these flowers are for my boys /felix+poe

People write stories about the kind of beauty that Felix was. It was a thoughtless thing to process when looking at him. He would have been the hero in some old paperback, a shining prince atop a noble steed splashed across the cover. He had loving, proud parents and a promised romance waiting for him at the end of the story. Poe had never quite understood half the references in those fictions but the point had always been clear. People like Felix were the heroes. The protagonist of the story was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed honest to god knight in shining armour.

He was probably a bottle blonde, so that cut him from the running. It had to be chemicals that made his hair look so good under the harsh fluorescents of the cafeteria. No one was that perfect looking without at least a little bit of work. As far as Poe knew, Felix was just another stepford cookie cut-out of a kid. They assumed he was like the rest of the kids that he always hung around, privileged, beloved and not left wanting.

People like him rubbed Poe the wrong way in an odd, hypocritical fashion. Poe had been born with a silver spoon in their mouth as well. Two years ago they were him, maybe in another life they would have been on the football field beside Felix. They might have been friends or at least something like it. It would have just been more of the same though, just another person kept at arm's length and in the dark.

He took Poe's joke in earnest and for a moment, they couldn't tell if Felix was just terrible at sarcasm because he steamrolled the dig with an honest answer. Poe chose to ignore that and simply nodded when Felix asked their name, so what if it wasn't really? "And you're Felix?" they asked as if the whole school didn't know who he was.

"You're telling me that you made this?" Poe asked, surprised. He picked one of the flyers up and then looked over it at Felix. "I'm shocked you'd admit that," they said, tone genuine. Kids at their school weren't kind, people would be making fun of the poster for weeks. Then again, most found that it wasn't really worth it bullying Felix. He didn't always seem to get it. "Kinda funny," they murmered before letting it fall back on the table.

Of course, someone like Felix would sign-up to do a stupid job like selling roses at lunch for the student council. For their part, Mr. Atkins had caught them with a few rollies last week and was still holding it over Poe's head. He'd confiscated the weed and given detention with the promise that he wouldn't call their father.

It wouldn't have mattered. All that would have happened would be the library suddenly being renamed to 'Edwin Kelly II' or maybe a wing or something. Poe would have gotten a slap on the wrist and told to not do it again. Then they would have. Again and again and again until everyone was sick of it, of them.

A textbook call for attention.

They wanted to get a read on Felix. It was hard when his appearance didn't seem to match his speech. Poe had been expecting a football bro, insults or pointed words that practically begged for debate. If anything he'd only come across vaguely sweet, almost childish and far too trusting sentiment.

"Sorry, no prince here, just me" they said as they leaned back in their seat, "Atkins pulled his stupid strings, thought this would be better for me than detention." It kind of was in an offhand way. Kids wouldn't stop glancing over at their little set-up.

"I couldn't care less about this and I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. Frankly I don't get why you are," Poe said, "you must be a glutton for punishment." They picked the display rose up again and rolled it gently between their thumb and pointer finger. The thorns pressed against but didn't break their skin. It was close sharpness, wickedly beautiful. "Maybe you should hold this, it matches you better."