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"you're quiet" I am gatekeeping my personality from you
GROUP:Blackstorm
AGE:28 yrs old
PRONOUNS:he/him
HEIGHT:5'7
SEXUALITY:demisexual
GIFT:precognition & psychometry
OCCUPATION:independent contractor
WRITTEN:103 posts
POINTS:
Post by Felix Golding on Sept 8, 2023 8:31:36 GMT -5
PERSONALITY
Zodiac: Scorpio Sun, Scorpio Moon, Virgo Rising, Libra Mercury, Scorpio Venus, Sagittarius Mars, Sagittarius Jupiter, Pisces Saturn [ astro chart here] Alignment: True Neutral Temperament: Melancholic MBTI: ISTP [ the craftsman] Hobbies: running, drawing, writing, stargazing, cooking, people-watching, eavesdropping Talents: lockpicking, knife throwing, bartending, bespoke mixology, dealing cards, poker face, smoke tricks, lip reading, exceptionally fast runner, artistic capability, naturally good singing voice, can whistle like a bird, can play piano Quirks: doodles, hates open doors, watches tv with the sound off, avoids crowds, cares more about the texture of food than the flavor, larger-than-normal personal space bubble, touch starved, hates being touched, always cold, sorts his candy by color before he eats it, mildly superstitious Vices: chain smoking cigarettes, drinking too much (vodka and coffee), weed, pills Voice: soft and husky and a little raspy Scent: cedar and bergamot deodorant, faintly floral shampoo, citrus body wash, doesn't use cologne Sleeping Position: curled up in a ball on his side with a hand on the knife under his pillow Physical Health: sleep deprived, mildly dehydrated, underfed, chronic pain Mental Health: PTSD, depression, anxiety, occasional suicidal ideation, frequent disassociation SEXUALITY
Status: single, not looking
Love Language: words of affirmation, quality time
Attachment Style: disorganized
Turn Ons: being listened to, explicit and enthusiastic consent, intelligence, competency, praise, lingerie
Turn Offs: being touched without permission, being bossed around, manhandling, being restrained
Ideal Partner: someone who knows how to respect boundaries and doesn't make assumptions, someone who understands him, who can see all of the worst parts of him, and of his past, and not flinch, someone he can trust, that can make him feel safe when he's with them, gender and appearance are irrelevant
Sexual Experience: he has slept with men a few different times, and a couple of women, but never the same person twice. Has done very little other than basic sex. Hasn't had a sexual relationship since his early twenties, because he concluded that he didn't really like it any of the times he hooked up. It's extremely rare for him to feel any sort of sexual urge. He's never had a romantic relationship. He doesn't realize he's demisexual, he just thinks there's something wrong with him.
FAVORITES
Color: purple Animal: dog Weather: cold and sunny Season: autumn Holiday: halloween Snack: cookies Candy: turtles Gum: juicy fruit Meal: Aunt Maisy's shepherd's pie Dessert: chocolate cake Fruit: starfruit Ice Cream: rocky road Non-Alcoholic Drink: coffee Alcoholic Drink: vodka Music Genres: hard rock, metal, electronica, rap Movie: Mad Max: Fury RoadBook: Green by Jay Lake State: California LEAST FAVORITES Color: red Animal: cat Weather: hot and muggy Season: spring Holiday: easter Snack: veggie sticks Candy: licorice Gum: cinnamon Meal: his mother's meatloaf Dessert: carrot cake Fruit: mango Ice Cream: pistachio Non-Alcoholic Drink: water Alcoholic Drink: tequila Music Genres: jazz, classical, emo punk/rock Movie: The DepartedBook: LolitaState: Nevada OPINION & EXPERIENCE
GIFTEDS: Felix sees gifted individuals as being on an entirely different level than the ungifted, but whether they're on a lower or higher level depends on the person and the gift. He knows from extensive personal experience that ungifted people can be just as dangerous as gifted, but that doesn't keep him from having less trust for those who are gifted, just going on instinct. Those that are gifted have a whole extra aspect he has to account for when assessing whether or not they're a threat to him, which makes him automatically more on guard with them.
HUMANS: The majority of his bad experiences and memories are due to regular, ungifted humans. Even so, he doesn't see them as lesser than ungifted because of that. He knows their status as ungifted has nothing to do with whether they're terrible people or not.
HUNTERS: He's had a few minor run-ins with hunters in the past, but not since he came to Los Eurosia and has been laying low, for the most part. The existence of hunters makes him reasonably anxious, but he's confident his abilities are, in general, not ostentatious enough to draw their attention to him. One one hand, he agrees that some gifted people should probably be killed. Those that have done terrible things with their gifts, for example. On the other hand, he doesn't agree that all gifted people deserve to die, and thinks that hunters are stupid and illogical for believing that. Especially since some of them are gifted, themselves.
SECTOR: He doesn't know a lot about the sector, other than what he's heard from other Blackstorm members, and he's never had any run-ins with them, personally. He understands the need for them, however.
BLACKSTORM: His relationship with the organization he's a part of is complicated. He doesn't believe in gifted supremacy, and he doesn't care about freely using his power and not having to hide it--he'd prefer to keep it to himself, actually--but he understands why others would rather not hide. He doesn't think gifted people deserve to be killed, or imprisoned, or otherwise hassled for their powers, but he also believes that some gifted people are dangerous and that their gifts need to be tempered or subdued. He is not blindly loyal to the cause, the way that his Aunt Maisy was, but he is willing to help, when needed, as long as he doesn't disagree with what he's asked to do.
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"you're quiet" I am gatekeeping my personality from you
GROUP:Blackstorm
AGE:28 yrs old
PRONOUNS:he/him
HEIGHT:5'7
SEXUALITY:demisexual
GIFT:precognition & psychometry
OCCUPATION:independent contractor
WRITTEN:103 posts
POINTS:
Post by Felix Golding on Sept 8, 2023 8:35:01 GMT -5
| CASS HARLOW neutral | curious | suspicious impression: opportunistic A mysterious man seen once during a rainstorm after some suspicious happenings. more TBDTHREADS TOGETHER - ghosting along (finished) |
| CHARLOTTE LEWIS neutral | distrust impression: deceptive A woman who gave him a tarot reading once. Felix thinks every word out of her mouth was complete bullshit. more TBDTHREADS TOGETHER - reading the future (finished) |
| KATRINA WELLS neutral | annoyed impression: gullible A girl who happened to be in the same tour group as him for a ghost tour. Doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself. more TBDTHREADS TOGETHER - ghosting along (finished) |
| NOAH ST. CLOUD blackstorm | curious | annoyed | reluctant fondness impression: dangerous, facetious, observant, persistent, generous Noah is a fellow Blackstorm member, and Felix met him on a simple job that turned into a complicated rescue mission. Noah is irritating and infuriating, yet capable and competent. He's also dangerous, in more ways than one, and unpredictable, and Felix is incredibly wary of him. Still, he's curious about him, and annoyed at himself for feeling that way at the same time. His curiosity is even more aroused by a prophetic dream he had about Noah after their first meeting. A dream he is still trying to work out and come to terms with. According to the dream, he will one day have some sort of trust for Noah, though he can't quite believe it, based on where they're at now. Besides all that, Noah is one of the few people who acknowledged Felix's birthday. He doesn't know how he found out when it was but, joke gift aside, he appreciates it nonetheless. Though he doesn't intend to ever express that appreciation, because he doesn't want to encourage him. The two of them text often, and though Noah can be annoying, he's also generous and thoughtful, and Felix actually appreciates the option of having someone to talk to if he ever feels like it, though he rarely does. more TBD
THREADS TOGETHER - your safest bet- slip into familiar ways- no time like the purr-esent (post thread) - meow (text thread) - no bib, no crib, no problem (text thread) - next year I could be just as good (post thread) - do all catboys hate you or is it just me? (text thread) |
| VIVIAN COLT (48) mother | disliked GIFTED WITH PRECOGNITION impression: selfish, controlling, neglectful Vivian was a teenager when she had her son, which Felix can acknowledge may have accounted for some of her behavior. Her parenting style alternated between overly controlling and completely neglectful, and which she chose seemed to depend on the boyfriend she was with at the time. She let her boyfriends abuse her son and never stepped in to stop it, prioritizing her relationship with them over her son. When Felix was 10, a rich man proposed to her, but didn't want Felix around, and she dumped him with his father without a second thought and never looked back. Felix hasn't seen or spoken to her since. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
| PIERCE GOLDING (54) father | hated UNGIFTED impression: hot-headed, greedy, cold, distant, detached Before Felix started living with Pierce, he had only met him a handful of times. Pierce didn't want a child, and he made that very clear. Felix was expected to stay out of Pierce's way, which wasn't hard because he was gone a lot of the time. He let many of his friends and associates use his home as they wished, though, so there was a constant rotation of dangerous criminals coming and going. Felix tried to stay out of their way, too, but wasn't always successful. Pierce didn't care, and even at times profited from the abuse that his friends put Felix through. He kicked Felix out of his house when Felix was 15, after he stabbed a man in self-defense. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
| TRAVIS COLT (51) uncle | liked | avoiding | it's complicated GIFTED WITH PSYCHIC TRACKING impression: driven, manipulative, controlling, detached, stern, goal-oriented Travis and Felix took road trips together while Felix was growing up, and Travis was the one who first taught Felix how to properly wield a knife. He suspected that things weren't good for Felix at home, but didn't know the details, and never asked. His version of helping was to teach Felix to defend himself and to get him away from home once in a while. He always believed it was up to Felix to be strong enough to help himself, and it wasn't until Felix stabbed a man in defense of himself, proving, in Travis' eyes, that he was strong, that Travis was willing to take him in. He immediately started Felix's training to be a bounty hunter with him, and often had him use his gifts on command. Travis always saw Felix's potential and strength, where no one else did, and Felix was desperate for his uncle's approval and praise. It wasn't until Felix got older that he realized his uncle only saw him as a tool. A thing he could use to further his own goals. He stopped working with his uncle, and their relationship became strained. More and more as time went on. He still used his gifts sometimes, when Travis asked, but he didn't accompany him on any more jobs. Travis put Felix in contact with Blackstorm when he moved to Los Eurosia, and Felix is grateful he can still be useful for something bigger than himself, while being out from under his uncle's thumb. He hasn't answered a call from Travis in months. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
| MAISY DAUNT (deceased) aunt | loved WAS GIFTED WITH MEDIUMSHIP impression: caring, accommodating, bleeding heart, meddler Maisy was the only person in Felix's life who ever tried to show him tenderness and take care of him in a loving way, though he mostly resisted her attempts, unused to the treatment, especially once he got older. Maisy was prone to taking in strays of all kinds, be it human or animal, and her home was always a safe place for any of her nieces, nephews, or grandchildren. The only family members in her will when she died were Rowan and Felix, because she knew they most needed what she could provide for them. Her spirit still lingers in her home, watching over all her strays and eager for their happiness and contentment. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
| ROWAN DAUNT (30) cousin | housemate | liked (usually) GIFTED WITH EMPATHY & CLAIRVOYANCE impression: outgoing, sincere, insightful, generous, pushy, nosy, meddler Rowan moved into Maisy's house at about the same time Felix did, after the funeral. He inherited Maisy's antique store, and he's only supposed to stay in town long enough to help Felix sort through Maisy's things and sell the store. He's been dragging his feet, though, and is starting to think maybe he shouldn't sell it after all. He kind of wants to stay in Los Eurosia indefinitely. It's not like he has anything to go back to. Rowan and Felix spent a good bit of time together at Maisy's house when they were children, both escaping terrible families. Rowan was the only cousin Felix managed to bond with, probably because Rowan's empathy helped him to determine when Felix wanted to be left alone, and what he needed. These days Rowan sometimes struggles not to use his gift on Felix, because he knows Felix hates it much more than he did when they were kids. But sometimes he just can't help himself. He knows Felix suffered a far worse childhood than he did, but he doesn't know the details, because Felix won't talk about it. He does his best to help Felix when he can, pushing him to be social and not be so alone, always walking the knife's edge of pushing his cousin so far that he pushes him away. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) - ghosting along- reading the future- slip into familiar ways- meow (mentioned) |
| RILEY SANGSTER (26) housemate | neutral GIFTED WITH INTUITIVE APTITUDE impression: sweet, shy, talkative, basket-case, worrier, creative Riley was already living in Maisy's house when Felix moved in. She's the heart of the group, always worrying about everyone's well-being and urging them to be nicer to each other. Her gift helps her keep things running smoothly in the house; anytime something breaks she's the one that fixes it. Riley worries about Felix in a way that reminds him of Maisy sometimes, and he doesn't appreciate it. She talks too much, but it can be nice, because she doesn't always expect him to answer back, she's just filling the silence. Riley has feelings for Rowan, and if Felix can see that, it must mean they're pretty obvious, because he's usually oblivious to such things. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) - ghosting along- reading the future |
| CAFFERY MAYFIELD (24) housemate | neutral-dislike (depending on the day) GIFTED WITH CLONING impression: direct, impulsive, manipulative, loyal, nosy Another resident of Maisy's house, taken in before Felix arrived. Caffery was very close with Maisy before she died, and took her death the hardest. He and Harper butt heads a lot, but they also team up to tease Rowan and Riley. Felix doesn't hate Caffery, but he dislikes him the most of his housemates. He asks too many questions, and always tries to get Felix to talk to him or entertain him or "hang out". Felix mostly avoids him when possible. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
| HARPER VATES (31) housemate | neutral GIFTED WITH HYDROKINESIS impression: proud, composed, bossy, goal-oriented Harper keeps saying she's only going to stay at Maisy's house a short time, but it's been months and she hasn't found a new place yet. Her housemates suspect she isn't even trying. Not that they don't mind, since she and Rowan do most of the cleaning and keeping up with the house. Of the three strangers that Felix lives with, Harper is his favorite. She's always urging the others to leave him alone, and she never expects anything from him or pushes him to socialize. They often sit quietly in the garden together smoking cigarettes and not talking. APPEARING THREADS - all that glitters is not gold (one-shots) |
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"you're quiet" I am gatekeeping my personality from you
GROUP:Blackstorm
AGE:28 yrs old
PRONOUNS:he/him
HEIGHT:5'7
SEXUALITY:demisexual
GIFT:precognition & psychometry
OCCUPATION:independent contractor
WRITTEN:103 posts
POINTS:
Post by Felix Golding on Oct 5, 2023 16:44:08 GMT -5
 SNAP-SHOTS
Bits and pieces of Felix's life over the years.
GENERAL CONTENT WARNING FOR
A LOT OF DARK TOPICS AND IMPLICATIONS
READER DISCRETION ADVISED TEN Felix was ten-years-old when he discovered the joy of running. When he learned how to keep running even when his lungs burned and his legs felt like they would collapse underneath him. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, as long as he put as much distance between himself and his father’s apartment as he could.
He always went back of course. Eventually. He was only ten, after all, where else could he go? His mother didn’t want him, his uncle didn’t want him. His father was the only one willing to feed him, clothe him, and give him somewhere to sleep. He traded his safety, his peace, for food and shelter, because he didn’t know any better.
He had, stupidly, hoped that living with his father would be better than living with his mother had been. That there would be less fear, less threat, less pain.
He was so, so stupid for the hope he’d felt; things were worse than ever.
The only difference was that the caliber of threat had changed. The men hurting him now weren’t just his mother’s piece of shit boyfriends who hurt him out of a fucked up need to feel powerful and take their anger out on something smaller and weaker than them. Now they were his father’s piece of shit criminal friends who hurt him in different, more twisted ways. They hurt him not because of anger, and not only to make themselves feel more powerful. They hurt him because they liked it, because they wanted his pain and fear. Because they got off on it. Because they could.
He'd already learned, by then, to control his expressions, because if he didn’t give a reaction, many of the men tended to lose interest quickly. Sometimes it made them try harder to break him, as if it was a threat to their pride that they couldn’t make a child respond in pain or fear, and those were the men he ran from, when he could.
Controlling his expressions was hard, so he moved on to controlling the cause of his expressions. He learned to control his emotions. To slip into a state of disassociation, where nothing he felt could reach him, and his face would remain blank.
It became his most effective method for self-preservation.
Running was second.
TWELVE The stench of sweat and cinnamon gum and pungent cologne. The flash of a camera. A line of fire across his throat, cutting too deep because of his struggling. The crack of bone followed by blinding pain, a result of thrashing so violently against the hands that held him.
It was all just like it had been in his dream three nights prior.
The dreams were nothing new. He’d had them for years, just like his mother used to, predicting terrible things before they happened, being called crazy by his mother’s boyfriends, crazy like she was, when either of them dared to speak up about anything they’d seen in their dreams.
This was the first time he’d tried really hard to change his fate, though.
It had all been pointless. He’d still ended up exactly where his dream had shown him being.
Through the haze of pain and fear and anger, it occurred to him that in trying to keep it from happening, everything he had done had put him on the path directly toward this very moment. In trying to change it, he had only ensured it would happen.
The broken knee, the slices all over his body, the sheets drenched in blood.
Was all of it his fault?
THIRTEEN The first time Felix realized he had another ability, something his mother didn’t have, separate from his stupid and useless precognitive dreams, he was at Aunt Maisy’s house. He was helping her sort through stacks upon stacks of old books, and one of them had contained such a powerful and emotional echo of memory that it had jolted though him like an electric shock. For a moment, he’d been convinced he’d had a waking vision.
When he revealed the experience, Uncle Travis was delighted, taking pleasure in testing the limits of his newfound power and seeing how far he could push it. Testing out different ways it could be used.
Aunt Maisy was fascinated by it, too, and got a kick out of it when she would hand him something of hers and he could tell her exactly where it had come from and how long she’d had it, among other things.
They stayed at Maisy’s for longer than usual that time, but Felix didn’t mind indulging them for as long as they wanted, knowing the longer he drew it out the more time he’d be able to spend away from his father’s place. Away from the ever-revolving door of unwanted touch.
He’d been quiet and withdrawn when Uncle Travis had picked him up, even more than he usually was, and nothing Travis did would draw him out of his shell. Instead of the usual road trip stops and games, Travis drove them straight to Los Eurosia, straight to Maisy. Even once he was there, it had taken him days to snap out of it, to drop his guard and relax.
Felix heard Uncle Travis and Aunt Maisy shouting at each other sometimes during that visit, and he knew it was about him, but he didn’t know any more than that. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t care, as long as they didn’t make him go back to his father.
FOURTEEN Felix had just finished his first journal ever, and he’d decided he wanted to get rid of it.
He’d been keeping it since he was ten, when he’d first moved to his father’s house. His father was much less observant of how he spent his time than his mother had been, and all it took was shoving the book under his bed to keep it hidden.
He’d gotten the idea from some cartoon he was watching. The little girl in the show was very protective of her diary, and she had neglectful and careless parents that reminded him a bit of his own, so he had felt a kinship with her. She was strong and smart and didn’t let anyone push her around, and he wanted to be more like her. So he’d started keeping a journal of his own.
Four years later, the thing was stuffed full. Once he’d run out of pages, he’d started writing on loose leaf and adding them in, not wanting to part with his trusty confidant, or move onto a new one.
He had never re-read his earlier entries. Not until recently, with his own memory echoes pinging around in his head and making him sick. Which was when he decided it was time to move on.
He held the book in one hand and a lighter in the other. Once he lit it, he held on until the fire started to lick at his fingers, and then he dropped it on the cement floor of his father’s fourth floor apartment balcony and watched the pages curl and burn.
It became a ritual after that. He never let any of his journals get as full as the first one had been, always ending them on the last page. Then he would burn them, watching all of his words and drawings catch flame and blow away in the wind, the way he wished the memories would.
FIFTEEN The man Pierce had left Felix alone with was someone who was very familiar to him, at that point. Money changed hands, as it always did before Felix was left alone with this man, and it had only just occurred to him why that might be. He’d always assumed that the man was giving his father money to get him drugs, or guns, or something like that, because his father did that for a lot of people. Now he realized that wasn’t what was happening at all. The man was paying his father to be left alone with him. And his father was agreeing to it. Had been pimping his son out to this man since Felix was thirteen.
The anger at the thought of that, even after everything Felix had been through, was what made him snap. The knife was out of his pocket and in his hand almost before he even realized it. The man laughed at him when he saw it, not taking him seriously, not afraid at all.
And why would he be? Felix had always been small and delicate, and even at fifteen he had yet to have a growth spurt. The man didn’t know he’d been trained to use the knife in the most lethal way possible. He didn’t know how willing Felix was to use it in that moment.
He fisted a hand in the front of Felix’s shirt, completely ignoring the knife, and dragged him in close, so close Felix could feel his hot breath. Felix started to shake, afraid of what he was about to do to the man, but knowing that he would do it. The man’s hand dropped to the front of his pants, and Felix struck.
NINETEEN Felix had finally had the growth spurt that Uncle Travis had been promising for years, but he was still small and delicate, and he hated it. Travis said it was because he hadn’t gotten enough nutrition as a child, and Felix didn’t have a response to that. It was probably true, but what could he say? One of his mother’s boyfriends had liked to trade food for pain, and the urge to eat when he felt hungry had fled him long ago, a defense response to being hurt whenever food went missing from the fridge. He’d learned to smother the feeling of hunger until it hardly even registered anymore, to subsist on tiny bites that he could sneak by. It had taken him years to break the ingrained habit of eating in private, to finally be comfortable even allowing other people to see him eat.
Travis was always trying to get him to eat more, and early on he did it just to make his uncle happy, but would end up throwing it up because the heavy anchor in his stomach made him sick. He hated throwing up. It was so much worse than feeling hungry.
Travis eventually caught on and stopped pushing, but he always had a look of disappointment when Felix only took a few bites of food before he was finished. He always wordlessly made Felix feel like a disappointment, like he regretted taking him in. All it took was one look to send him spiraling.
He eventually got over it, shoved that feeling down, like he had done with so many others. He convinced himself he didn’t care what anyone thought, not even his uncle.
And he never got any taller.
It wasn’t fair, and it never failed to irritate him; Travis towered over him, and so had his father. Even his mother was taller than he’d ended up being when he stopped growing.
No matter how much he ran, and how much he fought, he would always be small. Would always look like an easy target to bigger men.
He learned to move past that, too, and while it still irritated him, he came to almost welcome it. The surprise on their faces when they realized they had underestimated him was thrilling. It was like a drug, and he feared he could easily become addicted to it.
Go ahead, underestimate me and see what happens.
TWENTY-TWO Killing Richard Miller hadn’t been the thing that bothered Felix. It didn’t weigh on his conscience even a little bit. Just like the man he’d stabbed—maybe killed—when he was fifteen. Both of them had deserved what he’d done to them, because of what they’d done to him. He’d do it all over again, if given the chance. Probably even sooner than he had.
No, what bothered him was what had happened after.
Richard was the man he and his uncle had been sent to track down, so there was no way they could cover it up and pretend it never happened. Uncle Travis had to call it in. Felix didn’t blame him for that. He didn’t blame him when he was put in handcuffs and put in the back of a police car, either. He had still been struggling to control his breathing at that point, still halfway panicking from the scent of sweat and cinnamon gum and that horrible pungent cologne. That scent had started his panic attack in the first place, when Richard had pinned him to the ground and Felix had recognized him even though ten years had passed since he’d last seen him. Recognized him mostly from the look in his eye and the smell that was straight from his childhood. Straight from some of his worst memories.
He didn’t even blame Travis for not being there, for not stopping it, because he never expected him to stop anything. No one had ever tried to protect him when he was a kid, so there was no way in hell he expected protection now that he was an adult. That was why he’d learned to fight, so he could protect himself.
What he did blame Uncle Travis for, though, was how long it had taken him to get Felix out of that wretched place. And for insisting Felix join him on the job again once he was finally out. And for not understanding why he couldn’t. For never understanding a single thing about him.
Travis had been the one to give him his first knife, so Felix thought he knew, without him having to say anything. He thought he knew. That he understood.
He didn’t.
When he picked Felix up, outside the jail after he was released, he told him he was proud of him. Just like he had all those years ago, when Felix had come to him at fifteen after his father kicked him out for stabbing one of his abusers. He said he was proud of him for defending himself, and that the guy had had it coming.
But Travis didn’t understand.
If he had, he never would have said that. Either time.
He said he had another job already lined up for them, and that was the moment Felix realized that his Uncle Travis wasn’t the person he’d always thought he was. That his Uncle Travis didn’t really know him at all, he just pretended he did.
In hindsight he might have, maybe, possibly, been having an extended anxiety attack.
He called his Aunt Maisy as soon as he was back at Travis’ apartment and told her he was coming for a visit by himself. He had to get out of that city, at least for a little while. She told him he could stay as long as he wanted. Uncle Travis must have already clued her in to what had happened, because she didn’t ask.
Aunt Maisy was his safe place, his respite in a storm, and she always had been. This time was no different. She gave him the space he needed, the calm he had been searching for. She made his favorite cookies and didn’t pester him about eating more, accepting his long hours lying awake in bed without comment.
He was shaken and off-kilter, unable to keep his usual mask of apathy and indifference in place. The mask that Maisy always saw right through, anyway. Without quite meaning to, Felix spilled everything out one night over drinks, vomiting up his feelings and fears and childhood traumas like poison. He could see it happening, like a train wreck in slow motion that he couldn’t seem to stop.
Maisy just listened quietly to everything he had to say. He didn’t know what expression might be on her face, because he couldn’t look at her, staring into his glass instead.
Afterward, she thanked him for telling her, voice even and calm. She asked if she could hug him, and accepted it when he said no. When he glanced at her before leaving the room, her face was wet with tears, and he hated her for it.
That was the last time he saw her before she died. He left her house the next morning and made his slow, reluctant way back to Las Vegas. They spoke on the phone a few times after that, but he couldn’t bear to face her after what he’d told her. Couldn’t stand her tenderness.
He knew he was ruined, but being offered tenderness felt like concrete proof of it, and he couldn’t stand it.
TWENTY-SEVEN Felix had known the funeral would be difficult, but the degree to which he struggled with it was not something he was prepared for. Not because of his grief, which he hadn’t even really let hit him yet. Which he wouldn’t let hit him until he was all alone without all these greedy eyes on him, wondering why he wasn’t sobbing like a baby. It was difficult because of all those eyes. Because there were so many strangers, including people who were, apparently, his extended family members, but whom he’d never met before. He recognized a couple of his cousins, but Rowan was the only one he knew by name.
The unrelated strangers all had kind words and condolences for him. His family members only had frigid stares and disdainful sneers. For the most part, anyway. He didn’t even know what the cold treatment was about until after the funeral, when a stodgy lawyer approached him to discuss Aunt Maisy’s will.
She’d left him the house and half of her financial assets. She’d left Rowan the antique shop along with the other half.
It wasn’t a lot of money—just a few thousand—but paired with the house it was more than enough to live on for at least a couple of years.
He couldn’t help but wonder about the antique shop, and the choice to leave it to Rowan while leaving him with the house. He wondered if Rowan was bitter or resentful about that choice, but his cousin had always been hard for him to read, and he wasn’t going to ask. He was sure Rowan would offer up the information eventually, in some form or another.
He was surprised that he’d been left anything at all, really. He hadn’t realized he’d been as important to his Aunt Maisy as she had been to him. But, then again, if the behavior of the rest of the family was anything to go by, maybe it had been more about snubbing them than benefiting him.
He was content with the division of her assets. He’d never set foot in the antique shop, after all, and had only had a vague knowledge that it existed in the first place.
Once he knew why the family was treating him that way, it made it much easier to bear. They were jealous, spiteful, terrible people that didn’t even deserve to be at Maisy’s funeral.
That night, when he was all alone in his old room in the attic, he cried for the first time in twenty years.
TWENTY-EIGHT Months after Maisy’s funeral, Felix still hadn’t decided what to do about the house, or the people who lived in it. At the moment he was just existing. Working when he was contacted to do a job. Dodging his uncle’s calls. Trying to spend as little time around his housemates as possible, and often getting roped into spending time with them anyway.
Cooking dinner for all of them, for instance.
Felix enjoyed cooking, even if he didn’t enjoy eating full meals. The heavy feeling in his stomach often made him feel nauseated and weighed down. He preferred light and sweet snacks; candy, ice cream, baked goods. Things that would take the edge off his hunger and give him a nice little sugar rush to get him going. Plus, they just tasted good. He wasn’t a big fan of bitter or salty things.
His Aunt Maisy had cooked dinner for her tenants every night, as he’d found out, and while Felix wasn’t trying to be her, or live up to her standards, he had gotten tired of Caffery’s mopey and pathetic face whenever Felix told him to fend for himself.
Caffery was there, ready and eagerly waiting, when the food was done, and Felix surprised him by sitting at the table in the dining room with him. He didn’t normally eat with his housemates because it was too chaotic and they annoyed him. Just Caffery would probably be fine, though. Maybe.
“It’s good,” Caffery said through a mouthful of food, eyes sparkling with surprised delight.
“I know.” Felix dug into his own small portion.
Caffery snorted. “So modest.”
“Want me to pretend that I don’t know? Oh Caffery, thank you for the compliment. I had no idea.” Felix narrowed his eyes for a second before returning to eating.
Caffery rolled his eyes and took another big bite through a grin. He glanced at the plates stacked at the other end of the table and then back at Felix.
“Where are the other three?” he asked through another mouthful of food. Felix fixed him with a blank look, finishing his bite of food before answering.
“I’m not their keeper.”
Caffery sighed at him. Pointedly. Felix ignored him.
“Do they know you cooked?”
Felix didn’t like repeating himself. He just blinked at Caffery as he chewed, and then looked back down at his plate as he scooped up another bite on his fork. He was already starting to feel full.
“C’mon, man,” Caffery said, chuckling slightly but sounding exasperated. “Talk to me. I’m boooored.”
Felix shot him a look that bordered on disdainful before schooling his face back to its blank mask. He wasn’t here for Caffery’s entertainment, and he didn’t appreciate the implication that he should be.
He stood up from the table, ignoring Caffery’s protesting noise, and placed his plate on the floor for Hubble, who had been sitting at his side watching him eat. He watched Hubble finish off his food and then he handwashed the plate and put it in the dish rack beside the sink.
He heard Caffery mutter something that sounded like “prickly bastard” as he stabbed at the food on his plate, but Felix ignored him and left the room, Hubble on his heels.
When he went back downstairs a few hours later, the leftovers had been put into tupperware in the fridge, and the plates were gone from the counter. He doubted Caffery had cleaned up, so the other three must have come home and eaten at some point. He was pleased that they’d eaten after all, and that so few leftovers remained. Maybe he’d cook again. Probably not every night, the way Maisy had, though.
On his way out to walk Hubble, he heard voices in the parlor and stopped to listen outside the door. They were talking about him.
“…know why he acts like that. Are we sure he’s related to Maisy? They seem nothing alike.” Caffery was saying.
“He’s probably still grieving, you dick. Just leave him alone. I’m sure he’ll open up eventually,” came Harper’s firm and unyielding voice. Felix huffed silently in amusement. Open up. Sure. He’d definitely be doing that.
“I dunno, I think he’s sweet,” Riley chimed in. “I mean, he made us dinner. He didn’t have to do that. And it was sooo good!” The corner of Felix’s mouth twitched at the compliment.
“Better than Maisy’s,” Harper agreed. Caffery made a noise of outrage, and Felix was annoyed to find himself agreeing with him, frowning slightly. “What?” Harper snapped. “It’s true.”
Caffery grumbled wordlessly, and Riley giggled, but didn’t protest.
“Well, don’t even think about touching those leftovers,” Caffery eventually said, and Harper scoffed.
“Did he really skip another meal?” Riley asked, sounding concerned, and Felix’s frown deepened.
“Pretty much,” Caffery replied. “He hardly put anything on his plate, and then he only had a couple of bites before he gave the rest to his dog.” How was that any of their concern? Felix didn’t understand why this was a topic of conversation. They needed to mind their own business.
He heard the stairs creak and looked up the see Rowan coming down them. He didn’t move from in front of the door, and his cousin stopped beside him and gave him a look.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Rowan’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
“It’s rude to talk about people behind their back,” Felix shot back, voice just as quiet.
Rowan’s head shook. “As sneaky as ever, huh?”
“Fuck off,” Felix muttered without feeling, and Rowan chuckled before going into the kitchen.
“Are you gonna eat the rest of this?” His cousin held the leftover container and shook it at him.
His other housemates had started talking about some show they all watched together, and he lost interest, so he turned toward Rowan.
“No. Go ahead.”
Rowan was familiar with his lack of appetite. Even as a kid he hadn’t enjoyed eating anything but cookies and candy, and Aunt Maisy had started baking him special batches of cookies that she added vitamins and lots of extra nuts to. They were still sweet, and they didn’t give him that heavy, full feeling, so he ate them happily. Rowan always said they were disgusting, but Felix didn’t mind the difference in flavor, because they texture was even chewier with the added vitamins, and nice and crunchy with the extra nuts, so Felix loved them.
He wondered if Maisy had written the recipe down anywhere. He might like to try his hand at recreating them.
He left to take Hubble for his nightly walk just as Rowan was leaning against the counter and digging into the cold leftovers with a hum of appreciation.
He hated all of his housemates, so much. Mostly because, before them, he had never craved company. He had been fine all on his own. It wasn’t until he’d been living with those four freaks for a few weeks that he realized he liked it, liked them, and that he felt actual loneliness when they were apart for too long. Fuck all of them for making him feel that way. He’d been just fine before he’d been able to tell the difference between loneliness and solitude.
He couldn’t help but think that Aunt Maisy had done this to him on purpose, and he hated her, too.
TRAVIS POV Travis knew something was going on with the kid, that someone was hurting him, but what could he do about it? His sister had made her decision, and he knew better than to get on Pierce’s bad side. The man was fucking crazy, like he’d always been, like Travis had warned Vivian about years ago.
Despite being physically weak, the boy was strong-willed, and Travis had taught him how to defend himself. It was up to him to protect himself. If he wanted whatever was happening to stop, he needed to stop it himself. Travis had made sure that he could, the rest was up to Felix.
He would be a valuable asset when he was old enough to join Travis in his work. A powerful tool that would be at Travis’ disposal, because he was the only one who had Felix’s loyalty.
Well, the only one he was loyal to that would ask him to prove it, that was. His Aunt Maisy might own more of Felix’s loyalty than he did, he could accept that, but Maisy was soft-hearted and would never ask Felix for anything. She thought the boy should be coddled and protected and sheltered from the world. Travis knew better. He was strong, he could take whatever life threw at him and come out on the other side all the better for it. He was like Travis, in that way. More like him than he was like his mother, at any rate.
Vivian was weak. Weak-willed and weak of mind. Bending to the men who came in and out of her life, begging for approval and love, unable to stand on her own without support. Felix wasn’t like that. Travis understood the boy better than anyone else ever had, and he made sure Felix knew that. They were kindred spirits.
And one day, when Felix was strong enough to protect himself the way Travis had taught him, he would be there for him. Would put him to work and give him a purpose, something to build his life around.
Until then, it was Felix’s task to endure. To survive. To be forged in the fire and come out even stronger.
Travis knew he’d be fine.
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