So can we get some Felix angst? Like of his childhood and how his family was abusive
Also i love your stories (β ββ β’β α΄β β’β ββ )
Sure thing, and I am glad you like my stories π
The Boy Who Stopped Waiting
When Felix was born, the newspapers celebrated.
The heir had finally arrived.
Photographs of the estate appeared in magazines. Wealthy families sent flowers. Business associates congratulated his parents for securing the future of the family name.
Nobody congratulated them on having a son.
The distinction would become important later.
Felix did not understand any of that, of course. As a baby, he only understood simpler things.
And even then, he learned quickly which people would answer his cries and which would not.
The old women who worked in the mansion rocked him through fevers and carried him through endless hallways while he coughed into blankets.
Felix never thought much of it.
Children assume whatever life they are born into is normal.
So when he reached for a housekeeper instead of his mother, he didn't realize something was wrong.
When he ran to show a drawing to a servant instead of his father, he didn't realize something was missing.
To him, that was simply how families worked.
Felix was too young to remember the exact day.
He only remembered waking up sick one night and finding a large man asleep in a chair beside his bed.
The man looked uncomfortable.
His neck was bent awkwardly.
One hand still rested near Felix's mattress.
Like he had planned to stay awake.
When Felix shifted, the man opened his eyes immediately.
As if there had never been another option.
Years later, Felix would realize that was the first time somebody had chosen him without being paid to.
But at the time, he simply smiled.
By five years old, childhood had become a schedule.
Every hour carefully planned. Every mistake carefully noticed. Every failure carefully punished.
Felix learned quickly. Not because he was gifted. Because being wrong hurt.
Sometimes it was a ruler against his hands. Sometimes it was being denied dinner. Sometimes it was standing outside in the rain.
Children become very motivated when mistakes have consequences.
The strange thing was that Felix still loved his parents.
When he won awards, he carried them proudly through the mansion.
Maybe Mother would be happy. Maybe Father would smile. Maybe today would be different. Most days, they barely looked up.
"Your grades should be higher."
"β¦I'll do better next time."
And somehow he always believed there would be a next time.
A next chance to finally become enough.
The brightest part of every day came at night.
When the lessons ended. When the uncomfortable clothes came off. When the mansion grew quiet.
Felix would run to his room.
And Alistair would already be there.
Sometimes with hot chocolate. Sometimes with candy hidden in his pockets. Sometimes with a new book.
Felix would immediately climb into his lap.
Alistair would sigh dramatically.
"Kid, I've read this one twelve times."
"That's not helping your case."
And for a little while, the mansion disappeared.
Families who loved each other.
Back then Felix used to think:
One day my family will be like that too.
By ten years old, the hope started cracking.
He noticed other children weren't afraid to make mistakes. They laughed around their parents. Interrupted them. Held their hands. Asked for hugs.
Felix had never asked his parents for a hug.
When he turned twelve, everything changed.
The conversation began during a family gathering.
The adults discussed it the way merchants discussed investments.
Then his parents informed him that his future had already been planned.
A continuation of the bloodline.
Felix tried. God, he tried.
And every conversation left him feeling guilty.
Because she deserved somebody who could love her.
Eventually, he gathered enough courage to tell the truth.
He still remembers hoping. That was the worst part.
The stupid, childish hope that maybe honesty would make his parents understand him.
Instead, it got him thrown away.
Years later, Felix would struggle to remember the exact words that were shouted that night.
Trauma tends to blur details.
But he remembered the gates closing. He remembered the rain. He remembered apologizing. He remembered promising he could change.
Because when you're twelve years old, you think losing your family must somehow be your fault.
He sat outside for hours.
Waiting for someone to come back.
The older man found him curled beside the gates.
Just wrapped him in a coat and carried him away.
Felix buried his face against his shoulder.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Alistair stopped walking.
For a long moment he said nothing.
"None of this is your fault."
Not because he believed him.
But because someone had finally said it.
After that, something inside him changed.
Hope doesn't die all at once.
One disappointment at a time. One silence at a time. One absence at a time.
Until one day you realize you stopped waiting. Stopped hoping. Stopped looking toward the door.
His parents became strangers.
The housekeepers became family.
And eventually, Felix stopped measuring love through blood.
Because blood had never loved him.
Years later, when Alistair officially adopted him, Felix cried so hard he couldn't read the paperwork.
The lawyer looked concerned.
Because for the first time in his life, somebody was choosing him permanently.
The years that followed weren't perfect.
The long process of learning that being loved should not hurt.
But that is another story.
This one ends somewhere else.
Rain tapping softly against a window.
Felix sitting at his desk staring at unfinished notes.
His mind wandering somewhere he didn't want it to go.
Back to the little boy who spent years trying to earn affection.
A pair of arms wrapped around him.
Felix didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Oswald rested his chin on Felix's shoulder and nuzzled softly against his cheek.
Felix leaned back into him.
The little boy who had once waited by the gates for his parents to come back was gone.
In his place sat a man surrounded by people who chose him every day.
And in the end, that turned out to be enough.
It turned out to be a family.
