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It is apparently his fault much of the stuffy, holiday flora spread throughout their mansion make his throat swell and his nose sniffly. He is causing a scene by timidly and politely asking in the presence of their extended family to be excused as a headache starts to form behind his eyes. They make the scene first, and he does escalate it when he excuses himself without their consent.[break][break]

It’s stupid and trivial. But he is pushed to it— that is what he reminds himself.[break][break]

Sitting on the long, cushioned window seat of the family library, Hazel pulls his knees up to his chest and nestles his chin on them as he stares out the window. Arms circle his chest as he holds himself in tight, rigid formation.[break][break]

Outside, he sees one of his cousins traipse through the snow, and he wonders if it would be nice to go outside and join them— if only to breathe some clear air that isn’t the stifling and oppressive sort that claws his lungs every passing day he spends in his father’s house.[break][break]

There’s too much space, there’s not enough space.[break][break]

He’s suffocating here in Hammerlocke. Figuratively and literally, as a sudden coughing fit reminds him exactly why it would be foolish to step outside right now. His back and lungs ache as he’s racked with coughs, shoulders tensing as he curls further in on himself.[break][break]

This is the frustrating thing that his parents don’t seem to want to accept— he wouldn’t be like this if he had the choice. Sickly and ill. He’d rather thrive and shine as his elder siblings do. He works hard, and it’s unfair that it falls by the wayside. They are not even the sort of concerned parents who fuss and hover around him when an episode strikes.[break][break]

Embarrassment flushes through him when his uncle Dmitri seems to materialize from nowhere at the tail end of his fit. “Uncle,” he says, voice still raspy and strained as he quickly sits up straight and rigid. He does not answer the question as he watches the older man through watery, red-rimmed eyes.[break][break]

Instead, once he regains his breath— “I am sorry that I dismissed myself so rudely. It was unbecoming of me, and not befitting for someone my age and of my family’s reputation.”

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“Thank you, sir.” Relief slides through his system at the dismissal, the hand atop his hair. He is only eighteen, unable to see the appeasement for what it is—he is too focused on the fact that someone agrees that he can’t help it. Understands.[break][break]

“Hmm..” Though he often flourishes under the attention his uncle provides, Hazel still eyes the inhaler warily. He takes it when offered, but only turns it between his fingers. He’s fastidious about his medications, little good that they seem to be doing at present. Adding an unknown factor to the cocktail feels risky.[break][break]

“I am just..” he pauses, hesitating long enough to release a frustrated breath, “my illness only matters when it befits a doting public appearance. Otherwise, it is an inconvenience or an embarrassment.”[break][break]

His stare returns to fixate on the winter scene that unfolds on the other side of the window. “I tarnish their image of something ideal. I’m too weak, my accomplishments do not matter because they are not similar my brother’s.”[break][break]

Hazel has no desire to be a politician and diplomat like his father, and now his brother as well. He doesn’t want to be a spoiled socialite like his sisters. That’s the real root cause— their disapproval in his desire to pursue academia as a career coupled with every bit of fragility he’s carried for all of his life.[break][break]

Bitterness coats the words he speaks, and finally, he lifts the inhaler to take a puff from it. The medicinal coat that seeps down his throat and into his lungs is relieving. Instantly so—perhaps dangerously so?

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He’s not sure how to interpret the wordless response.[break][break]

Pale gray eyes follow Dmitri as he stands and moves away. And for a frantic moment, Hazel thinks that it was maybe a dismissal and that his uncle is retreating without another word uttered. Something pathetic and desperate rises up in his throat. Pitiful, the way he wants to call after him immediately, so needing in some sort of approval. A desire for understanding and acceptance where he finds none with his parents, or even his siblings.[break][break]

It is lonely and exhausting feeling so different all of the time.[break][break]

But rather than leave, his uncle only retrieves his glass and returns. Hazel feels that anxiety rush away, and the tension that made his shoulders climb without realizing it eases. Allowing them to slump again.[break][break]

He masks all of this of course, watching Dmitri with a carefully tailored look of neutrality. Even-keel. Impassive, even if he’s always bursting at the seams inside. Every minute of the day, all of the time.[break][break]

Slowly, his head shakes, silvery lilac hair flipping around his face with the motion. “No, I don’t think so.” For all of his nonchalance, the creep of curiosity slinks into his voice, unbidden and relentless.[break][break]

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Hazel listens, enraptured, as his uncle explains. He hadn’t been aware that his childhood had been similar to his own. A rotating door of hospital stays and weak spells. Too ill to play outside or with others. Experiences that he was unable to get, tucked away in his room. The only escape provided in the books he devoured.[break][break]

This is nice to hear. It makes him feel less alone.[break][break]

Not weak? He’s not sure the last time someone has considered him anything but weak.[break][break]

The hand atop his head makes Hazel perk. A small smile flits across his lips.[break][break]

His posture lifts, and there’s a degree of admiration that brightens the gray of his eyes as he watches his uncle.[break][break]

“Thank you, sir,” his head dips in a slightly awkward nod, unused to the praise without it being conditional. This could very well be conditional too, but it feels less so right now, in the blur of the moment.[break][break]

As Dmitri sits back, Hazel’s head tilts. Why is he better?[break][break]

“I…” he pauses, brows knitting as he frowns in consideration. “Well. They’re content to ride on my father’s coattails, just the same as he did before.” His gaze sharpens as he looks back up, convicted.[break][break]

“That’s not good enough for me, uncle.”[break][break]

It’s why he’s pursued different degrees at university. And why he seeks more from his education. Why he wants to go further.
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He doesn’t know what his uncle is doing to him—how he is picking and plying the parts of Hazel that are insecure and desperate for positive attention intentionally. He has gone so long without a shred of approval that he clamors for it, and falls for the guise hook, line, and sinker.[break][break]
In fact, it will be years into adulthood before Hazel realizes the manipulation for what it is.[break][break]
Right then, though, he smiles back at Dmitri—albeit more tentatively than the one he is met with.[break][break]
“It feels cheaper that way. Unearned.” Hazel’s shoulders rise and fall, because it is simply a matter of fact thing. He wants what he wants, and he wants the merit of having obtained it himself.[break][break]
The hand on his shoulder feels like praise in and of itself. Does his uncle see how he practically breathes life into brittle bones and weak lungs with something so simple as a squeeze on the shoulder?[break][break]
Simple, but it means everything to Hazel. It means kinship.[break][break]
He nods in agreement, brows knitting together as the somber nature that he has carried all of his life sinks back into his expression. Deserve it. He does deserve it. He works so hard and it has always been for nothing. The seeds of resistance had already been planted, but now they feel nurtured under his uncle’s supervision. Pushing back against parents who want little to do with him feels pleasing, and possible.[break][break]
Still, there is a small flicker of confusion in wide, grey eyes as he watches Dmitri. “A plan..? What sort of plan do you mean, uncle? I had planned to go to university, though, yes. Away from here.”
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