Alex Faulkner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
videokilledme) wrote2018-01-20 06:07 pm
videokilledme) wrote2018-01-20 06:07 pm
Entry tags:
- character: alex faulkner,
- character: annabeth chase-jackson,
- character: bianca jackson,
- character: connor katou,
- character: malcolm pace,
- character: nico di angelo,
- character: percy jackson,
- character: will solace,
- genre: general,
- label: chapter fic,
- rating: pg-13 (language),
- rp,
- series: persona dreamscape (private rpg)
“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Six
~
"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Six
[music]
August and September passed in a warm autumnal haze, leaving a noticeably cooler October in their stead. Alex had spent those months more or less how he’d anticipated--in class, at work, or doing homework--but there were a few noteworthy differences. First of all, he’d spent considerably more time at school, either in the library or at the gym, this year than he had as a freshman, though he wrote that off as finding a way to escape from Bill’s oppressive presence at home. But the stifling emptiness of the house when he was there alone was hardly better--an odd sensation for an introvert like himself, who gloried in time alone and would shut down or become outright choleric if he didn’t get a certain amount of solitude and space to let himself decompress from a busy day.
A fair amount of his time was also spent in the STEAM lab in the library’s basement, where he made use of the recording studio, mostly messing around with bits and pieces of melodies that didn’t go anywhere, but also working on another remix cover, for lack of anything better to do with his limited creative energy and limitless desire to sing and play his keyboard. It took an entire day of quiet personal deliberation before he finally gave in and uploaded it to ViewTube, and when it proved to be his most popular one yet, Alex was caught between feeling pleased and discontent. (He’d changed it, shaped it, altered it, playing and singing all the notes himself...but though he’d made it halfway his own, it still wasn’t his song, not really and truly, which left him with the uncomfortable sensation of being nothing more than a parrot who repeated back what he’d heard, albeit with a different spin on it.)
Most unforeseen was that he attended the majority of the home volleyball games--not all of them, because he really did have to work some of those nights, and sometimes homework was a bitch and a half and he genuinely didn’t have the time. He only made it to one of the away games, which had happened to be on a Saturday, at a college about half an hour away from Carrington. They’d won that game (not unusual, they won most of them), and Bianca had invited him to eat a victory meal with the team and some of their friends and family, but Alex had begged off, citing a promise to go out to eat with his father and catch up on some reading for class. Plus, Bianca’s parents had been in town for the game, and that wasn’t a hurdle Alex was ready to tackle just yet. They’d only been friends for about two months now; getting family involved would just be awkward.
Not that her parents hadn’t seemed nice. Her dad had stood out from the crowd immediately: tall, handsome, and leanly muscular, with disheveled black hair and the sun-kissed appearance of someone who spent their life on the beach, and the exact same striking sea green eyes as Bianca. All told, he was impossible to miss, especially considering how loudly he was cheering for his daughter. The lovely blonde woman beside him was slightly more sedate (and, Alex realized with a faint frown, for some reason oddly familiar-looking), though she wasn’t shy about shouting encouragement to Bianca either.
If he hadn’t been paying attention, Alex might’ve missed the man sitting on the other side of Bianca’s father entirely: someone else that he recognized, a pale, slender individual with shaggy black hair whose fashion sense was dark and edgy enough to give Alex a run for his money. Alex had noticed this guy at Bianca’s other games, admiring his clothing and the intricate tattoos wrapping around his arms, but keeping his distance and carefully avoiding eye contact; there was something off-putting about him, a low-key keep away vibe that Alex only wished he could exude so strongly. Regardless of that, the dark stranger never sat alone; instead, sometimes he sat with Dr. Pace and sometimes he sat with a really cheerful and good-looking blond guy, who Alex vaguely recalled was one of the pre-med professors.
Still, mostly nice-seeming or not, Alex wasn’t up for running that particular gauntlet, especially since there was always the chance that certain family members might misunderstand why he’d gone out of his way to watch Bianca’s game in the first place. He’d given all the time he could spare to her already anyway; he did have a lot of reading, and Bill Faulkner had been testy of late with how often Alex was absent on the weekends.
Driven and focused as both Alex and Bianca tended to be when it came to academics (or at least to getting things done efficiently, in Alex’s case), they’d made a lot of progress on their History 1001 project. In fact, they were very nearly finished, and the project wasn’t due until the middle of November. Alex felt like he’d made a fair amount of progress on the friendship front as well--they texted on and off about random things now, as casual and easy as their conversations when they met each Sunday, and sometimes when their schedules synced up they caught a meal together between classes, though that was more rare. Bianca couldn’t seem to go much of anywhere without a flock of friends and admirers following her around, but from the way she smiled at them all, she genuinely enjoyed being a part of the crowd. Most of the times that Alex saw her in the cafeteria or the student union, she was already sitting at a table that had been pushed beyond its maximum capacity, and he had neither the need nor the desire to try to elbow his way into the throng.
The first time they’d agreed to eat together at the cafeteria, Bianca had just saved him a seat at her usual overcrowded table, and Alex had been too proud to refuse the offer to sit there, though he hadn’t enjoyed himself much. He’d been quiet and withdrawn, keeping his head down and speaking only when spoken to, replying in brief, terse sentences. After that, Alex had politely turned down her mealtime meeting offers...at least until the day almost two weeks later when she’d caught his eye and waved him over to a two-person table in a more out-of-the-way part of the student union. “Sorry for that other lunch meeting,” she’d said with an apologetic smile. “I should’ve realized that a ‘loner’ type like you wouldn’t have much fun in a big group like that. I guess I want everyone to feel included, but...that’s not gonna make you happy, is it.”
Alex found his eyes shifting sideways as he scratched one arm distractedly, which was likely telling enough, though he still felt the need to give her a proper answer. “...I’m just not...very good with people. Especially that many people all at once. But, look, you really don’t have to-”
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” Bianca interrupted, her tone firm. “But what I do want to do is to eat with all of my friends...even if I’m not eating with all of them at the same time. Ya get me?”
Alex had to crack a half-smile at how convoluted that sentence was, and when he looked up to find Bianca beaming at him, warm and authentic, his hesitance faded. “Yeah, I get you,” he nodded, and only just barely resisted adding, whether I want you or not.
After that, Bianca had made sure they had a one-on-one meal at least once a week, and they generally went out to eat together after they finished studying together on Sunday evenings also. Bianca discovered his almost crippling weakness for ice cream, he learned that she was allergic to shellfish, and they found that they shared a deep love of both Mediterranean and Asian cuisine.
They’d also run into each other at the gym more than a few times--in all honesty, the possibility of that happening was what made Alex go as often as he did--and (unless it was Tuesday) Bianca had immediately ditched whatever she was doing to show him some volleyball or soccer basics.
“I was either gonna get a scholarship for volleyball or soccer--I love ‘em both!--and Carrington’s volleyball team offered to cut me the best deal,” the blonde had informed him as she effortlessly juggled a soccer ball for nearly a minute. And, well, that definitely explained the reason behind that crazy bicycle kick move she’d used in that first volleyball game he’d seen.
By the time mid-October rolled around, Alex had more than gotten used to having Bianca sitting next to him in history class--in fact, out of all his classes, he actually looked forward to that one most, simply because having her there asking and answering sharp, intelligent questions made the whole experience significantly more engaging. His other classes almost seemed a little dull by comparison, even the ones that covered subject matter that he was genuinely interested in.
Once again, it was that troublemaking loudmouth Connor Katou who all but ruined his enjoyment of the class, this time with his seemingly random decision to sit next to Bianca in class. While Connor had stopped interrupting the whole class quite so often after Bianca had called him out back in August, he still muttered his one-liners under his breath just loud enough for both Alex and Bianca to hear, and Alex didn’t dare hiss a response back at him under Dr. Pace’s watch. Even worse, Connor took every available opportunity to flirt with Bianca, often in the cheesiest, most tooth-gratingly annoying ways. Alex didn’t ever even get the chance to run interference for her--Bianca always shut Connor down swiftly and neatly, with a cheerfully sharp one-liner or else a laugh and a simple flat-out denial. His persistence didn’t seem to bother her at all, but the fact that Connor kept trying when she obviously wasn’t the least bit interested made Alex angry--that was the only reason he’d admit to, in any case. Although, he acknowledged grudgingly, maybe he was a little jealous also, since dealing with Connor took up a fair amount of the time they spent in class together. He missed being able to whisper a question to her when Dr. Pace’s back was turned, or the odd sneaky text of a cute cat picture she’d send him, or how she’d sometimes reach over and doodle something on the corner or margin of his notebook when her mind was clearly somewhere other than their class. With Connor monopolizing her time, none of that really happened anymore, which left Alex fairly simmering with discontent.
That was why it came as a relief when Connor missed class for a week; so much of a relief, in fact, that a certain sort of conspiring darkness descended on Alex’s thoughts. What could he do to make this return to normalcy permanent? There had to be something. But what? Speaking to Bianca herself about it was the most obvious and mature option, and yet…she’d probably tease him about something ridiculous, like ‘wanting her all to himself’ or some such nonsense. He didn’t want to appear petty or possessive either--they were just friends, and still only recently so, nothing more--so speaking to Bianca about it was out. Just telling Connor to get lost didn’t seem like it would do any good, and it would’ve been overstepping his boundaries a bit as well: if Bianca hadn’t told him to shove off, it wasn’t Alex’s place to do so. Talking to Dr. Pace about it wouldn’t work for the same reason, and also because Alex would’ve felt like a child on the playground running to tattle on another kid. No, they were college students, if not quite full adults; they had to handle their problems themselves, not try to make a professor play referee.
...Speaking of Dr. Pace...
A sudden memory rose to the surface of Alex’s mind, something that their steely-eyed professor had said on the first day of class regarding their seating order and the attendance sheet:
“...Just know that if I do notice that you were absent that day, and yet your name somehow miraculously appeared on the sign-in roster in handwriting that is very different than usual, I will assign you a seat... Right here in the front row.”
As boisterous and abrasive as Connor was towards Dr. Pace during class, there was no way that he hadn’t noticed the other student’s absence (in fact, Alex suspected that there’d been an ever-so-subtle droop of relief in the history professor’s shoulders when Connor hadn’t come slamming in the door at the last minute).
There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision as the attendance sheet started down his row, and Alex went very quiet, very still, so tightly wrapped in thought that he could scarcely be seen to breathe. It would be simplicity itself, an easy solution to his problem--both of his problems, since it would be nearly impossible for Connor to get away with shit if he was sitting right in front of Dr. Pace.
He didn’t have to consider it twice.
When Bianca slid the attendance sheet over to him, he moved it to the other side of his stack of books, casually shielding it from her view; then he signed his own name as usual, and without the slightest trace of hesitance, or the faintest prick to his conscience, he signed Connor’s name as well.
In the loopiest, girliest-looking handwriting he could manage.
Without the scarcest hint of guilt or blush of shame, he tapped the shoulder of the girl in the row in front of him and passed the sheet along, settling back into his chair with a feeling of accomplishment. If it worked, Connor would get what he deserved and would cease to be his, or Bianca’s, immediate problem any longer. If it didn’t work, well. He’d simply have to try again the next time Connor was absent, or else come up with another plan.
It didn’t come to that, however, because sure enough, the next class period that Connor was present, Dr. Pace asked him with only thinly-veiled mordancy how, precisely, he’d managed to sign the attendance log on Friday, when he hadn’t been in class. Connor had protested his innocence quite convincingly--for once it hadn’t been an act--but that hadn’t stopped Dr. Pace from rolling his eyes and pointing to the centermost front-row seat.
Decently far away from Bianca. Almost decently far away from Alex.
Sorry not sorry, asshole, Alex thought with a mental shrug as he flipped his notebook open, his attention already on their professor. Connor was, as far as he was concerned, history.
A week later found Alex at the library, in the secret study spot that Bianca had showed him that first week of school. It pulled at him, somehow, the solitude and scenery and quiet comfort of it, so that was where he ended up studying and doing homework if he was in the library and wasn’t using one of the STEAM labs.
Dusk had crept in and swallowed the fading remains of the day without his notice; Alex was deep in research, his notes, and one of his mp3 player’s more relaxing playlists, working on an essay for his journalism class, when a familiar but completely unexpected voice broke through his cocoon of isolation and music abruptly enough that he gave a visible start.
“Aleeeex, hey. I see you’ve taken over my secret spot as your own.”
Bianca, of course.
Alex stared up at her, wide-eyed and temporarily struck speechless by her sudden appearance, as she leaned in, and before he could stop her, Bianca had tugged one of the earbuds out of his ear, slipping it into hers instead as she took the seat beside him. After listening for a few seconds, she gave that low, delighted chuckle that did perplexing things to his insides and smiled over at him. “Nickel Creek? Seriously? I thought for sure it’d be Manson or Nine Inch Nails, or at least some sort of punk-alt rock group. Or some kind of emo-inspired indie, maybe, but...not folk music.”
Quickly regaining his usual frosty composure, Alex gave her a cool sideways look, but despite her close proximity (the way their knees had knocked together as she settled sideways in her chair) he didn’t pull away, or try to reclaim his earbud. They hadn’t really talked much about music yet, despite his marrow-deep passion for it, and he was pleased to have the topic finally come up. “Who even listens to Marilyn Manson any more? And unless it’s a school textbook, judging a book by its cover is rarely a good idea...and that’s more than twice as true when it comes to people.”
“Yeah?” Bianca flashed an impish grin at him, angling a meaningful look down at his fishnet undershirt, his strap-and-buckle-covered black boots, and the chain connecting his lip ring to an earring. To his inward disquiet, Alex found that once again, as always, he had to force himself not to keep looking over at her. Instead he rolled his eyes with as much world-weariness as he could muster on the spot and pointedly turned his attention back to the notebook in front of him, not glancing over again as Bianca kept talking. “So what else have you got on here?”
“About thirty-five days of music.”
“Wh-”
“I’m not kidding. Take a look.” With his elbow, and without looking up this time, he nudged the mp3 player closer to the gaping blonde, who picked up the device a little gingerly.
“Why do you have so much music?” she said after a moment’s pause, presumably spent confirming just how many songs were stored on the little machine.
Alex gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Military brat, remember. I’ve moved around a lot, so I like to consolidate things. No reason to have CDs everywhere when I can keep it all in one place. Two places, I guess, if the online cloud counts.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d long held a love of vinyl records, which were definitely not the easiest thing to transport, but the warmth, the authenticity of the sound made it worth the haul for certain best-loved groups or albums--another conversation for another time. “I also worked part-time as a DJ back in Dayton, and kinda do the same thing now. It helps to have an mp3 player full of music as backup, just in case the wifi is down or the internet goes out wherever you’re at.” Turning the pages of two of the books spread out in front of him, he added, “And if you’re not going to give back my earbud, then I guess you might as well choose what we listen to. I’m a little busy working on something for my journalism class.”
Even from the corner of his eye, he saw her smirk at him. “Heh, so you want me to choose so that you can judge me for my taste in music?”
“I like most everything on there,” Alex returned matter-of-factly, “So there’ll be no judgement from me, for once. Then again, there is some stuff that’s only on there because it’s too popular not to have, just in case. But those are on separate playlists.” Finally raising his head again, Alex looked over at her, his expression steady and deeply serious. “If you choose something off those, then yes.” He gave a slow, considering nod. “I might have to judge you.”
For the space of three heartbeats, Bianca just stared at him; then she gave a pfft! of amusement that morphed into (repressed--library, after all) laughter. Alex gave her a slight half-smile, glad that she’d caught his deadpan joking once again. Most didn’t, even after they thought they’d gotten to know him, but Bianca consistently did, which was both a relief and something of a vindication. The icy walls that had reflexively slammed back up at her unanticipated appearance lowered again, and Alex let himself relax, easing into the sunny warmth of her presence.
She spent the next few minutes atypically quiet, intent on scrolling through the various genres and playlists. Alex spent that space of blessed silence studiously expanding upon key points that his journalism professor had covered in class earlier that day, ignoring Bianca’s almost-too-close presence at his side, and trying not to think about how nice she smelled, even coming straight from volleyball practice. Only when the blonde finally gave a satisfied nod and punched something in did Alex’s pencil finally go still.
“...Black Veil Brides?” He couldn’t help looking over at her then, pierced eyebrow raised. She hadn’t struck him as the metalcore type at all, even if this particular band was generally considered less hardcore and more ‘emo’ than most that fell into that category. “Really?”
Bianca had closed her eyes, one hand going up to the earbud to hold it in place as she nodded to the beat of the song; this time, somehow, Alex couldn’t bring himself to look away from the utterly absorbed expression on her face, the way she was biting her lip, or the smooth, perfect curve of her slightly-flushed cheeks. “Yeah,” she said a moment later, opening those heartshakingly lovely sea-green eyes and flashing Alex another impish grin. “Kickass music for working out, plus their lead singer’s smokin’ hot.”
A tinge of incredulity touched Alex’s face. “I...didn’t think he would be your type. At all.” He nearly stumbled over the words, regretting them the instant they left his lips--he had no right to judge who anyone else found attractive, much less someone who he’d only known a few months, and he knew it. And yet...for her to be interested in someone as thoroughly anti-jock and pretty as Andy Biersack… That felt like it had some sort of important meaning, like it held some sort of weight that Alex couldn’t quite manage to quantify just yet.
Much to Alex’s relief, Bianca didn’t get defensive about his lack of tact. She just gave an amused chuckle and started messing with her phone. “Ha, I know, right? Maybe it’s the contrast between his looks and his voice…? I dunno, do I really have to explain myself there?”
“No,” Alex replied immediately, “of course not.” To his inward dismay, he didn’t stop there; somehow he couldn’t keep himself from adding, “You know what they say...there’s no accounting for taste.”
“Hey now, I thought you said that you liked everything on here!”
“I like the band well enough, sure. Doesn’t mean I’m swooning over the vocalist.” Unlike some people, was the unspoken but heavy implication there, and Bianca gave him a half-exasperated, half-amused smack on the shoulder in response.
“I’m not swooning either!”
Alex’s expression was a study in innocent interest. “Did I say that you were? This is the first I’ve heard of it, buuuut since you’ve said it yourself now...”
“Alex! I am NOT swooning!”
“Riiight, riiight, of course not. Still, just warn me if you start to feel faint from listening to this smokin’ hot rock star’s voice. I’ll pick something else for us to listen to before you pass out.”
Bianca fumbled for words for a moment, and Alex felt a perverse rush of glee when a faint flush darkened her cheeks. “I- I meant it objectively!” she managed after a brief struggle, hurriedly adding, “I mean, I think plenty of famous people are good-looking! It’s not like that really means anything!”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Bianca give a frustrated growl and snatched up the mp3 player, though not before Alex got in one final parting shot of, “Anything but Marilyn Manson, please. He’s way too edgy for me,” which earned him another well-deserved punch in the arm. She got her revenge by raiding his ‘Shit For Work’ playlist and subjecting him to three Ke$ha songs in a row, then apparently took pity on him and went back to the indie-folk/alternative side of things.
A good half-hour passed in companionable quiet as they listened to Dry the River and Wolf Gang, Alex steadily working away on his essay while Bianca kept scrolling through his playlists. As he reached a stopping point, he paused, a reflective tapping of his pencil at the end of that last line punctuating his conflicted thoughts.
...Ah, well. She invited me to her first game...I might as well do the same kind of thing, he decided at last, giving his pencil a decided click. Though thanks to volleyball, she probably won’t be able to make it even if she does want to.
“So. I’m going to a show this week,” he said without preamble, not looking up from his notebook just yet, even though he was done with that essay for the night.
Bianca perked up at that, swiveling towards him with obvious enthusiasm. “Ooh, when? And what kind of music is it?”
“Mostly punk, but there’s some alternative and pop and a little bit of synth in some of their stuff, too,” Alex answered, then went on, “The show’s at 7:00 on Friday night, at the Rave Review.”
“I’ve heard some of the girls in my wing talk about that place! They said it’s a great place to dance, so I’ve been wanting to check it out, too! Maybe I’ll see you there!”
Alex didn’t mention the fact that he’d DJ’d there a few times already (thank you for that, Keiji), and he was pretty certain that he’d recognized some of the faces in the crowd as Carrington students. “Maybe,” was all he said aloud, giving a noncommittal nod as he began to pack up his books, finally stealing the earbud back from Bianca last of all. He knew that it was probably pretty obvious that he didn’t actually expect to see Bianca there, but he hoped she knew his reasons for it.
After all, with a schedule like hers, with her whole volleyball career and college scholarship potentially riding on how well she plays at any given moment, of course I wouldn’t expect her to show up somewhere the night before a game, he thought as they made their way down the stairs together, Bianca lightly chatting away like usual. Alex couldn’t even find it in himself to be disappointed that she couldn’t come--the reasons for her not to made far too much sense.
“Look, don’t worry about Friday, okay?” he said as they stepped into the cafe area, and the blonde had to turn her head away from the hot drinks menu to look down at him inquisitively. “I’m sure there will be other shows after your season is over. There’s no reason that you need to come to this one.”
Just to make certain she knew he wasn’t upset or anything stupid like that, Alex stepped right up to the counter and ordered two coffees--straight black for himself, but one of Bianca’s favourites as the other. She beamed at the unexpected kindness, thanking him and asking what he was doing for the rest of the night, but he knew that it was past time for him to get home to Bill. Bianca probably had plenty to do herself, and he said as much, earning a chuckle and a hair-ruffle that he ducked away from on reflex.
“I think that’s one of the things I like most about you, Alex,” she said with a grin. “You’re polite and tactful when you wanna be, but you really say what you’re thinking.”
“If you actually believe that, then you’re definitely not a mind-reader.”
“See? Just like that.” She raised her coffee in his direction with a broad smile, and he toasted her back with a smirk, then they both turned and headed off into the chill, dark evening. Alex hadn’t thought he’d be out so late, and he hadn’t had the chance to borrow Bill’s truck anyway, which meant it was the subway for him tonight; the sooner he got to the station, the sooner he got home, the better. Bill’s disapproval would be almost palpable from the moment Alex stepped into the house, he was sure, which made it tempting to linger and drag his feet, but no. Delaying the inevitable didn’t change anything. He might as well get it over with.
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Six
[music]
August and September passed in a warm autumnal haze, leaving a noticeably cooler October in their stead. Alex had spent those months more or less how he’d anticipated--in class, at work, or doing homework--but there were a few noteworthy differences. First of all, he’d spent considerably more time at school, either in the library or at the gym, this year than he had as a freshman, though he wrote that off as finding a way to escape from Bill’s oppressive presence at home. But the stifling emptiness of the house when he was there alone was hardly better--an odd sensation for an introvert like himself, who gloried in time alone and would shut down or become outright choleric if he didn’t get a certain amount of solitude and space to let himself decompress from a busy day.
A fair amount of his time was also spent in the STEAM lab in the library’s basement, where he made use of the recording studio, mostly messing around with bits and pieces of melodies that didn’t go anywhere, but also working on another remix cover, for lack of anything better to do with his limited creative energy and limitless desire to sing and play his keyboard. It took an entire day of quiet personal deliberation before he finally gave in and uploaded it to ViewTube, and when it proved to be his most popular one yet, Alex was caught between feeling pleased and discontent. (He’d changed it, shaped it, altered it, playing and singing all the notes himself...but though he’d made it halfway his own, it still wasn’t his song, not really and truly, which left him with the uncomfortable sensation of being nothing more than a parrot who repeated back what he’d heard, albeit with a different spin on it.)
Most unforeseen was that he attended the majority of the home volleyball games--not all of them, because he really did have to work some of those nights, and sometimes homework was a bitch and a half and he genuinely didn’t have the time. He only made it to one of the away games, which had happened to be on a Saturday, at a college about half an hour away from Carrington. They’d won that game (not unusual, they won most of them), and Bianca had invited him to eat a victory meal with the team and some of their friends and family, but Alex had begged off, citing a promise to go out to eat with his father and catch up on some reading for class. Plus, Bianca’s parents had been in town for the game, and that wasn’t a hurdle Alex was ready to tackle just yet. They’d only been friends for about two months now; getting family involved would just be awkward.
Not that her parents hadn’t seemed nice. Her dad had stood out from the crowd immediately: tall, handsome, and leanly muscular, with disheveled black hair and the sun-kissed appearance of someone who spent their life on the beach, and the exact same striking sea green eyes as Bianca. All told, he was impossible to miss, especially considering how loudly he was cheering for his daughter. The lovely blonde woman beside him was slightly more sedate (and, Alex realized with a faint frown, for some reason oddly familiar-looking), though she wasn’t shy about shouting encouragement to Bianca either.
If he hadn’t been paying attention, Alex might’ve missed the man sitting on the other side of Bianca’s father entirely: someone else that he recognized, a pale, slender individual with shaggy black hair whose fashion sense was dark and edgy enough to give Alex a run for his money. Alex had noticed this guy at Bianca’s other games, admiring his clothing and the intricate tattoos wrapping around his arms, but keeping his distance and carefully avoiding eye contact; there was something off-putting about him, a low-key keep away vibe that Alex only wished he could exude so strongly. Regardless of that, the dark stranger never sat alone; instead, sometimes he sat with Dr. Pace and sometimes he sat with a really cheerful and good-looking blond guy, who Alex vaguely recalled was one of the pre-med professors.
Still, mostly nice-seeming or not, Alex wasn’t up for running that particular gauntlet, especially since there was always the chance that certain family members might misunderstand why he’d gone out of his way to watch Bianca’s game in the first place. He’d given all the time he could spare to her already anyway; he did have a lot of reading, and Bill Faulkner had been testy of late with how often Alex was absent on the weekends.
Driven and focused as both Alex and Bianca tended to be when it came to academics (or at least to getting things done efficiently, in Alex’s case), they’d made a lot of progress on their History 1001 project. In fact, they were very nearly finished, and the project wasn’t due until the middle of November. Alex felt like he’d made a fair amount of progress on the friendship front as well--they texted on and off about random things now, as casual and easy as their conversations when they met each Sunday, and sometimes when their schedules synced up they caught a meal together between classes, though that was more rare. Bianca couldn’t seem to go much of anywhere without a flock of friends and admirers following her around, but from the way she smiled at them all, she genuinely enjoyed being a part of the crowd. Most of the times that Alex saw her in the cafeteria or the student union, she was already sitting at a table that had been pushed beyond its maximum capacity, and he had neither the need nor the desire to try to elbow his way into the throng.
The first time they’d agreed to eat together at the cafeteria, Bianca had just saved him a seat at her usual overcrowded table, and Alex had been too proud to refuse the offer to sit there, though he hadn’t enjoyed himself much. He’d been quiet and withdrawn, keeping his head down and speaking only when spoken to, replying in brief, terse sentences. After that, Alex had politely turned down her mealtime meeting offers...at least until the day almost two weeks later when she’d caught his eye and waved him over to a two-person table in a more out-of-the-way part of the student union. “Sorry for that other lunch meeting,” she’d said with an apologetic smile. “I should’ve realized that a ‘loner’ type like you wouldn’t have much fun in a big group like that. I guess I want everyone to feel included, but...that’s not gonna make you happy, is it.”
Alex found his eyes shifting sideways as he scratched one arm distractedly, which was likely telling enough, though he still felt the need to give her a proper answer. “...I’m just not...very good with people. Especially that many people all at once. But, look, you really don’t have to-”
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do,” Bianca interrupted, her tone firm. “But what I do want to do is to eat with all of my friends...even if I’m not eating with all of them at the same time. Ya get me?”
Alex had to crack a half-smile at how convoluted that sentence was, and when he looked up to find Bianca beaming at him, warm and authentic, his hesitance faded. “Yeah, I get you,” he nodded, and only just barely resisted adding, whether I want you or not.
After that, Bianca had made sure they had a one-on-one meal at least once a week, and they generally went out to eat together after they finished studying together on Sunday evenings also. Bianca discovered his almost crippling weakness for ice cream, he learned that she was allergic to shellfish, and they found that they shared a deep love of both Mediterranean and Asian cuisine.
They’d also run into each other at the gym more than a few times--in all honesty, the possibility of that happening was what made Alex go as often as he did--and (unless it was Tuesday) Bianca had immediately ditched whatever she was doing to show him some volleyball or soccer basics.
“I was either gonna get a scholarship for volleyball or soccer--I love ‘em both!--and Carrington’s volleyball team offered to cut me the best deal,” the blonde had informed him as she effortlessly juggled a soccer ball for nearly a minute. And, well, that definitely explained the reason behind that crazy bicycle kick move she’d used in that first volleyball game he’d seen.
By the time mid-October rolled around, Alex had more than gotten used to having Bianca sitting next to him in history class--in fact, out of all his classes, he actually looked forward to that one most, simply because having her there asking and answering sharp, intelligent questions made the whole experience significantly more engaging. His other classes almost seemed a little dull by comparison, even the ones that covered subject matter that he was genuinely interested in.
Once again, it was that troublemaking loudmouth Connor Katou who all but ruined his enjoyment of the class, this time with his seemingly random decision to sit next to Bianca in class. While Connor had stopped interrupting the whole class quite so often after Bianca had called him out back in August, he still muttered his one-liners under his breath just loud enough for both Alex and Bianca to hear, and Alex didn’t dare hiss a response back at him under Dr. Pace’s watch. Even worse, Connor took every available opportunity to flirt with Bianca, often in the cheesiest, most tooth-gratingly annoying ways. Alex didn’t ever even get the chance to run interference for her--Bianca always shut Connor down swiftly and neatly, with a cheerfully sharp one-liner or else a laugh and a simple flat-out denial. His persistence didn’t seem to bother her at all, but the fact that Connor kept trying when she obviously wasn’t the least bit interested made Alex angry--that was the only reason he’d admit to, in any case. Although, he acknowledged grudgingly, maybe he was a little jealous also, since dealing with Connor took up a fair amount of the time they spent in class together. He missed being able to whisper a question to her when Dr. Pace’s back was turned, or the odd sneaky text of a cute cat picture she’d send him, or how she’d sometimes reach over and doodle something on the corner or margin of his notebook when her mind was clearly somewhere other than their class. With Connor monopolizing her time, none of that really happened anymore, which left Alex fairly simmering with discontent.
That was why it came as a relief when Connor missed class for a week; so much of a relief, in fact, that a certain sort of conspiring darkness descended on Alex’s thoughts. What could he do to make this return to normalcy permanent? There had to be something. But what? Speaking to Bianca herself about it was the most obvious and mature option, and yet…she’d probably tease him about something ridiculous, like ‘wanting her all to himself’ or some such nonsense. He didn’t want to appear petty or possessive either--they were just friends, and still only recently so, nothing more--so speaking to Bianca about it was out. Just telling Connor to get lost didn’t seem like it would do any good, and it would’ve been overstepping his boundaries a bit as well: if Bianca hadn’t told him to shove off, it wasn’t Alex’s place to do so. Talking to Dr. Pace about it wouldn’t work for the same reason, and also because Alex would’ve felt like a child on the playground running to tattle on another kid. No, they were college students, if not quite full adults; they had to handle their problems themselves, not try to make a professor play referee.
...Speaking of Dr. Pace...
A sudden memory rose to the surface of Alex’s mind, something that their steely-eyed professor had said on the first day of class regarding their seating order and the attendance sheet:
“...Just know that if I do notice that you were absent that day, and yet your name somehow miraculously appeared on the sign-in roster in handwriting that is very different than usual, I will assign you a seat... Right here in the front row.”
As boisterous and abrasive as Connor was towards Dr. Pace during class, there was no way that he hadn’t noticed the other student’s absence (in fact, Alex suspected that there’d been an ever-so-subtle droop of relief in the history professor’s shoulders when Connor hadn’t come slamming in the door at the last minute).
There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision as the attendance sheet started down his row, and Alex went very quiet, very still, so tightly wrapped in thought that he could scarcely be seen to breathe. It would be simplicity itself, an easy solution to his problem--both of his problems, since it would be nearly impossible for Connor to get away with shit if he was sitting right in front of Dr. Pace.
He didn’t have to consider it twice.
When Bianca slid the attendance sheet over to him, he moved it to the other side of his stack of books, casually shielding it from her view; then he signed his own name as usual, and without the slightest trace of hesitance, or the faintest prick to his conscience, he signed Connor’s name as well.
In the loopiest, girliest-looking handwriting he could manage.
Without the scarcest hint of guilt or blush of shame, he tapped the shoulder of the girl in the row in front of him and passed the sheet along, settling back into his chair with a feeling of accomplishment. If it worked, Connor would get what he deserved and would cease to be his, or Bianca’s, immediate problem any longer. If it didn’t work, well. He’d simply have to try again the next time Connor was absent, or else come up with another plan.
It didn’t come to that, however, because sure enough, the next class period that Connor was present, Dr. Pace asked him with only thinly-veiled mordancy how, precisely, he’d managed to sign the attendance log on Friday, when he hadn’t been in class. Connor had protested his innocence quite convincingly--for once it hadn’t been an act--but that hadn’t stopped Dr. Pace from rolling his eyes and pointing to the centermost front-row seat.
Decently far away from Bianca. Almost decently far away from Alex.
Sorry not sorry, asshole, Alex thought with a mental shrug as he flipped his notebook open, his attention already on their professor. Connor was, as far as he was concerned, history.
A week later found Alex at the library, in the secret study spot that Bianca had showed him that first week of school. It pulled at him, somehow, the solitude and scenery and quiet comfort of it, so that was where he ended up studying and doing homework if he was in the library and wasn’t using one of the STEAM labs.
Dusk had crept in and swallowed the fading remains of the day without his notice; Alex was deep in research, his notes, and one of his mp3 player’s more relaxing playlists, working on an essay for his journalism class, when a familiar but completely unexpected voice broke through his cocoon of isolation and music abruptly enough that he gave a visible start.
“Aleeeex, hey. I see you’ve taken over my secret spot as your own.”
Bianca, of course.
Alex stared up at her, wide-eyed and temporarily struck speechless by her sudden appearance, as she leaned in, and before he could stop her, Bianca had tugged one of the earbuds out of his ear, slipping it into hers instead as she took the seat beside him. After listening for a few seconds, she gave that low, delighted chuckle that did perplexing things to his insides and smiled over at him. “Nickel Creek? Seriously? I thought for sure it’d be Manson or Nine Inch Nails, or at least some sort of punk-alt rock group. Or some kind of emo-inspired indie, maybe, but...not folk music.”
Quickly regaining his usual frosty composure, Alex gave her a cool sideways look, but despite her close proximity (the way their knees had knocked together as she settled sideways in her chair) he didn’t pull away, or try to reclaim his earbud. They hadn’t really talked much about music yet, despite his marrow-deep passion for it, and he was pleased to have the topic finally come up. “Who even listens to Marilyn Manson any more? And unless it’s a school textbook, judging a book by its cover is rarely a good idea...and that’s more than twice as true when it comes to people.”
“Yeah?” Bianca flashed an impish grin at him, angling a meaningful look down at his fishnet undershirt, his strap-and-buckle-covered black boots, and the chain connecting his lip ring to an earring. To his inward disquiet, Alex found that once again, as always, he had to force himself not to keep looking over at her. Instead he rolled his eyes with as much world-weariness as he could muster on the spot and pointedly turned his attention back to the notebook in front of him, not glancing over again as Bianca kept talking. “So what else have you got on here?”
“About thirty-five days of music.”
“Wh-”
“I’m not kidding. Take a look.” With his elbow, and without looking up this time, he nudged the mp3 player closer to the gaping blonde, who picked up the device a little gingerly.
“Why do you have so much music?” she said after a moment’s pause, presumably spent confirming just how many songs were stored on the little machine.
Alex gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Military brat, remember. I’ve moved around a lot, so I like to consolidate things. No reason to have CDs everywhere when I can keep it all in one place. Two places, I guess, if the online cloud counts.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d long held a love of vinyl records, which were definitely not the easiest thing to transport, but the warmth, the authenticity of the sound made it worth the haul for certain best-loved groups or albums--another conversation for another time. “I also worked part-time as a DJ back in Dayton, and kinda do the same thing now. It helps to have an mp3 player full of music as backup, just in case the wifi is down or the internet goes out wherever you’re at.” Turning the pages of two of the books spread out in front of him, he added, “And if you’re not going to give back my earbud, then I guess you might as well choose what we listen to. I’m a little busy working on something for my journalism class.”
Even from the corner of his eye, he saw her smirk at him. “Heh, so you want me to choose so that you can judge me for my taste in music?”
“I like most everything on there,” Alex returned matter-of-factly, “So there’ll be no judgement from me, for once. Then again, there is some stuff that’s only on there because it’s too popular not to have, just in case. But those are on separate playlists.” Finally raising his head again, Alex looked over at her, his expression steady and deeply serious. “If you choose something off those, then yes.” He gave a slow, considering nod. “I might have to judge you.”
For the space of three heartbeats, Bianca just stared at him; then she gave a pfft! of amusement that morphed into (repressed--library, after all) laughter. Alex gave her a slight half-smile, glad that she’d caught his deadpan joking once again. Most didn’t, even after they thought they’d gotten to know him, but Bianca consistently did, which was both a relief and something of a vindication. The icy walls that had reflexively slammed back up at her unanticipated appearance lowered again, and Alex let himself relax, easing into the sunny warmth of her presence.
She spent the next few minutes atypically quiet, intent on scrolling through the various genres and playlists. Alex spent that space of blessed silence studiously expanding upon key points that his journalism professor had covered in class earlier that day, ignoring Bianca’s almost-too-close presence at his side, and trying not to think about how nice she smelled, even coming straight from volleyball practice. Only when the blonde finally gave a satisfied nod and punched something in did Alex’s pencil finally go still.
“...Black Veil Brides?” He couldn’t help looking over at her then, pierced eyebrow raised. She hadn’t struck him as the metalcore type at all, even if this particular band was generally considered less hardcore and more ‘emo’ than most that fell into that category. “Really?”
Bianca had closed her eyes, one hand going up to the earbud to hold it in place as she nodded to the beat of the song; this time, somehow, Alex couldn’t bring himself to look away from the utterly absorbed expression on her face, the way she was biting her lip, or the smooth, perfect curve of her slightly-flushed cheeks. “Yeah,” she said a moment later, opening those heartshakingly lovely sea-green eyes and flashing Alex another impish grin. “Kickass music for working out, plus their lead singer’s smokin’ hot.”
A tinge of incredulity touched Alex’s face. “I...didn’t think he would be your type. At all.” He nearly stumbled over the words, regretting them the instant they left his lips--he had no right to judge who anyone else found attractive, much less someone who he’d only known a few months, and he knew it. And yet...for her to be interested in someone as thoroughly anti-jock and pretty as Andy Biersack… That felt like it had some sort of important meaning, like it held some sort of weight that Alex couldn’t quite manage to quantify just yet.
Much to Alex’s relief, Bianca didn’t get defensive about his lack of tact. She just gave an amused chuckle and started messing with her phone. “Ha, I know, right? Maybe it’s the contrast between his looks and his voice…? I dunno, do I really have to explain myself there?”
“No,” Alex replied immediately, “of course not.” To his inward dismay, he didn’t stop there; somehow he couldn’t keep himself from adding, “You know what they say...there’s no accounting for taste.”
“Hey now, I thought you said that you liked everything on here!”
“I like the band well enough, sure. Doesn’t mean I’m swooning over the vocalist.” Unlike some people, was the unspoken but heavy implication there, and Bianca gave him a half-exasperated, half-amused smack on the shoulder in response.
“I’m not swooning either!”
Alex’s expression was a study in innocent interest. “Did I say that you were? This is the first I’ve heard of it, buuuut since you’ve said it yourself now...”
“Alex! I am NOT swooning!”
“Riiight, riiight, of course not. Still, just warn me if you start to feel faint from listening to this smokin’ hot rock star’s voice. I’ll pick something else for us to listen to before you pass out.”
Bianca fumbled for words for a moment, and Alex felt a perverse rush of glee when a faint flush darkened her cheeks. “I- I meant it objectively!” she managed after a brief struggle, hurriedly adding, “I mean, I think plenty of famous people are good-looking! It’s not like that really means anything!”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Bianca give a frustrated growl and snatched up the mp3 player, though not before Alex got in one final parting shot of, “Anything but Marilyn Manson, please. He’s way too edgy for me,” which earned him another well-deserved punch in the arm. She got her revenge by raiding his ‘Shit For Work’ playlist and subjecting him to three Ke$ha songs in a row, then apparently took pity on him and went back to the indie-folk/alternative side of things.
A good half-hour passed in companionable quiet as they listened to Dry the River and Wolf Gang, Alex steadily working away on his essay while Bianca kept scrolling through his playlists. As he reached a stopping point, he paused, a reflective tapping of his pencil at the end of that last line punctuating his conflicted thoughts.
...Ah, well. She invited me to her first game...I might as well do the same kind of thing, he decided at last, giving his pencil a decided click. Though thanks to volleyball, she probably won’t be able to make it even if she does want to.
“So. I’m going to a show this week,” he said without preamble, not looking up from his notebook just yet, even though he was done with that essay for the night.
Bianca perked up at that, swiveling towards him with obvious enthusiasm. “Ooh, when? And what kind of music is it?”
“Mostly punk, but there’s some alternative and pop and a little bit of synth in some of their stuff, too,” Alex answered, then went on, “The show’s at 7:00 on Friday night, at the Rave Review.”
“I’ve heard some of the girls in my wing talk about that place! They said it’s a great place to dance, so I’ve been wanting to check it out, too! Maybe I’ll see you there!”
Alex didn’t mention the fact that he’d DJ’d there a few times already (thank you for that, Keiji), and he was pretty certain that he’d recognized some of the faces in the crowd as Carrington students. “Maybe,” was all he said aloud, giving a noncommittal nod as he began to pack up his books, finally stealing the earbud back from Bianca last of all. He knew that it was probably pretty obvious that he didn’t actually expect to see Bianca there, but he hoped she knew his reasons for it.
After all, with a schedule like hers, with her whole volleyball career and college scholarship potentially riding on how well she plays at any given moment, of course I wouldn’t expect her to show up somewhere the night before a game, he thought as they made their way down the stairs together, Bianca lightly chatting away like usual. Alex couldn’t even find it in himself to be disappointed that she couldn’t come--the reasons for her not to made far too much sense.
“Look, don’t worry about Friday, okay?” he said as they stepped into the cafe area, and the blonde had to turn her head away from the hot drinks menu to look down at him inquisitively. “I’m sure there will be other shows after your season is over. There’s no reason that you need to come to this one.”
Just to make certain she knew he wasn’t upset or anything stupid like that, Alex stepped right up to the counter and ordered two coffees--straight black for himself, but one of Bianca’s favourites as the other. She beamed at the unexpected kindness, thanking him and asking what he was doing for the rest of the night, but he knew that it was past time for him to get home to Bill. Bianca probably had plenty to do herself, and he said as much, earning a chuckle and a hair-ruffle that he ducked away from on reflex.
“I think that’s one of the things I like most about you, Alex,” she said with a grin. “You’re polite and tactful when you wanna be, but you really say what you’re thinking.”
“If you actually believe that, then you’re definitely not a mind-reader.”
“See? Just like that.” She raised her coffee in his direction with a broad smile, and he toasted her back with a smirk, then they both turned and headed off into the chill, dark evening. Alex hadn’t thought he’d be out so late, and he hadn’t had the chance to borrow Bill’s truck anyway, which meant it was the subway for him tonight; the sooner he got to the station, the sooner he got home, the better. Bill’s disapproval would be almost palpable from the moment Alex stepped into the house, he was sure, which made it tempting to linger and drag his feet, but no. Delaying the inevitable didn’t change anything. He might as well get it over with.
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