Alex Faulkner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
videokilledme) wrote2020-01-19 04:38 pm
videokilledme) wrote2020-01-19 04:38 pm
“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Four
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Four
[music]
Time passed quickly once again after they’d returned from winter break, and before long, it was nearly mid-February.
Alex’s 21st birthday was something of a repeat of Bianca’s. Once again, they’d gone out together to pick up a bunch of drinks recommended by Avery, then returned to Bianca’s dorm room to try them out. Tonight wasn’t the first time they’d had a drinking night since Bianca’s birthday, but it was the first time since then that they’d bought enough alcohol to get pretty wasted. Today was a special occasion, after all, so they’d decided that they were going to do a lot more drinking than usual, the memories of their past hangovers having faded away in the face of their mutual, giddy excitement.
Generally on nights that they drank together, they’d end up getting pleasantly tipsy, but that was about as far as things went. Even so, those nights had been pretty rough on Alex--he’d learned firsthand that even a slightly intoxicated Bianca was a very cuddly and even more physically demonstrative Bianca than usual. A guy could only take so much of having the girl he was secretly in love with draped bonelessly across his lap, one of her thumbs tracing absent little circles on the inside of his knee, her cheek resting on his thigh. What made it even worse was that the single time he’d been bold enough to bring it up when they were sober hadn’t gone particularly well.
“It’s a good thing I know that you’re just a touchy-feely kinda person...what was the term you used before? ‘Cuddleslut’? Especially when you’ve been drinking,” Alex had said over breakfast one morning, his tone wry and teasing but also just slightly accusatory as he’d cut into a stack of pancakes, “Otherwise I might get the wrong idea about the way you keep touching me all the time, and actually try to do something about it.”
“Yeah, right,” Bianca had laughed, not even pausing to consider the fact that he might be halfway serious. “You know I’m just really comfortable around you, and I know you’re not the type of person to take advantage of something like that.” She’d given him an impish grin that was so bright and cheery that it was obvious that she didn’t know how he really felt, had no blessed idea how much her next words were going to hurt him. “Sorry if I got your hopes up~”
Maybe it had been the way that Alex kept his eyes down and focused on his plate, his face more than half hidden by the shaggy cascade of blue-grey hair falling in his face; maybe she had finally processed the dual layers in his tone of voice; maybe it was some other tiny detail, but something had suddenly seemed to click in her mind, and Bianca’s expression had shifted. For a heart-pounding moment, Alex had wondered if she’d seen through him at last--and if she had, was the emotion pounding through him fear and anxiety, or was he actually relieved--thrilled, even--that he didn’t have to hide it any more, that he wouldn’t need to pretend that he didn’t feel one of the strongest things he’d ever felt in his still-short lifetime?
“...Sorry,” Bianca had repeated more softly, and this time Alex could tell that she actually meant it...though he could also tell from the anxious way she was watching his face that the revelation she’d just had wasn’t about his true feelings. She’d simply realized that she might’ve crossed a line and made him uncomfortable with all that close contact, even if it had been pretty platonic, only verging into lightly teasing on occasion, but never overtly sexual or suggestive. “If I’ve ever made you uncomfortable with how...um, friendly I was being...sorry. It’s just...like I said before, you remind me of Avery, so...I probably act a little too familiar-”
“No,” Alex had cut in quickly, “No, it’s not...not something you need to apologize for, really. I wasn’t...uncomfortable isn’t...that’s not the right word for it.” So what was he trying to say, really? From the confused expression on her face, it had been clear that Bianca didn’t know either, so Alex had just given a sigh, briefly closing his eyes. He didn’t want her to stop getting close to him--of course he didn’t--and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable or feel inhibited around him either.
So why the hell did you even bring this up, Faulkner?
He knew why, though. Because despite the fact that he knew it was impossible, that he knew there was no reason for her to do so...some part of him had hoped that she’d meant something by those actions. That maybe some part of her, however small, did want to be with him in some capacity, and her behavior while under the influence of alcohol was her subconscious thoughts and feelings slipping through. Stupid and impossible as it was, he couldn’t completely extinguish that hope...mostly because he’d never taken the risk, never put himself out there enough that Bianca had said in no uncertain terms that she did not, could not, and would not ever feel that way about him in return.
...You’re going to have to ‘fess up at some point, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Connor, which only made him shove that thought away all the more vehemently. Maybe he would someday--maybe at the end of their senior year, when distance would probably all but put an end to their friendship anyway, when the stakes would feel lower and he’d had more time to accept and prepare for whatever his life would be like with the sudden removal of the sun from the sky.
“...It’s fine,” he’d sighed at last, giving her a half-smile that was far from convincing, “You’re fine. I was just...concerned, you know? I mean, everything else aside, I am still a guy, and I’m a guy who’s attracted to girls, so...and just, sometimes when we’re drinking, things just get...a little out of control. I just...I don’t want to...”
He had hesitated for a long moment then, worrying his lip as he tried to figure out how best to phrase this.
“...I don’t want to hurt you, or do anything disrespectful that a friend shouldn’t do when I’m not completely sober.” He’d forced a laugh at the same time that he’d forced his eyes up to meet hers, his tone wry but honestly amused as he’d added, “I mean, I guess I don’t really have to worry about that since you can kick my ass six ways to Sunday with one hand tied behind your back. If I do anything, you’ll stop me--no,” he said, suddenly completely serious again. “Actually that’s a request, a personal favor. If I ever do anything, if I ever even try to do anything that you don’t like or want, even if you know I don’t mean anything by it or it’s just an accident or I’m somehow stoned out of my mind, please stop me. By whatever means necessary. I don’t plan on ever getting that wasted, and even if I do, I’d really hope I wouldn’t...that I wouldn’t do anything like that, that’d I’d be better than that, but...just in case, y’know?”
The look Bianca had been giving him across the table, an expression of mingled warmth and a soft sort of sadness, made a wave of awkward discomfort roll through him, and he’d had to fight to keep from ducking his head in embarrassment and something a little like shame.
“...You’re really worried about this, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question, was more of a statement spoken with something like quiet wonder, but Alex had responded anyway.
“Of course. I...” For a moment he lost that battle, eyes dropping to the table before he forced them back up again with a quietly-shuddering sigh. “...You’re important to me. I don’t want to hurt you, or make you unhappy. You’re my best friend, and...honestly, probably the only real friend I’ve ever had. Definitely the only person I’ve ever wanted to be my friend. I really don’t want to do something stupid and fuck this up. So...if I ever do anything to hurt you, you have my full permission and my blessing to, just...punch me right in the face. Deal?”
With a happy smile so wide and heartfelt that her face was practically glowing with it, Bianca had picked up her chair and moved to sit on the side of the table next to Alex instead of across from him. Even that wasn’t close enough for her at the moment, though: reaching out, she linked her arm with his, cheerfully hauling him and his chair in until their shoulders bumped, then rested one of her hands in the crook of his elbow. Alex couldn’t help flushing at their sudden and unexpected proximity, but otherwise kept his expression mostly neutral.
“...You really are a pretty good guy, Alex Faulkner,” she’d stated in a glowing tone that brooked no argument, sea-green eyes dancing with pleasure. “Way better than you give yourself credit for.”
He’d snorted at that, rolling his eyes expansively as he started back in on his pancakes--but there was the faintest hint of smile around his mouth, and it was very telling that he didn’t pull away from her even slightly. “I highly doubt that, but...thanks. For the vote of confidence, and for...understanding, I guess.”
Understanding as much as she could, with the limited information he’d given her, anyway.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t really the end of it, and Alex’s fears weren’t entirely unfounded...though when something did happen, the shoe ended up being on the other foot, rather. Not that either of them was solely to blame, or solely blameless--Bianca had been so unconcerned, she was practically dismissive about it, and Alex had told her point-blank that he didn’t mind her previous behavior, that how close and familiar she sometimes got didn’t bother him...which meant that what happened that night was at least partially his own fault.
Still, it was his birthday, his 21st, and a person could be forgiven for indulging--imbibing, rather--a little too much on that proud milestone day.
It had all started innocently enough. First they’d opened the bottle of almost-fancy wine they’d bought, passing it back and forth as they ate cupcakes from a nearby bakery that Bianca really liked and watched a new documentary that had recently come out. This one was about the New Horizons space probe, going over its flyby study of Pluto and then moving on to its secondary flyby mission of Kuiper belt object Ultima Thule, and all the work that had gone into ensuring that both missions went off successfully. After that, they’d moved to the floor to play the new board game that Bianca had given Alex as a birthday present--it had sounded entertaining while still seeming fairly simple, which was a good thing for both of them after all that wine.
“Noooo, I wanted th’ owl card!” Bianca laughed, slumping back against both the bed and Alex, who found her dramatic flopping and her partly-slurred protest a lot funnier than he would have if he hadn’t already finished off a bottle or two of hard cider in addition to that wine. Bianca had been going a lot harder than he had on the alcohol front, having wanted to try a bottle of some kind of whiskey that Avery had said tasted like red-hots. She’d been steadily mixing it with soda from a two-liter bottle, but both bottles were pretty close to empty by now; they were on turn 10 of a 12-turn game, and this was the second time they’d played it through, having spent most of the first game figuring out the best strategy and learning the rules.
“Well, I wanted th’ whale card, an’ you got that one,” Alex replied, smirking sideways at her as she rested her chin on his shoulder and pouted, which made his eyes catch and linger on her very-close lips, though Bianca was too distracted by taking another drink from her own bottle of cider to notice. “So it’s only fair.”
“I had a bigger ocean’n you did!”
“An’ this time, I had-” Alex made a point of checking the card again and reading off primly, in a mocking, slightly British-sounding accent, “ ‘The largest forest not bordering on a body of water.’ So I got th’ owl.”
“Lemme see that card.”
Smirking, Alex held it up. “Sure, see?”
Bianca snickered, then flapped her hand at him insistently, “Lemme HOLD that card ‘n’ see it!”
“Nope, it’s mine.”
“I said-” Bianca suddenly lunged forward, making a grab for the card, “-Lemme SEE IT!”
Alex had expected as much though, and snatched up the card first, holding it out of her reach and leaning to the side to keep his body between them...which was actually a pretty dire miscalculation on his part, a fact he realized all too soon. “If you want it, come an’ claim--OOF!” He exhaled hard, his words cut off sharply as the blonde girl essentially body-slammed him, sending them both sprawling sideways on the futon in a giggling mess of atypically uncoordinated arms and legs.
“Gimme!” Bianca demanded, her grin pleasantly lazy and lopsided from all the liquor she’d drunk.
“How ya gonna make me?” Alex challenged, returning her grin--then he almost immediately doubled over, convulsing with laughter as Bianca started trying to tickle him, her hands darting from his sides to his stomach to his neck, one of them even slipping behind his knee (which actually earned her more of a reaction than anywhere else).
“Surrender!”
“N-now who’s--heh!--bein’ a cheater, huh?” Alex shot back in response through a torrent of giggling--most of which was honest amusement, not really a reaction to her attempts to tickle him.
Bianca got the card from him in the end, of course, but by then they were both gasping for air, stomach muscles burning from laughing so hard, and it was only after Alex had caught his breath and (with some noticeable effort) forced himself to re-focus on the present that he became fully aware of their current position. Bianca was literally lying on top of him, had been pinning his shoulders down while they’d wrestled for that card, and once she’d gotten it, she hadn’t moved away, seemingly content to lounge there on top of him, her body draped over his. Her head had come to rest on his shoulder, her chin digging into him just slightly, and one of her hands was lodged halfway up his shirt, leaving a large portion of his side and lean midriff bare.
If he hadn’t been drinking, Alex doubtless would’ve frozen, stiffened up, pulled away from this tempting, too-intimate position; as it was, he found her warmth and weight comfortable, the lightly-grazing stroke of her fingertips ghosting over his ribs not quite ticklish, just enough to make his skin tingle in a way that was most agreeable. His own hands had come to rest on her shoulders, folded across her upper back in a loose embrace, and for a time, they just lay there like that, enjoying the feeling of being close to someone else while they gave the room a chance to stop spinning.
“Guess ya win,” Alex murmured after some indeterminate length of time had passed, letting his eyes drift the rest of the way closed, but his mouth was curled in a smile that was audible in his voice, despite the alcohol-induced drawl. “Big surprise, ‘m never any match fer ya, r’ly… You’re just...amazin’ like that. Way too amazin’ fer someone like me...”
Alex was somewhere past tipsy, just drunk enough to be out of control of both his mouth and his emotions--never a good mix, as evidenced by the slight burning he could feel behind his eyelids as he came a lot closer to admitting his true feelings than he ever had so far.
Not that his best friend was really in any state to pick up on that. Now that all the alcohol she’d been drinking (and drinking pretty quickly) had been given enough time to absorb into her system, Bianca was left so inebriated that she clearly didn’t know what she was doing any more. And quite suddenly what she was doing was shifting on top of him, leaning down and nuzzling into his neck, her lips not-unintentionally brushing against the thin, sensitive skin there.
Alex shuddered at the sensation, something he’d only ever experienced once before, but there was too much alcohol in his system and he was too caught up in how good it felt to actually process what was happening. The fact that he wanted to be closer to her, that for months he had longed to feel her mouth (and only her mouth) on nearly every inch of his skin just made him even more pliable, even more acquiescent.
Touch me, he said with the way his body arched up against hers, with the way his hands had slipped from her back to clamp down on the rumpled blanket still partly wrapped around them instead, becoming white-knuckled claws, some distant part of him reflexively afraid that if he kept his hands on her, if he’d let his fingers dig into her back and pull her in closer, she’d snap out of it and realize what she was doing and pull away, and oh God, he wasn’t sure he could stand to feel her pull away from him, so as always it was better not to reach for her at all. Better to let her do all the touching, and simply accept whatever sloppy sort of affection she’d give him. Touch me, please, oh God, anywhere, everywhere-
And for an instant, her lips parted and he felt the wet heat of her tongue drag over his pulse, followed by a light scraping of teeth and a gentle nip, and a low, strangled cry caught in his throat as his fingers dug into the futon beneath them-
But then Bianca was leaning back, and Alex couldn’t completely swallow his mewl of protest at the sudden disappearance of her warm breath and hot mouth at his throat. He was shaking beneath her with mingled desire and anxiety, and it took far more effort than it should’ve for him to force his eyes open, to look up at her--at which point anxiety won control of him, jerking him out of the blur of hazy pleasure, bringing him sharply back to reality.
Reality was both better and worse than anything he ever could’ve dreamed: Bianca had him pinned to the futon, was sitting astride his hips, pressing against him intimately as she pushed him down into the thin mattress…but she was also looking down at him with alcohol-glazed eyes, and the way she was struggling to make her eyes focus on his face was all too telling of the fact that she was far too drunk to really know what she was doing, to really be choosing to do something like this.
She wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which meant it would be wrong of him to let her take this any further. And while he wanted her, God, he wanted her more than anything...Bianca had been right when she’d accused Alex of being a romantic. This wasn’t the way he wanted her--this wasn’t how he wanted things to happen between them, how he wanted them to be. If this happened like this here and now, it wouldn’t actually mean anything. It would be nothing more than a drunken fumble, a lapse in judgement, something Bianca either wouldn’t recall or probably wouldn’t want to recall. Nothing would change for the better, and they would both just go on pretending it had never happened, until it happened again under the same circumstances...and even if she was okay with it somehow, Alex knew that he wouldn’t be. He deserved better than that--no, they both did. Their friendship was worth too much to be reduced to some kind of casual, tipsy booty call. His feelings for her ran far deeper than that.
And so although every inch of his body screamed against it, Alex started trying to pull away, to push himself back upright, his voice a low, rough rasp, “Bianca, you’re-”
Drunk, he’d been about to say, waaaay too drunk to be doing this, let’s just call it a night and get some sleep, but Bianca cut him off, her own voice slurred but strong, far more loud and firm than his own comparatively weak protestation.
“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” the blonde breathed, her tone almost reverent somehow despite the fact that there had been a swear word in there--and one that was more than a little uncomfortable for Alex to hear, considering how they were currently situated. “Avery’d lit’rally kill someone t’be in this position right now...an’ I know jus’ what she’d do if she were, too...”
Before Alex knew what was going on, Bianca’s hands had come up to cradle his face, her fingers sliding into his hair, burying themselves in his shaggy, pale blue locks...and though clumsy, the action was still gentle, just tender enough to make him freeze in place, to wonder, if not quite hope...
And then, before he could fully process that, she was shifting on top of him, the motion almost a rocking of her hips as she leaned down and planted a sloppy, surprisingly awkward kiss squarely on his mouth.
Alex inhaled sharply, and Bianca took full advantage of the fact that his lips had parted slightly in surprise, deepening the kiss, which stayed messy but grew more heated and skillful as the seconds dragged on--and for a moment that felt like both forever and a mere fraction of a second, his mind went totally blank, all thought and higher reasoning temporarily leaving him as he tentatively let his mouth move against hers. She moved on top of him again in response, grinding against him, and Alex’s hesitance fell away as he kissed her back searingly hard, his hands finally coming up to frame her face, black-nailed fingers tangling in those gloriously soft blonde waves-
Then there came the sharp sound of glass clinking against glass--Bianca had shifted again and must’ve kicked over one of the many bottles on the floor all around them--and once again reality came crashing down around Alex, causing him to suddenly break off that deep, hungry kiss with a ragged, almost pained-sounding gasp, bringing up a hand to cover the lower half of his face and turning his head away sharply when she tried to reinitiate. Almost offhandedly she grasped at his wrist, pulling his hand away, feeling disjointed and fuzzy but also determinedly intent on reaching his mouth again--but then she got a good look at his face. While it was a colossal struggle to process what she was seeing with the stupid amount of alcohol coursing through her system, Bianca went still at the sight of him:
Alex was lying there beneath her, lips damningly reddened and still glistening, slick and inviting with their shared saliva. At some point she’d left a mark on his neck that was already forming a bruise, his hair and clothing were disheveled, and his eyeliner was smeared and running...because there were tears streaming from his eyes, trickling hotly down across his temples and disappearing into his hair. His expression was unlike any she’d ever seen her second-best friend wear before, and once again she had to wrestle with her own wandering thoughts and clouded mind to place it, only slowly realizing that he looked miserable, utterly defeated, and the sheer amount of pain in his pale eyes as he looked up at her through long, moisture-tangled eyelashes made her feel like she was seeing an abused animal.
Bianca was very drunk, more inebriated than she’d ever been before in her entire still-short life...but even so, a faint touch of surprise and concern still managed to work their way through the haze somehow.
“...A...Alex...?” she began uncertainly, but this time he was the one who cut her off.
“...Bianca...get offa me...please.” His voice, quiet and unsteady, broke a little on that last word, on that half-whispered please.
When she didn’t move away immediately, his eyes eased closed, tears still tracing silver and black streaks down his cheeks as he turned his face away, a vain attempt to hide his crumpled expression from her. A helpless, hopeless tugging sensation against her hands made her suddenly aware of the way she had his wrists pinned to the futon beside his head, and after another moment of befuddled, off-balance uncertainty, she released her grasp and managed to half-fall, half-slip sideways onto the mattress beside him.
The instant she was off, Alex rolled onto his side, his back facing her, and curled up into a ball, hugging his legs to his chest, his face pressed tight against his knees as he tried to calm his breathing and stop his body from shaking with a dizzying whirl of nervous tension, self-loathing, panic, heartbreaking longing, and deeply unsatisfied lust. He bit down on his lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood, fighting to keep a ragged sob from ripping its way out of him--then gave a start when he felt a hand come to rest on his back. It lingered there for a moment, on top of his right shoulder blade, then lifted up partway, then hesitantly descended again, patting in an awkward, uneven tempo, a clumsy but earnest attempt at comfort from Bianca.
Despite the fact that she and her prior actions were a large part of why he was so upset in the first place, it was a surprisingly successful endeavor. Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex forced himself to unlock his jaw, doing his best to relax his body little by little. Periodic spasms still shuddered through him, but between that warm touch on his back and some quiet, steady breathing exercises, he’d soon mostly calmed down, leaving himself feeling limp and wrung out, as well as a little dizzy and nauseous from all the alcohol.
Bianca’s unsteadily-patting hand had finally stilled once he’d stopped shaking, and Alex had only a moment to wonder if she’d fallen asleep before she was snuggling up to him. He had to fight not to let himself tense up again when he felt her cuddling in close, one cheek resting right between his shoulder blades. One hand grasped at the back of his shirt, and for a moment he was afraid that this was going to start all over again; but then she gave a drowsy sigh, and he felt her body relax against his back as she all but passed out.
Once not so long ago, Alex would’ve found it near-impossible to fall asleep in that kind of position. Now, he was far too tired, too emotionally drained, and he also still had far too much alcohol in his system to even think about trying to move away, much less leave the room entirely.
...This...sure was some birthday, was the last semi-lucid thought that wandered through his head before he welcomed the rising darkness and surrendered to sleep.
The next morning, Alex woke up well before Bianca, and he took full advantage of that fact. Head throbbing from last night’s poor decisions, he pulled out of her loose grasp and fumbled around in the near-darkness as quietly as possible until he found one of the bottles of water Bianca always kept in stock in her room, especially when they knew they would be drinking. Slamming the whole bottle and taking a mild pain-killer for his headache, Alex carefully moved to the bed, stretching out and closing his eyes and giving both water and medicine some time to absorb into his system. After dozing lightly for a while, he drank another half of a bottle of water, put up the hood of his jacket, and headed out to brave the still-weak morning light to pick up some breakfast.
He returned a little more than half an hour later, to find that while he’d been gone, Bianca had thrown up on the fluffy area rug beside the futon.
Oh, yes. Happy birthday, Alex. Now clean up your best friend’s vomit while you pointedly do not let yourself think about what happened last night.
Or, even worse--but would it have been, really? some gross, traitorous part of his mind whispered--what had almost happened. What could have happened.
...No, it was better not to think about that. Better not to think about any of it, safer for everyone involved for him to push it aside and pretend it hadn’t happened and not even try to process it.
Heaving a low sigh, Alex set aside the carefully-wrapped breakfast burritos, hash browns, and orange juice he’d snagged from the cafeteria and took stock of the situation. The rug was small, and it would (should) be pretty easy to get it to the bathroom and rinse it out before sticking it in one of the dorm’s washing machines. It looked like it should be okay, sturdy enough that it wouldn’t disintegrate in the wash, and if it did, well. He’d just buy her a new area rug.
At least she hadn’t thrown up on the bed or the futon, or even herself--all of those would’ve been a lot harder to get clean. Still, once he’d gotten back from taking care of the rug and assessed Bianca’s current state, he’d realized that this was easily the worst hangover he’d ever seen. (And having grown up with someone like Bill, that was saying something.) It was by far the worst state he’d ever seen Bianca in, which was strange in and of itself. Nearly every time they’d done any drinking before, she’d seemed to have an almost supernatural sort of resilience, some preternatural ability to drink way too much and then shrug it off the next morning. They hadn’t done much of anything all that different than they usually did when they drank together, hadn’t tried anything too new or crazy...except for...
Damn. Whatever was in that whiskey must’ve been something killer.
She’d looked healthier, less green around the gills and less likely to start dry heaving when she’d caught the flu last March. Back then, Alex had stubbornly insisted on doing what he could to nurse her back to health, stopping by twice a day to bring her water, sports drinks, and the healthiest soups the school cafeteria and local grocery store had on offer. He’d even cooked some himself over the weekend, a hearty but simple-sounding chicken soup, and it hadn’t come out half bad.
But green or not, just like last March, he had to get some water and meds into her, or she’d be miserable all day and possibly longer.
“Bianca,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, as soft and flat as he could as he knelt on the futon beside her. “Wake up. Time for some water.”
The blonde groaned and tried to bury herself deeper under the blankets, but Alex caught one of her hands, pressing a water bottle from her minifridge into it. The chill and the condensation on the plastic must’ve gotten through to her, because with another groan, she cracked open an eye to peer up at him. He’d considerately closed the blinds and kept the light off, using the glow from his phone to navigate the darkness, leaving himself and the rest of the room bathed in a faint bluish luminescence.
For a long moment, Bianca just stared at him, squinting and clearly struggling with some memory-gaps from last night; wordlessly, Alex reached out and twisted the lid off the water bottle still clutched tight in her hand.
“Drink. All of it. Then I’m gonna give you some meds, then some orange juice. Then we’re gonna let you rest a while before seeing if you can keep down some of the food I brought back for you.”
“M’kay.” Bianca’s reply was more than half rough, throaty moan, and Alex had to swallow hard and set his jaw to keep from flinching at the sound of it. He didn’t say anything else, and she stayed quiet too, accepting the medicine and the juice and obediently gulping both down before re-burying herself in the futon’s blankets.
Alex heaved a near-silent sigh and started to push himself up to his feet, thinking he’d stretch out on the bed again and maybe get a little more sleep himself--when he suddenly found Bianca’s hand tugging at his sleeve.
“S’cold,” she mumbled, face pinched with discomfort.
“...I’ll get you another blanket.”
“Just come back t’bed, that’ll be faster.”
Alex’s reply was to delicately, gently pull his sleeve free. Bianca’s eyes eased open again, a flicker of mingled hurt and confusion crossing her face at his silent refusal. Alex didn’t see it, however: he’d already moved to gather up the fluffy down comforter off of her bed and dump it on top of the blonde, covering her entirely.
“Get some rest,” he murmured, and settled in on the bed.
Half an hour later Bianca’s situation had drastically improved, and while the light was still off and the window still carefully curtained, she was hungrily digging into the breakfast he’d brought them. By that time Alex had joined her on the futon, though at a careful distance. He didn’t mind the casual contact of their knees as they both sat there cross-legged, shoving hashbrowns and breakfast burrito into their faces, but he hadn’t sat close enough for her shoulder to touch his, as he would have before last night. (Which he was not going to think about.)
“Man, my head is killin’ me,” Bianca chuckled ruefully as she finished off her orange juice and reached for a new bottle of water to replace it. “I think I must’ve blacked out--never done that before. Last thing I remember was you cheating at that game we were playing, and my very reasonable request to look at the card, which you boorishly denied.”
Alex shot her a flat sideways glare, but there was a curl to the corners of his mouth that said he’d noticed the impish, troublemaking tone in her voice. “You must’ve blacked out, because that’s not what happened at all. What actually happened was, I took a card fair and square, and you insisted on double-checking the card because you wanted the whale.”
“I GOT the whale, I wanted the owl!”
“Aha, so you do remember doubting my integrity, and thus besmirching my honor-”
“Alex--aughhh, my head hurts too much for this right now,” Bianca groaned, dropping her face into the hand not occupied by a half-eaten breakfast burrito.
“In that case,” he said primly as he crumpled up the wrapper from his own burrito and lobbed it across the room at the trash can (and missed), “I accept your unconditional surrender.”
“Alex.”
“And as part of the terms, I expect a formal apology.”
For a moment, it looked like Bianca had a mind to challenge him--but then she stopped, eyes scanning Alex’s face in an intensely focused, penetrating way that made him squirm inwardly. He was careful to keep his face blank, however, impassive but for a faint air of uncaring expectancy; but even so, whatever she saw there in his expression was enough to make the protests that had been bubbling up inside her subside.
“...Sorry,” she murmured at last, eyes still lingering on him, a hint of uncertainly in her own expression now. “I know it’s not in writing or anything so I don’t know if it really counts as ‘formal,’ but...sorry for putting you through all this. This was supposed to be us celebrating your birthday, and...now you’re takin’ care of me-”
“And cleaning up your vomit.”
“Oh, ew, I wondered where the area rug went. I’m really sorry about that.” Putting down the remains of her food, she scrubbed her face with both hands. “Gods, I might actually need to write you a letter at this rate...”
Alex was quiet for a telling moment, unthinkingly toying with his water bottle as he stared down at the space where the missing area rug should be--though that was really just an excuse to stop himself from looking over at Bianca.
“...It’s fine. You looked after me when I was throwing up after your birthday. So...I guess we’re even now. More or less.” Swallowing down whatever unfathomable emotions he felt about Bianca not remembering what had happened after the game, (the sole part of all this that he really did want an apology for), Alex forced a smile and made himself look up to meet those anxious, beautiful blue-green eyes. “Apology accepted.”
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Four
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Time passed quickly once again after they’d returned from winter break, and before long, it was nearly mid-February.
Alex’s 21st birthday was something of a repeat of Bianca’s. Once again, they’d gone out together to pick up a bunch of drinks recommended by Avery, then returned to Bianca’s dorm room to try them out. Tonight wasn’t the first time they’d had a drinking night since Bianca’s birthday, but it was the first time since then that they’d bought enough alcohol to get pretty wasted. Today was a special occasion, after all, so they’d decided that they were going to do a lot more drinking than usual, the memories of their past hangovers having faded away in the face of their mutual, giddy excitement.
Generally on nights that they drank together, they’d end up getting pleasantly tipsy, but that was about as far as things went. Even so, those nights had been pretty rough on Alex--he’d learned firsthand that even a slightly intoxicated Bianca was a very cuddly and even more physically demonstrative Bianca than usual. A guy could only take so much of having the girl he was secretly in love with draped bonelessly across his lap, one of her thumbs tracing absent little circles on the inside of his knee, her cheek resting on his thigh. What made it even worse was that the single time he’d been bold enough to bring it up when they were sober hadn’t gone particularly well.
“It’s a good thing I know that you’re just a touchy-feely kinda person...what was the term you used before? ‘Cuddleslut’? Especially when you’ve been drinking,” Alex had said over breakfast one morning, his tone wry and teasing but also just slightly accusatory as he’d cut into a stack of pancakes, “Otherwise I might get the wrong idea about the way you keep touching me all the time, and actually try to do something about it.”
“Yeah, right,” Bianca had laughed, not even pausing to consider the fact that he might be halfway serious. “You know I’m just really comfortable around you, and I know you’re not the type of person to take advantage of something like that.” She’d given him an impish grin that was so bright and cheery that it was obvious that she didn’t know how he really felt, had no blessed idea how much her next words were going to hurt him. “Sorry if I got your hopes up~”
Maybe it had been the way that Alex kept his eyes down and focused on his plate, his face more than half hidden by the shaggy cascade of blue-grey hair falling in his face; maybe she had finally processed the dual layers in his tone of voice; maybe it was some other tiny detail, but something had suddenly seemed to click in her mind, and Bianca’s expression had shifted. For a heart-pounding moment, Alex had wondered if she’d seen through him at last--and if she had, was the emotion pounding through him fear and anxiety, or was he actually relieved--thrilled, even--that he didn’t have to hide it any more, that he wouldn’t need to pretend that he didn’t feel one of the strongest things he’d ever felt in his still-short lifetime?
“...Sorry,” Bianca had repeated more softly, and this time Alex could tell that she actually meant it...though he could also tell from the anxious way she was watching his face that the revelation she’d just had wasn’t about his true feelings. She’d simply realized that she might’ve crossed a line and made him uncomfortable with all that close contact, even if it had been pretty platonic, only verging into lightly teasing on occasion, but never overtly sexual or suggestive. “If I’ve ever made you uncomfortable with how...um, friendly I was being...sorry. It’s just...like I said before, you remind me of Avery, so...I probably act a little too familiar-”
“No,” Alex had cut in quickly, “No, it’s not...not something you need to apologize for, really. I wasn’t...uncomfortable isn’t...that’s not the right word for it.” So what was he trying to say, really? From the confused expression on her face, it had been clear that Bianca didn’t know either, so Alex had just given a sigh, briefly closing his eyes. He didn’t want her to stop getting close to him--of course he didn’t--and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable or feel inhibited around him either.
So why the hell did you even bring this up, Faulkner?
He knew why, though. Because despite the fact that he knew it was impossible, that he knew there was no reason for her to do so...some part of him had hoped that she’d meant something by those actions. That maybe some part of her, however small, did want to be with him in some capacity, and her behavior while under the influence of alcohol was her subconscious thoughts and feelings slipping through. Stupid and impossible as it was, he couldn’t completely extinguish that hope...mostly because he’d never taken the risk, never put himself out there enough that Bianca had said in no uncertain terms that she did not, could not, and would not ever feel that way about him in return.
...You’re going to have to ‘fess up at some point, said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Connor, which only made him shove that thought away all the more vehemently. Maybe he would someday--maybe at the end of their senior year, when distance would probably all but put an end to their friendship anyway, when the stakes would feel lower and he’d had more time to accept and prepare for whatever his life would be like with the sudden removal of the sun from the sky.
“...It’s fine,” he’d sighed at last, giving her a half-smile that was far from convincing, “You’re fine. I was just...concerned, you know? I mean, everything else aside, I am still a guy, and I’m a guy who’s attracted to girls, so...and just, sometimes when we’re drinking, things just get...a little out of control. I just...I don’t want to...”
He had hesitated for a long moment then, worrying his lip as he tried to figure out how best to phrase this.
“...I don’t want to hurt you, or do anything disrespectful that a friend shouldn’t do when I’m not completely sober.” He’d forced a laugh at the same time that he’d forced his eyes up to meet hers, his tone wry but honestly amused as he’d added, “I mean, I guess I don’t really have to worry about that since you can kick my ass six ways to Sunday with one hand tied behind your back. If I do anything, you’ll stop me--no,” he said, suddenly completely serious again. “Actually that’s a request, a personal favor. If I ever do anything, if I ever even try to do anything that you don’t like or want, even if you know I don’t mean anything by it or it’s just an accident or I’m somehow stoned out of my mind, please stop me. By whatever means necessary. I don’t plan on ever getting that wasted, and even if I do, I’d really hope I wouldn’t...that I wouldn’t do anything like that, that’d I’d be better than that, but...just in case, y’know?”
The look Bianca had been giving him across the table, an expression of mingled warmth and a soft sort of sadness, made a wave of awkward discomfort roll through him, and he’d had to fight to keep from ducking his head in embarrassment and something a little like shame.
“...You’re really worried about this, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question, was more of a statement spoken with something like quiet wonder, but Alex had responded anyway.
“Of course. I...” For a moment he lost that battle, eyes dropping to the table before he forced them back up again with a quietly-shuddering sigh. “...You’re important to me. I don’t want to hurt you, or make you unhappy. You’re my best friend, and...honestly, probably the only real friend I’ve ever had. Definitely the only person I’ve ever wanted to be my friend. I really don’t want to do something stupid and fuck this up. So...if I ever do anything to hurt you, you have my full permission and my blessing to, just...punch me right in the face. Deal?”
With a happy smile so wide and heartfelt that her face was practically glowing with it, Bianca had picked up her chair and moved to sit on the side of the table next to Alex instead of across from him. Even that wasn’t close enough for her at the moment, though: reaching out, she linked her arm with his, cheerfully hauling him and his chair in until their shoulders bumped, then rested one of her hands in the crook of his elbow. Alex couldn’t help flushing at their sudden and unexpected proximity, but otherwise kept his expression mostly neutral.
“...You really are a pretty good guy, Alex Faulkner,” she’d stated in a glowing tone that brooked no argument, sea-green eyes dancing with pleasure. “Way better than you give yourself credit for.”
He’d snorted at that, rolling his eyes expansively as he started back in on his pancakes--but there was the faintest hint of smile around his mouth, and it was very telling that he didn’t pull away from her even slightly. “I highly doubt that, but...thanks. For the vote of confidence, and for...understanding, I guess.”
Understanding as much as she could, with the limited information he’d given her, anyway.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t really the end of it, and Alex’s fears weren’t entirely unfounded...though when something did happen, the shoe ended up being on the other foot, rather. Not that either of them was solely to blame, or solely blameless--Bianca had been so unconcerned, she was practically dismissive about it, and Alex had told her point-blank that he didn’t mind her previous behavior, that how close and familiar she sometimes got didn’t bother him...which meant that what happened that night was at least partially his own fault.
Still, it was his birthday, his 21st, and a person could be forgiven for indulging--imbibing, rather--a little too much on that proud milestone day.
It had all started innocently enough. First they’d opened the bottle of almost-fancy wine they’d bought, passing it back and forth as they ate cupcakes from a nearby bakery that Bianca really liked and watched a new documentary that had recently come out. This one was about the New Horizons space probe, going over its flyby study of Pluto and then moving on to its secondary flyby mission of Kuiper belt object Ultima Thule, and all the work that had gone into ensuring that both missions went off successfully. After that, they’d moved to the floor to play the new board game that Bianca had given Alex as a birthday present--it had sounded entertaining while still seeming fairly simple, which was a good thing for both of them after all that wine.
“Noooo, I wanted th’ owl card!” Bianca laughed, slumping back against both the bed and Alex, who found her dramatic flopping and her partly-slurred protest a lot funnier than he would have if he hadn’t already finished off a bottle or two of hard cider in addition to that wine. Bianca had been going a lot harder than he had on the alcohol front, having wanted to try a bottle of some kind of whiskey that Avery had said tasted like red-hots. She’d been steadily mixing it with soda from a two-liter bottle, but both bottles were pretty close to empty by now; they were on turn 10 of a 12-turn game, and this was the second time they’d played it through, having spent most of the first game figuring out the best strategy and learning the rules.
“Well, I wanted th’ whale card, an’ you got that one,” Alex replied, smirking sideways at her as she rested her chin on his shoulder and pouted, which made his eyes catch and linger on her very-close lips, though Bianca was too distracted by taking another drink from her own bottle of cider to notice. “So it’s only fair.”
“I had a bigger ocean’n you did!”
“An’ this time, I had-” Alex made a point of checking the card again and reading off primly, in a mocking, slightly British-sounding accent, “ ‘The largest forest not bordering on a body of water.’ So I got th’ owl.”
“Lemme see that card.”
Smirking, Alex held it up. “Sure, see?”
Bianca snickered, then flapped her hand at him insistently, “Lemme HOLD that card ‘n’ see it!”
“Nope, it’s mine.”
“I said-” Bianca suddenly lunged forward, making a grab for the card, “-Lemme SEE IT!”
Alex had expected as much though, and snatched up the card first, holding it out of her reach and leaning to the side to keep his body between them...which was actually a pretty dire miscalculation on his part, a fact he realized all too soon. “If you want it, come an’ claim--OOF!” He exhaled hard, his words cut off sharply as the blonde girl essentially body-slammed him, sending them both sprawling sideways on the futon in a giggling mess of atypically uncoordinated arms and legs.
“Gimme!” Bianca demanded, her grin pleasantly lazy and lopsided from all the liquor she’d drunk.
“How ya gonna make me?” Alex challenged, returning her grin--then he almost immediately doubled over, convulsing with laughter as Bianca started trying to tickle him, her hands darting from his sides to his stomach to his neck, one of them even slipping behind his knee (which actually earned her more of a reaction than anywhere else).
“Surrender!”
“N-now who’s--heh!--bein’ a cheater, huh?” Alex shot back in response through a torrent of giggling--most of which was honest amusement, not really a reaction to her attempts to tickle him.
Bianca got the card from him in the end, of course, but by then they were both gasping for air, stomach muscles burning from laughing so hard, and it was only after Alex had caught his breath and (with some noticeable effort) forced himself to re-focus on the present that he became fully aware of their current position. Bianca was literally lying on top of him, had been pinning his shoulders down while they’d wrestled for that card, and once she’d gotten it, she hadn’t moved away, seemingly content to lounge there on top of him, her body draped over his. Her head had come to rest on his shoulder, her chin digging into him just slightly, and one of her hands was lodged halfway up his shirt, leaving a large portion of his side and lean midriff bare.
If he hadn’t been drinking, Alex doubtless would’ve frozen, stiffened up, pulled away from this tempting, too-intimate position; as it was, he found her warmth and weight comfortable, the lightly-grazing stroke of her fingertips ghosting over his ribs not quite ticklish, just enough to make his skin tingle in a way that was most agreeable. His own hands had come to rest on her shoulders, folded across her upper back in a loose embrace, and for a time, they just lay there like that, enjoying the feeling of being close to someone else while they gave the room a chance to stop spinning.
“Guess ya win,” Alex murmured after some indeterminate length of time had passed, letting his eyes drift the rest of the way closed, but his mouth was curled in a smile that was audible in his voice, despite the alcohol-induced drawl. “Big surprise, ‘m never any match fer ya, r’ly… You’re just...amazin’ like that. Way too amazin’ fer someone like me...”
Alex was somewhere past tipsy, just drunk enough to be out of control of both his mouth and his emotions--never a good mix, as evidenced by the slight burning he could feel behind his eyelids as he came a lot closer to admitting his true feelings than he ever had so far.
Not that his best friend was really in any state to pick up on that. Now that all the alcohol she’d been drinking (and drinking pretty quickly) had been given enough time to absorb into her system, Bianca was left so inebriated that she clearly didn’t know what she was doing any more. And quite suddenly what she was doing was shifting on top of him, leaning down and nuzzling into his neck, her lips not-unintentionally brushing against the thin, sensitive skin there.
Alex shuddered at the sensation, something he’d only ever experienced once before, but there was too much alcohol in his system and he was too caught up in how good it felt to actually process what was happening. The fact that he wanted to be closer to her, that for months he had longed to feel her mouth (and only her mouth) on nearly every inch of his skin just made him even more pliable, even more acquiescent.
Touch me, he said with the way his body arched up against hers, with the way his hands had slipped from her back to clamp down on the rumpled blanket still partly wrapped around them instead, becoming white-knuckled claws, some distant part of him reflexively afraid that if he kept his hands on her, if he’d let his fingers dig into her back and pull her in closer, she’d snap out of it and realize what she was doing and pull away, and oh God, he wasn’t sure he could stand to feel her pull away from him, so as always it was better not to reach for her at all. Better to let her do all the touching, and simply accept whatever sloppy sort of affection she’d give him. Touch me, please, oh God, anywhere, everywhere-
And for an instant, her lips parted and he felt the wet heat of her tongue drag over his pulse, followed by a light scraping of teeth and a gentle nip, and a low, strangled cry caught in his throat as his fingers dug into the futon beneath them-
But then Bianca was leaning back, and Alex couldn’t completely swallow his mewl of protest at the sudden disappearance of her warm breath and hot mouth at his throat. He was shaking beneath her with mingled desire and anxiety, and it took far more effort than it should’ve for him to force his eyes open, to look up at her--at which point anxiety won control of him, jerking him out of the blur of hazy pleasure, bringing him sharply back to reality.
Reality was both better and worse than anything he ever could’ve dreamed: Bianca had him pinned to the futon, was sitting astride his hips, pressing against him intimately as she pushed him down into the thin mattress…but she was also looking down at him with alcohol-glazed eyes, and the way she was struggling to make her eyes focus on his face was all too telling of the fact that she was far too drunk to really know what she was doing, to really be choosing to do something like this.
She wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, which meant it would be wrong of him to let her take this any further. And while he wanted her, God, he wanted her more than anything...Bianca had been right when she’d accused Alex of being a romantic. This wasn’t the way he wanted her--this wasn’t how he wanted things to happen between them, how he wanted them to be. If this happened like this here and now, it wouldn’t actually mean anything. It would be nothing more than a drunken fumble, a lapse in judgement, something Bianca either wouldn’t recall or probably wouldn’t want to recall. Nothing would change for the better, and they would both just go on pretending it had never happened, until it happened again under the same circumstances...and even if she was okay with it somehow, Alex knew that he wouldn’t be. He deserved better than that--no, they both did. Their friendship was worth too much to be reduced to some kind of casual, tipsy booty call. His feelings for her ran far deeper than that.
And so although every inch of his body screamed against it, Alex started trying to pull away, to push himself back upright, his voice a low, rough rasp, “Bianca, you’re-”
Drunk, he’d been about to say, waaaay too drunk to be doing this, let’s just call it a night and get some sleep, but Bianca cut him off, her own voice slurred but strong, far more loud and firm than his own comparatively weak protestation.
“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” the blonde breathed, her tone almost reverent somehow despite the fact that there had been a swear word in there--and one that was more than a little uncomfortable for Alex to hear, considering how they were currently situated. “Avery’d lit’rally kill someone t’be in this position right now...an’ I know jus’ what she’d do if she were, too...”
Before Alex knew what was going on, Bianca’s hands had come up to cradle his face, her fingers sliding into his hair, burying themselves in his shaggy, pale blue locks...and though clumsy, the action was still gentle, just tender enough to make him freeze in place, to wonder, if not quite hope...
And then, before he could fully process that, she was shifting on top of him, the motion almost a rocking of her hips as she leaned down and planted a sloppy, surprisingly awkward kiss squarely on his mouth.
Alex inhaled sharply, and Bianca took full advantage of the fact that his lips had parted slightly in surprise, deepening the kiss, which stayed messy but grew more heated and skillful as the seconds dragged on--and for a moment that felt like both forever and a mere fraction of a second, his mind went totally blank, all thought and higher reasoning temporarily leaving him as he tentatively let his mouth move against hers. She moved on top of him again in response, grinding against him, and Alex’s hesitance fell away as he kissed her back searingly hard, his hands finally coming up to frame her face, black-nailed fingers tangling in those gloriously soft blonde waves-
Then there came the sharp sound of glass clinking against glass--Bianca had shifted again and must’ve kicked over one of the many bottles on the floor all around them--and once again reality came crashing down around Alex, causing him to suddenly break off that deep, hungry kiss with a ragged, almost pained-sounding gasp, bringing up a hand to cover the lower half of his face and turning his head away sharply when she tried to reinitiate. Almost offhandedly she grasped at his wrist, pulling his hand away, feeling disjointed and fuzzy but also determinedly intent on reaching his mouth again--but then she got a good look at his face. While it was a colossal struggle to process what she was seeing with the stupid amount of alcohol coursing through her system, Bianca went still at the sight of him:
Alex was lying there beneath her, lips damningly reddened and still glistening, slick and inviting with their shared saliva. At some point she’d left a mark on his neck that was already forming a bruise, his hair and clothing were disheveled, and his eyeliner was smeared and running...because there were tears streaming from his eyes, trickling hotly down across his temples and disappearing into his hair. His expression was unlike any she’d ever seen her second-best friend wear before, and once again she had to wrestle with her own wandering thoughts and clouded mind to place it, only slowly realizing that he looked miserable, utterly defeated, and the sheer amount of pain in his pale eyes as he looked up at her through long, moisture-tangled eyelashes made her feel like she was seeing an abused animal.
Bianca was very drunk, more inebriated than she’d ever been before in her entire still-short life...but even so, a faint touch of surprise and concern still managed to work their way through the haze somehow.
“...A...Alex...?” she began uncertainly, but this time he was the one who cut her off.
“...Bianca...get offa me...please.” His voice, quiet and unsteady, broke a little on that last word, on that half-whispered please.
When she didn’t move away immediately, his eyes eased closed, tears still tracing silver and black streaks down his cheeks as he turned his face away, a vain attempt to hide his crumpled expression from her. A helpless, hopeless tugging sensation against her hands made her suddenly aware of the way she had his wrists pinned to the futon beside his head, and after another moment of befuddled, off-balance uncertainty, she released her grasp and managed to half-fall, half-slip sideways onto the mattress beside him.
The instant she was off, Alex rolled onto his side, his back facing her, and curled up into a ball, hugging his legs to his chest, his face pressed tight against his knees as he tried to calm his breathing and stop his body from shaking with a dizzying whirl of nervous tension, self-loathing, panic, heartbreaking longing, and deeply unsatisfied lust. He bit down on his lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood, fighting to keep a ragged sob from ripping its way out of him--then gave a start when he felt a hand come to rest on his back. It lingered there for a moment, on top of his right shoulder blade, then lifted up partway, then hesitantly descended again, patting in an awkward, uneven tempo, a clumsy but earnest attempt at comfort from Bianca.
Despite the fact that she and her prior actions were a large part of why he was so upset in the first place, it was a surprisingly successful endeavor. Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex forced himself to unlock his jaw, doing his best to relax his body little by little. Periodic spasms still shuddered through him, but between that warm touch on his back and some quiet, steady breathing exercises, he’d soon mostly calmed down, leaving himself feeling limp and wrung out, as well as a little dizzy and nauseous from all the alcohol.
Bianca’s unsteadily-patting hand had finally stilled once he’d stopped shaking, and Alex had only a moment to wonder if she’d fallen asleep before she was snuggling up to him. He had to fight not to let himself tense up again when he felt her cuddling in close, one cheek resting right between his shoulder blades. One hand grasped at the back of his shirt, and for a moment he was afraid that this was going to start all over again; but then she gave a drowsy sigh, and he felt her body relax against his back as she all but passed out.
Once not so long ago, Alex would’ve found it near-impossible to fall asleep in that kind of position. Now, he was far too tired, too emotionally drained, and he also still had far too much alcohol in his system to even think about trying to move away, much less leave the room entirely.
...This...sure was some birthday, was the last semi-lucid thought that wandered through his head before he welcomed the rising darkness and surrendered to sleep.
The next morning, Alex woke up well before Bianca, and he took full advantage of that fact. Head throbbing from last night’s poor decisions, he pulled out of her loose grasp and fumbled around in the near-darkness as quietly as possible until he found one of the bottles of water Bianca always kept in stock in her room, especially when they knew they would be drinking. Slamming the whole bottle and taking a mild pain-killer for his headache, Alex carefully moved to the bed, stretching out and closing his eyes and giving both water and medicine some time to absorb into his system. After dozing lightly for a while, he drank another half of a bottle of water, put up the hood of his jacket, and headed out to brave the still-weak morning light to pick up some breakfast.
He returned a little more than half an hour later, to find that while he’d been gone, Bianca had thrown up on the fluffy area rug beside the futon.
Oh, yes. Happy birthday, Alex. Now clean up your best friend’s vomit while you pointedly do not let yourself think about what happened last night.
Or, even worse--but would it have been, really? some gross, traitorous part of his mind whispered--what had almost happened. What could have happened.
...No, it was better not to think about that. Better not to think about any of it, safer for everyone involved for him to push it aside and pretend it hadn’t happened and not even try to process it.
Heaving a low sigh, Alex set aside the carefully-wrapped breakfast burritos, hash browns, and orange juice he’d snagged from the cafeteria and took stock of the situation. The rug was small, and it would (should) be pretty easy to get it to the bathroom and rinse it out before sticking it in one of the dorm’s washing machines. It looked like it should be okay, sturdy enough that it wouldn’t disintegrate in the wash, and if it did, well. He’d just buy her a new area rug.
At least she hadn’t thrown up on the bed or the futon, or even herself--all of those would’ve been a lot harder to get clean. Still, once he’d gotten back from taking care of the rug and assessed Bianca’s current state, he’d realized that this was easily the worst hangover he’d ever seen. (And having grown up with someone like Bill, that was saying something.) It was by far the worst state he’d ever seen Bianca in, which was strange in and of itself. Nearly every time they’d done any drinking before, she’d seemed to have an almost supernatural sort of resilience, some preternatural ability to drink way too much and then shrug it off the next morning. They hadn’t done much of anything all that different than they usually did when they drank together, hadn’t tried anything too new or crazy...except for...
Damn. Whatever was in that whiskey must’ve been something killer.
She’d looked healthier, less green around the gills and less likely to start dry heaving when she’d caught the flu last March. Back then, Alex had stubbornly insisted on doing what he could to nurse her back to health, stopping by twice a day to bring her water, sports drinks, and the healthiest soups the school cafeteria and local grocery store had on offer. He’d even cooked some himself over the weekend, a hearty but simple-sounding chicken soup, and it hadn’t come out half bad.
But green or not, just like last March, he had to get some water and meds into her, or she’d be miserable all day and possibly longer.
“Bianca,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, as soft and flat as he could as he knelt on the futon beside her. “Wake up. Time for some water.”
The blonde groaned and tried to bury herself deeper under the blankets, but Alex caught one of her hands, pressing a water bottle from her minifridge into it. The chill and the condensation on the plastic must’ve gotten through to her, because with another groan, she cracked open an eye to peer up at him. He’d considerately closed the blinds and kept the light off, using the glow from his phone to navigate the darkness, leaving himself and the rest of the room bathed in a faint bluish luminescence.
For a long moment, Bianca just stared at him, squinting and clearly struggling with some memory-gaps from last night; wordlessly, Alex reached out and twisted the lid off the water bottle still clutched tight in her hand.
“Drink. All of it. Then I’m gonna give you some meds, then some orange juice. Then we’re gonna let you rest a while before seeing if you can keep down some of the food I brought back for you.”
“M’kay.” Bianca’s reply was more than half rough, throaty moan, and Alex had to swallow hard and set his jaw to keep from flinching at the sound of it. He didn’t say anything else, and she stayed quiet too, accepting the medicine and the juice and obediently gulping both down before re-burying herself in the futon’s blankets.
Alex heaved a near-silent sigh and started to push himself up to his feet, thinking he’d stretch out on the bed again and maybe get a little more sleep himself--when he suddenly found Bianca’s hand tugging at his sleeve.
“S’cold,” she mumbled, face pinched with discomfort.
“...I’ll get you another blanket.”
“Just come back t’bed, that’ll be faster.”
Alex’s reply was to delicately, gently pull his sleeve free. Bianca’s eyes eased open again, a flicker of mingled hurt and confusion crossing her face at his silent refusal. Alex didn’t see it, however: he’d already moved to gather up the fluffy down comforter off of her bed and dump it on top of the blonde, covering her entirely.
“Get some rest,” he murmured, and settled in on the bed.
Half an hour later Bianca’s situation had drastically improved, and while the light was still off and the window still carefully curtained, she was hungrily digging into the breakfast he’d brought them. By that time Alex had joined her on the futon, though at a careful distance. He didn’t mind the casual contact of their knees as they both sat there cross-legged, shoving hashbrowns and breakfast burrito into their faces, but he hadn’t sat close enough for her shoulder to touch his, as he would have before last night. (Which he was not going to think about.)
“Man, my head is killin’ me,” Bianca chuckled ruefully as she finished off her orange juice and reached for a new bottle of water to replace it. “I think I must’ve blacked out--never done that before. Last thing I remember was you cheating at that game we were playing, and my very reasonable request to look at the card, which you boorishly denied.”
Alex shot her a flat sideways glare, but there was a curl to the corners of his mouth that said he’d noticed the impish, troublemaking tone in her voice. “You must’ve blacked out, because that’s not what happened at all. What actually happened was, I took a card fair and square, and you insisted on double-checking the card because you wanted the whale.”
“I GOT the whale, I wanted the owl!”
“Aha, so you do remember doubting my integrity, and thus besmirching my honor-”
“Alex--aughhh, my head hurts too much for this right now,” Bianca groaned, dropping her face into the hand not occupied by a half-eaten breakfast burrito.
“In that case,” he said primly as he crumpled up the wrapper from his own burrito and lobbed it across the room at the trash can (and missed), “I accept your unconditional surrender.”
“Alex.”
“And as part of the terms, I expect a formal apology.”
For a moment, it looked like Bianca had a mind to challenge him--but then she stopped, eyes scanning Alex’s face in an intensely focused, penetrating way that made him squirm inwardly. He was careful to keep his face blank, however, impassive but for a faint air of uncaring expectancy; but even so, whatever she saw there in his expression was enough to make the protests that had been bubbling up inside her subside.
“...Sorry,” she murmured at last, eyes still lingering on him, a hint of uncertainly in her own expression now. “I know it’s not in writing or anything so I don’t know if it really counts as ‘formal,’ but...sorry for putting you through all this. This was supposed to be us celebrating your birthday, and...now you’re takin’ care of me-”
“And cleaning up your vomit.”
“Oh, ew, I wondered where the area rug went. I’m really sorry about that.” Putting down the remains of her food, she scrubbed her face with both hands. “Gods, I might actually need to write you a letter at this rate...”
Alex was quiet for a telling moment, unthinkingly toying with his water bottle as he stared down at the space where the missing area rug should be--though that was really just an excuse to stop himself from looking over at Bianca.
“...It’s fine. You looked after me when I was throwing up after your birthday. So...I guess we’re even now. More or less.” Swallowing down whatever unfathomable emotions he felt about Bianca not remembering what had happened after the game, (the sole part of all this that he really did want an apology for), Alex forced a smile and made himself look up to meet those anxious, beautiful blue-green eyes. “Apology accepted.”
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