See, Feuilly’s not the best at self-care; oh, he can take care of himself just fine, but actually going out of his way to make himself feel better isn’t something that come naturally to him.
It happens by accident.
It wasn’t raining in the morning, though the sky was grey and the air was heavy, and it was a busy day at work so Feuilly didn’t notice when it had started pouring.
Of course, he didn’t bring an umbrella.
He closes his eyes and spends some fifteen seconds holding in his frustration; he’s tired, he wants to go home, he did not need this –
but when he opens his eyes again, he realizes the street is oddly empty; pretty much everyone must be home for dinner or had the good sense of staying in, at least until the storm passes. But, actually, the weather is pretty mild, for a late march day. So he takes off his cap and holds it under his coat – and he starts walking in the rain. He’s completely soaked in moments, of course, but it’s surprisingly relaxing. Soothing. Letting the rain drip down in hair and on his face and his neck, and just. Not letting it bother him. He wouldn’t do it everyday, because his shoes are going to take ages to dry, but he wonders a little if this is how Lesgles feel every day when something like this happens to him (and if it if, it explains quite a bit about his friend).
When Feuilly finally gets home all he wants to do is take a nap, but he really should wash first; he doesn’t have anywhere to be for the rest of the night, so he runs himself a bath, pours some of the oils Courfeyrac gave him – oh, ages ago, and that he never uses because he doesn’t even remember the last time he took a bath instead of a shower, sometimes he even forgets that he has the luxury of a bathtub in this apartment.
He ends up going to bed at 9 o’clock; it’s still raining, but quieter now. He opens his bedroom window a little to let the sound of the rain drops on the roof in as he drifts to sleep.