“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Two

[videokilledme]

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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Two

[music]

In mid-November, the week before Thanksgiving break, Bill went out of town for the weekend...and Alex finally agreed to let Bianca come over to his house.

Despite Bianca’s stupidly busy schedule, they’d managed to grab a quick lunch together between classes, and Alex had happened to mention that he was looking forward to having the house to himself for a few days--“I think I’ll crank my music as loud as it can go while I’m listening to records or practicing on the keyboard, just to enjoy not having anyone yelling at me to turn my music down for once”--when Bianca went for the kill.

“Since your dad’s not gonna be there, does that mean I can finally come over? Maybe see the inside of your house for once, instead of just the outside?”

Alex was already shaking his head before she’d even finished asking those questions. “Look, it’s...there’s really not much to see. As many times as we’ve moved over the years, we don’t have a lot of nice furniture, or...much of anything, really. It’s just me and Bill, so...we’re not exactly...domestic.”

Bianca just gave a little laugh at that, waving away his self-conscious concern. “I’m not expecting Martha Stewart. I just wanna see where you live, and hang out with you there for once.”

“Okay, but I’m just letting you know...the inside matches the outside, so don’t expect anything fancy.”

“C’mon, Alex, we hang out in my dorm room most of the time. That isn’t exactly fancy either.”

The blue-haired student’s mouth turned in a small, wry smile, and he pushed his half-eaten plate of fries closer to Bianca, who was quick as always to accept the offer of shared food. “I dunno, all your stuff matches pretty well.”

“Yeah, well, that’s thanks to my mom. Organized as always, even when it comes to her children's’ dorm rooms. And if you think mine’s super put-together, you should see Caleb’s.”

Alex hadn’t pressed the issue, but despite his reservations, it came as no surprise that he’d given in to Bianca’s request in the end. As much time as he’d spent in her dorm room, it really was only fair, he had to acknowledge that much, and while Alex knew he couldn’t really do anything to make the house look less shabby, at least with Bill off on some business trip for the Air Force, he wouldn’t be around to make things uncomfortable. Even if there was a cold day in hell and Bill did happen to come back early for some reason, Alex was 20 years old, so what was wrong with having a friend over when Bill wasn’t home? Alex knew his father, though, and with how strait-laced Bill could be, he knew exactly what might very well be ‘wrong’ with having a friend over: namely, the fact that said friend was female.

Then again, Bill had given him some pretty judgemental sideways looks the few times Connor had forced his way into their house last year, especially considering how touchy-feely the tall senior had always been regardless of how many times Alex pushed or pulled away from him. Maybe Bill would find it ‘reassuring’ somehow that his son was bringing home a girl this time, never mind that both Connor and Bianca were both nothing more than platonic friends, or the fact that Alex had zero interest in Connor in any capacity.

...Yeah, I can hear Bill already: ‘I hope you’re prepared to take responsibility for this, Alex. You’re just a junior in college who only works part-time and still lives at home. How do you plan to support a child when you’re still a child yourself?’ As if he and Gemma didn’t have me when she was 18 and he was 23. He’d never directly asked about it, but Alex had heard (or overheard) enough during the worst of his parents’ fights to know that his conception hadn’t exactly been planned, and that while the love might have been there once, Bill’s sense of honor or whatever had definitely been the main factor that had pushed him to propose. Sure, Bill. Like I’d be that dumb, to not use protection if I ever do actually want to be with someone who wants the same thing. Thanks for the vote of confidence in my intelligence and common sense.

Shaking his head, Alex turned up the music on his headphones and focused down on the prep for the simple meal and dessert he’d settled on making.

He wasn’t much of a cook, and he was even less of a baker, but anyone with common sense could make brownies from a box, and Joe had been kind enough to teach him the secret of using heavy cream instead of water, butter instead of oil, and adding a few handfuls of semi-sweet chocolate chips to the batter.

“Boom, instant fudgy brownies that taste pretty close to homemade,” Alex’s stepfather had stated with his warm, genial smile, and Alex’s eyes had widened in surprise when he’d tasted them for himself. Joe’s smile had broken into a pleased grin on seeing that expression, and he’d added in a lightly-teasing tone, “Make ‘em for that pretty girl you can’t stop thinking about, if she likes chocolate. See if maybe it changes things a little somehow.”

In contrast to his stepfather’s sunny optimism, Alex held no such delusions about winning his way into anyone’s heart with his moderate-to-decent culinary skills, but Bianca did like chocolate a lot. Making those brownies for her couldn’t hurt, even if it didn’t ‘help’ either.

Which was why, when Bianca knocked on his door around noon on Saturday, the whole house was just starting to smell like chocolate, in addition to the scent of the ravioli and vegetable soup he was cooking on the stove. Bianca had mentioned several times that she really liked Italian food, and while Alex knew his skill level wasn’t anywhere close to high enough to make anything super authentic, he’d made this simple soup plenty of times before without incident.

“Mm, it smells great in here!” was the first thing out of the blonde’s mouth as she stepped inside, angling a cheeky grin over at Alex as she slipped out of her coat. “Guess you’re really putting your microwave through its paces, huh?”

Alex rolled his eyes a little at that old joke as he took her coat and hung it on one of the hooks behind the door, but he couldn’t resist shooting back, “Yeah, totally. Hope you like your Pizza Pockets hot on both ends and cold in the middle, ‘cause that’s the Saturday Special.” Turning, he gestured to the rest of the house--which really was almost the entire house. “Now, for the long-awaited tour. As you can see...there’s the den, the dining room area, and the kitchen, and...that’s most of the house, really.” He pointed down the hallway ahead of them as he headed back towards the kitchen, “First door on the left is my room, next one’s Bill’s. First door on the right is a closet, the next is the bathroom, which also leads into the laundry room, which leads into the garage, which is where Bill spends most of his time when he’s here and he’s not watching TV on the couch or sitting on the patio out back. There’s a coat closet by the front door, a towel closet in the bathroom, aaand...that’s about it. Also, I just boiled some water for tea, let me know if you want some, too.”

Bianca was studying everything so purposefully, sea-green eyes constantly in motion but very intent, that Alex would almost call what she was doing absorbing the location, not just “looking around.” She lingered for a long while on the pictures on the wall beside the door, the only real concession towards any sort of decoration or home-making in the whole house--Bill’s doing, surprisingly enough. They hadn’t had any pictures up back in Dayton or Spokane, the last two places they’d lived, though there had been some in San Francisco, where they’d been before.

Alex hadn’t even known that they’d still had those pictures, so it had been a surprise to come home from class one day and find them neatly reframed and carefully arranged on the wall. Of course, they were all fairly old pictures, from back when Alex had still been a little kid, and if there had been any that featured Gemma, Bill hadn’t felt inclined towards hanging those ones up. But then again, Alex had thought wryly, Bill doesn’t like to remind himself of things that he dislikes. Which obviously includes his ex-wife, and the ‘outlandishly disrespectful’ person his previously totally submissive child has become.

Bianca broke in on his return to those rather dour thoughts with a cheerfully-chirped, “You were a really cute kid.”

Alex paused in the middle of getting the ravioli out of the freezer to angle a smirk at her over his shoulder. “I know, right? What happened?”

Bianca made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Pfft, you haven’t changed that much.”

Closing the freezer door, Alex impulsively took a chance--though the dryly mocking tone of semi-disbelief in his words made it much less of a risk than it otherwise would have been. “You sayin’ that I’m cute?”

Bianca’s glance was flat and theatrically unamused, the faint curl of her mouth a dead giveaway as to her actual feelings. “Not when you act like this.”

“Good. If you’d said yes, I would’ve had to tell you to go get your eyes checked, because I am clearly evil according to at least half my callers at the radio station, and also way too edgy-looking and punk-rock to be considered cute by anyone.”

The laugh Bianca gave in response to that claim was loud and hearty enough to startle him, and she only laughed harder at his mystified, then semi-offended expression.

“What’s so funny?”

“Heh! Nothing really, it’s just--you’re so much like him in the weirdest ways, haha!”

“So much like who, exactly?”

But Bianca just pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head, though her eyes were still dancing with amusement.

Alex sighed and turned away, opening the freezer again. “All right then, keep your secrets.”

“This one’s not my secret, exactly, but I will, thanks.” Leaving the pictures behind, Bianca joined him in the kitchen, leaning on the counter as she asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nah, I have it under control, but I’ll let you know if I need your microwave wizardry at any point.”

“You are impossible.”

“Why, thank you. I do try.”

In retaliation, Bianca’s hand darted out to snag his still-steaming cup of tea. With a smug, superior look, she took a drink--then nearly spat it right back into the mug. “Blergh! Ugh, how you can drink that paint thinner you call coffee straight-up black, then drink your tea like this?!”

Alex gave a one-shouldered shrug, not looking up from stirring the ravioli into the soup. “It’s nice to have something sweet once in a while.”

“ ‘Sweet’? That’s tea-flavored sugar water!”

“Well, you know what they say about ‘a spoonful of sugar.’ ”

“Yeah,” Bianca said, wrinkling her nose (adorably enough that Alex, who’d glanced up, had to avert his gaze again) and pushing the mug as far away from her as she could, “So tell me, just how many spoonfuls of sugar are in this?”

“Just three...heaping tablespoons.”

Bianca sputtered in a mix of disbelief and disgust as Alex shot her a toothy sideways grin that let her know that he hadn’t been joking. “Like I said...” He gestured at the kettle still sitting nearby on one of the stove’s back burners. “...You’re free to make your own cup of tea. Mugs are in that cupboard to your left, tea’s in that cabinet over there. Not a ton of options, sorry, but none of it’s bad.”

The blonde gave an intentionally dramatic roll of her eyes, looking put-upon as she snagged a mug and stepped over to the indicated cabinet to pick from the three boxes of tea on offer. The soup was ready by the time she’d set her tea steeping, and Alex got out bowls and spoons, though he let her serve herself, since he didn’t know how hungry she was, or how much of a risk she wanted to take, trying his food for the first time.

Once they both had bowls and tea in hand, he led the way over to the actual dinner table, not the low coffee table in the den that he and Bill ate at most of the time. It honestly felt a little strange, making use of this generally-ignored area of the house, but he’d cleared off the stacks of junk mail and wiped it down for just this purpose, so there was no reason to feel awkward about it.

There were three chairs, despite the fact that it had only been Alex and Bill for a long time now. The fourth chair had gotten broken two moves ago, and there had been little enough reason to replace it; but for whatever reason, Bill had kept that third chair. Just in case we have company, Alex knew was the most likely answer, but like so many things, that was yet another question that the blue-haired college student thought wasn’t worth the risk of asking.

...I’ve really got to stop thinking about Bill, he told himself with a shake of his head. That was part of why he hadn’t wanted to have Bianca over here--it wasn’t a place full of light, happy memories, and Alex knew that he was inclined to be even more snarky and sarcastic than usual when Bill was around, which was saying something. But none of that was Bianca’s fault, and he shouldn’t let himself even indirectly punish her for simply being interested in seeing his house, such as it was.

As if on cue, Bianca gave an appreciative hum, drawing his attention towards her as said, “This is great. I knew getting you to cook for me was a good idea.”

Alex couldn’t help quirking one seemingly-pierced eyebrow at that--though really, nearly all of his piercings were fake now, clip-ons or magnet-backs. When he’d gotten beaten up at the end of his sophomore year, several of his piercings had been ripped out during the ordeal, and the sites had needed time to heal. They were healed by now, albeit with some scar tissue in certain cases, but Alex hadn’t gotten any of them redone just yet. Supposing his show maintained its popularity (and the numbers suggested that it would), he had another year and a half of live radio time, during which he would undoubtedly piss off a decent number of people. Best to wait for a while, until the chances of having those piercings torn out a second time would be considerably lower. In the meantime, he still wanted to keep up the appearance of having all those piercings...both because he liked the aesthetic, but also because he knew Bill absolutely hated it.

“...You must have pretty low standards, if my cooking can impress you.”

Beneath the table, Bianca immediately lashed out, landing a smart kick on his shin with her ballet-flat-clad foot--not hard enough to cause any real injury, hopefully just shy of forceful enough to leave a bruise. Alex gave a startled jump, sending about half of his current spoonful of soup onto the table, then looked over at her askance.

“Ow! What was that for?” It felt like all he was doing today was asking her questions, but at least in this case, she seemed ready and willing to explain herself.

“I said it’s great. Just accept the compliment instead of saying something snarky and mean about yourself and me.”

Alex gave a rapid double-blink, his mouth automatically coming open to shoot back a hot retort--but then he stopped. Bianca was right, as usual. She’d said something nice, and meant it, and he’d reflexively slapped it down, criticizing both himself and her in the bargain. Which was really just...unnecessarily rude.

Closing his mouth again, he breathed out a sardonic, self-deprecating little chuckle. “...Sorry. You’re right, that was uncalled for.” Swiping up the spilled soup with a napkin, Alex scooped up another spoonful, downing it before adding, “I’m glad you like it. It’s...really not hard, though. If it was-”

At a warning look from the blonde, he almost reflexively clamped his jaw shut again over the minor insult he’d been about to levy at himself.

“If it was, we could’ve made it together,” Bianca stated, pointedly supplying the words for him. “Or if it didn’t come out well, we’d order pizza, and you’d know what not to do the next time you tried to make it for me.”

“...Yeah. Okay, that...yeah,” Alex managed weakly, flushing a little at the agreeable but also intimidating idea of cooking for her with any sort of regularity, then bent his attention to his meal. Before long the awkwardness faded, as it usually did, and although the meal was fairly quiet, it still felt...nice. Really nice. In fact, sitting together at this little table with their knees accidentally bumping every so often and sharing a meal that he’d prepared almost made it feel like they were...

Newlyweds, was the word his traitorous mind supplied before he could cut off that train of thought. As he watched Bianca casually tear a piece off the loaf of french bread he’d bought at the store to compliment the meal and dunk it in her bowl, her entire bearing happy and relaxed, Alex was torn between mentally kicking himself for even thinking something so impossible...and a sudden, soul-deep longing for it to be true. Yeah, well, good luck with that, he told himself bitterly, ducking his head and forcing himself to keep regularly spooning up the soup, acting as if nothing was wrong, nothing was bothering him. Also, can’t you just enjoy what you do have, for once, instead of thinking about what you can’t and won’t ever have with her? If you can’t--some friend you are.

“So what are you baking that smells so chocolate-y and delicious?”

Alex gave himself an inward shake, determined to focus on the present, on spending these few precious hours with his best friend, not stuck inside his own head as he too often could be. “...Um, brownies, but they’re not-”

Bianca leveled a look at him over her mug of tea, and the amount of steely reprimand in it had him immediately backtracking, though what he did say came out stiff and unconvincing, almost mechanical-sounding.

“...I mean... ‘I hope you like them.’ ”

The blonde gave a satisfied nod, an unspoken that’s better, that’s more like it in the movement, and focused on finishing off her bowl of soup.

Alex shoveled in a few spoonfuls himself, then couldn’t hold in a little snort of laughter. “...I’ll say this much: at least I know I did a better job with the soup this time than I did the first time I ever made it.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“I...might have learned what happens when you boil ravioli for too long.”

Bianca flapped her hands at him in sudden excitement, nearly cutting him off as she blurted out, “Omigods, right?! I did that once too, and I felt REALLY bad about it, because it wasn’t just the store-bought box ravioli, it was the last of Zico’s homemade ones!”

...Wow, homemade ravioli? Whoever this ‘Zico’ guy really was, aside from Bianca’s almost-too-good-to-be-true godfather, it sure sounded like he could give Joe a real run for his money in the kitchen, and that was definitely saying something.

“I managed to catch them before all of them burst, at least,” Bianca sighed, and Alex nodded supportively.

“Yeah, same here.”

“But still, what a mess...and my dad only made it worse.”

Alex’s eyebrow quirked again, and he couldn’t resist saying, “Yeah, dads are good at doing that. So what’d yours do?”

“He made one of his terribly funny--or just terrible, depending on who you ask--jokes. Said he didn’t know that we were having ravi-SWOLE-li for dinner-” She let out another ringing peal of laughter, grinning as she pointed across the table at Alex. “-And the expression on Zico’s face looked almost exactly like the one you’re wearing now. Same amount of wide-eyed disbelief, but he was also just one hundred percent DONE with Dad's crap.”

“...Speaking of being done...” Alex nodded towards Bianca’s empty bowl. “There’s lots of soup left. Do you want seconds?”

Bianca accepted that offer with alacrity, though she turned down a third helping, stating that she wanted to save room for dessert, and after she helped him clean the dishes (she insisted, and of course he couldn’t say no), she gave him an even bigger grin than usual.

“All right, let’s finish the tour! I wanna see your room.”

After checking the brownies and determining that they weren’t done yet, Alex gave in yet again and guided Bianca down the short hallway to his room.

Alex’s room fit in with the rest of the house. It was small, with just barely enough room for a low-to-the-ground single bed with a faded navy-blue comforter, a ‘desk’ that was nothing more than a length of plywood balanced atop some cement blocks, and a small bookcase that doubled as a nightstand; the desk didn’t have any sort of chair--it didn’t need it, since things were cramped enough that he could sit on the end of his bed and reach the desk easily. His keyboard was shoved back into a corner, as were his turntables, and his sleek silver laptop (a gift from Gemma) sat (closed) on top of the makeshift desk. There was a (likewise closed) sliding closet door, a small window that nonetheless took up most of the outer wall, and that was just about it.

“Huh,” Bianca said, surveying the largely-blank walls, “I’m honestly kinda surprised. I was expecting your walls to basically be wallpapered with band posters.”

Alex just gave a non-committal one-shouldered shrug. “Eh, that’s what my room was like two moves ago, for sure...but it was hell taking all that down when the time came to move again. Most of ‘em ripped, and I got in huge trouble with Bill for wrecking the paint by taping stuff to the walls. Didn’t stop me from putting up a good half-dozen or so the last place we were at, but those got pretty ripped up too, and while it’s a great way to piss Bill off, it’s just not worth the time and effort of putting them all up. Not when we’re outta here at the end of next year.”

At that moment the timer went off, and Alex excused himself to go get the brownies out of the oven, though not before gesturing at the room in general and giving her permission to look around.

The brownies needed about five more minutes, so he reset the timer and headed back to his room...only to find Bianca sprawled out on her back on his bed, arms tucked comfortably behind her head, which was resting on one of his pillows. She looked over when he stopped in the doorway, sitting up with a smile as she moved over to make room on the narrow bed beside her. “C’mon, grab your laptop and let’s get watching. I still haven’t seen past the second episode of the newest season of Lockelave, thanks to my crazy schedule, and I’m dying to find out what’s gonna happen with Hatysa and Keid since they got separated from the rest of the crew.”

Alex swallowed hard around the sudden, nervous lump in his throat--he’d intended to keep them in the living room, to watch some Nextflik or ViewTube or whatever Bianca wanted to do. He had straightened up his already-clean room (which, unlike the rooms of most guys his age, was basically always neat as a pin, thanks to being raised by his literal drill sergeant father), vacuuming and dusting and airing it out as best he could, washing all the bedding and making sure his laundry was put away. He’d expected that Bianca would want to see his room, after all.

He hadn’t expected her to want to stay in there, though.

“...Are you sure you want to watch it here? The TV is a lot bigger-”

“Nah, the laptop’s fine. S’what we use in the dorm all the time, so I’m kinda used to having the screen closer, y’know?”

“...Right.” Alex was (temporarily) saved from having to come up with any sort of reply by the timer going off again, and he readily took the opportunity to flee the sight of Bianca curled up comfortably on his bed, waiting for him to join her. Stop being stupid. Stop being gross. Stop being an asshole, he told himself as he tested the brownies again, found that they were done, and set them aside to cool. Your best friend wants to cuddle platonically and watch a great show with you. You should be glad that she trusts you and that she wants to be close to you, that she doesn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward about it at all. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, even if she’s never going to love you back--so stop being so goddamn ungrateful.

By the time he’d made the short walk back to his room, he was satisfied that his head was on straight, that he’d be able to enjoy the rest of the day instead of inwardly moping like a moron. Still, he couldn’t fully fight off the sensation of slight, sinking despair when he found Bianca had climbed off the bed and was craning her neck to look with interest at his keyboard, tucked away in the corner.

“Pretty nice,” she chirped as he paused in the doorway, uncertain. “Harper would probably be jealous. I knew you played, but I haven’t ever heard you play.”

While part of him wanted to simply acknowledge, then push aside that comment in favor of getting started watching that Nextflik show, the hopeful light in Bianca’s eyes ate away at his reluctance to engage her on this particular topic of conversation. Besides, he didn’t want there to be anything that she felt like she couldn’t talk to him about, if she wanted to, so instead he gave her a crooked half-smirk. “...Are you just saying that to make an observation, or are you actually--and completely not-subtly--asking me to play something for you?”

Bianca gave a mock-offended little huff that only made Alex’s smirk spread wider, and before she could answer, he’d moved up beside her, reaching for the keyboard and quickly getting it set up. Just like the desk, he didn’t have a stool or chair or anything to sit on when he used it--he always sat on the bed, often even resting the keyboard on the bed itself. This time he used the stand, since he didn’t want to take up the whole bed, and he patted the spot beside him absently before cracking his knuckles, flexing his hands a few times, reaching out to lightly set his fingers to the keys...

And playing “Chopsticks.”

Bianca sputtered out a laugh and swatted at his arm, but he didn’t stop, smirking as he continued to play the short, silly little song the whole way through, acting like an overdramatic concert pianist the entire time, right up to and including finishing the simple piece off with a flourish.

“There. You’ve heard me play. Happy now?”

“Alex! That doesn’t even count!”

“Oh, really? Well then, how about this...”

This time, a sudden rush of notes rippled out from beneath his fingers, and Bianca went still, listening to the lovely, but somehow sad-sounding song. She recognized it, and it obviously wasn’t anything classical, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, couldn’t recall the name of the song or the band who played it. For his part, Alex was sitting with his head bowed, eyes open just the slightest of slits, his hands dancing over the keys; he seemed to have completely forgotten that Bianca was there at all, enough so that he started humming along, then singing once he reached the second verse:

“You look at me through clouded eyes,
I know you see through my lies
See the sky, see the stars;
All of this could be ours
Out of sight, out of mind,
We've been through this a thousand times
Turn your back and then you make me feel so crazy

Can you help me understand?

And now you wish that you meant something
And now you wish that you meant something to somebody else
And now you wish that you met someone
And now you wish that you meant something to somebody else...”

He suddenly seemed to remember that he wasn’t alone, and fell silent as he played out the rest of the song before turning to Bianca with a small, sheepish smile. Bianca just shook her head slowly, something like wonder on her face as she looked over at him.

“...Wow, that was really good. You’re really good.”

Alex huffed out a quiet, sardonic little laugh and anxiously plunked out a few random notes on the keyboard. “Nah, not really. I’ve just had a lot of time on my hands, and nothing else to really do with it other than...pick out songs I like on the piano. Like...how about this one?”

He started playing again, unprompted this time, and once again although the notes came smooth and quick, that same sadness still saturated the whole piece. Bianca recognized this one right away, at least--it had been on the radio a lot, unlike the last song, which she’d only remembered once he’d started singing the lyrics--and once he was done, she actually clapped, beaming at having a mini concert of sorts put on for her. One corner of Alex’s mouth pulled upwards, and he acknowledged her applause with a nod, his gaze still focused on the keyboard as he started to pick out a really well-known song. Before he got very far, though-

“Do you only play other peoples’ songs? I mean—have you written anything of your own? Anything original?”

Alex barked out a sudden, almost scornful laugh at that, both hands coming down hard on the keyboard before he pulled them back, folding them together loosely in his lap. “Definitely not. I mess around with stuff from time to time, like a lot of people probably do, but...”

“But?”

Alex shrugged, feeling decidedly self-conscious over how interested and intent she was about this. “But nothing, I guess. It’s just...not something I do. I like re-working songs a lot, but coming up with my own stuff…” He shrugged again, then moved to start breaking down the keyboard stand so he could put the piano back into its corner. “I just...haven’t really done it. Maybe part of that is something to do with the fact that I’ve never had actual lessons, I just taught myself over the years with some books and a lot of ViewTube videos, so...I’m actually not really all that good, technically speaking. I’m sure I’m doing a hundred things wrong, that the way I have my hands positioned over the keys is incorrect and my elbows aren’t right or whatever, but...it’s not like I’m looking to make a living with it. It’s just...just a hobby, I guess. Just something I do to pass the time...and anyway, even if I did write a decent piece of music, I’d probably get stuck forever on writing lyrics for it. I’m not so great at poetry, and that’s...basically what song lyrics are.”

Bianca nodded thoughtfully, her eyes resting on him steadily, soft and watchful. “Yeah, I guess that’s true--most of them do rhyme.”

“Yeah, but not all of them, and somehow that can still work for certain songs, and I just...” Shaking his head, Alex gave yet another shrug, this one even more helpless and uncertain. “...I don’t know if I can’t do it at all, or if...if I just haven’t been ‘inspired’ or whatever, to be able to write lyrics that actually sound like the person who wrote them wasn’t just looking for some easy rhymes.” His voice dropped as he made an admission, speaking something aloud that he’d never really even allowed himself to think freely. “I guess...I guess I just don’t really have anything that I feel like I need to say. Or that I can say. Not the way that I want to, anyway.”

What Alex didn’t tell her was that he was something of a perfectionist, which made creating things pretty difficult--nothing was ever good enough for him, especially not when it was something he’d come up with himself. Any music he wrote was always too derivative, or too needlessly complicated, or too boring, or too simple, and as for lyrics...well, best not even touch that topic.

Bianca herself didn’t comment on all that, seemingly thinking it over and then accepting it without protest. She was academically brilliant, there was no way to doubt or argue about that, and she was a fantastic athlete besides, but when it came to more creative pursuits...the less said about that, the better. Harper seemed to have gotten nearly all the musical talent in their family--from where, Bianca was sure she didn’t know, because her dad could probably cause an avalanche with his terrible singing and her mom had just never been all that interested in music or art, aside from architectural sketches and drafts, all of which were very clean-cut and precise, not the least bit whimsical. Skylar could at least carry a tune, and Olivia could plunk out a few songs on Harper’s keyboard, but Bianca herself didn’t play any instruments and was just as awful a singer as her dad, and Caleb was, if possible, even worse.

Alex might’ve claimed that he wasn’t very good, and honestly he wasn’t super gifted musically speaking, wasn’t a natural, a genius, or any sort of keyboard virtuoso--he hadn’t been putting up a front of false modesty when he’d told her he wasn’t all that great; but even so, in Bianca’s eyes, what little she’d seen of his playing was incredible.

“...Well, I think you’re really talented. So if you ever decide you want to write something, if you ever find something that you want to say, I hope you figure out a way to do that. And once you have, let me hear it, okay?”

The blue-haired student blinked in surprise, left more than a little off-balance by that warm vote of confidence in skills that he didn’t even have any real confidence in; but then, that was totally normal, how being around Bianca often made him feel--though the worthwhile trade-off was that he also felt challenged, encouraged, and valued.

“...Heh. Doubt that’ll ever happen, but...sure. I’ll make sure you’re one of the first people to hear anything I write, once I’m satisfied with it. Deal?”

Solemnly Bianca stuck out her hand, holding it out until Alex accepted the handshake, which she turned into a brief but firm forearm-clasp. “Deal. Now, didn’t you say that there’s brownies?”

Alex laughed at the abrupt subject change, as well as the would-be innocent look on the blonde’s face. “Yeah, I did. I’ll go get ‘em--be right back.”

He wasn’t gone for more than the handful of minutes it took to cut the still-pretty-warm and thus fairly messy brownies into pieces, half of which he left in the pan while he stacked the other half on a plate. Carrying both that plate and two glasses of milk would’ve been dumb to even attempt, so he decided to take the brownies first, then come back for the milk. As he stepped back into his room, though, he was greeted with:

“Hey, what’s this?”

Something about the curiosity in her tone of voice made Alex’s head and eyes snap up faster than they usually would--and for good reason, as it turned out. Bianca was looking at a crumpled, partially-torn, all-too-familiar piece of paper that she’d picked up from where it had fallen behind the bed. Alex froze, undisguised horror flitting across his face, and that feeling and expression only deepened as she started to read it out loud:

“ ‘You’re the sun and I’m a star
I might be silver, but you are gold.
The only difference between us
Is the distance between us
But it makes you warm and it leaves me cold.’ ”

Blinking, she turned a look over at Alex that he couldn’t quite read and said, “Did you write that?”

He wanted to deny it. Wanted to say no, and laugh it off, to tell her that it was a line from some poem someone had read in class. But lying to Bianca’s face wasn’t something he wanted to do--lying to her at all wasn’t something he wanted to do--and he’d been caught flat-footed by the question since he’d never expected, or intended, for anyone to read what he’d written.

As it turned out, that long moment of hesitation coupled with the almost guilty look on his face more than answered her question for him...and again, her reaction was one that he never could have predicted.

“I knew it,” she crowed in something like triumph, “I knew it! I could tell from the way that you’ve been answering some of the questions on your radio show.” Bianca was grinning at Alex, sea green eyes shining with excitement--and an eagerness that made him feel more than a little nervous and uncomfortable.

“...What are you talking about? What did you kn-”

“You, Alex ‘Ace’ Faulkner, are in love.”

A sinking feeling settled around him, like a physical weight pushing him down, and it felt as if all his blood had turned to ice, then drained away through the soles of his feet. But while her ‘accusation’ of sorts had caught him off-guard completely, he managed to roll with that punch somewhat, only stammering a little before snapping back indignantly, “...Wh...that’s ridiculous, why would you even think that?!”

But Bianca wasn’t so easily put off. “I told you, the way you react to some of the callers you get on your show makes it pretty obvious, if you know what to look for...and if you know your biggest secret: that deep down, there’s a part of you that’s a huge romantic.”

For a long moment, Alex just gaped at her, disbelief and embarrassment--and honestly, irritation--warring for control of his expression. Irritation won in the end, surprisingly enough, and he answered her much more snappishly than usual.

“Noted. Now, if you’ll remember, I just said that I’m not any good at poetry, and there’s nothing that I have to say that I’ve found a good way to express. So if you don’t mind, I’d like that back. Please,” he added, holding out his hand expectantly.

Bianca flinched, her own expression flooding with chagrin as she realized that she’d clearly taken things too far, even if she didn’t completely understand how or why Alex was so upset. It was a pretty little poem, she thought, but then again she didn’t know anything about poetry, so she probably wasn’t the best judge. But more than that...he’d seemed truly and deeply upset by her accusation about him being in love.

Though he didn’t deny it, she couldn’t help noting even as she guiltily handed over the crumpled piece of paper. She wondered if that meant that it was true, or if he was so sensitive and offended over her teasing because it wasn’t true.

Alex snatched the paper out of her hands, crumpling it even more in the process, then wordlessly shoved the plate of brownies at her while he went to get the milk. When he got back, he set both glasses down on the little bookcase/nightstand, grabbed his laptop off his desk, rearranged the pillows, then dropped down onto the bed beside her.

“...C’mon, enough about that garbage,” he said quietly after he’d settled in, giving Bianca a tentative smile that was small and very real, but also somehow subtly sad. “We’ve got better things to do. I thought you were dying to see more of Keid and Hatysa’s grudging, slowly-unfolding bromance--so are we gonna watch this show or not?”


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