Chapter Text
Felix Agreste knows who he is.
It's not something he often thinks about, but it is what he has been told his whole life.
First and foremost, he is the son of a world famous fashion designer—Gabriel Agreste. To a young boy who hasn't even decided if he prefers green or blue, that fact holds immense weight over him.
Felix is still unsure what the second next most important thing about him is, but he knows he is destined for greatness. His father makes sure of it. Though trapped inside the mansion three-hundred and sixty days a year, the last five days his father Gabriel chooses to take Felix along on business trips across the world. By the time he is seven, he has met names belonging to the best designers, investors, marketers and businessmen across Europe.
Christine D'Or even considers Felix her own nephew, much to Gabriel's frustration. "He's here to learn how to interact with people," Felix recalls his father saying, "not to play."
"He's well-behaved. More so than most children his age."
In the presence of all these so-called important people, his father has trained him to act as the most perfect son. The kind that makes people turn their heads and say, "Yes, Felix does bring good fortune. He has done so to you."
"Especially since your wife—"
Felix opens his eyes.
He awakes from a simple and dull sleep, just like he does everyday for three-hundred and sixty days a year. Rising from his bed, he heads to his ensuite bathroom, the door left ajar since it's solely for his use. Grey eyes meet his reflection as he inspects his appearance, a resigned sigh slipping from his lips.
The truth untold is that Felix Agreste awakes every morning with the messiest hair.
His hair has always been long and unruly. No matter how still he remains in bed, it seems he has dreams of terror that he forgets as soon as he opens his eyes. The mess of his blankets and pillows tells him he must toss and turn during the night, during which the strands of his fair blond hair escape the night gel, despite his best efforts of maintaining a refined appearance. He couldn't count how many hair care routines he has attempted.
Unfortunately for Felix, he is doomed to look like a mop every morning. He looks like a completely different person as well.
He should inform Natalie that he needs a haircut soon, as the strands have grown an inch this month. Though long, it does appear much shorter when neatly combed and gelled.
It is important that his father never knows what Felix looks like when he is a mess. As isolating as it was at the start, it has been beneficial that he and his father now sleep in opposite wings of the Agreste mansion. Rarely do they eat breakfast together due to their differing schedules. Moreover, since Felix was young, his babysitter has performed an exceptional effort in ensuring that the young heir is as presentable as possible, no matter the situation or event.
Today, however, Felix's father has requested that he should come down to the second floor, where the breakfast room is located in the most pleasant area, bathed in beautiful sunlight, to join him for breakfast at half past seven. His father's most loyal secretary, who is the so-called Nathalie, has informed Felix prior that he wishes to personally deliver an important piece of information to his son.
It would be great to hear of another trip, though his five days have been used up earlier in December for a winter fashion show in Sweden. He has been thinking about it all night, ruminating on what his father could potentially be withholding all summer. It couldn't be life threatening, at least that is what he tells himself as his hands sweat in their fixed position, already prepared for a guillotine.
He tries his best not to overthink, and subsequently drowned himself in homework until the late hour of one in the morning. Being homeschooled, he studies year-round.
Perhaps one of the biggest underlying thoughts that has been creeping up on his skin is that he and his father may be leaving Paris for elsewhere. Not that it would exactly impact him, but there would certainly be reasons as to why. And if Felix knows anything about his father, it's that Gabriel Agreste keeps secrets.
But Felix tries not to be surprised at this, no other reason should surprise him either.
After all, his life is rather monotonous.
After combing and gelling his hair, he quickly checks his schedule.
Today's subjects are Biology, Chemistry, Piano, History, Geography and Literature. He doesn't dwell on any of these subjects, as he has no particular favourite. In fact, he has no favourite at all.
He just particularly dislikes his History teacher, the man talks so much.
"You know you are a lucky boy, aren't you? Felix, a name meaning luck. You are going to make your father extremely proud one day. You know, your father does this all for you. He wants the best for you and he wants you to be the best, of all of the rest. You know that, don't you? Of course you do, you know everything. Your mother will be proud too. Ah, sorry, it wasn't my right to speak of her."
Felix makes his way to breakfast.
♡
The curtains have been drawn to welcome the last of the August sun inside the mansion. Felix smells coffee, and it is rather quiet at this time of the day with as little people in the house as possible.
When he arrives at the door, he doesn't make the effort to knock and walks straight in.
His father nearly jolts up, but simply turns to look at him. A servant is pouring his coffee and Gabriel quickly mutters, "That's enough," before turning his attention back to Felix. "Good morning, Felix. You surprised me there."
He looks to the two servants standing on the side. They look away, as they are always instructed to. Felix is not even sure if his father eats breakfast at the same time as him. In fact, his father is so glacial that the very act of watching him eat dinner perplexes him. No fresh croissant or warm stew or French onion soup could ever defrost his cold, dead heart.
"Sorry, I forgot to knock." And to make a point, Felix adds: "I'm used to eating breakfast alone."
"I meant that you are five minutes early."
"So are you." Felix sits down.
Gabriel clears his throat. "I suppose so. I wanted to prepare myself before speaking to you."
A small white plate has already been placed on the table for Felix. A cup and saucer is also placed to Felix's side with the coffee, milk and sugar in their separate small containers displayed. There are napkins, too, neatly folded.
Felix begins to pour his own coffee, ignoring the milk and sugar. All the while, his gaze remains on his father's. This is for certain not a dream. "What reason do you have to see me for, father?"
"Well, you are my son. We are family, and I don't think that I should have an excuse to see you," he simply answers. Then, he asks with a seemingly genuine concern, "Is it wrong to see you?"
Felix sets his cup down after taking a sip.
"No."
"I feel the need to tell you something and I must tell it to you personally, since I am your father. I was going to get Nathalie to pass on the message but then I decided against it." One servant tends to Gabriel and offers him a croissant, which Gabriel gladly takes. The other tends to Felix. "She agreed that I should tell you myself."
Felix wants to shrug. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wouldn't affect me much. Regardless of who tells me."
"I wanted to know how you feel about it," he explains, though briefly Felix catches a glint of regret in his eyes as soon as he says those words. His father coughs before adding, "Not that you have much of a choice or say in the matter, even if you don't like the decisions I made. Everything has already been planned since early summer."
Felix stops chewing and swallows before asking, "And you decided to tell me now?"
"I was… busy."
How strange, Felix thinks, his father never made excuses. All news, whether good or bad, has always been stated with a kind of harshness and usually immediately. It is worse when it is bad news, but Felix has learnt to accept it regardless "So, what is it then?"
"You are going to public high school."
Felix finishes his croissant and takes a sip of his coffee; he makes no effort to follow up the statement or continue the conversation.
"You are not questioning me why."
"I am not really interested in why," lies Felix.
"Of course. You have always been like this. Sure, you must be glad to be able to get out of the house now, more frequently, since school starts on the first of September." His father always seems to make assumptions of Felix, never caring to confirm them to be true or false. He continues: "I chose to tell you a week before so you have time to prepare, adjustment might be quite difficult and I can understand that. Still, Lycée Françoise Dupont is a good school as I have heard. I fully trust the principal's words." Felix notices Gabriel's attempt to not look at his own son in the eye. "I think it would be good for you, my son."
Ah, those words that sound as though Felix matters.
Gabriel continues.
"You are a good student, and I am aware of how I've said many times before that I am the only one who knows you well enough to provide you the best education possible. However, your tutors have told me that you are well ahead of all the subject curriculums, and you have already completed the subject exams for tenth grade last year, simply because your tutors believed you are capable enough to skip a grade. I have decided that you will be repeating tenth grade. The principal has kindly offered you the choice to skip your exams."
It's difficult for Felix to refrain from raising his eyebrow slightly.
Upon seeing this, Gabriel quickly answers Felix's thoughts: "You must be wondering why even bother if you are repeating a year. This is so that you don't have to focus on education, instead, I want you to focus on making connections with peers your age so that you are more prepared to collaborate with future business partners."
"Don't I already have experience going on business trips with you?"
"It is… different, my son." He sighs quietly and takes his time to think of an answer. "You are very reclusive. The thing about public school is that you interact with people… you don't like. You work with them. You tolerate them. If you are smart enough, which I know you are, you get them to do things for you. Of course, I don't mean bully and harass them, or steal their lunch money. I mean in the sense of transactional favours. It's fine if you don't like any of your peers, you don't have to. I just want you to get along with them. This… does mean you have to make friends..."
Felix stares at his father blankly.
"Or, if you don't want to do any of that, that is fine too,"
"I think I will do just that."
It is, in truth, a lot of information to take in for Felix. His father never really trusted anyone other than himself, he does not even trust his own son and it is the reason why Felix has been homeschooled for ten years. To even find tutors who are perfect for Felix have been proven a difficult job previously.
"What about my tutors?" Felix inquires thoughtfully, "what will happen to them?"
"They have other students to take care of," he answers as he adjusts himself slightly in his seat, his arms come close and his hands rest over one another. "School is starting again so it must be particularly busy for them. Not everyone studies during the summer." Gabriel pauses, breathes lightly, ponders about his next words and continues: "The thing is… Felix, I am going to be very busy this year. I do not have as much time as I previously had to be able to plan out your daily schedules, and my secretary Nathalie will be accompanying me frequently. Now, I have realised: I do not give you enough freedom. So it is a final decision made by me to grant you the ability to leave the house any time you wish, so long as you arrive home before curfew."
A thought gnaws into his head, wondering if there is a deeper purpose for his father to have him attend public school, or is this simply the regret of a man who spent years shielding his son from the world?
"I also require you to know that Paris has become more dangerous recently, so you must be wary of your surroundings. Be cautious of certain people."
As contradicting as his father's words may be, Felix has long stopped focusing.
Gabriel pushes his chair back and stands up, and then walks over to Felix with controlled footsteps. Extending his hand, He caresses Felix's cheek. With his thumb, he removes the crumbs on his son's lips and then wipes it off on an extra napkin. It is much, much different from the time when Felix was five or so and his father would pick him up—albeit roughly—by the waist and hips and make him fly in the air. His tender touch is now dead cold despite the whole house constantly being heated, or the fact that it is currently summer.
"Do you understand me?"
"Of course."
"You know that I am only trying to help you grow as a person."
Felix swallows his saliva until his mouth is dry. Not wanting to move a single inch of his body, he lets his fingertips burn against the hot coffee. "I know."
"It is good that you know, so please do good," he says, although Felix does not know what he means exactly.
Felix watches his father leave the room, and it is that even after the door is closed, his eyes linger at the door. A shiver runs along his skin slowly, the uncomfortable feeling it leaves makes him want to rub it off or scratch it away. Breathing, all of a sudden, feels very uncomfortable. His father seems to have an immense effect on him to which he cannot describe.
He tries not to think too much of what has just happened, tries not to wonder what his father had been thinking during the entire time.
A slow blink soon forces him out of the reverie, his gaze is averted back to the breakfast and he decides that he does not want to eat any more.
♡
Through the tall, polished windows of the Agreste mansion, a solitary boy with blond hair can be seen viewing the city of Paris, from all its people to all of its pigeons.
With the way he watches the city, through the lenses that are grey eyes deprived of all colour and emotions, it certainly makes one wonder what he is thinking when he views such things. Day by day, he is filling into the mould of his father and he is not sure if this is who he really is.
Barely, he sees his own reflection.
Up close, his features are finely drawn. Sharpened by the years. His eyes are narrow, framed by long, pale lashes that always seem to poke into his eyes—especially now, in this very moment. Which is becoming very irritating. The world is ugly enough, he doesn't wish to look at it either but his father will be immensely disappointed if Felix ends up with a blind and bleeding eye.
His nose is high and slender, the tip gently lowered in a subtle arc. He, himself, is quite tall but he is always seen with his head looking downwards. His back remains straight throughout the day, a posture drilled into him since childhood, his body is rather slender, and he wears clothes that tells people he is a young businessman.
Today, he dons a grey long-sleeved shirt under a fitted black vest, paired with matching trousers and polished lace-up shoes. A sleek black tie completes the look. His nails are always well taken care of, like the rest of his body.
Other than his natural hair and fair skin, granted by his deceased mother, he is still yet to be embellished by the sun. His father has long since said 'hello' to the sun. His heart has yet to open up and Felix, himself, has yet to accept the world for what it is.
.
.
.
His father is a depressed man who is using his career to distract himself, who wishes he was alone than with the eyes of his lover in the face of himself.