Chapter Text
~Bridgette~
Bridgette ran her fingers along the exterior door frame, its white paint peeled off at her gentle touch. The house that once felt so warm and inviting now felt cold. She couldn't count the memories she'd shared with her grandfather here, he had been her safe haven before she knew she needed one. A hand clasped Bridgette’s shoulder, bringing her back into the present.
“I’m alright Pa, just… lost in my thoughts.” Bridgette turned to look up at her father, smiling brightly despite her aching heart. Bridgette’s father nodded somberly, grabbing the door handle.
“Me too pumpkin, go ahead and take your time in there.” Bridgette’s father opened the door slowly, guiding Bridgette’s frail body into the abandoned house.
It was silent except for the ticking clock and the click of Bridgette’s heels on the wooden floors. All the little things that she was once comforted by had vanished. The smell of freshly baked bread was gone, only its stale scent lingered on the stone walls. Her grandfather was the one that had taught her how to make bread, kneading dough into the right shape, lovingly applying flour to the table and her hands to prevent it from sticking. When she cried about having burned her creation, he would give her eskimo kisses until she stopped balling. Then, he’d eat all the burnt parts saying ‘We have to appreciate our flaws, and I love all of yours.’ He was such a kind man, he brought warmth to all those he encountered. He was truly… Bridgette let the thought leave her mind as she looked up at the picture she had drawn of them together in her childhood. Though her art had improved significantly since then, that was the only picture of hers her grandfather had framed, he had made her sign it and said it was so she could have a copy of it when she inevitably became a famous artist. A small smile tugged at Bridgette’s lip as she turned the corner to ascend the spiral staircase to the second floor. She was supposed to turn sixteen in three weeks, and start her second year of highschool, but all that excitement hardly mattered when her family needed her now.
They had known for years of grandpa’s declining health, but it still felt so sudden. Once Bridgette reached the top of the stairs she headed into her grandfather’s bedroom, it was already cleaned out, save for a cardboard box of belongings that sat on his bed. Bridgette’s lip trembled when she saw the contents of the box. There was an envelope addressed to her, tied to a small wooden jewelry box with a blue ribbon. Tenderly, Bridgette removed the package and sat on the creaking bed. She rested the small wooden box on her lap as she untied the string to read the letter.
Bridgette,
My beautiful granddaughter, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see the young woman you become. I know that you may be sad right now, but I want you to smile. You are the most creative and positive person I know. Keep following your heart and doing the right thing. Though I may not be there, I want you to know that you are never alone. I intended to give you these for your next birthday, they were your grandmother’s, may she rest in peace, please take care of them and know your family loves you.
Hold your parents close, though they are adults, they are probably mourning too. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you have always been a blessing to us old folk. I was so lucky to have known you. Take care my dear.
A teardrop landed on the letter, smudging the ink. Bridgette sniffed, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes to will herself to stop crying. Her Pa would get worried about her if her eyes were puffy when she came back downstairs. She took a shaky breath and folded the letter back into the envelope. She wasn’t a child anymore, she should have a better rein on her emotions than this. Bridgette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would be okay, everything would be okay. When her breathing returned to normal, Bridgette opened her eyes again, looking down at the jewelry box. It was a humble wooden box with some scratches on the corners, inside of it was a pair of silver stud earrings. She stood up, taking the box and letter with her to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. Bridgette removed the hoop earrings she’d made for herself to put her grandmother’s silver studs in. When she was finished, Bridgette turned her face side to side to observe them. Though they weren’t the most flattering pair in the world, she felt warm just wearing them, as though she was being protected by her grandparents. Bridgette smiled softly and returned downstairs to greet her father with a hug.
“Thanks for bringing me here Pa.” Bridgette said softly as her father hugged her back.
“You ready to go?” He asked her, rubbing her back softly. Bridgette looked back over her shoulder at her grandparent’s place, biting on her lip.
“Actually… can I take this too?” Bridgette asked, gesturing towards the framed drawing from her youth. Her dad tilted his head but smiled.
“Sure, you did draw it after all.” He said jovially, Bridgette chuckled at his demeanor.
“It’s my best piece, I don’t think grandpa would want to see it sold in an estate sale.” She said, her father nodded knowingly.
“You know what, I think you’re right. How about we hang it in the storefront?”
“Pa!” Bridgette yelled in surprise, appalled by such a suggestion.
~Félix~
Félix sighed into his hand as he looked out the limousine’s tinted window. When his father told him he had to go to private school this year, he didn’t believe his father would make good on his word. Gabriel Agreste hardly ever seemed to remember the promises he made to his son, treating him more like an accessory than an offspring. Nathalie, Gabriel’s assistant, looked over her shoulder to eye Félix in the back seat.
“Remember, you are attending school to learn to interact with other people. It is important to be able to hold conversations and maintain a degree of elegance and formality with people from different circumstances from yourself.” She said succinctly, though Félix didn’t offer any indication that he’d heard her. Nathalie frowned but maintained her composure, he’d been like this as long as she’d known him. “It could be worse, you know. You’re attending private school for upper class kids your age, try to make friends. Melodie will be there with you to help you adjust.” At the sound of Melodie’s name Félix’s scowl deepened, Nathalie flinched at his expression, she wasn’t aware that they were no longer friends. Nathalie swallowed the lump in her throat, she’d messed up big time.
The limousine rolled to a stop in front of Collège Françoise Dupont, the chauffeur opened Félix’s door so he could step out of the vehicle, barely making it two feet before Melodie ambushed him.
“Félix! You’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” Melodie gave Félix a back-breaking hug, spinning around once before letting him back down. Félix looked over his shoulder at Nathalie, giving her a pointed scowl before standing up straight and brushing imaginary dust off his vest.
“Melodie, this is a pleasant surprise. I was unaware that you attended this school. Had I known, I would have prepared a gift, my sincere apologies.” Félix stated easily as Melodie rolled her eyes.
“No need for such formalities, I’ve known you since we were five.” A malicious smile creeped up her face “Remember that time you pretended to be Knightowl? You had a whole costume and—”
“Okay, I get your point.” Félix interrupted, clamping his hand over her mouth. “I came here a week before school starts, so would you kindly show me around campus, miss student council president?” Félix finished as Melodie pried his hand off her face.
“Sure thing grouchy-pants, next time you put your hand on my mouth, I’m going to lick you.” Melodie danced backwards a step to avoid another confrontation related to her sarcasm. She waved her arms to the front of the school. “This is the main entrance, inside on the left is the front office, to your right is the cafeteria.” Félix stepped into the building, following Melodie as she pointed excitedly to the amenities and general spaces. Much to his surprise, the school had their own fencing team and competed at the national level. In addition to that, they boasted the patronage of many influential people from across Paris, including families like the Agreste’s, Bourgeois’, Rossi’s and even artists like Jagged Stone, though he didn’t care for such vulgar music. Though he hated to admit it, Nathalie had done her research, this school wasn’t a place that just anybody could get into. At the very least, it would mean he wouldn’t be plagued by his self-proclaimed ‘fans’, stalkers to be accurate.
“...and this would be your homeroom classroom. We primarily use it to gather for weekly announcements, study hall, and career building activities. This is our last stop. Do you have any questions?” Melodie smiled brightly, her hands behind her back. Félix shook his head and looked down to adjust the cuffs of his sleeves. Melodie smirked at him. “You haven’t changed one bit. So…” Melodie sat down on one of the desks to look at him. “... how was the anniversary?” her voice became quiet, as if she was worried being too loud would cause Félix to break. Félix grabbed his elbow in an attempt to make his fingers stop shaking. She was always so direct with him. It was frustrating how quickly he lost his composure in front of her. This is why he could never consider Melodie a friend, she didn’t know when to hold her tongue or to avoid prying into his life. “That bad? I’m sorry. It gets better with time, he’ll get over it eventually, I promise.” Melodie smiled softly at him. Félix grit his teeth, trying to keep it together, he wasn’t going to react, it had already been a year since his mom passed away, but each day it seemed he and his father were growing further apart. Even when his mom was alive, his father never cared much for him as his half-son, but now, it was worse. His father hardly looked at him, only being reminded that the woman he loved was dead. If it wasn’t for Félix walking on eggshells around his old man, he would have been kicked out of the house long ago. Félix controlled his breathing and forced his hands to stop shaking, adjusting his posture once more.
“We are not friends Melodie, you don’t need to worry about me.” Félix stated clearly, though Melodie scoffed.
“Fine. Did you at least get a chance to organize her belongings? That type of stuff shouldn’t sit out for too long, it’ll just bring up bad memories.” Melodie watched as Félix averted his gaze again, “I take that as a no.” she said, crooking her eyebrow. “Félix, I swear to god.” Melodie pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. Félix sighed when Melodie jumped to her feet, springing off the desk. “You know what, I can help! I’ll sort this whole mess out in five minutes flat. I can’t believe I’ve been letting you skirt around this communication issue for the past year now. I’m a terrible friend. You two just need to have a heart to heart and communicate your feelings to each other, man to man. Easy peasy.” Melodie walked toward the door.
“Melodie.” Félix’s tone was dangerous, but she hardly cared. “I’ll clean it up tonight, and I’ll talk to my father again before school starts.” He said plainly, though Melodie looked skeptical. Félix looked to the side before whispering, “And… I’ll tell you if I need any help.” Félix promised below his breath, but Melodie let go of the door handle, embracing him once more.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Melodie let go, seeming to have relaxed slightly. She always seemed to get worked up for Félix, every emotion he wasn’t allowed to express she would express for him, it would have been pleasant if she wasn’t so annoying about it.
...
When Félix arrived home, he picked out a cardboard box containing items the staff had already set aside of his mom’s, doing his own examination of items he’d want to keep, bearing in mind to not keep everything. Most of the boxes contained clothes from the fashion shows she attended, and costumes from her days as an actress. Her old jewelry was in the form of earrings, broaches, and necklaces, which he didn’t have much taste for. After several hours, Félix was content with what he pulled out of her belongings. He only cared for three items; a family picture from his childhood, the blue lace dress she wore to his first photoshoot, and the wedding band she kept from her first marriage. Though Félix didn’t remember his biological dad, it felt important to hold on to. Even if everyone in the Agreste household forgot he wasn’t his father’s real son, neither Félix, nor Gabriel would forget. Félix held the small collection to his chest and called for a maid to remove the boxes. It had taken over a year to build up the courage to do this, but it was an important step in moving forward.
When Félix reached his room, he hung up the blue lace dress in his closet, set the family picture on his desk, and lay on his bed, staring at the wedding band in his fingers. Did she really love his biological dad? Why had they moved apart in the first place? Félix couldn’t recall since he was only two years old when his mom moved them into the Agrese estate. She never mentioned it, but he overheard the staff calling him a ‘bastard child’ behind his back before he learned of its meaning. It would have broken her heart to know that he learned the truth of his birth. Félix rolled onto his side, slipping the ring onto his finger. It felt like a dirty secret, something that only he would know the true meaning of. The ring was cold and sharp, something to keep him grounded and to remember that he was always going to be an outcast in his own house.