Chapter 1
If Felix Agreste had gone to therapy as a child, he probably would have been diagnosed with an attachment disorder. The 17-year-old had grown up in a household that had discouraged attachment of any kind, particularly physical affection. His mother and father had always frowned upon cuddling and playing as frivolous wastes of time; there had been no room for either activity in their meticulously-planned schedules. Looking back, Felix could recognize the irony of two fashion moguls viewing anything as frivolous, but he had been unable to see that humor as a child.
The consistent lack of physical contact had been difficult for the kid. Felix didn't know it yet, but his number one love language was touch. Growing up in an environment that had failed to meet his needs for love had undermined Felix's social skills until they were nearly nonexistent, leaving him with a deep lack of empathy and a failure to understand the value of friendship for its own sake. Having navigated the narrow world of his childhood alone, Felix had learned to not particularly care if companions were within reach or not. Such allies usually weren't around, anyway. He had made it just fine on his own.
This attitude towards life had lent Felix a cold, stern reputation. When the heir to Agreste Fashions had begun school at ten years old, his classmates had figured out quickly not to try to befriend him. Even now, seven years later, Felix successfully kept them at a safe distance. Well, all but one. One irritating little gnat of a girl named Bridgette Cheng, who currently just happened to be sitting right beside his table. Felix frowned determinedly. He had come to this cafe for peace and quiet, and he wasn't going to allow Mlle. Cheng to ruin his solitude. The boy leaned back in his chair, inhaling the scent of his strong, black coffee. This was freedom. Freedom from school, from the family business, and from the bumbling octogenarians that had plagued him all day.
Felix Agreste had learned from a young age not to expect assistance without payment of some kind. His family didn't do "handouts." This was why he hadn't blinked when the first old man had taken a tumble on the crosswalk right in front of him on the way to school this morning. There hadn't been any cars coming; the man had been perfectly safe. He'd clearly had nothing to offer in return for Felix's help, and there had been plenty of generous saps (like Bridgette) in the area willing to lend the fellow assistance. They seemed to do so for no better reason than some sense of responsibility to the elderly. Philanthropy had never been the Agreste style.
Felix brooded over his mug. Bizarrely, the day had continued to produce these retirees who were seemingly determined to knock Felix flat with their acrobatics. The boy had found himself keeping track of how many Close Encounters of the Ancient Kind he'd had throughout the day, and he'd been shocked to reach the number six before school had let out. Where had these...elderly gentlemen come from? And why had they targeted Felix, of all people? For the past seven years, the Agreste heir had successfully established himself as a human island; he wasn't about to become a port in the storm for any sinking ships. Not that he had anything against old people. He didn't mind what they (or anyone else) did, as long as they left him alone. He had his own neatly-ordered world, and it had no place for these recent near-collisions with clumsy buffoons.
Just as this thought passed through Felix's mind, one of those very buffoons tripped and fell right into his lap, breaking the fragile peace he'd found at the cafe.
"Oof! Pardon me, young man!"
Felix grumbled at the tangle of arms and legs he now found himself in. This was, what, the seventh one in a row? Agreste had just about had enough.
"Look...~ach~... Monsieur, I don't know what your game is...~huff~...but I'd greatly appreciate it...~uggh~...if you and your fellow tumblers...~oof~...found someone else to tumble on." Felix carefully detangled himself, eyeing the interloper. He found before him a short man of Asian descent, with brown eyes that looked deeply into his pale blue ones. Felix had no choice but to meet the man's gaze, and he suddenly found himself mesmerized. He wanted to look away, needed to look away before this stranger learned all of his deepest secrets and recognized Felix for the sniveling little coward he was. Painstakingly-built walls crumbled away in the space of a few moments, and the boy experienced an emotion he had not encountered since childhood: terror.