The Poet

                                    

                                          
The morning rolled by quickly, maybe it's because I didn't sleep and spent the whole night writing. I started writing to cope with the loss of my Fenic, it started with letters to him and eventually I realized how therapeutic it was to write about my feelings instead of verbalizing them. That's when I started journaling. I still write letters to him from time to time, but they remain in my journal. I can't bring them to his grave, I would if I knew where his grave was but his parents didn't approve of our relationship so when he passed and was taken to the hospital.. I was left in the dark.
Didn't get to know what hospital, didn't get to know when the funeral was or get to go to the funeral, didn't get to watch him get buried. Maybe that's for the best, I would've happily laid myself in the ground with him if I would've had that chance. Instead of having a last memory of him being buried, I have the last memory of him falling asleep peacefully.
That was peaceful, unlike this sight of Felix stirring awake while groaning and popping his back like an elderly man that bent the wrong way. Nothing is peaceful about this.
I hold back a smile and call out to him, "Are you not a morning person? Or did you just wake up on the wrong side of the.... floor?"
He looks at me through his nest of hair, "Which do you think?" His voice is all raspy, very deep too. It's like the voice all men wish they had. If I am recalling yesterday correctly, he went through damn near a whole pack of cigarettes so I'm surprised this isn't his all-day-every-day voice. I'm pretty sure it is, but yesterday was quite a day so it's all blurred together.
I shrug and then reply, "Both?" I shove the blankets off of me and then step onto the cold floorboards, they occasionally creak as I head over to the mirror.
I don't know why I bother to look at myself in them anymore, I can't see myself. It isn't like those movies where we don't have a reflection at all, we can see our skin, hair, outfits, and whatnot... just not our features: our eyes, nose, mouth. Think of slenderman, that's the best representation we've got in ages. I don't get how it works, but it sucks. I don't know what I look like now, I just don't remember, and I can't seem to find my photobook to look back on.
I can hear Felix get up behind me and I glance over to see him headed to this mirror so I step to the side, he could use it more than me; both figuratively and literally.
He sees his absolute rat's-nest of hair and quickly pushes me away as he rushes to go grab his hair tie that he took out the day before. Does he not realize brushes exist? He grabs handfuls of his hair and then shoves the hair tie on it, twisting it once so it's... floppy.
I make a 'tsk' noise and grab my brush from the dresser, extending it out to him and hoping he gets the hint. Maybe he doesn't know what a hairbrush is at all.
I clear my throat and speak out to him as I would a child, high pitched and baby-ish, "This... is a hairbrush. Can you say it with me? Haaairrr-"
Felix snatches the brush from me and then looks back at the mirror, "I'm not an incompetent child." He scoffs and takes the tie out of his hair, it gets caught a few times and I reach out to help him but he refuses the help and just yanks the tie out. Some of his hair comes out with it.
I mumble in response, "Right." I bring my hands back to my sides and then look over to the clock on the wall. We've wasted a decent amount of time bickering when we could've spent that time going to the dining hall calling first dibs so our breakfast meals wouldn't be cold. You'd think since we're royals.. or some of us are.. we'd get the best of the best treatment, such as fresh hot meals. I suppose since several royals share a castle, most of us don't get that luxury.
I waste no more time and head over back to my dresser to grab the outfit of the day, another button up and dress pants. It's basically what I wear every single day except different variations (colors). Me and Fenic never went shopping or left the castle all that often so I haven't gone shopping for any other style of clothing. 
Half of my wardrobe are my prince outfits from my childhood and the other half are stolen outfits. I also still have some of Fenic's clothes, but they don't fit me. The man was around 6'6 or 6'7, he'd say 6'9 but I doubt it; he just liked to brag about being taller.
I can hear Felix speak from behind me, still messing with his hair, "You got some extra clothes? Some that actually might fit me?" He shoves himself past me and to the wardrobe, looking at Fenic's clothes all folded nicely at the bottom. 
They're reserved. I haven't touched them since he last wore them, they're folded just how he left them. I look over to see the outfit Felix is reaching for.
"Don't-" I go to speak, but he's already unfolded and grabbed the shirt from its spot. Fenic's spot.
"This looks about my size." He looks back at me, still holding the shirt up in front of him like a display. I don't say anything more and just nod, my hands balled into fists at my sides. 
Felix stares at me in silence for a moment, I probably look mad or upset but I don't mean to. His hard gaze falls down to my balled up fists and then back to my twisted expression. 
"...Do you want it back? I can wear what I've got on." He balls up the shirt in his hands and then offers it to me. Part of me wants to snatch it from him and yell, just scream and kick him out. But I don't. I simply shake my head and gesture to him to go ahead and put it on. 
Felix looks almost hesitant and confused, but goes ahead. He leaves the room to go get dressed and I remain standing there, staring at the now empty spot at the bottom of the wardrobe. I realized from the second I laid my eyes on Felix in the ballroom how near identical they look, from the hair to the build. Is that why I couldn't tear my eyes away? Because I saw Fenic in him?
I shake my head and shut the wardrobe to go grab my own outfit for the day, I can't spend forever in my thoughts. I grab the button up and pants from the open drawer. I rush to put on the outfit so the poor man doesn't walk in on me slowly getting dressed. I think I've ruined his sanity enough already.
Felix comes back in after a few minutes, his hair finally up and brushed along with the new shirt on. He shuts the door behind him as he walks in and then he sets my brush back down where I got it from on my dresser. 
I can't help but stare at Felix. The shirt fits perfectly and for a second it's almost like Fenic never left, it's almost like he's here standing right in front of me. 
Felix furrows his brows again, not like he's mad but more.. concerned than anything. "Are you sure it's okay that I wear this? You... keep staring at me like I killed somebody or something." 
I look up from his, Fenic's, shirt and see his painted expression. "No, it's fine. Wear it..." I pause and then add in a mumble,"...It suits you." I give him a short nod and faint smile. 
He slowly nods in response and then walks back over to his pallet he made the night before, grabbing the blankets and pillows from the ground. I take them from him and walk back over to set them on top of my bed, I don't want to waste anymore time so I'll fold them when we get back from breakfast.
 
"Let's get going. I could use some pancakes right about now." I look back over at Felix, watching him stare at himself in the mirror and fix the shirt. 
I miss him.
"Alright." Felix turns to look at me over his shoulder and nods, his expression unreadable.