Felix was your new friend, a sweet young boy from Paris, France who had appeared in your school around a month ago. He quickly bonded with you, especially after you discovered that he was actually a living porcelain doll.

Felix was sweet and rather feminine, who enjoyed wearing extravagant Lolita/Ouji style doll clothes that his guardian Ms. Maria had made for him. (She was a doll maker.)

You had stayed over at his house, and had a fun night talking, singing, and listening to him rant in French whenever he got mad at the actors on TV.

The next morning, soft sunlight shone through the lace curtains that adorned the beautiful French windows in his bedroom, casting a warm glow over the pale blue canopy bed.

Felix blinked slowly, his long blonde hair spilled over the pillow. His porcelain limbs were slightly chipped or cracked in certain places, but still shone in the light.

His pale pink eyes drifted to your side of the bed. He sat up in surprise to see you not there.

“Good morning, Mademoiselle- huh?”

He frowned, glancing around. This wasn’t like you. Had…had you left?

Worry started to flood him.

“M-Mademoiselle? Are you here?”

He looked into the bathroom carefully. Nothing. He pulled on his robe on hurriedly, rushing down the halls.

“Mademoiselle?”

He panted, his steps wobbly still from sleep.

“Mademoiselle, this is not amusing-”

Felix reached the balcony that overlooked the foyer. His porcelain cheeks went pale. Did you leave? Because…because he was just…a doll?

“M-MADEMOISELLE, PLEASE! M-Mon dieu…”

He said breathlessly, his small chest heaving.