Felix always loved how Astra listened. Not just to him, but to everything, like she was in tune with a frequency no one else could hear. Or rather, no one else even bothered to. The way her gaze locked onto his when he spoke, so full of curiosity and care, made him feel…noticed. But it wasn't just the attention, it was how she listened. How she seemed to hold space for everything, even the things other people missed.
And then there was her face. Felix wasn't good at putting words to feelings, but Astra's beauty hit him like a gut punch every time. Her cheekbones caught the light just enough to make shadows dance across her skin, and her lips were full, soft, and expressive. They seemed to carry a secret smile even when she wasn't smiling at all. Her curls framed it all in their wild, unpredictable way, like she was part of the chaos but also the one holding it together. There was a timelessness to her, something he couldn't put his finger on but felt every time he looked at her too long.
When she fumbled through the word, her voice tripping over the syllables, Felix couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped him. It came from somewhere deep, shaking his chest. "You sound like you're casting some ancient curse." he teased, his grin crooked as he watched her. That lilt in her voice, the way it softened the edges of her words, always got to him. It made her sound like she belonged to another time, another world. An old Norse goddess who had somehow wandered to him. And, if he was honest, he worshiped her like one.
Her thoughts about feelings and impressions sparked something in him. He nodded, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "Yeah." Felix said, his tone softer, more deliberate. "It is sort of like that. In a way." he chuckled, picking his thoughts on the philosophy before his eyes narrowed slightly and his grin returned. "You're kind of an expert already." he watched Astra ponder over liminality, proud of himself for knowing something she'd latch onto. "I knew you'd like it." he said, his voice tinged with affection. Still, the thought of buying the books tugged at something in him, a hesitation. He didn't like the idea of blending his old life, his old self, with the circus. It didn't feel as if there was any space for it, and yet with Astra he didn't mind sharing it. "Maybe." he added, deflecting. "But it's a slippery slope. Books'll have us broke in no time."
And then she lit up about the bookstore and Felix couldn't control his own laughter. Her excitement was infectious, pulling him along before he could even think of saying no. "Instead of the club?" he asked, raising a brow. But her laughter was enough of an answer, her quick steps and bright energy leading them wherever they were heading. With Astra, Felix realized the in-between wasn't something to get through. She made it the best part.
It didn't take long to find the late night bookstore. Felix led her there, enjoying the way their movements synced without effort. Astra sometimes pulling ahead, then him steering them back on track. The place was exactly what he expected. Mismatched, cramped, every shelf packed with books in no real order. Dust hung in the air like it was part of the decor, and a grumpy man stood behind the counter, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, his gray hair poking up in wild directions. Felix's excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by quiet intrigue, his hand resting lightly on the back of Astra's neck.
"Hey, uh…" he hesitated, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. "Might be a weird request, but do you have…The Prophet? Kahlil Gibran." the man grunted in response. It wasn't clear if it was a yes or no, just a very German sounding noise but, Felix continued. "And…The Trial, Franz Kafka." that got a raised eyebrow, just as Felix expected and a wry grin crept onto his lips. "In English?" he added. The man gestured vaguely toward a darker, cluttered corner of the shop, and Felix chuckled under his breath.
The shelves in that corner seemed to press closer together yet there was something that seemed to beckon him. It had been a long time since Felix stood among books like this, and the sensation was more akin to a sad nostalgia, one he couldn't place. He led Astra down the aisle, the air full of paper and time and his hand stayed on her neck, steadying her and, maybe, himself. He took his time to scan the shelves, first finding The Prophet.
"Here." Felix said, tugging the book free, having to ensure a million more didn't tumble after it. And suddenly, holding the weight of it in his palm almost gave him a sense of old and new at once. He knew exactly what page to turn to, more or less, flipping through the paper like the book was still his ongoing read of the month. Clearing his throat, he glanced to Astra and his grin softened. His free hand returned to her, drawing her closer.
"You may strive to seek new paths, but it is the stepping upon old stones that grounds you, reminds you of what was and what could be. And yet, the crossing itself carries its own meaning, for it is there that you are truly alive." his brow raised, eyes back on her from the page. "Sounds like someone we know, don't you think?" Felix muttered, passing the book over for her to read. "I think you'd make Gibran write you love letters if he knew you."