Philip & Felix, Saturday night
Mar. 23rd, 2013 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainShaken from his discovery earlier, Felix accidentally steps into Philip's dreams instead of his own, and stays long enough to learn many interesting things about his roommate.
Philip didn't dream often, or rather he would say that he didn't often remember them. When he did though, he dreamed in startling clarity, with little of the fuzziness around the edges that would say it was a dream. It was likely a result of how he observed the world, always looking into the smallest details from childhood.
In this case, it was Christmas, the Christmas a year ago when he'd been fifteen and they'd all managed to find their way to his grandmother's home. It'd been a few years at least between those kinds of visits and it was one of Philip's fondest memories.
The house was decorated impeccably, all white lights and gold decorations, with just the right touches of red and green. Grandma was getting bored again, Philip thought as he navigated around the tree. He had to wonder if she'd be out of the country again right after Boxing Day...
Felix couldn't reach his own dream-home. Every time he reached for it, his own dreams blackened and twisted within his mind, returning to a dank and remote house in the Ozark mountains that Felix never wanted to revisit. So he fled from his own dreams, and found himself drifting from the mist of the dreamworld into a warm, welcoming, glittering home he had only seen from afar. Philip's dreams were so clear and precise. He'd been tempted before, but he'd never entered.
It was the lights, small and twinkling, that drew him in. Felix made sure he wasn't visible to Philip, not just yet, but he changed nothing about the scene. No details altered, no impulses guided. Just for a few moments, Felix only wanted to watch, and feel like a part of something good and clean and normal for awhile.
Philip stood back a little from the tree, peering between the decorations already there and what was left in the box in his hands. He hadn't been old enough to handle them the last time he'd been here, the decorations were one of the few tourist indulgences his family had, and most of them were fragile. They were all blown glass and delicate brass shapes, picked up from little shops all over the world. He cocked an ear as he worked, Grandma and Dad were in the kitchen doing something, that was his mother's footsteps upstairs he was sure of it, now where was Dedushka and did he have to worry...
As soon as Philip knew the details of the dream, Felix knew them too: where each adult was, what they were doing, their relationship to Philip and each other. The grandmother and father nearby, the mother upstairs, were all as real as the Christmas tree and Philip himself.
Curiously, Felix peeked into the kitchen, wanting a glimpse of Philip's family. The older boy's unconscious mind would fill in what he wanted to see, even if the details were vague. When would Felix ever have another chance like this? Certainly Philip wasn't likely to open up about his family on his own. Not while awake.
One deliberately heavy step behind him was all the warning Philip had as his grandfather came up behind him. He had just enough time to set the box down safely and evade, slipping out of the reach of the bear of a man. "If you make me drop that box, Grandma will shoot you again," he said, glowering at the older man.
"If I had made you drop that box, мальчик, then I will be embarrassed enough to let her," Ivan said as he stepped back and eyed his grandson. "Your mother and grandmother, they are arguing again about your path. You should tell them what you wish to do."
"I don't know yet," Philip said as he picked up the box again to finish his job. He did keep one eye on his grandfather though. "They can argue all they want, I have time to figure it out."
Felix had explored the surroundings quickly, finding more detail and more precision in Philip's dream than in most he had seen, outside of Damon's or his own. He felt a tiny bit guilty for catching a glimpse of Philip's father without his permission, but luckily for him, the sound of another grown man's voice brought Felix back to the living room. Hidden as a detached observer, Felix watched the conversation with curiosity, though not enough to reveal himself in front of an older man. Even if that older man was completely a projection of Philip's memories and emotions.
It was tempting to reach out and prod the grandfather to ask Philip a little more, but Felix remained adamant that it wasn't right to change his friends' dreams without their permission. Besides, he wanted to know what Philip really thought about what the man was saying.
"Less time than you think, my boy," Ivan said with a frown. "You will be sixteen in a few short months, why do you think that my old comrades began their recruiting early? You are coming into your growth, you are no longer so clumsy. You are intelligent enough to follow your father's footsteps if you truly wish, but to follow your mother's... Oh, my boy, you would shine."
"To do that, I'd have to know what mom really does," Philip replied blandly. Of them all, he knew that his grandfather was the only one with the smallest clue, and that was only because he was still in the game himself. Favors were a valuable thing, almost as valuable as secrets. "But you won't tell me, any more than you'll tell me who it is that's keeping Grandma's house secure. You guys are going to get caught some day. Having us here is dangerous and you know it."
Already Felix had learned more about Philip's family than his roommate had divulged in months of living together every day. He knew Philip would be upset that he'd been listening in. He knew he should leave. But the shadows of his own dreams were too upsetting to even contemplate. Even a house full of strange secrets was more comforting.
Soon, he would let them know he was here. So as not to startle Philip, he created a few quiet footfalls on the stairs, the sound of someone approaching but at a leisurely pace.
Dream logic still ruled, even though in the waking world, an extra set of footsteps would have prompted a very specific reaction from both Philip and his grandfather. In the dream though, he just took it as expected that anyone there should be there and looked up at the stairs to see who was coming.
Felix took full advantage of Philip's dreaming expectations, appearing at the end of the steps wearing a fuzzy sweater and a sweet smile. "Was real nice of you to invite me," he said right away, to explain his presence even though the timeline wouldn't match up once Philip was awake. Hanging back, as he would do in real life, Felix asked hesitantly, "Are you Philip's granddad?"
"This is my roommate, Felix," Philip put in before his grandfather had a chance to answer. The dream was still holding him enough that he wasn't bothered by the timeline trouble either. He just knew that he should say something before his grandfather... well, was himself. "He's shy," he said severely. "Don't steamroll him."
"Perish the thought, внук," the man said. "Do not try to teach the old bear how to be a diplomat, eh?" He held a hand out, smiling and friendly as he did. "Welcome, young Felix. I am Ivan, and I am indeed Philip's grandfather."
Philip would expect him to be nervous around the older man, because Felix was nervous around the headmasters and male teachers at school. Even though it was just a dream, he still got that strange tense feeling, no matter how friendly the grandfather seemed. Felix glanced at Philip, and then edged forward to offer his own slim hand for a quick shake. It wasn't really touching, so it wasn't quite as scary.
All Felix really wanted was to pretend like this was normal, even if it didn't last. Even if Philip was mad at him in the morning. He just wanted to belong to this world of warm twinkling lights and smiling grandparents (and weird international secrets) for a little while.
"Are you the one who started with the World War Two cards?" he asked curiously, once he'd stolen his hand back.
"No, no," Ivan said with a shake of his head. "That was the other grandfather. He has told you of them then, yes? You must be friends. Come, come, we are poor hosts to leave you standing here. Come meet the others," he said as he waved an expansive hand towards the kitchen.
Philip just sighed and glanced over at Felix a little apologetically. "Sorry, he gets like that. There's nothing to worry about."
His gentle suggestions had worked, as he knew they would, and Felix relaxed somewhat. Silently, he made a promise that he wouldn't change the dream any further. He wouldn't mess with Philip's head. That wouldn't be right.
"Your granddad's got style," Felix confided to Philip with a tiny smile as he followed along.
"He's got something," Philip said and in the dream, he'd unbent enough to roll his eyes. "He's been at the embassy for years though, so he talks like that to everybody." Not that Felix would likely have a clue what that meant, but it made sense in Philip's context. "But don't worry, everybody here is pretty harmless to company on a holiday. Don't let them get to you if the conversations get weird."
It was true that Felix didn't really know what Philip meant, but he nodded like he did, because he did not want to break the flow of the dream. "What, um, what kinda weird?" he asked curiously, creeping along half beside Philip, and half behind him.
"Just stories really," Philip said. "It shouldn't be that bad, Dad's work is actually pretty boring and Mom never tells anybody anything. You mostly have to worry about my grandparents getting nostalgic. If you start hearing 'remember whens', you might want to stop listening."
"Philip dear, are you telling your friend stories? You know better than that." The older of the two women in the kitchen had turned as they passed the door. watching both boys with a little smile. The voice was lightly accented British, and somehow she was still entirely elegant and perfectly put together, even through the Christmas baking. The other woman, a generation younger, was nominally engaged in doing something at the oven. She wasn't facing anyone else in the room but it didn't stop the immediate sense that she knew every detail of what was going on.
Felix hung back a a bit, but he smiled shyly at the greetings of the older people. He did not want to stand out in this dream. It was Philip's dream and he should guide it. All Felix wanted was to ride along in this warm and pleasant family environment. "Philip doesn't tell tales," he promised the adults. "So it's nice to be able to meet his family."
After a moment's fidget, he suggested, "I can help?" If Felix could fade into the background of the dream, that would allow Philip to direct his own dream again, and maybe he really could hear some of those stories.
"Don't worry about it, dear," Philip's grandmother said. She gave a little wave towards a chair and smiled. "Why don't I get you a cup of tea and a few cookies and you can just sit right there while we work. Philip, the sausages please, Julie, I'm going to need more parsnips if you would."
The darker haired woman was already at the counter, knife flashing rapidly enough that it didn't look entirely safe. Somehow she'd switched jobs without anyone really noticing. "It's good that you've got a friend, Philip," she said with half an eye on her work and half an eye on the boys. "You're turning into a hermit." Philip's mother was, if you discounted what she was doing, entirely unmemorable. Brown hair, pretty enough in an unremarkable way, you likely couldn't pick her out of a crowd if you tried, and that's how she liked it.
This was just right. Felix installed himself in the chair and settled in to watch avidly the way that Philip's family talked with and smiled at each other. There was an air of gentle, loving teasing, and a sort of relaxed freedom that Felix didn't really understand but seemed to make everyone very comfortable. Plus, Philip looked happy. That was important.
He murmured blurred words of thanks and let his presence fade toward the edges of Philip's perception, a presence but not the main focus. Surely Philip would want to talk with his parents more.
It should have looked like chaos, as Ivan drifted back into the room to pick up odds and ends for table setting. They were joined by another adult, Philip's father, and with four adults and one teenager actively moving in the space, there should have been bumpings and nudgings and all the things that happened when people shared not quite enough room. There was none of that, not even from Philip as they all unhurriedly moved around each other.
"Did you hear from Frank and Sarah?" Julie asked as she was doing some complicated vegetable carvery, turning out little flowers and roses.
"Not recently," Philip's grandmother said. "I mentioned the holidays to them, but they said they had plans. I suspect it was more that they didn't want to be in range of your father, you do know how he is about collecting favors."
Felix had never seen anyone do what Philip's mom could do with food. Not even Jean-Paul, who was practically a gourmet chef in Felix's extremely limited experience. He stared at the little flowers she was somehow creating with a knife and a zucchini. While it might have been a dream projection of Philip's, he suspected that this small detail was an actual truth, and it was pretty fascinating.
It was like a perfect dance of dishes and people, and the warmth between them all felt so real. If he weren't already asleep, Felix might have dozed in safety and comfort. Only it was much too interesting to miss even a word.
"That's because the last time he almost got blown up in Eastern Europe," Philip chimed in from his place. He was rapidly wrapping bacon strips around small sausages, his grandmother was occasionally a traditionalist about Christmas food.
"And how do you know that?" his father asked with a tilted eyebrow, first to his wife, then to his in-laws.
"Dedushka was on the phone," Philip said as he kept working, entirely unembarrassed by being caught out at eavesdropping. "It's not my fault Frank was yelling and I could hear him."
Trying not to interrupt, Felix giggled quietly. At school, he had seen Philip's bland, mis-directing honestly startle and frustrate other students who hadn't expected it from him. It was a kind of humor that some people just didn't get, but Felix loved to see.
The content of the conversation didn't escape him. Felix was a smart kid. Talk of embassies and secret jobs and overheard phone conversations, plus the prevailing feeling that everyone knew something they weren't talking about out loud? He was coming to understand that Philip's life was probably a whole lot more interesting than his roommate let people believe.
Damon would love to know this. Felix shivered where he sat. There were secrets Felix wouldn't want Damon to know. Could he really spill things that Philip didn't want people to know?
"And where were you that you heard that?" Ivan said with his own look at his grandson. "If I recall, the study has lines of sight that you could not have hidden in, as well as thick adjoining walls." Far from being disapproving, he had a teacher's curiosity for his student.
"Pried up a floorboard in the attic to get at the ductwork for the central air," Philip said without a trace of shame. "It took a little doing to hear clearly, but I managed it. I'm surprised you missed that when the house was built."
Hearing this now with the remembrance of what Damon had asked of him, Felix was suddenly unsure if he ought to be there. The less he knew, the less Damon could demand from him. Philip kept things private for a reason. Maybe they were better reasons than just being a private person.
Still, Felix couldn't help but admire Philip's resourcefulness in the story he was telling to his grandpa. He didn't really know why Philip wanted to spy on his grandparents, but with this family, maybe it was a typical thing.
"I told you he was taking after me, Mom," Julie broke in before someone else could say anything. "And he..."
"And he," Philip interrupted with a frown, as he set what he was working on down on the cutting board and started to tick off points on his fingers, "Has at least two years of high school, four years of college and a possible stint in the service to get through before I decide where I'm going. And no, you are not pulling strings for... whatever it is you'd be pulling them for. I'm doing this the right way and that's it."
And now Felix had a pretty good idea of what Philip's answer was to the question he'd asked Felix not too long ago. This was at least a big part of what would make Philip for-real happy. Knowing that was probably more than Felix really should know.
All that awaited Felix in his own dreams was fear, but he'd be a danger to Philip if he stayed. For his roommate's sake, he needed to be brave. Without distracting the rest of the dream, Felix edited himself out of the kitchen, leaving a vague sense of himself in his place so he wouldn't disturb the dream.
Philip didn't dream often, or rather he would say that he didn't often remember them. When he did though, he dreamed in startling clarity, with little of the fuzziness around the edges that would say it was a dream. It was likely a result of how he observed the world, always looking into the smallest details from childhood.
In this case, it was Christmas, the Christmas a year ago when he'd been fifteen and they'd all managed to find their way to his grandmother's home. It'd been a few years at least between those kinds of visits and it was one of Philip's fondest memories.
The house was decorated impeccably, all white lights and gold decorations, with just the right touches of red and green. Grandma was getting bored again, Philip thought as he navigated around the tree. He had to wonder if she'd be out of the country again right after Boxing Day...
Felix couldn't reach his own dream-home. Every time he reached for it, his own dreams blackened and twisted within his mind, returning to a dank and remote house in the Ozark mountains that Felix never wanted to revisit. So he fled from his own dreams, and found himself drifting from the mist of the dreamworld into a warm, welcoming, glittering home he had only seen from afar. Philip's dreams were so clear and precise. He'd been tempted before, but he'd never entered.
It was the lights, small and twinkling, that drew him in. Felix made sure he wasn't visible to Philip, not just yet, but he changed nothing about the scene. No details altered, no impulses guided. Just for a few moments, Felix only wanted to watch, and feel like a part of something good and clean and normal for awhile.
Philip stood back a little from the tree, peering between the decorations already there and what was left in the box in his hands. He hadn't been old enough to handle them the last time he'd been here, the decorations were one of the few tourist indulgences his family had, and most of them were fragile. They were all blown glass and delicate brass shapes, picked up from little shops all over the world. He cocked an ear as he worked, Grandma and Dad were in the kitchen doing something, that was his mother's footsteps upstairs he was sure of it, now where was Dedushka and did he have to worry...
As soon as Philip knew the details of the dream, Felix knew them too: where each adult was, what they were doing, their relationship to Philip and each other. The grandmother and father nearby, the mother upstairs, were all as real as the Christmas tree and Philip himself.
Curiously, Felix peeked into the kitchen, wanting a glimpse of Philip's family. The older boy's unconscious mind would fill in what he wanted to see, even if the details were vague. When would Felix ever have another chance like this? Certainly Philip wasn't likely to open up about his family on his own. Not while awake.
One deliberately heavy step behind him was all the warning Philip had as his grandfather came up behind him. He had just enough time to set the box down safely and evade, slipping out of the reach of the bear of a man. "If you make me drop that box, Grandma will shoot you again," he said, glowering at the older man.
"If I had made you drop that box, мальчик, then I will be embarrassed enough to let her," Ivan said as he stepped back and eyed his grandson. "Your mother and grandmother, they are arguing again about your path. You should tell them what you wish to do."
"I don't know yet," Philip said as he picked up the box again to finish his job. He did keep one eye on his grandfather though. "They can argue all they want, I have time to figure it out."
Felix had explored the surroundings quickly, finding more detail and more precision in Philip's dream than in most he had seen, outside of Damon's or his own. He felt a tiny bit guilty for catching a glimpse of Philip's father without his permission, but luckily for him, the sound of another grown man's voice brought Felix back to the living room. Hidden as a detached observer, Felix watched the conversation with curiosity, though not enough to reveal himself in front of an older man. Even if that older man was completely a projection of Philip's memories and emotions.
It was tempting to reach out and prod the grandfather to ask Philip a little more, but Felix remained adamant that it wasn't right to change his friends' dreams without their permission. Besides, he wanted to know what Philip really thought about what the man was saying.
"Less time than you think, my boy," Ivan said with a frown. "You will be sixteen in a few short months, why do you think that my old comrades began their recruiting early? You are coming into your growth, you are no longer so clumsy. You are intelligent enough to follow your father's footsteps if you truly wish, but to follow your mother's... Oh, my boy, you would shine."
"To do that, I'd have to know what mom really does," Philip replied blandly. Of them all, he knew that his grandfather was the only one with the smallest clue, and that was only because he was still in the game himself. Favors were a valuable thing, almost as valuable as secrets. "But you won't tell me, any more than you'll tell me who it is that's keeping Grandma's house secure. You guys are going to get caught some day. Having us here is dangerous and you know it."
Already Felix had learned more about Philip's family than his roommate had divulged in months of living together every day. He knew Philip would be upset that he'd been listening in. He knew he should leave. But the shadows of his own dreams were too upsetting to even contemplate. Even a house full of strange secrets was more comforting.
Soon, he would let them know he was here. So as not to startle Philip, he created a few quiet footfalls on the stairs, the sound of someone approaching but at a leisurely pace.
Dream logic still ruled, even though in the waking world, an extra set of footsteps would have prompted a very specific reaction from both Philip and his grandfather. In the dream though, he just took it as expected that anyone there should be there and looked up at the stairs to see who was coming.
Felix took full advantage of Philip's dreaming expectations, appearing at the end of the steps wearing a fuzzy sweater and a sweet smile. "Was real nice of you to invite me," he said right away, to explain his presence even though the timeline wouldn't match up once Philip was awake. Hanging back, as he would do in real life, Felix asked hesitantly, "Are you Philip's granddad?"
"This is my roommate, Felix," Philip put in before his grandfather had a chance to answer. The dream was still holding him enough that he wasn't bothered by the timeline trouble either. He just knew that he should say something before his grandfather... well, was himself. "He's shy," he said severely. "Don't steamroll him."
"Perish the thought, внук," the man said. "Do not try to teach the old bear how to be a diplomat, eh?" He held a hand out, smiling and friendly as he did. "Welcome, young Felix. I am Ivan, and I am indeed Philip's grandfather."
Philip would expect him to be nervous around the older man, because Felix was nervous around the headmasters and male teachers at school. Even though it was just a dream, he still got that strange tense feeling, no matter how friendly the grandfather seemed. Felix glanced at Philip, and then edged forward to offer his own slim hand for a quick shake. It wasn't really touching, so it wasn't quite as scary.
All Felix really wanted was to pretend like this was normal, even if it didn't last. Even if Philip was mad at him in the morning. He just wanted to belong to this world of warm twinkling lights and smiling grandparents (and weird international secrets) for a little while.
"Are you the one who started with the World War Two cards?" he asked curiously, once he'd stolen his hand back.
"No, no," Ivan said with a shake of his head. "That was the other grandfather. He has told you of them then, yes? You must be friends. Come, come, we are poor hosts to leave you standing here. Come meet the others," he said as he waved an expansive hand towards the kitchen.
Philip just sighed and glanced over at Felix a little apologetically. "Sorry, he gets like that. There's nothing to worry about."
His gentle suggestions had worked, as he knew they would, and Felix relaxed somewhat. Silently, he made a promise that he wouldn't change the dream any further. He wouldn't mess with Philip's head. That wouldn't be right.
"Your granddad's got style," Felix confided to Philip with a tiny smile as he followed along.
"He's got something," Philip said and in the dream, he'd unbent enough to roll his eyes. "He's been at the embassy for years though, so he talks like that to everybody." Not that Felix would likely have a clue what that meant, but it made sense in Philip's context. "But don't worry, everybody here is pretty harmless to company on a holiday. Don't let them get to you if the conversations get weird."
It was true that Felix didn't really know what Philip meant, but he nodded like he did, because he did not want to break the flow of the dream. "What, um, what kinda weird?" he asked curiously, creeping along half beside Philip, and half behind him.
"Just stories really," Philip said. "It shouldn't be that bad, Dad's work is actually pretty boring and Mom never tells anybody anything. You mostly have to worry about my grandparents getting nostalgic. If you start hearing 'remember whens', you might want to stop listening."
"Philip dear, are you telling your friend stories? You know better than that." The older of the two women in the kitchen had turned as they passed the door. watching both boys with a little smile. The voice was lightly accented British, and somehow she was still entirely elegant and perfectly put together, even through the Christmas baking. The other woman, a generation younger, was nominally engaged in doing something at the oven. She wasn't facing anyone else in the room but it didn't stop the immediate sense that she knew every detail of what was going on.
Felix hung back a a bit, but he smiled shyly at the greetings of the older people. He did not want to stand out in this dream. It was Philip's dream and he should guide it. All Felix wanted was to ride along in this warm and pleasant family environment. "Philip doesn't tell tales," he promised the adults. "So it's nice to be able to meet his family."
After a moment's fidget, he suggested, "I can help?" If Felix could fade into the background of the dream, that would allow Philip to direct his own dream again, and maybe he really could hear some of those stories.
"Don't worry about it, dear," Philip's grandmother said. She gave a little wave towards a chair and smiled. "Why don't I get you a cup of tea and a few cookies and you can just sit right there while we work. Philip, the sausages please, Julie, I'm going to need more parsnips if you would."
The darker haired woman was already at the counter, knife flashing rapidly enough that it didn't look entirely safe. Somehow she'd switched jobs without anyone really noticing. "It's good that you've got a friend, Philip," she said with half an eye on her work and half an eye on the boys. "You're turning into a hermit." Philip's mother was, if you discounted what she was doing, entirely unmemorable. Brown hair, pretty enough in an unremarkable way, you likely couldn't pick her out of a crowd if you tried, and that's how she liked it.
This was just right. Felix installed himself in the chair and settled in to watch avidly the way that Philip's family talked with and smiled at each other. There was an air of gentle, loving teasing, and a sort of relaxed freedom that Felix didn't really understand but seemed to make everyone very comfortable. Plus, Philip looked happy. That was important.
He murmured blurred words of thanks and let his presence fade toward the edges of Philip's perception, a presence but not the main focus. Surely Philip would want to talk with his parents more.
It should have looked like chaos, as Ivan drifted back into the room to pick up odds and ends for table setting. They were joined by another adult, Philip's father, and with four adults and one teenager actively moving in the space, there should have been bumpings and nudgings and all the things that happened when people shared not quite enough room. There was none of that, not even from Philip as they all unhurriedly moved around each other.
"Did you hear from Frank and Sarah?" Julie asked as she was doing some complicated vegetable carvery, turning out little flowers and roses.
"Not recently," Philip's grandmother said. "I mentioned the holidays to them, but they said they had plans. I suspect it was more that they didn't want to be in range of your father, you do know how he is about collecting favors."
Felix had never seen anyone do what Philip's mom could do with food. Not even Jean-Paul, who was practically a gourmet chef in Felix's extremely limited experience. He stared at the little flowers she was somehow creating with a knife and a zucchini. While it might have been a dream projection of Philip's, he suspected that this small detail was an actual truth, and it was pretty fascinating.
It was like a perfect dance of dishes and people, and the warmth between them all felt so real. If he weren't already asleep, Felix might have dozed in safety and comfort. Only it was much too interesting to miss even a word.
"That's because the last time he almost got blown up in Eastern Europe," Philip chimed in from his place. He was rapidly wrapping bacon strips around small sausages, his grandmother was occasionally a traditionalist about Christmas food.
"And how do you know that?" his father asked with a tilted eyebrow, first to his wife, then to his in-laws.
"Dedushka was on the phone," Philip said as he kept working, entirely unembarrassed by being caught out at eavesdropping. "It's not my fault Frank was yelling and I could hear him."
Trying not to interrupt, Felix giggled quietly. At school, he had seen Philip's bland, mis-directing honestly startle and frustrate other students who hadn't expected it from him. It was a kind of humor that some people just didn't get, but Felix loved to see.
The content of the conversation didn't escape him. Felix was a smart kid. Talk of embassies and secret jobs and overheard phone conversations, plus the prevailing feeling that everyone knew something they weren't talking about out loud? He was coming to understand that Philip's life was probably a whole lot more interesting than his roommate let people believe.
Damon would love to know this. Felix shivered where he sat. There were secrets Felix wouldn't want Damon to know. Could he really spill things that Philip didn't want people to know?
"And where were you that you heard that?" Ivan said with his own look at his grandson. "If I recall, the study has lines of sight that you could not have hidden in, as well as thick adjoining walls." Far from being disapproving, he had a teacher's curiosity for his student.
"Pried up a floorboard in the attic to get at the ductwork for the central air," Philip said without a trace of shame. "It took a little doing to hear clearly, but I managed it. I'm surprised you missed that when the house was built."
Hearing this now with the remembrance of what Damon had asked of him, Felix was suddenly unsure if he ought to be there. The less he knew, the less Damon could demand from him. Philip kept things private for a reason. Maybe they were better reasons than just being a private person.
Still, Felix couldn't help but admire Philip's resourcefulness in the story he was telling to his grandpa. He didn't really know why Philip wanted to spy on his grandparents, but with this family, maybe it was a typical thing.
"I told you he was taking after me, Mom," Julie broke in before someone else could say anything. "And he..."
"And he," Philip interrupted with a frown, as he set what he was working on down on the cutting board and started to tick off points on his fingers, "Has at least two years of high school, four years of college and a possible stint in the service to get through before I decide where I'm going. And no, you are not pulling strings for... whatever it is you'd be pulling them for. I'm doing this the right way and that's it."
And now Felix had a pretty good idea of what Philip's answer was to the question he'd asked Felix not too long ago. This was at least a big part of what would make Philip for-real happy. Knowing that was probably more than Felix really should know.
All that awaited Felix in his own dreams was fear, but he'd be a danger to Philip if he stayed. For his roommate's sake, he needed to be brave. Without distracting the rest of the dream, Felix edited himself out of the kitchen, leaving a vague sense of himself in his place so he wouldn't disturb the dream.
