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Loren was a lonely child. On the rare occasion that he did end up near another kid, his entire demeanor seemed to spook them off.
Of course, at first, he didn’t know that he was the odd child. He didn’t know that his too-wide eyes and morbid interjections seemed off to others, nor did he know why people seemed to get so angry when he’d talk and talk, or correct them mid-sentence.
Did they not want everything to be correct?
After the first few embarrassing attempts to socialize the child, Lucius had just stopped taking the boy to places. Better to have whispers of him being embarrassed by his own son for being a bastard or an idiot instead of actually having something to be embarrassed by. But still, the boy infuriated him at times. It seemed so easy to just strike the boy to get him to shut up. It seemed easier to ignore him until the boy was only enough know shut up for long enough to pretend to be a passable heir. That day never seemed to come, though.
Why wasn’t he enough?
She hid her resentment behind lessons and tutoring. Perhaps she could fix her son. Make something out of him, even if it wasn’t a politician. She’d calm the boy after his near-nightly fits and spend the mornings teaching him to splatter paint into half-decent images. The gore and awful twisted hands he always seemed to gravitate towards bothered her, but she didn’t dare show it. Instead, they’d move on to practical lessons. While the boy struggled with mathematics, he always grasped language quite well. Talking was all the boy seemed able to do.
Did he do good this time?
The servants couldn’t decide if they were to be annoyed by or take pity on the child. The poor maid who first found him screaming and covered in red one night felt her soul nearly leave her body. The next morning, the kid was on the verge of tears because the mud felt ‘wrong’ under his sandals.
Did they want to be around him today?
Loren’s first crush thought that the strange boy leaned in too close and came on too strong. The awkward smiling and desperate fingers begging for a hand to hold only made him pull further away. He did not appreciate the awkward boy who spent more time with his gory nightmares than with people.
Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll get liked back?
His first kiss was with a boy who snickered at him once he saw the starry-eyed expression that danced across Loren’s face. It was a joke to poke fun at with friends. A kiss from Lucius Lassius’s delusional son.
He doesn’t understand why someone would pretend for that long?
Loren tried to make friends. It didn’t take long to realize that anyone who stayed around him for too long just felt bad for him or wanted his father’s money. Each time, he’d try again, and each time it’d end in an outburst. A never-ending cycle that he didn’t seem self-aware enough to fix. Someone shows up, he makes a friend, they brush him off once, and he starts yelling and crying again. It couldn’t be much simpler, could it?
Perhaps he’ll get it next time?
After all, Loren was a deeply annoying child.