#& 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀 : TOULOUSE BONFAMILLE

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter: @nctquiteshakespeare !!

" ouh — mama , " toulouse greeted as he opened the door to his house only to find the face of his mother on the other side. with everything going on in town , it seemed as if the residents of evermore could never catch a break. the bonfamille's had moved here in hopes of a better life but . . . it seems as if the better life was more a fantasy than an attainable reality.

" i uh, i wasn't expecting you . . . come in , come in. i was just — i've been so wrapped up in that project i owe the gallery and . . ." the eldest bonfamille reached out, curling a hand around her back, ushering the woman inside. " i'm sorry i haven't reached out. especially with — " he gestured frantically in the space before him, pads of fingers stained and charcoal as smeared oil paints ornamented tanned flesh exposed by the fabric of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. like he was trying to color in the lines of his tattoos and had . . . missed. horribly. " can i — can i get you anything, mama ?? i don't have much food but . . . i have water. wine. coffee ?? "

[wildcstwinter]

he watched as she sifted through his clothing drawers, thumbs winding anxiously around one another as his eyes alternated before lingering on her and the carpet beneath his feet, pressing the balls of his feet into the floor to try and will some of the pressure out of his temples. toulouse smiled at her as she joked and went off, waltzing into the bathroom as if she had done it a hundred times before, feeling a pit form in his stomach as the door shut behind her and he was left alone with a heart fueled by adrenaline, though combatted by the exhaustion being brought upon by the dark wine and his overbearing thoughts. he waited until he heard the water running before he slowly rose to his feet, pushing his hands through his hair, glancing down at his own paint sodden clothes and realizing that he should probably change too. he stepped out of the room first, however, and tidied up the studio — capping paint tubes, drying off brushes, scooping up wine glasses and empty bottles and putting them in the sink or trash can, respectively. time seemed to be dwindling as he moved about his home, the water still running, before he was coming back into the room just in time for her to be stepping out.

had mona been that quick, or had he taken that long to do what should be otherwise simple tasks, toulouse wasn't sure... but all he knew was seeing her in his clothes did something to his brain that made him incapable of speaking. not even when mona prompted conversation was toulouse able to find the words, his jaw going slightly slack before he cleared his throat, clamping it shut to try and compose himself. ❛ you're uh, you're fine, ❜ toulouse dismissed her concerns about the organization of the shower, knowing that he wasn't the best at upkeeping it himself. toulouse was pretty shit about keeping anything in his life organized... ❛ you uh... you look, ❜ the man stammered, shoving his hands in paint-stained pockets, reminding himself in the back of his mind that he, too, still needed to change but... too distracted now to make any effort towards moving in the direction of his dresser. ❛ you look beautiful, ❜ toulouse smiled, finding the words eventually, face rouged from merlot and just... being a man. he was tempted to apologize again for ruining her dress, but bit his tongue instead. ❛ — are you uh, are you comfortable ?? ❜

' sorry ' . there it was again , an apology for something there was no need to feel sorry for . rather than being annoyed by it or simply dismissing the sentiment , mona offered a small yet earnest smile , the kind you might give someone as a means of encouragement . of letting them know you understand them , and that it's okay . ❛ you are , ❜ the blonde insisted , her tone equally as quiet as his own . mona was certain she knew a thing or two about guys , good and bad and while she didn't always get it right the first time ( actually , she seldom did ) , she was willing to bet the magellan castle itself that toulouse wasn't a bad guy . he meant well , which was more than most . in order to fight for love and beauty , one must learn to see beyond people's shortcomings and appreciate them for what they are . the exceptions were few and definitely reserved for the sailor guardians to deal with , not mona .

as she set foot into his room , her doe eyes wandered like a curious child at a themed park , curious about every nook and cranny . there was something about peeking into one's safe haven that was just fascinating to mona . a person's own sanctuary . nodding her head , mona made her way towards the appointed drawers and allowed herself a moment to choose between the offerings . ❛ whatever i want , so you won't really mind if i take some of these home ? ❜ she teased , fingertips taking their time to feel the different fabrics before committing to a long sleeved button up not too different from the one toulouse had on himself , and a pair of pants that she hoped wouldn't look too comically large on her or worse , make her trip and fall face first on the floor . how graceful ! ❛ okay , i'll be right back ! don't do anything fun without me ! ❜ and so , amidst her own laughter , mona disappeared into the bathroom , closing the door behind her .

after a few minutes , once she'd made sure there was no stickiness to her hair and body , mona emerged from the foggy room , shirt left with the first two buttons open and loosely tucked into the pair of comfy pants , delicate fingers worked their way through long locks of blonde hair . venus rising from metaphorical sea foam . ❛ i tried to leave everything just the way i found it ... you were right , lots of pretty - smelling things . ❜ a chuckle , cheeks flushing red though mona wasn't sure whether because of the hot water or the fact that she was wearing his clothes . speaking of which , ❛ wait , just a sec ! ❜ the venusian princess briefly went into the bathroom once more to grab her wine - stained dress before coming out once again . finally , she lifted her gaze towards toulouse , a nervous and expectant sparkle in her eyes , ❛ so ... how do i look ? ❜

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter: @jazzykitten !!

❛ — i dunno man, seeing him was just.... it was fucking whack. i don't think i've ever wanted to punch someone more in my entire life, ❜ toulouse ranted, nursing his beer, dragging his thumb up and down the neck of the bottle. ❛ i thought evermore was supposed to be a fresh start, especially for ma but... now that he's here, it just feels like we're going to be fucked by the past forever, huh ?? ❜

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter : @jazzykitten !!

handing the younger a beer , toulouse cleared his throat , drumming nail-bitten fingertips against the neck of his own vice as he moved to sink into the arm chair adjacent to the couch berlioz currently occupied . a thick , palpable tension loomed in the air between them — so thick that if toulouse reached out he was sure he'd be able to touch it . it didn't stop him from looking to his brother , a crippled smile on his lips as he laughed to fill the silence , sinking into the cushion as he weighted the potential outcome of his query .

" i uh , i have an artshow this weekened , " he spoke after a moment, tracing his lower lip with the rim of his bottle . " it's uh , it's no big deal but — if you'd want to come , i'd love to see you there . i mean. . . no pressure , ce n'est pas grave. . . mais. . . " he sipped , swallowing hard , the beer going down like shards of glass. " — it'd uh , it'd mean a lot to me . "

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter : @ladamemarie !!

" — you came , " toulouse breathed a sigh of relief , and arm immediately coming to wrap around his younger sister's shoulders , pulling the blonde into her side and planting a brotherly kiss atop her crown of golden hair . " je t'adore. . . come , it's right over here . " he smiled , a pit of nervousness swelling in his stomach as he tugged her frame towards his display .

five canvases , each depicting an interpretation of each member of their family , hung on the wall and boarded in golden frames . marie's was clear , a brilliant array of pinks and whites dancing across the silhouette of a woman made of stars , a rose hued ribbon circling her like a vortex . " what do you think ?? " he asked quietly , still holding onto her , her opinion worth its weight in gold . " c'est bon ?? you like it ?? "

[wildcstwinter]

when she asked for clarity that he had meant what he said, that he had given up pursuing art, his chest tightened. frowning at the food that has remained untouched, despite his gnawing hunger, toulouse stiffened. ❛ yeah, ❜ he mumbled, swirling the wine in his glass, keeping his eyes down and forcing his expression to flatten. he didn't know why it stung for his mother to have never noticed he had stopped taking art seriously; the moment his father was out of the picture, and toulouse stepped up to help with the housekeeping and watching after his younger siblings, he knew his days of dreaming about one day hosting his own gallery or dedicating his life to his art were long gone. yet here his mother was, still optimistic as ever in thinking that he, and what at one point was a passion, were worth something.

at her follow up question, toulouse couldn't help it, a sound of amusement coming from him as the glass once more was brought up to his lips. he smiled against its rim, shaking his head, dark locks sweeping back and forth across his forehead as he took a hefty sip. ❛ nothin' ma, not really. i don't do much of anything anymore. still tryna figure things out, you know ?? ❜ maybe he was being unfair, but with everything going on it felt... well, it felt pointless to be talking about him. looking up, ❛ i don't want to talk about me, ❜ toulouse informed her, as gently as he could, tongue slipping to swipe the remnants of wine on his lips; glass now empty. ❛ i want to talk about you... i mean, are you holding up okay ?? with everything going on i mean... mon dieu, ma, i'm worried about you.❜

She shook her head, it was true that she may be biased but she truly and wholly believed that he was special. Surely she wasn't the only one to see it. All three of them had natural talent she believed and would stand by that, but she poured so much time and money into any passions they may have that she hoped to give them a head start in life, to put them on a path that they'd have to work for... but not as hard as others. She didn't just believe it because she loved him. She believed it because it was true and logical... and because she loved him.

"You did?" Duchess' smile faltered. She hadn't been aware. How much had she failed to be aware of? She had been spending more time with her own mother back home, trying to let her kids spread their wings on their own, to not be as overbearing as she knew she could be — but how much had she missed in the process? And what kind of mother did that make her? One of her sons overdosed when she didn't even realize he had a problem, her other had given up on what she thought was his passion, and here she was, going on about it, gushing over it. With an ache in her sternum, she let the corners of her lips tug upwards again, a smile that no longer met her eyes. She felt horrible for having to ask, for not knowing, not having the faintest clue. "What kind of hobbies are you... pursuing now?"

[wildcstwinter]

closed starter: @beautysenshi !!

❛ mona — hey, ❜ toulouse greeted, spotting the other walking down the sidewalk and jogging to catch up with her. ❛ enchanté... how- how are you ?? ❜ the man was never good at staying in contact with people, especially not with how busy his mind has been with everything lately. the world felt so noisy, and in those moments of silence, he didn't even want to think. let alone talk to people. ❛ you look beautiful, by the way.❜

[wildcstwinter]

as the cigarette offering towards berlioz went unacknowledged, toulouse closed the carton back up and slid it into his pocket. alright so... hard drugs and vodka, oui; cigarettes; non. retrieving his lighter, toulouse managed to get the damn thing lit despite the breeze and gave it a few puffs to get the burn going. deeply inhaling, he drew the tobaco smoke into his lungs and let it fester, nodding in response to berlioz's comment, gesturing with his hand in the general direction of where he lived. after he had the carton tucked away and the brown bag filled with wine readjusted in his arms, toulouse used his free hand to pull the cigarette from between his teeth, expelling the smoke in a large cloud only made larger by the brisk air. ❛ yeah i uh, i got a house over here. wanted a place with more rooms and uh, you know... i'm not a big apartment guy. it's nothing crazy but, it's a house.❜ as opposed to being a home, which toulouse believed both men could agree neither of them had experienced in a very long time. ❛ you're place isn't far from here, either, no ?? ❜ toulouse found himself inquiring, even though he knew berlioz's address. he had figured it out a while ago but never opted to drop by and visit; went as far as to avoid the road his complex was on just to resist the temptation to knock on the door like he was some old friend.

glancing at the younger, guilt swarmed in his gut, and he tapped his pointer on the body of the cig to ash it, shifting his gaze to watch as the burnt paper, tobacco leaves, and ash fluttered to the ground. his entire life felt like one big trap, like the universe was always setting him up to fail himself and the people around him, clouding his judgement so he'd hurt people instead of help them; a lot of smoke and a lot of mirrors. nodding at his brother's purchase, toulouse took another puff, guiding them down the sidewalk and rounding the corner that would lead them just a few paces away from his house. ❛ nothing much, ❜ toulouse replied to the question, continuing to ride the coat tail of being honest, balancing his cigarette between his teeth as he fished in his back pocket for his house keys. ❛ i uh, i went by mom's earlier. talked to her about some things. she still thought i was painting, ❜ toulouse replied, almost laughing at the very idea but knowing that kind of reaction was unfair. of course she thought he was still painting — in a way, he was but... not in the way once did. toulouse had given up his career a long time ago, though it seemed he was the only one to know that. ❛ — guess i can't blame her for not knowing. not like i ever went out of my way to tell her. uh... this is me, right here. brick house on the left.❜

~

The cool, fresh air being outdoors had to offer felt comforting for a moment for Berlioz. His brother had quickly walked out after him though and the moment of escape went with the wind that blew past them. A shiver ran up his spine, hair standing up on the back of his neck, as he ran through every possible scenario that could play out at Toulouse's. What if his brother caught on that he had gotten high? He had gotten better at hiding it but his eyes were not always as secretive. What if they both got too drunk? Clearly they were both at the liquor store so late for a reason. What if everything was...fine? The negatives outweighed the positives in Berlioz's head.

The younger of the two brothers was only snapped out of his mulled thoughts and looked down at the bag under his arm. "...vodka," he said hesitantly. He didn't always drink it straight, but had failed to grab something to mix it with when he purchased it that night. He wasn't a complete heathen though. He drank flavored liquor, not enjoying the taste of regular vodka. From the size of the bag Toulouse was carrying and the shape the items inside had formed it seemed like he had more than one bottle in there. Berlioz wondered how much wine Toulouse drank as the walked towards his apartment. Would he have a glass or two and call it a night? Or would he drink an entire bottle or two and pass out? Berlioz couldn't judge him either way seeing as his habits could be considered worse.

Berlioz wasn't sure what else to say as they walked but with every step forward it was becoming excruciatingly difficult to not want to turn and bolt in the other direction. "I didn't know you lived over here," he finally said. He sort of hated that, knowing Toulouse was close enough to walk a few blocks to Berli's apartment. He felt bitter about it too. Had either of them gave a shit maybe they would have known. The small bag in his pocket felt like it was weighing down his pants. A much needed vice over the alcohol and Berlioz was growing antsy for a fix. It was cooler from the sky only being illuminated by the moon, but nice enough he didn't have his jacket zipped up. His work clothes felt like they were suffocating and his skin was crawling. He unbuttoned the first button on his black dress shirt, thinking how he was going to need a few drinks to get through this but knew he couldn't be stupid. He couldn't let Toulouse see the damage he does to himself. He glances at his brother from the corner of his eye as the got closer. "What occupied you all day that you had go get your...vice...so late?"

[wildcstwinter]

tilting his head down and lowering it just slightly so his nose just barely ghosted the tip of hers, toulouse grinned; ❛ i guess we will, ❜ he cooed, his words light and playful as he then lifted his face enough to place a kiss to her temple. as the pair walked along, the night breeze sharp and almost cutting across his skin, he was thankful for the second wind it had given him. earlier this morning, he had polished off two bottles of red — with o'malley being back in town, his mother bringing up art shows again and... well, berlioz and marie in general; he felt like he was spiraling. thankfully, he had people like tootie to keep him grounded, so when the drunk wore off and he finally showered, he knew he had to see her. besides, there was no better cure for a hangover than indulging in the very thing that got you there in the first place. ❛ light and easy, ❜ toulouse echoed, his tone not mirroring in the loud and swelling sonata playing in his head. seeing de la vign in the distance, he tugged on her hand a little to pick up their speed. the idea of wine and dinner, the dessert topic hung in the area, toulouse was more than eager to get inside.

Edging in a little closer, the brunette tilted her head back to meet his gaze, knowing there was a glint of hunger in her eyes. A hunger that couldn't be quenched with any kind of food. "I don't really know...I guess we'll find out." Impulse control had never been one of Tootie's strengths. She was better these days than when she was like nine years old but still it took a lot of concentration to keep her hands in an appropriate place considering they were out in public. "I'm sure you'll be able to convince her. Just tell her it's art, she's being cultured." That was theatre after all. It was an expression of humanity and freedom; people needed more of that. "Wine and cheese sound perfect. Light and easy." A classic girl dinner in her mind. Hardly anything nutritional but that didn't matter. All that mattered to her was sitting next to him with a nice wine until neither of them could take it anymore.

[wildcstwinter]

toulouse sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair, the man moved towards the kitchen one more. polishing off the bottle he was already drinking, he pulled open the fridge to grab another one, marie's words sinking in his stomach and filling him with a deep dread. ❛ we can't even get berlioz to talk to us, let alone convince his ass to go to therapy, ❜ toulouse scoffed, frowning at himself for the change in his tone but unable to help himself. going to family therapy would just be having to face his failures as a big brother head on. . . he had tried to fill in the role of father, do everything he could for his younger siblings but. . . none of it was enough. to no fault of their own, but to every fault of toulouse's. opening another beer, he sighed from across the room, looking over to marie on the couch and seeing how exhausted she was . . . ❛ i know, marie, and . . . we will. eventually.❜ even if he didn't believe the words himself, he owed it to his baby sister to at least have her think he believed them. moving back towards the living room, he lingered by the kitchen for a moment, drumming his thumb on the neck of his beer. ❛ we uh, we don't need to keep talking about it, though. i know how hard this has been on you, on all of us. did you. . . are you hungry ?? i still have those bars you like in the cabinet and . . .  ❜ he stumbled over himself, frowning, forgetting how to be a big brother for a moment as he looked down at the beverage in his hand. ❛ ive uh, still got those satin pillows you like in the guest bedroom too. just washed them, actually.❜

marie was conflicted. with toulouse, she tried to be more honest with him because he was the safer brother to be vulnerable with. at the same time they were all so twisted in their own shit that she didn't want add to his burdens. she was a failure, really. for not being able to keep her family together...for never being enough for them all. for destroying herself while they did the same to themselves and sometimes each other unintentionally. she would never call her family a burden or too much, but sometimes it could feel like everything that was happening was suffocating. shaking her head she just gave toulouse a tired look. "well, if we all went to family therapy like i have begged, maybe we would be getting somewhere with that." she was being snippy and maybe a little bit unfair but it wasn't like she hadn't tried. "i'm sorry....all of this is just so...fucked." she couldn't think about how mother was handling it. it would just break her more. "but we have to....figure something out. for mama." @wildcstwinter

[wildcstwinter]

toulouse found it endearing that his friend wanted to help him through his creative block, thankful she hadn't pushed into inquiring why it was there and hoping he wasn't make it obvious by the relaxed expression he was straining to keep on his face. everything around him just felt like it was falling apart, and he couldn't find it in himself to put it back together — let alone find the motivation to paint, which in itself was a reminder of what a downward spiral his life had become. a reminder of the career he sacrificed only for the sacrifice to have never meant anything at all. he chuckled at her suggestions, shrugging his shoulders; ❛ sure, we can go look at a tree. i'm never opposed to tree-watching or a good nature walk, ❜ the man joked, slipping his hands into his front pockets. ❛ —but you're right, inspiration is everywhere. i guess from that perspective i have no excuse, huh ?? ❜ it was a rhetorical question but, he was down to go on a walk. being in his studio made him vulnerable, and the longer they lingered, the more toulouse worried about what kind of stories these walls would tell if they gave them enough time to speak.

Whitney wasn't naturally a super artistic person. Creativity in the field of painting, drawing, singing, you name it; she was good at organizing though. Color-coordinating? That was her thing. So, she didn't entirely get the block concept but there had to be a logical way to get through it, people did it all the time. "Okay, that seems easy enough. Do we need to go outside? Look at a tree or something. I heard in one of those artsy movies once that inspiration is everywhere so it feels like...we could find you some?" / @wildcstwinter

[wildcstwinter]

seeing the hurt in her eyes didn't quell the guilt that suddenly bloomed in toulouse's chest , the plant of anxiety sprouting thorns instead of petals as it rooted itself in his gut . his smile was tight , strained , fists finding the deep pits of his pockets as he walked behind her ; his steps almost reluctant . " it's uh , well the show is all about reflections . reflections of ones self , ones environment. . . " he trailed, suddenly insecure about his approach to the concept . the way he had portrayed his family's shortcomings on canvas . " not winging it , " he reassured , though didn't specify in which way he wasn't doing so .

" it's . . . it's this weekend . " he informed her briskly , leaning around her frame to push the door open , revealing a room who's fragrance was saturated with the aroma of paint and sealant , a warm glow coming from the lamp that sat in the far corner , paint stained tarps and abandoned canvases strewn like lost objects about , arguably , the only messy room in toulouse's house .

" after you , mama . "

She felt the familiar ball of guilt settling into her stomach, despite his reassurance. If there was one thing Duchess, confident in most aspects of her life, worried she was failing at, it was the one that mattered the most — parenting. It seemed like her kids were always hurting, and she supposed everyone was hurting in their own way, but she worried she'd tried so hard to protect them that it had backfired. That she was the reason they all struggled now.

"Tell me more about this project," she spoke, looking over her shoulder as she made her way down his hallway, expecting he was following. "When is it due? Is there a theme, or are you winging it?"

[wildcstwinter]

toulouse set down the food dish he was holding, drumming his fingers on the elongated neck of his wine glass, tongue swiping along his lower lip as he felt the tips of his ears go scarlet. he could feel his mom's eyes on him, watching him, and a flash of panic lit up his eyes as he feared that maybe she was noticing things he thought he was concealing. deep set eyebags, the tremor in his hands, the way he was trying not to down the entire glass in one gulp just to hope for her to offer him another. toulouse knew things had been hard on the woman lately, between everything that had happened with o'malley disappearing, having three kids with struggles she couldn't fix like the ones they had when they were kids. scraped knees were easier to tend to then overdoses.

❛ thank you, ❜ he said softly, his voice far more somber than he had intended it to sound, disappointment in himself heavy on the back of his tongue as it was struggling to decide if it wanted to voice itself or sink back down into the pit of his stomach. his appetite seemed to vanish, despite how incredible the food looked and smelt, and he set down the bowl to mindlessly stir it. ❛ you have to say that though, you're my mom, ❜ he tried to joke, but it fell flat, sipping from the wine glass once more and grateful for the dry taste that distracted his thoughts for a moment. clearing his throat, the man tried to get it together, looking back up at duchess with a softer, more apologetic expression. ❛ — but, i've kinda given up on the whole art thing. i did a long time ago. i doubt anything i make is worth putting in any kind of gallery. ❜

She held her own glass before her, not taking a sip as she stared at him, lost in her thoughts and memories. People always told her that time flied by, that they'd be taller than her before she knew it. And she'd made the best of it, the best she could, though sometimes it may have seemed lackluster or boring to them; she had taught them everything she could think to, she'd taken them traveling, she'd taken pictures, she'd taken videos. But she'd also taken it for granted, how quickly the sand fell through the hourglass. Before she knew it, she was here, in her forties, and the beautiful woman that raised her was now frail, and her little people were now big people that were older than she was when she became a mother herself.

Shaking herself out of the daze, she brought the glass to her lips, letting the wine coat her tongue, savoring the flavor as it seeped over her tastebuds before giving him her full attention again, the version of him that wasn't an energetic baby toddling about but her grown baby drinking with her in her kitchen. "Toulouse, you are so talented," she told him, assuming he was doubting his abilities when he didn't seem very excited over her suggestion. "Much more than you give yourself credit for. You could do anything you put your mind to."

[wildcstwinter]

smiling sheepishly at his mother, toulouse lifted his hand to rub at the back of his neck, following the woman down the long stretch of hallway that lead back towards his studio. " oh it's uh . . . " he muttered a curse of mon dieu beneath his breath. "it's about what you find in times of loss — something corny like that. " he shrugged off the complexity behind the project, not wanting his mother to read much into it — to think to deeply. he feared, knowing her, that if she read between the lines she'd end up hurt. the last thing toulouse ever wanted to do was upset duchess.

" i've got a little less than month. the uh, the exhibition debuts in october. first of the fall shows. september is still considered late summer, it seems, so . . . " the man trailed off, gesturing ahead to the door that lead to his studio. " i'm doin five paintings, " he informed her, leaving out that the five represented them — himself, marie, berlioz, duchess, and . . . their father.

She felt the familiar ball of guilt settling into her stomach, despite his reassurance. If there was one thing Duchess, confident in most aspects of her life, worried she was failing at, it was the one that mattered the most — parenting. It seemed like her kids were always hurting, and she supposed everyone was hurting in their own way, but she worried she'd tried so hard to protect them that it had backfired. That she was the reason they all struggled now.

"Tell me more about this project," she spoke, looking over her shoulder as she made her way down his hallway, expecting he was following. "When is it due? Is there a theme, or are you winging it?"

[wildcstwinter]

once the food was set in front of him, it was hard for toulouse not to regress back into his childhood where his mother's cooking seemed to be the cure to all the world's ailments. the scent of the food infiltrated his nose, soothing him almost immediately, his shoulders sinking. tentatively picking up the silverware he had been given in one hand and the bowl with the other, the eldest bonfamille stirred around the contents of the dish. he found himself pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth upon hearing the sound of the cork popping free from the neck of the wine bottle, accompanied by the agonizing sound of it filling one glass, and then a second.

toulouse's stomach lurched at the idea of a drink, too eager for the alcohol despite how badly his inner child just wanted to eat his mother's cooking and not think about the thirst that never seemed to be quenched. he heard his mother speaking, something about the museum and about art shows, but it was going in one ear and out the other. ❛ that's nice, mom,❜ he replied, to show he was listening even though he wasn't. not really, it was hard to focus with the knowledge of the wine now sitting expectantly on the counter. looking up, he offered duchess a tired smile; ❛ i'll uh... i'll think about it. ❜ he wouldn't. toulouse had given up taking art seriously years ago, and the thought of participating in something like that had him picking up the wine glass to take a sip before he had even tried the food.

"You're very welcome," Duchess smiled warmly, moving away from the stove to place the food in front of him before turning her attention to the empty glass and the bottle of wine removed from the refrigerator. "Oh, do you know what I was told the other day?" She spoke as she uncorked the wine, never missing a chance to sneak in talk about her kids' talent— to an extent it was probably more problematic than helpful. "The museum holds an event around the holidays, apparently, and whoever comes in first gets their art displayed for the rest of the year."

Turning to face him again, she was still smiling as she placed the glass of wine in front of her son, fighting the urge to reach across the counter to ruffle his hair, a pang in her chest at how grown up he looked standing there. "You should think about signing up. I just know you'd win. Or at least, if the judges have any sense."

[wildcstwinter]

toulouse smiled at his mom and offered her a soft shake of his head; " no need to apologize, mama, it's — it's always good to see you." toulouse knew that his siblings were going through their own things, tucking skeletons deep into their closets and sweeping their mental wellbeing under the rug . . . but — he figured one of them had to have it together. make it seem like everything was fine. pretend, and smile, and dismiss for their mother's sake. who better than the one who had been doing it his entire life ??

he watched her, brushing his aching hands down the front of his shirt, the canvas fabric soiled with a various array of paints and other mediums. " oh uh — that's alright , mama . i haven't . . . you know me . . . i don't like to be gauche. i didn't ; it's alright. i must not have said anything." in all honesty, the eldest bonfamille couldn't recall whether or not he had told his mother about his project. if he had even told anyone at all. " it's not finished yet , " he trailed off, gesturing down the hall that lead to his studio. " — but you uh . . . 'course you can. "

She didn't normally drop by unannounced, she tried not to be a helicopter parent... but Duchess was worried. All of her children seemed so stressed, so busy, so caught up in their lives, and that was perfectly alright but she was worried they were too stressed. They were too young to carry such weight with them, and she noticed more than she pretended to in their eyes. After so many people had gone missing and her younger son showed up at her house in a stumbling state...

"I'm sorry," she apologized, intending to offer him a further explanation for why she was here, to assure him she knew he could take care of himself but she was anxious to check on him anyway. But then he brought up the gallery, and a hush fell over her, only then noticing the charcoal on his arms. "I didn't know you had a project, I must not have been paying attention." If he'd told her, it was very possible she was fretting over Berlioz, or trying to call Marie... which wasn't fair to him, she realized with a pang of guilt. "I'm alright. May I see it?"