There's a small package smuggled in with Clair's usual abundance of gifts for Fernand's birthday. The gift is small- just a cream-colored handkerchief with red floral patterns and the symbol of Mila delicately embroidered in the corner. The note is similarly short and, though unsigned, written in Lukas' elegant script: "Clive told me to get you a gift. I hope this next year will see you grow kinder and more open-minded."
though he grows a bit more apart from clive each passing day, fernand was right now careful to hide from everyone’s sight, cloistered in the safety of his room. he despises the attention and the misplaced sympathy others’ would bestow upon him on such trivial occasion. he didn’t want to see fake smiles, nor hear wishes feigning affection.
clair’s gifts are extravagant, as expected. it’s almost a ritual of some sort. fernand never thought much of gifts, but there was a time he indeed appreciated the kindness behind the gesture. clair’s frivolous habits may never change, but he did. gods, he did, and his little sister’s hands are not here to help him go through the mountain of presents like before. he does not inspect them because he knows the numbness will be replaced by a tightened throat and unshed tears, his mind fresh with vivid memories that he refuses to let go.
curiosity gets the best of him, however— this one gift among the others which he can’t quite guess who it is from. the graceful writing makes it almost too easy for him to figure it out, and he harshly breathes his name in the form of a curse. fernand drops the gift and crushes it underneath his boot, along with his hope. if those weren’t from clair, he would have already lashed out, satisfying his need for destruction— but he holds himself back for her sake. the sudden anger leaves him with ragged breathing, and he clasps his hands together under the impression of a warm touch around his fingers. he grows older, but he realizes he feels younger than he had ever felt before.
