Silenced

He lies on his bed, staring up at his too high ceilings in his too-big bedroom, looking at the too-dull gray and too-plain room. Never once did he ever consider moving to the second floor of his bedroom, nor to try and go to the bathroom or closet so the room is smaller, (It's small enough, even with how big it is.) nor ask to paint the walls a different color, nor try to decorate it outside of what is permitted. When he was younger and had the courage and his mom by his side, he asked for several things in his room: a place for his video games (he wanted a shelf, not a story), a bed to bounce on (not a bed to die alone in), a sofa big enough for a family (not for a classroom), a window to say hi to the sun (not to see the entire city). He asked for a display case for his toys (he was forced to get rid of them), a place to put his art supplies (he was forced to store them away: "Agrestes don't do arts and crafts"), a cubby holder for his random trinkets that he found with his mom (he was forced to give those to his father), a small play-phone so he could pretend to be like his parents and answer calls (he was forced to watch his dad break it when his mom was out, forced to hear him say he is nothing without them and shouldn't try to be).

Nothing new, he supposes. There isn't much else to do aside from think when you were forced to give up any entertainment sources that you haven't read, or seen, or played a thousand times. Most days he just sits in his room, either at his desk doing homework or on his sofa playing mindless video games for hours, watching as his character keeps hitting a block and then gets pushed back, only to hit it again anyway a second later. Maybe it's his fate to just be stuck in his room, his every action controlled right down to when he's allowed to use the restroom. It's a shit way to live, and he knows this, but his father is just being overprotective. Father cares, he convinces himself, because he does care about him (not because he needs to).

Do other kids have to live like this? Because whenever he looks out his window–when letting his fingers rest from playing piano–he always sees kids with their friends, walking the streets with mouths full of food and posture slouched, loud voices that he could hear even from his closed windows. (They're not always allowed open. Sometimes, but not all the time. He likes the fresh air but he won't say anything. He doesn't want to deal with his father mad.)

Maybe he's special because he's the face of the brand. After all, famous people and people who are important (Isn't everyone important? he wanted to ask once, but he kept his mouth shut.) need to follow strict guidelines for how to live: who to talk to, how to act in public, the practice it takes to be perfect, studying different forms of etiquette and manners, learning when to take things at face value and when to think they have hidden meanings. He's learned a lot by being sheltered, and he's grateful. His father is protecting him from the loud, the unclean, the not-perfect people. (Why can't I be loud? he's wanted to ask. Why can't I be unclean? Be "not perfect?" But he won't. He's a coward.)

"Stop moping around!" says a voice, making him look up and eye the black cat kwami. Plagg has been his only friend for quite some time now. Sure, there's Chloe, and if you want to include Felix (and Kagami, but they've only talked once or twice), but they weren't the kind of friends Plagg describes to him sometimes, or the kind of friends he's read about, seen movies about, played games about. Chloe and Felix (and Kagami) don't help him when he's crying, want to call when he's bored, answer him when he reaches out. (Chloe does but she only talks about herself–another thing friends don't do.) They treat him like his father. A trophy to Chloe, a tool to Felix, and an acquaintance to Kagami. A trophy to his father, a tool to his father, and an acquaintance to his father.

(Would his father remember his birthday if not for the fan mail? Would he ever get him more than a pen? Would his father ever consider spending time together? Playing a duet? Maybe just allow him to be in the same room for more than a minute without it being related to work? Probably not, but Adrien liked to dream.)