new years’ eve hasn’t been an event he feels interested for years now—it’s really hard to bother with the beginning of a new year when he feels as if every single one of them are gonna be the same: lots of bad things, a few good ones, much like has been lately. but the reunion with an old friend, who has passed through the same thing as him, made 2017 slightly better. and it is because of her, to stimulate her, that he finds himself using a simple, classy dark mask and a black tie in this club’s party. “i suppose this is a lesson for us both,” he comments to the short woman, the corner of his lips curling a little. “to me, because i hate this kind of event so much, yet i’m here, and to you, for needing to live a little. what don’t i do for you, kat?”

sebastien shameless supposes his parents hadn’t been selected to be part of the new law thing because they both already gave their great contribution to the wizarding world: besides him, the lacroix couple had five other children; four of which had been kicking off their life nicely in france, while the two youngers had moved to london to be closer to them. lucky were them, he thought and was sure his younger sister would agree. lucky were the older siblings, who had their life put together and were in another country, so weren’t selected to be part of any thing about this (so far, at least); and luckier were his parents for being an married couple who’ve done enough.

“it must be much easier... to marry someone because you love them and want to have kids,” he comments once they are done with dinner, raising his eyebrows at the couple before looking at violet. it wouldn’t be unusual for them to be on the couple’s house: sebastien for being their son, the woman for being friends with his mother. knowing who she is, the young man always feels quite satisfied to see her around—she’s a great company, really, someone he felt he could have some actual talk, differently than he would do with anyone else.

“i’ve been paired with this girl... she seems much more than i would aim for myself,” he comments with a snort, shaking his head a little. “you were a ravenclaw in hogwarts, weren’t you, vi?” long gone were the times he referred to her as miss langwood—too much of a kid who thinks he has the intimacy to grow nicknames to anyone, no matter if they are his parents’ friends more than his. “i believe gabriela was from there... is there anything i should know from people... in that particular house?” the question comes slowly, almost unsure, as he receives side eyes from his parents. “what! i need to know!” he defends himself.

an one in a million moment, that’s what he had heard one of his employees saying as he put a beanie on bernard’s head, covering his brown, slightly curly hair and little ears before they went out. the man doesn’t even try to defend himself, knowing it’s worthless, knowing they are all right. mathieu isn’t the most present father—far from it, he doesn’t spend time with his son, still feeling all those edgy feelings growing inside of him everytime he had to be alone with the five-year-old; but he isn’t all that bad. and perhaps it was the holiday’s spirit taking over, wanting to take the boy out for a dessert.

the simple feeling of the little, gloved hand around three of his fingers as they walked down the street was enough to make him feel as if he couldn’t do this—but one look at the little boy beside him, jumping the different paths and avoiding the lines on the sidewalk, makes his lips curl up a little. violet would definitely be the one to adore taking him out like this, with warm clothes and hearing him talk about cupcake flavors… that’s definitely the main problem of being with the kid—everything he did was enough to make him grow nostalgic, sad and missing the one who would never come back.

so lost in his thoughts, he almost freaks out when feeling the little boy letting go of his hand to get to the store—luckily, they are on the right side of the street, no need to cross it, and bernard only rushes to pull the door open. mathieu lets out a breath he hasn’t even noticed he had been holding. with a breathy laugh, he opens the door and watches his son running inside, hearing his voice greeting the girl behind the counter by her name. furrowing his eyebrows, the man looks at the her and almost rolls his eyes. “dad, do you know rory?” he hears bernard asking, looking up at him with the his big, curious eyes. “she’s always here when i come with nanny!” he proceeds, and the adult can’t help a small (though kind fake) smile as he looks at the blonde. “oh? she’s always here when i come too.” he says, not with excessive sarcasm on his tone.

“are you following me or something?” is his first reaction after bumping onto her for what seems to be the tenth time in a few months. obviously, that is an exaggeration—mathieu, as per usual, likes to make things more dramatic and bigger than they are, and his tone shows it perfectly. but, if he’s to be fair, sterling is really the last place he had expected to see tessa. seeing her in seattle was already quite a big surprise, but now they live in the same place?

few were the times they’ve crossed paths in the past ten years. it’s like a weird friendship, that loses its way suddenly and then comes back just as unexpectedly. however, it’s obvious he isn’t going to complain about it—there isn’t anyone like tessa, the one he doesn’t feel obligated to give details of his life, summing up happenings emotionless and having a good laugh. that’s the kind of thing he simply needs sometimes. “isn’t it enough we live in the same town again?”

if it wasn’t for carter, he wouldn’t be there. quite literally. it seems as if it was yesterday when they were just acquaintances working together, and mathieu needed the suggestion from an american. if it wasn’t for carter, mathieu would has only considered seattle as a suitable place to live much later, if ever. “it’s been a year,” he comments, almost nostalgic, taking a sip of his drink. “honestly, seems like much more than that… then again, i’m becoming one of those old men who think time flies and can’t keep up with the youth.”

there isn’t many places he should or wanted to be in this moment, but anywhere but there would be good enough for him. a parent-teacher conference is, definitely, the last thing he could be bothered to attend, never finding the use for it: his parents never attended his, were they really that important that he needed to do so for his son? he doesn’t think so. yet, after receiving e-mails requesting his presence, mathieu had decided it must be important.

maybe bernard is causing trouble—the simple thought almost makes him laugh, really: what kind of trouble a recently turned five year old could cause? seemed unlikely. maybe another kid is causing him trouble? could be… though still, weren’t all the kids in his class the same age? that would bring back to the former doubt. the more he thinks on reasons for him to be requested there—him, not bernard’s nanny or any of his employees—the less he understands it.

folding his white shirt sleeves to under his elbows, the man walks quickly through the private school’s hall, light eyes taking a look around but not paying close or much attention to anything. he entered the school very few times since his son started studying there, probably three times the most, but he manages to find the classroom he’s supposed to go with ease. taking his phone from his pocket, mathieu waits for his time to talk to the teacher, distractedly replying to texts from his colleagues and only lifting his face to the teacher when hearing his son’s name.

it’s just a scratch! he had said, even seeing how bad it looked: he had managed to stanch the blood, but his arm kept getting warmer, more red—it was easy to assume he could get an infection from that scratch. sebastien is not exactly regular at st mungo’s, though it’s hard to ignore his presence whenever he’s there—the tall young man who kept acting childish and frowning at any kind of procedure he had to go with after being slightly attacked by an animal (always an accident, according to him). besides, having acquaintances in the hospital had made his appearances and complaints quite funny over the past year.

“it’s just a little cut,” he mutters, taking off the small cloth he had wrapped around his arm to cover the wound so she could see. just another look at it and he knows it is getting worse, but there is only a nervous smile on his lips when he is sitting down, looking up at the blonde. optimistic is the word: he would never think it is something too bad. “ok... it doesn’t look nice, i’ll give you that...” sebastien then starts, the random rambling that keeps him from overthinking on his own, “but at least it really was an accident! this is not a bite or a supposed-to-harm scratch, you see...”