𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 [Miles Fairchild x Reader]

Observational Learning

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," as Charles Caleb Colton once said. You can't help but wonder if he thought the same thing regarding how children seem to pick up on the people they admire's bad habits. You think not. If anything, he might have been just as appalled as you when you see it. You couldn't know for certain, however, because he's been dead for 161 years.

Had you not been taken away from the situation, then you think you would have been a victim of the bad habits your parents displayed, too. They call it observational learning in psychology – in which children will mimic what they see adults doing. You saw them strung out quite often, oftentimes nearly crashing while driving due to the fact that they couldn't keep their eyes open.

Your aunt, being the angel she is, whisked you away from the situation when she had to call 911 after finding your father hunched over and unresponsive. He had overdosed and was revived, thankfully, but there was no way she was going to let you back into that environment again. She filed for custody, and your parents never fought it. You're grateful they didn't.

The only problem is that she's away a lot – you don't particularly mind, actually, but she always frets and worries about you thinking that she's abandoned you. You tried to reassure her that you really don't think that, but she's always been a bit of a worrywart anyway. Naturally, the two of you came to an agreement that would quell her worries and you would be around people more often: boarding school.

The thought sort of scared you at first. You didn't consider yourself a bad kid by any means and you were under the assumption that only wayward children would go to those types of schools, but she assured you that wouldn't be the case. As a maid to many filthy rich families, she knows the scoop about the children and what school they attend. And, given the fact that these families pay her very handsomely and it's just you and her in her apartment, she has plenty for your tuition.

You examine yourself in the mirror, clad in the uniform you received in the mail. Tomorrow is the day that you will move in, and you're feeling an equal mixture of excitement and nervousness. You'll be away from your aunt, who you've begun to regard as your mother figure, and you'll be around kids you don't know very well at all. Considering the fact that they've most likely come from old money, they'd probably be snobby... would they look down on you?

"You look so cute," your aunt coos, and you nearly jump out of your skin at her sudden appearance. You peek behind your shoulder and there she stands in the doorway of your room, a proud little smile on her face. You drop your shoulders with a sigh, a little flustered at the compliment. "They're going to love you, okay? You have nothing to worry about. I'll call you every night, too."

Your eyes soften and you feel a little bit better, though some of the nervousness still remains. You adjust your jacket, almost as though you're trying to show off a little bit of your waistline more. "Which family was the one that suggested this school, again?" You ask, doing some more poses and expressions in the mirror. Maybe if you don't tuck your chin as much, you'll look more presentable...

"Mrs. Grose from the Fairchild estate suggested it for me. The son, Miles, attends there," she explains, though her expression looks a bit crestfallen as she talks about him. You're about to question it, but she supplies you with more information before you can even ask. "I feel terrible for that family. Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild passed away last year, and the only semblance of family Miles and his little sister have are Mrs. Grose, the governess, and their riding instructor."

That is a very sad scenario indeed. You frown deeply, knowing just how much it hurts to be left without parents. Your parents are still alive by the grace of God, but they're so strung out that they couldn't give less a shit about you – and you still have your aunt, at least. You can't say that for Miles and his little sister.