Dirk Stebbins was usually either bored, gambling, complaining, or all of the above.
When your life consisted of sitting on ornate chairs and eating whatever was handed to you on silver plates while your parents were off on year-long business trips, you were bound to get a little bored, weren't you? Or at least that was what Stebbins always convinced himself as he spent away another pile of his parents' money on trivialities.
And the parlor happened to be filled with such trivialities. Leaning back against the burgundy of the couch, Stebbins stretched out his legs and yawned, not out of tiredness but out of boredom.
No matter how hard he tried, that boredom was always there. The soft, velvety couch wouldn't cure it, the soft fabric of the rug beneath his bare feet didn't help at all, and none of the ornate lamps or taxidermy animals provided any interest at all, save for sometimes giving him a sense of what a successful young man he'd become.
"Young master?"
Stebbins turned to the servant girl in the doorway, a small, shy girl with dark, curly hair whom he didn't remember the name of. "Yes?"
She looked down, blushing. "Your...parents have just...returned."
He was tempted to snap at her for speaking to him so casually, just for the sake of watching her flustered expression and hearing her stutter, but then remembered that she was around his age and that he should probably feel some sort of empathy for her.
"After how long?" He mused aloud, pulling himself up from the couch and padding across the room to the door.
"I d-don't know!"
"I wasn't asking you," he said coolly, pushing past her. He would never admit it, but Stebbins was sweating. If they hadn't already been informed of the fact that their quiet, pensive Dirk spent his time sending out servants to gamble away the family money on the streets while he himself made large towers of playing cards on the mahogany coffee tables that that money had helped to buy.
Stebbins had grown to realize that no one liked a cheater, but everyone eventually grew to tolerate one. The maids had looked at him with wide eyes and his parents' butlers muttered under their breaths, but no one did a thing to stop him.
And that was what Stebbins liked about life. That no matter how many times you stomped on people's lives and ruined them, no one would say anything.
But here, facing his parents, Stebbins' throat caught and he suddenly found himself standing frozen in the doorway, unable to move his feet any further. "Young master?" The small, dark-haired maid again. She knew why he'd suddenly lost his cool. That was something Stebbins really despised. When people knew all the reasons and still asked stupid questions.
"Yes?" He flashed her a smile and started walking again, staring straight ahead of him and ignoring the lump that was beginning to rise in his throat.
She said nothing, and watched him curiously from afar. Stebbins couldn't have cared less whether she followed him, he only really cared that she and the rest of the household staff kept their mouths shut.
All of the servants had apparently scattered, seeing as there was no one to open the door for him. Stebbins swallowed hard again, and pulled open the door.
"Dirk."
His father was a tall, imposing man who, even as Stebbins looked at him for the first time in what might have been a year, Stebbins did not understand in the least. He was a war hero, but Stebbins didn't know from what war or when or even what he'd done to earn the title of war hero.
It then hit him that he wasn't even aware of his father's first name, and the man's glare got more and more terrifying the longer he stared into the small, pig-like eyes.
His mother was a quiet, softspoken woman who rarely looked anyone in the eyes and he'd often wondered how someone like her had ever agreed to marry someone like his father, who rarely took his eyes of off anyone's and shouted more than anyone Dirk had ever known.
"Hello, Father. Hello, Mother." He hoped that the childish edge he gave to his voice made him look less guilty, not like a seventeen-year-old who'd been running the household by buying luxuries for himself. "I've missed you awfully."
His father grabbed his shoulder as though he was trying to push his son into the steps of the house. At this moment, Stebbins wouldn't have particularly minded being pushed into the pavement. "Dirk, where is our money?!"
"What?" Stebbins looked up at him innocently.
"You know what I'm referring to."
"You were gone for two years. What did you expect me to do, go off to that boys' school and sit around with the others and be hit with a ruler? I'm not that stupid."
A look of shock passed over his father's face, and then traveled to his mother's. "You mean...you didn't go to school?" She sounded aghast, and Stebbins felt something in his chest tighten. It was one thing to see his father angry, but another to see his mother disappointed in him.
But he made a tsk sound and laughed softly, trying to get rid of the growing guilt and discomfort. "Again, what did you expect? I told them, in your voices, that I was a sickly boy and not, in fact, ready for education with such rowdy boys."
His parents' jaws seemed to drop at the same time. "You what?
"However, I have learned some worthwhile things right here at home." His father's face was red, and Stebbins could almost hear him gritting his teeth. He struggled to keep his tone clear and reasonable. "I am old enough to be out of school. To be married, even." The idea of marriage made his stomach churn, but anything to keep his parents' tempers from exploding.
"And what of the scheduled dinners with your potential brides?"
Stebbins paled, then quickly tried to will color back into his skin. If you looked like you were lying, you probably were. "Of course I had them over. None of them felt very suitable, but of course I had them over."
His mother looked down, tangling her hands in the back of her hair out of nervousness. He wondered how much taller he was than her now. His parents exchanged glances, and then his father promptly slapped his face.
The hand colliding with his cheek made it sting more than it should have. "You spent all our money, refused to go to the school which we paid for, and then declined all the pretty young girls whose families sought after you!" His voice was a roar, and Stebbins suddenly found himself wanting shrink inside of his own skin. Was that how cheats and liars always felt?
"You, Dirk, have shamed our whole family, past and present!"
"W-we can discuss it inside! Please!" The prospect of what his family might be planning reduced him to begging. There were only two or so options for them if they didn't want him, and neither of them were particularly pleasant.
"I never want to see you inside my house again!"
His mother reached out to touch him, then decided against it, and Stebbins felt himself beginning to become infuriated with his parents. Family was only a temporary part of life, but it was supposed to be a comfortable temporary part of life.
"You...surely you don't mean..." His voice sounded far more terrified than he would have preferred.
"Yes. Out, Dirk! Street scum!" His father called him a few more less polite words than 'street scum', and Stebbins backed up, sensing that there wasn't much he could do. He went spilling backwards over the stairs, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
He swore he heard his mother say some words of comfort, but it was quickly lost in the sound of the door slamming shut. His door. The door that had been under his control, the door that servants had walked in and out of and potential wives' families had had slammed in their face.
Dirk brushed himself off, trying to retain his dignity as well as the cleanliness of his clothes, and got up and began to walk.
this was going to be longer and then i just got lazy but yeah the next chapter will have street urchin!parker and abraham and all that jazz yEAH i claim no ownership to the long walk
