Being rich didn’t mean that someone had a perfect childhood. Of course Berlioz and his siblings got nicer things than most, more opportunities but there were still things that tarnished that ideal of money makes happiness. Even though their family wasn’t royal or rich to the point of mass public awareness, they did well enough for their name to be well known in their part of the city. That meant that they were put in the spotlight at high end events, the three darling children of Miss Adelaide Laroux. Marie always liked acting the part of the perfect daughter, letting their mother pamper her with fancy things while Ber and Toulouse had one thing in common, they wanted to be more than just gentlemen. He did abide by his mothers rules, well most of the time, making sure not to scuff his shoes or cause too much of a ruckus but paint always ended up on Toulouse’s nice suits and the blonde’s bow tie was would end up undone, pulled apart from discomfort. Berlioz didn’t like dressing up, he didn’t like the way suits made his body feel as if he couldn’t move like a normal human and the way people stared at his family, it made him feel like he wanted to hide. Marie never understood that not everyone loves the spotlight or even loves being posh, perfect children who are really just acting. It exhausted Berlioz, made him miserable and his only release was the piano. If the blonde was five years younger he would have lunged at his sister, pulling her hair until she yelled for their mother for what she just said but he was older now and knew that wasn’t the way to deal with things. Still, he was stung by the venom in her voice, his jaw tensing from anger at her accusation that he didn’t even care about the family. “Tired of my lifestyle ? I’m tired of the bullshit! but it’s not like you’d ever understand.” He spat out, shaking his head furiously. “I was okay until you showed up!” Berlioz took in another breath, his chest pushing outwards slightly. “It’s not like you care anyway, too busy dressing up to even realize that people are unhappy under the same roof.”
Compared to most siblings, the three Laroux children seemed to get along better than most; however, that was only because compared to other children, they spent less time with each other and were less likely to bother each other. Toulouse had his art; Berlioz had his music; and Marie, well, Marie had her parties and galas. They never bothered each other because it was as if they functioned in different worlds where the other siblings had no place in. Marie never resented it really; she liked having all the attention on herself especially when she knew that if her siblings wished it, they could just as easily take that from her. They were talented where she was not, and she knew that was more gravitating than anything else in the room, more than even a pretty face and agreeable voice. Secretly, she feared that one day one of her siblings would wake up and replace her as the golden child. Marie saw Berlioz physically tense and she knew that she had struck a chord within him. She could not, however, for the life of her, feel remorse for what she had said and she was horrified at the realization that she didn’t wish to take any of it back. Marie wanted to know how he felt about their family; what he truly thought about her trying so hard to stay in that world when it was so obvious that Toulouse and Berlioz were not. “Oh, right, I wouldn’t understand. Of course I wouldn’t, I’m only little Marie, happily playing the part of princess,” she mocked, her voice rising but continuing in French. She’d rather not have anyone overhear and understand what exactly they were fighting about. “Well the feeling’s mutual,” Marie replied in a shrill voice, taking deep breaths to calm herself. This is why she rarely interacted with her siblings. Everything went down in flames when they spoke. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Fine, vilify me if you want, but I’m not the root of this family’s problems. And it is not as if you have ever done anything to help this family; you’re the one who spends all day hunched over the piano.”
