stefan le roux | district one

s t e f a n
l e r o u x.

Stefan earned his mane through madness. Not prophetic like Julian, promising like Larissa, precious like Beatrice, or primal like Sunny. No, the middle child was maddened to find his pride. As a boy, where there was attention or approval to be had, Stefan was there, hands cupped firmly behind his back awaiting some sort of praise from his father.

It came. But like a lion just too young to catch his prey on his own and just too old to be covered by the rest of his courage, it came in scraps. Stefan did everything Father asked of him, endlessly training through aching and strained muscles and falling asleep with the crease of a history book on the bridge of his nose. He even abandoned his two– only and ever– girlfriends per his father's request. "Not fit for you," he said of them to Stefan at the table as he collected dinner's dishes, "and too distracting."

He becomes a ghost often, vanishing from friendships that were deemed no longer good for him. No more friends, then. Hundreds of acquaintances, known to all but friend to none. His only friends were the academy trophies, plaques, and medals he shelved in his bedroom. Only gold, however. Silver and bronze were thrown away or broken down. Gold is the only thing that leaves him with a smile, classically conditioned to know that it's going to earn him Father's well-sought-after approval.

Train. Study. Win. Then comes the dopamine. The playfulness and giggliness that Stefan possessed before he became a full-time member of the family. And when the high fades, so does his smile. He waits for the day that his father confesses that he's the favorite, Stefan's the best Le Roux. But until then, it's a cycle of obedience that keeps him hopeful for what he wants.