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched him, though.”

“You always thought he was cute,” Felix pointed out.

“Of course he’s cute,” she scoffed. “He was goddamn adorable and he was nice as fuck.”

“We need to think of covers,” he tried to play the laptop away from her piano fingers.

“Fuck you, I wanna watch him now!” she laughed.

“No!” he placed the laptop on the table and Ángela crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, what do we play?”

“Robbers,” she said confidently, grasping the rubber band keeping her hair in a sloppy, big bun behind her head and letting her locks cascade down her back. The dye was stronger around the tips. “By the 1975.”

“I’d rather do Heart Out,” he winced.

“Fine, then Heart Out,” she grabbed her phone from the coffee table and unlocked it to list the songs in her notes. “Alright, Heart Out. What else?”

“When I Find Love Again by James Blunt?” he offered.

“Okay,” she typed away. “Flashlight?”

“The Front Bottoms,” he nodded. “And Holocene?”

“Perfect,” she sighed, letting her back slide down. Her green eyes settled on a far off point on the wall. “Hmm… Jesus Christ by Brand New?”

“And Youth by Daughter,” he took a bite out of the melting ice cream. “You think Fischbach ever thinks about you?”

“Nope, why?” she didn’t look away from her screen.

“Just wondering what would be his face if you saw each other again,” Felix grinned mischievously, but stopped once she made a made. “Hey, no, com’n, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she laughed. “Whatever, it’s not gonna happen. Haven’t seen him since I was a freshmen. Who cares about that now?”

“Yeah,” Felix let the back of his head rest against the armrest of the couch. “Who cares?”