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

[videokilledme]

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

[music]

Alex had refused to let himself be upset or in any way weird about what had happened on his birthday.

He knew Bianca didn’t remember any of it, that she hadn’t been in control of herself and hadn’t known what she was doing--and what was worse, she didn’t know just how terribly she’d hurt him with all of it, especially that forgotten kiss.

All that mattered was that 1) Bianca had been too drunk to know what she was doing, and 2) she would never have done it otherwise. She didn’t really think of him as a guy, as she’d proven on many occasions. He wasn’t even on her radar when it came to possible romantic partners. Still, deciding to not think about it or let it influence his behavior was one thing; actually doing that was quite another. To his credit, he did manage it for the most part. And if he was inclined to jump sometimes when Bianca touched him, or if he seemed a little quieter, a little less open and at ease around his best friend than he’d been before, well then, who could blame him?

The rest of February and the first half of March passed without incident. Alex went to class, worked at the music store, hosted his radio show every weekday night, and sometimes DJed on the weekends. Same as the year before, Bianca had more time now that volleyball season was over, so they got to hang out pretty regularly. They hadn’t managed to take a real class together this semester, but Alex had signed up for Taekwondo for one of his P.E. credits (and if it helped him not get beaten to a pulp by a bunch of dudebros again, so much the better), and Bianca had managed to work that into her schedule as well--not that she needed it. Still, thanks to her, Alex found it easier to remember to practice the various forms and kicks throughout the week. When it came to their shared downtime, they’d already finished watching (and re-watching) both seasons of Lockelave, and had taken to splitting their attention between trying various other shows and playing games of Cartel that sometimes ran for weeks at a time. To Bianca’s immense frustration, Alex’s boast over Christmas break hadn’t been an idle one: he’d won every game they’d played so far, and her stubborn determination to win at least once was really the only reason they kept playing. (“Is it because you always play as the battleship? I’M gonna be the battleship next time!” “...It’s not because I always play as the battleship. But sure, you can be that one next time. I’ll just be the iron instead, which fits, ‘cause I’m too hot to handle.”) Alex had also played on Bianca’s intramural soccer team a few more times, though he hadn’t joined officially--it would’ve been too much for his already-busy schedule, and while he wasn’t terrible at the game, he also wasn’t good enough at it to justify a massive shifting of time slots and things to accommodate it.

All told, things were going pretty well. Once again, strange as it seemed, Alex found that he was having...fun. He was enjoying his college life, which wasn’t something he’d originally prioritized, and thus hadn’t expected to have happen. He’d figured he’d just go through the motions, studying and doing his coursework as best he could to get his degree, that all-important scrap of paper that meant so much to so many employers these days. Making friends hadn’t been on his to-do list...and although he still kept everyone save Bianca at arms-length, here he was. Somehow he’d found himself studying and spending his free hours with Bianca, or eating in the cafeteria with her and her friends...and sometimes just her friends when she was late or caught up in a project. A few times, in a strange echo of last spring, he had even found himself covered in sweat and mud, wearing his very own purple t-shirt with a golden-yellow silhouette of a winged horse on it, laughing with a bunch of jocks over pizza after a spirited, hard-won victory on the soccer field.

It was...really nice. He’d expected his grades to suffer due to the demanding hours of his radio show and his burgeoning social life, but so far he’d kept them up. A few of them were even a little higher, oddly enough, though he did spend most of the time after his classes and before his show studying, so long as he didn’t have a shift at the music store.

All of that also had the added benefit of giving him somewhere else to be other than at home.

Bill hadn’t taken it well at all when Alex had told him about his job at the radio station; literally one year later, he was still every bit as obvious (and sometimes vocal) about his disapproval. Alex’s job at the music store hadn’t had his full support either, and he rolled his eyes or huffed out a low, scoffing snort or both if so much as a sideways mention of one of his son’s DJ gigs came up (which they did at times, since Alex occasionally had to borrow Bill’s truck to transport all the necessary equipment). Time had not made Bill any more agreeable regarding either Alex’s chosen vocations or his decision to become a Communications major, and on any given day, it was a toss-up as to whether he’d lambaste Alex for not studying enough, or for studying at all.

“You sit in a chair with those ridiculous-looking headphones on, and mess with all sorts of buttons and dials, and talk to people. What else is there to know? How can you study something like that?”

By now Alex had given up trying to explain the nuances of his job, and his pointed reminders that he did still have some gen ed classes, the odd music course, and his psych minor to work on were brushed aside every time.

Part of Alex wondered if Bill was annoyed about the dwindling number of shared dinners, but he dismissed that idea almost as quickly as it had come. Bill was an unapologetic workaholic, and even when Alex had been home in the evenings to muddle his way through making dinner, there had been plenty of times when Bill had chosen to stay late and eat on-base instead. If anything, Alex being home less often just made things easier for both of them--they didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to sit across from each other at the low table in front of the TV and struggle to come up with things to say that wouldn’t start World War Three (more like World War Three Thousand, at this point).

To say that things were tense between them was a massive understatement.

“You’re going to Bess’s with me over Spring Break, and that’s final.”

“Is it really, though? I’m not a kid any more, Bill. I’m 21 years old, you can’t just tell me what to do like you used to.”

“Alex-”

“And what’s the big deal, anyway? It’s not like I’m going to get in trouble or do anything I wouldn’t do anyway if you were here. Honestly, between the two of us, you’re the one who’s more likely to burn the house down-”

“ALEX.”

After everything that had happened over the years, it took a lot to make Alex shut up reflexively; Bill barking out his name with all the guttural power of a drill sergeant’s bellow was one of the few things that could manage it. And yet, even as his jaw closed with an audible clack, Alex’s grey eyes narrowed, sparks of mutiny glowing in their pale depths as he drew in another purposeful breath. If he had Bill yelling, then this fight was close to won already. Just one more push ought to do it-

“You’re going because Jess wants to see you,” Bill continued at his usual, clear volume. “It’s important to spend time with your family-”

“Heh! That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Alex.”

“C’mon, Bill. You know coming at me with all this touchy-feely family crap isn’t gonna work. It’s not like you believe it, either...and it shows.”

Bill pressed his lips together in a thin, tight line, eyes going hard with anger, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of comeback to that, and Alex went on unhindered:

“So, what’s actually gonna happen is the same thing that happened over Thanksgiving. You’re gonna go down to Alabama and have a great time catching up with Aunt Bess and, what, throwing a football around with Duke and Trey, while you pretend that your son isn’t a total disappointment to you in just about every way.”

For a long moment, Bill simply scowled across the table at Alex while the blue-haired boy serenely went about tearing up his helping of baked chicken breast. It had come out dry this time for some reason, but a little ketchup made it more or less edible.

“You got out of your responsibilities over Thanksgiving,” Bill said at last, expression grim as he turned his attention towards cutting up the rest of his chicken as well. “You aren’t getting out of them over Spring Break, too.”

Alex expelled a short, incredulous-sounding laugh. “What responsibilities? Being bored to death on the 16-hour-long car trip down to Mobile? Or having a week that I could use for working and studying and other things wasted with nothing more important or enjoyable than getting roughed up by those meathead assholes I have for cousins?”

“Duke is in the Air Force now, and Trey is in Navy ROTC in the hopes of being a Marine-”

“Yes, and we’re all so very proud of them, but contrary to what you might believe, Bill, being accepted into military service doesn’t magically exempt you from being either a meathead or an asshole, and it doesn’t prevent you from being both, either.”

“Alex.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m being way too hard on them. It’s not like they ever did anything to me, after all. Not like one of them broke my arm or anything-”

“That was nine years ago-”

“Oh, of course,” Alex cut in with another laugh, this one stilted and searingly frigid. “The statute of limitations has long expired on any possible assault charges, therefore whatever he did to your son back then doesn’t matter anymore. How irresponsible of me to think otherwise.”

That jab, dripping with sarcasm, was the final straw for Bill. Throwing his silverware down with a ringing clatter, he half-stood, leaning heavily on the table, expression thunderous--but Alex didn’t even flinch, looking across the table and up at Bill with a grim sort of steadiness in his expression. Go on, do something about it, those grey eyes said, I’m right and you know it, so show me how the great Colonel William Faulkner handles things. Whatever Bill had intended to say was lost in the face of that steady defiance and his own hidden misgivings about more than a few things concerning his rather tempestuous tenure as a father.

Alex smirked openly when he saw Bill’s shoulders sag--a sure sign that he’d won. He won most of their arguments, so this was nothing new or particularly noteworthy. Even so, he’d long since learned that the wisest recourse after a victory like this one was a hasty retreat. Scooping up his plate and its half-eaten contents and getting to his feet in a much more measured, leisurely fashion, he said, “If you need me, I’ll be in my room doing the responsible thing--my homework.”

Gathering up his silverware and his cup, Alex dropped all of them off in the sink, and had just reached the hall when his father spoke again.

“...If you don’t go to Alabama with me, then you’d better have all your things cleared out of here by the time I get back,” Bill said, his voice quiet but utterly serious, unwaveringly stern. “You might be an adult in the eyes of society, but that doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want. This is my house, and if you’re going to live here, you’re going to give me a certain level of respect. If you can’t handle that, then there’s no place for you here.”

Alex stopped in his tracks at that, his whole body going cold. Really? Bill was threatening to kick him out over something as stupid as refusing to go on a family visit? He would go that far over this when the only reason that Alex had stayed here with him at all was so that Bill wouldn’t be alone?

...That’s not entirely true, you know. You also just didn’t want to be like Gemma. And you didn’t want to feel like a familial fifth wheel by living with her perfect family now.

It was tempting to test him, to see if Bill would really follow through on that threat. It might be nothing more than that, after all, nothing but empty bluster. But Alex had been moving around all his life. He didn’t want to move again so soon. Not now, nearly at the end of his junior year.

Not when it would mean leaving Bianca behind a year earlier than expected.

And also not when he was just starting to relax enough around some of the other students that he might--might--be able to start forming actual friendships with a few of them. He hadn’t thought that he wanted that, had believed that he was fine on his own, without any real social life to speak of...but the warmth he felt high in his chest after those soccer games or during those impromptu pizza parties, the way he felt his mouth pulling itself into a slight smile when they waved and called out to him across the cafeteria was...pleasant. He would have to lose it eventually, but...he didn’t want to lose it just yet.

He couldn’t afford housing on his own, and he doubted that the university would let someone move into the dorms this late in the semester. Even if they would, his scholarship didn’t cover room and board, which would make all of his jobs a lot more important. If it really came down to it, he could probably ask Keiji if he could crash on his couch for a few months, but...he hated asking people for things like that, for personal favors, especially when their relationship had been pretty strictly professional up until this point.

All of it meant that Alex had a lot to think about, and an important decision to make. For the time being, he settled for shooting a withering glare back over his shoulder at Bill, who was now standing beside the table, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression half-stern, half-unreadable.

“...And here I thought you wanted me to be able to stand up for myself. Guess that only means anything in your eyes if it’s a physical fight.”

With that deadpan proclamation, Alex continued on his way, closing himself up in his room, locking the door, and putting on his nicest pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

---

“...And so that’s why I’m probably getting dragged to bumfuck nowhere in Alabama for Spring Break,” Alex intoned to Bianca over lunch the next day, his voice flat and unamused.

Bianca’s mouth pulled to the side, her expression one of sympathy and concern. “Do you really think he’d kick you out over something like this? I don’t know, that just seems...” She trailed off, visibly groping for the right word.

Alex looked up from moodily prodding his plateful of the cafeteria’s surprisingly decent version of baked ziti. “Ridiculous? Cold-bloodedly authoritative? Needlessly totalitarian?”

“...Drastic,” she finally said decidedly, then reached out to rest a hand on his forearm. “I know things really aren’t great between you, but...maybe this is his way of trying to make an effort. Trying to spend some time with you.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Alex grumbled, his words more than half-growl. “Nothing like a 16 hour car drive to make the child you once dumped off on a relative they barely knew glad that you left them all alone. Especially after you’ve threatened them into being there in the first place. That’ll fix things, for sure.”

“I didn’t say he was doing a good job of it,” Bianca shot back matter-of-factly, “Just that he might be making an effort. You know him way better than I do. What do you think?”

Alex heaved a low sigh, staring sightlessly down at her hand on his arm. He could feel the comforting warmth of it even though his jacket’s long sleeve, and her words were equally warm. He doubted Bill had such honorable intentions--he was almost certain that it was a control thing, just like always, nothing more--but the hopeful expression on Bianca’s face was hard to look at, and it was even more difficult to dismiss her theory outright, unlikely as it seemed.

He heaved another sigh. “Maybe,” he conceded with obvious reluctance, looking up as Bianca’s grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly. Those gorgeous blue-green eyes of hers were sparkling, something about them every bit as full of power and constantly-crashing motion as the ocean itself, and for a brief moment, Alex felt like he was slowly sinking down into their depths. “...Anyway,” he managed to say, forcing his gaze away, “It’s still gonna suck, especially if Duke and Trey are both home.” Duke might not be there since he’d graduated college and was in the Air Force now; honestly he was the worse of the two, and Alex hoped dearly that he’d be too busy, or else stationed too far away to make the trip. Trey would definitely be around, though--Alex had compared their school calendars and determined that they had spring break at the same time.

The blonde gave a thoughtful hum, her hand finally drawing away from Alex’s arm to toy absently with her fountain drink’s straw. “Duke’s the one who broke your arm, right? I mean, I definitely get why you wouldn’t wanna see him ever again after something like that, but you’re all a lot older now. You don’t think he’d still...?”

“No,” Alex answered back right away with a shake of his head, “I doubt he’d do anything like that again. He hasn’t laid a hand on me since the incident nine years ago. But we’ve visited for a lot of holidays since then, and...” He hesitated, expression conflicted, almost a little ashamed--and it spoke volumes about how much he trusted Bianca, that he’d let himself show that sort of emotion at all. “...They never do much of anything physical,” he amended, seeming to resolve himself about something as he pushed onward, “A little bit of shoulder-jostling here and there, that’s all. But they do a lot of trash-talking. They write it off as teasing, and whenever we’re around Bill or Aunt Bess, they make it sound light and playful, like it’s just...a joke. But the problem with that is...I’m the joke. Anything they can think of to make fun of me about is fair game. My looks, my interests, my clothes, my voice, even just my basic personality. And especially when I was younger...well, when you’re a kid...I mean, if you hear something enough, you start to halfway believe it, or at least wonder if maybe it isn’t true.”

Especially when basically the whole table laughs after every one of their wisecracks, he added silently to himself, but didn’t quite have the nerve to say. The memory of Bill and Aunt Bess and Trey laughing until they cried when Duke rattled off a set of harmless-seeming comments about Alex’s appearance, namely his pretty face, his slight frame, his increasingly aloof attitude, and his already gradually-shifting-to-punk fashion choices, wasn’t one that he was particularly eager to share with anyone, not even Bianca. (Maybe especially not Bianca.)

He shook his head, shaking that unpleasant recollection away as he went on, forcing the usual cool, offhanded confidence into his voice, “I’m sure I can handle myself this time, but...it still isn’t fun to be surrounded by people who’re actively trying to make you feel like garbage.”

Bianca was quiet for a long moment after that, staring down at the table in front of her sightlessly, seeming to weigh something in her mind; then she sprung into action as usual, every movement quick, decided, decisive. And this time, those movements were to slide that skull ring--the one he’d noticed her start wearing in the middle of their sophomore year--off her index finger, then reach over and grasp his arm again. Pulling his hand towards her, she slipped the ring onto his own index finger, then released her grip on him once more. At first Alex was taken by surprise, too startled to resist, but when he drew a breath and opened his mouth to voice a protest, Bianca held up a hand, silencing him in an instant.

“This ring is really, really important to me,” she stated with a calm, easy candor, meeting his eyes steadily, “Which is why I definitely want it back after the break.”

Alex started to open his mouth again, but this time he closed it again before Bianca even had a chance to silence him, swallowing hard against the rising lump in his throat and forcing himself to wait, to listen to her explanation.

“But it’s because it’s so important to me that I think it’ll help. Whenever you start feeling really down or your cousins start being really awful to you, I want you to look at that ring and think of me. To remember that there’s at least one person out there who really cares about you, who accepts you for who you are--and who thinks that ‘who you are’ is pretty awesome.” Bianca’s voice went a little quieter as she kept looking at him, her hand whispering back into place on his arm again, and once again Alex found himself submerged in those beautiful, soul-drowning eyes, currently brimming with an inexpressible gentleness and compassion. “...Someone who is honestly, truly glad that you’re her friend.”

Blinking hard, Alex looked down at both the ring and her hand, feeling his throat constrict and knowing that, for the moment anyway, speech was beyond him. Which was probably just as well, since the backs of his eyes were burning with the sudden threat of hot tears and there was little enough chance that his voice would be at all steady.

Hearing her say that, seeing in her eyes and on her face exactly how much she really cared about him warmed Alex’s heart at the same time that it pierced it through critically, agonizingly. Would she still say that, he wondered, would she still have entrusted him with this apparently super-special ring, would she even be hanging out with him at all if she knew that not only did he treasure their friendship above just about everything else in his life, but he was also absolutely, completely, and irrevocably in love with her?

He didn’t know the answer to that. He didn’t know, and if it meant losing any part of what they had, then he didn’t want to know.

You mean everything to me, Bianca, he thought as he rubbed a fingertip over the ring’s uneven surface, wishing he had the courage to say those words aloud, and in that moment, all the hesitance and reserve that he’d felt around his best friend since that drunken kiss melted away. He would give her as much or as little of himself as she wanted. He wouldn’t let her do anything that either of them would regret; but if she wanted to link arms with him and pull him in so close that their shoulders bumped with every step; if she wanted to cuddle beneath her blankets in her dorm room bed while they watched whatever Nextflik show had caught their eye; if she wanted to hand-feed him french fries and split meals and swap desserts and dance with him at dumb frat parties and drink until they were both definitely going to be sick the next morning, then he wanted all of those things, too. And if she happened to kiss him during any of that, even if she didn’t mean anything by it, even if she was just drunk or curious or something, anything else...that was all right, too. So long as she wanted to be close to him--close enough to let him borrow her ring--then he wouldn’t worry about the details.

All of that and more rushed through Alex’s head as he raised his gaze from the ring and let it rest on Bianca’s face again instead.

Aloud, he just murmured a rather choked-sounding, “Thanks,” which Bianca was kind enough to accept without comment. Her smile widened, enough that it made the skin around her eyes crinkle in a pleasant sort of way, and she gave his arm another squeeze before taking her hand back to dig into the rest of her lunch. Alex did his best to follow suit, but every time he tried to focus on his food, he found himself staring down at the ring instead.

Probably the only kind of ring she’ll ever give you, the snarky, self-deprecating part of his brain quipped at him mercilessly, better enjoy it while you can!

I will, Alex promised himself resolutely, and dug into his pasta with a vengeance.

---

The drive down to Alabama wasn’t quite as terrible as Alex had expected, but to put that in perspective, he’d expected it to be nothing short of excruciating.

Surprisingly enough, Bill had been quiet for most of the trip, content to listen to whatever sports or news stations his truck’s old (non-satellite-linked, non-Bluetooth) radio managed to pick up. For his part, Alex just closed his eyes, crossed his arms, slumped down in his seat, and leaned against the window, his noise-cancelling headphones clamped firmly over his ears at all times. Despite their name they didn’t block out the sound completely, but the rough, sandpaper-static crackle of the radio and the announcers’ blaring voices was muted, muffled enough to be tolerable. The only times he took those headphones off were the few times they stopped at rest stops or for meals. Most of the time they just got carry-out from whatever fast food place caught their eye, and the instant they returned to the truck’s cab, Alex would retreat back into his protective barrier of sound.

However, he knew from past trips that Bill would want to stop at Saltine Cask once along the way for ‘a real sit-down meal,’ and that was the part of this trip he dreaded most. He wouldn’t be allowed to keep his headphones on--Bill would let him hear about it for the whole rest of the trip if he did--and bringing in any sort of book was out, too. His only recourse and refuge was his phone, which wasn’t actually that bad, all things considered, but-

“Can’t you leave that thing alone for five minutes?”

Fighting back a grimace, Alex glanced up from the text he’d been writing to Bianca, then returned his attention to his phone. “Sure, I could, but why would I? It’s not like there’s anyone here who I want to talk to--or who wants to talk to me, either.”

Alex saw Bill scowl in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t contradict him. Instead, he tried a different tactic, one of his old, tired favorites. “Because it’s rude.”

“Oh, yeah?” Without actually putting his phone down, Alex gestured expansively to the room around them. “And who am I being rude to, exactly? No one here cares that I’m on my phone--if you look around, you’ll see that most of the other customers are on their phones, too. The only one who does care is you, and I think we both know by now that if we want to keep our meals civil, it’s best if we don’t talk during them.” A faint, wry smile curled along Alex’s lips as he waggled his phone pointedly. “I’m just doing my part to keep the peace.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Bill muttered, but despite how little he might like it, he knew when he was beaten. Instead of belaboring his point (which he obviously believed was still valid), he turned a sullen frown down at the peg game in front of him and started moving the little colored pieces of plastic around. Regardless of the location, there had been one of those at every Saltine Cask table Alex had ever sat at (and he’d sat at a lot of them over the years), and Bill always fiddled with it the entire time they spent waiting for their meals. He’d only ever managed to beat it once, and clearly didn’t know what or how he’d done it. Alex knew the trick, and one time he had taken it from the increasingly-frustrated Bill...and beaten it in less than a minute. That hadn’t made Bill any less frustrated, of course, but Alex had thought that dealing with his doubly-hostile attitude was a fair price to pay for the wide-eyed open-mouthed expression his father had turned at him across the table. In fact-

“You look like you’re having a hard time there, Bill,” he murmured without looking up from his phone after about ten minutes had passed, with Bill getting increasingly irritated at his lack of success. “Want me to take a turn again? If you watch closely, maybe you’ll learn something.”

Bill’s glare warned of imminent danger as it flicked up to rest on his son, but thankfully for both of them, their waiter returned with their drinks and a plate of steaming-hot biscuits at just that moment, and Bill put aside both his anger and the peg game in favor of food.

...At least temporarily. It also gave him time to think up a response, and by the time he was swallowing the last bite of his first biscuit, he’d plainly settled on something.

“If this is how you talk to everyone all the time, you can’t honestly be surprised when other people lash out at you.”

Alex, who was still only halfway done with his first biscuit, gave a light snort into his glass of raspberry lemonade. “Ohhh, of course, let’s make their lack of control over their tempers and the way they chose to resort to violence my fault.”

“It is your fault if you antagonize them-”

“Definitely, definitely. I was just asking to have my arm broken by actually trying to defend myself from all that bullying for once.”

Bill scoffed as he cut two more biscuits in half and spread butter across the inside of the first with considerably more force than necessary. “Back to the arm thing again? I told you, it was almost ten years ago. You need to let that go already.”

“Riiiight, water under the bridge and all that.” By now Alex had torn the other half of his biscuit into small, crumbling pieces, though he hardly even seemed to notice. “I mean, why would you ever want anyone other than me to be held accountable for every tiny little misstep they make, no matter how accidental or well-intentioned?”

In response, Bill leveled a hard-eyed stare over the table at Alex, his knife stilling mid-swipe. “Duke isn’t my son. You are.”

“Yeah, too bad for all of us, huh.”

Before Bill could reply, Alex pushed himself away from the table, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket as he stood and headed off.

“Alex!” Bill barked after him, every bit the authoritative military man. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” Alex called over his shoulder without looking back. “Which is a weird choice. You would think I’d heard all the shit I could take right now.”

For the most part, it was a tactical retreat: much as Alex wanted to keep needling Bill, he knew there were limits, and it wasn’t like anything he said ever made the older man stop and think about his side of things, much less change his mind about any of it. But it was also true that Bill hated it when Alex ‘ran away’ from their conversations, and Alex knew it.

Which was why Alex took his time about things, briefly hitting the bathroom before spending nearly fifteen minutes afterwards browsing around all the kitschy, faux old-fashioned goods that the attached gift shop always sported. Some things were funny, some things were bizarre, and some things were both, but all of it was terrible except for the entire wall full of various candies. It had been years since he’d asked Bill for anything--even the money he spent on food for their meals was left out on the counter or taken out of Bill’s ‘secret’ money stash--and he wasn’t going to start again now. Not that he had a ton of cash to burn, but he’d been saving a twenty for just this purpose, and got as much of as many different things as he could manage with it. That done, he tied the two arms of the bag tightly together so that it was impossible to get at the candy without tearing through the flimsy plastic. It wouldn’t protect it, per se, but it would keep any casual hands from wandering in, including his own. But it wasn’t for eating now; all of it was for him to share with Jess when they found a moment to sneak off into the woods together, or had barricaded themselves in either her room or up in the attic. Either way, it was one of the very few good ‘traditions’ that Alex could associate with his forced familial interactions.

By the time he came back, their food was on the table, and Bill was steadfastly not looking up or over at him, the entirety of his focus on his country fried steak and gravy. That suited Alex just fine; without saying a word, he slid into his seat and set to work on his pancakes, grits, sausage, and bacon, and the rest of the meal passed in wordless silence, an uneasy, unhappy, unstable ceasefire that lasted long after they’d gotten back on the road.

---

Actually being down in Alabama was every bit as terrible as Alex had expected, and he’d already counted on it being deeply unpleasant at best and nothing short of torturous at worst.

Thanks to Bill’s slow-but-steady way of driving, he and Alex had arrived late, well into the small hours of the morning. Everyone had been asleep by the time they got there, and Bill had used the spare key Aunt Bess kept hidden under one of the potted plants on her front porch to get into the house, and although they tried to be quiet, soon everyone in the house was awake. Hugs were exchanged (some of them perfunctory and decidedly grudging), and Aunt Bess sent Duke and Trey to bring in the bags. Alex knew better than to let them touch his things by now though, and had only brought his backpack (full of homework and his laptop) and a duffle bag (full of clothes and personal toiletries). Since he didn’t want either item to end up in a tree, up on the roof, or in the woods--all places that his things, or parts of them, had wound up on previous occasions--he held onto both with a polite but steadfast firmness, then hurried up the creaking stairway to the attic to tuck them away. While it was tempting to simply fall face-first into that familiar rickety single bed, uncomfortable, saggy mattress and all, Alex knew from past visits that everyone would be gathered around the dinner table by now, glasses of milk or cocoa and plates of whatever dessert Aunt Bess had made in front of them. Despite the fact that he would’ve preferred to go repeatedly slam a hand in the car door, he knew he was expected to join them...and that Duke or Trey would be sent up after him if he took too long; and so with bone-weary reluctance, Alex creaked his way back down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. Everyone else was already there, enthralled in a loud, lively story that Duke was telling about something that had happened at Officer Training School, but Jess looked over as he entered, offering him a bright smile and gesturing to the empty seat beside her. Thankfully it was at the end of the table, far away from everyone else, and Alex slid into it gratefully, accepting the mug of cold milk and dessert plate Jess nudged his way with a faint smile. Tonight’s dessert was some sort of apple crumble with a dash of cinnamon and plenty of brown sugar, butter, and oats in it, and although he hadn’t thought that he was hungry, Alex soon found himself devouring it wholeheartedly.

It was well after 3:30 when they all finally dispersed, and by then Alex was practically sleepwalking. Between the radio show, the job at the music store, and his full course of classes, he didn’t get much sleep at the best of times; but somehow that long drive with Bill followed by dealing with this side of the family had left him even more exhausted than the rest of the semester’s workload combined. Alex didn’t even bother to change clothes, simply tugging off his boots and collapsing on top of the bed in a way that made the ancient springs groan loudly in protest, pulling the musty quilt draped across the foot of the bed up over himself for warmth.

Just a few hours later, there was a loud knock on his door, which caused Alex to jolt awake, then glower at the door before rolling over and pulling his pillow (brought from home, the pillows Aunt Bess kept on the bed always released a cloud of dust, even after their pillow cases had been changed) up over his head. That didn’t do any good; the pounding continued, this time with the addition of Trey’s voice demanding that he get up and come down to join them, or did he have to go get the key from his mom and unlock the door? Feeling as if his entire body was made of lead, Alex pushed himself upright, blearily squinting at his phone, which told him that it was 6:04 in the morning. Biting back a groan, he stumbled across the room, fumbling with the lock before jerking the door open to reveal his tall, broad-shouldered, spitefully-smiling cousin.

“What,” he demanded with audible venom dripping from that single word, and his eyes narrowed even further when Trey’s smile just widened.

“Oh good, yer already dressed. Guess ya didn’t forget after all.”

Alex squinted up at him, not commenting on the fact that he was obviously not dressed, he was just wearing the same thing he’d worn yesterday. “Forget what?”

Trey broke out into an uncomfortably toothy predator’s grin that made Alex want to take a reflexive step backwards, and lock the door again for good measure. “That we’re goin’ fishin’ today. Aaaaall day.” His hand shot out to catch the door as Alex gave in to that instinct to flee, holding it open as easily as if he were opposing a toddler instead of another college student. “C’mon, cuz. Grab a jacket an’ put yer shoes on. Twelvemile Island awaits.”

---

Alex was not good at fishing, largely because he didn’t enjoy it and therefore didn’t really care to try, much less try to improve. He didn’t really like eating fish in the first place, so catching them wasn’t much of a priority, and the live shrimp they had to use as bait to catch the speckled trout they were after were difficult for him to put on the hook correctly: aside from the fact that they looked pretty gross, it felt cruel to jam the hook through any part of them, especially when he didn’t even want the fish it would be giving its life for him to (maybe) catch.

At least Bill seemed to be having a good time--not that Alex particularly cared whether he did or not, but it would hopefully make Bill feel more benevolent when Trey and Duke were obviously picking on Alex. Still, it felt strange in a not particularly good way to see Bill, Trey, and Duke all leaning their heads in close to check the way Jess had baited her hook, or Bill laughing over some small thing Trey said, or the way Bill’s entire being lit up with pride when Duke caught a 22 inch trout. Meanwhile, Alex caught only a few catfish, which he had to throw back, and even worse, himself--right through the pad of his left thumb, which made him glad he’d gotten his tetanus shot updated last fall. That had been enough for him, and after he’d cleaned the wound with the first aid kit (and ignored Duke’s would-be funny comment of, “Just dunk it in the river an’ then spit on it, you’ll be fine, prob’ly--an’ if not, I’ve got a hatchet in the back a’ my truck an’ we can take care a’ that real quick-like”), he’d opted to sit out the rest of the actual fishing. Even then, he hadn’t been able really escape from his family and their unpleasant ideas of ‘fun’: over their lunch break, the thick, expensive book for the gen ed literature class he was taking had somehow ended up taking a quick ‘accidental’ dunk in the water. It had been tempting to lose his temper, and even more tempting to snap out something sarcastic at his obviously-smirking older cousins...but instead, Alex had just rubbed his thumb over the cool, smooth metal of Bianca’s ring and taken several long, deep breaths.

I should’ve known better than to bring along anything I didn’t want to get ruined, he thought as he dejectedly surveyed the soggy mess of paper. It wasn’t a completely lost cause: so long as he didn’t mess with the wet pages and left it open to dry in the sun, it would still be legible, though the whole thing would definitely be warped and stained. So much for selling it back at the end of term now.

Trey hadn’t been kidding when he’d said they’d be out there all day, and by the end of things, in addition to his throbbing finger, Alex had about 20 mosquito bites, bruises from losing his balance in the too-big galoshes he’d had to borrow from Trey, and an already painful sunburn, despite repeated slatherings of sunscreen.

Aunt Bess, who had declined to go fishing with them in favor of having ‘a day to herself, for once,’ met them at the door and had fried chicken and dumplings waiting for them. As always, at least the food was good, though thanks to that sunburn and a possible mild case of sun poisoning, Alex didn’t have much of an appetite. He ate just enough to keep from insulting Aunt Bess, then excused himself to go take a cold, painful shower and crawl into bed--once again taking care to lock that door.

If anyone comes knocking tomorrow morning, they can go fuck themselves, he decided darkly as he gingerly applied the aloe gel he’d found in the bathroom to his puffy, reddened skin. Unless the house is literally on fire, I’m not leaving this bed before ten o’clock.

And if that made Bill angry enough to go through with his previous threat of kicking Alex out, then so be it.

...Yeah, not likely. He’ll probably be too busy doing PT for fun with his dream sons to even notice that I’m not around.

Once again, that thought sent an unhappy pang through him that he couldn’t fully comprehend--it felt too cold and distant to be any sort of jealousy, but he couldn’t deny that there was a longing there: a hunger for approval that he knew would never be fulfilled.

That was just how it was. The sooner he accepted that and moved on, the better. He couldn’t change himself that much, couldn’t become a clone of Duke or Trey, and most of all, he couldn’t live his life for Bill. And even if he had wanted to, even if he did try, Alex knew he’d never be able to measure up to his father’s exacting standards, so it was better all around not to even make the attempt. Forcing himself to be someone he didn’t want to be, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, doing things that made him miserable--all of that would be pointless. All he could do was be himself, do what he wanted to do with his own life, and try to let himself be as happy as possible. Whether or not that made Bill happy, or proud, or angry...that didn’t matter.

Why should I worry about making him happy when he clearly doesn’t care about letting me be happy? It wasn’t a new thought, but after today, after seeing how different Bill was around his very traditionally masculine cousins, it carried a lot more weight than usual, as did the last thought that whispered through his head before he all but passed out: I’m responsible for my own happiness, not his. And if he has a problem with that, then too bad.

---

Alex had a fever and a splitting headache the next day, and slept for most of it, only leaving the room to visit the bathroom and force down some dry toast at breakfast and some chicken soup around dinnertime. The day after that, he was much better, though his sunburn was bad enough that it sometimes hurt to move. Even so, he opted to stay behind when Duke, Trey, and Bill all rushed outside for what he suspected would probably end up being a day-long nature walk in the rambling woods behind Aunt Bess’s house. Alex spent the morning lying down on the couch, his legs sprawled comfortably over Jess’s lap as they watched reruns of some detective show from the 80s. Around noon, Aunt Bess had gone out to run errands, leaving the two of them alone, and Alex finally felt himself relax for the first time since he’d gotten in the truck to drive down here.

“So? How’re things goin’ with Bianca?” Jess asked as soon as they heard Aunt Bess’s car pull out of the driveway.

Alex quirked an eyebrow at Jess and immediately regretted it--his face was where most of the worst of his sunburn was, and even that small movement tugged at the skin painfully. “They’re not going, that’s how it’s going, and you know it,” he sighed, hauling himself up off the couch to get another ice pack out of the freezer for his face--and stopped by the coat rack to collect the bag of candy he’d bought at Saltine Cask from one of his jacket’s oversized pockets before he sat back down. Despite her perpetual baking and the non-stop flow of rich desserts pouring out of her kitchen, Aunt Bess took a rather dim view on candy; the fact that their little tradition was also a secret always made everything taste twice as delicious to Alex and Jess.

“Well why not?” Jess asked around a mouthful of sour gummy bears. “You really should tell her! I mean, as much time as you spend together, do you really think she doesn’t like you like that at all? Not even the littlest, teensiest, tiniest bit?”

Alex sighed again as he popped an Appalachian mint into his mouth. “Jess, we’re friends.”

“Friends who have sleepovers all the time!”

“In separate beds.”

“Not always~!”

A third sigh, this one the deepest so far. “I never should have told you about any of this. Bianca and I are just friends, and I’m not-”

“Alex. Are you really gonna try an’ tell me yer not in love with her? I can see it in yer face every time you talk about her! It’s real cute, an’ so obvious! An’ I can also see that somethin’ happened, so c’mon an’ give me all the juicy deets already!”

“I hate that term, ‘deets’. Do you know how many times I’ve heard it from the dumbasses who call in to my show?”

“Alex! Stop tryin’ to change the subject!”

Huffing out a sound that was caught halfway between a laugh and yet another sigh, Alex fidgeted with the foil wrapping of another mint, trying to figure out what he wanted to tell her. Jess was just sixteen, and despite how much she talked about boys, he knew for a fact that she hadn’t ever been on a date or kissed anyone, much less had a boyfriend. Aunt Bess was strict about the movies she watched and the books she read, so even that sort of knowledge was limited--or would have been, if not for the internet. Thanks to her smartphone, Jess probably knew about as much about relationships, dating, and sex as any other teen her age...so maybe he didn’t have to censor himself or hold anything back after all.

“...So, to celebrate my 21st birthday, we bought a bunch of alcohol, then went back to her dorm room to drink our way through it, play board games, and watch Nextflik. Whatever she was drinking was really strong, because she got totally wasted--I’ve never seen her even half that drunk before, so it was really strange. Anyway...we were playing a game, and I teased her about something, and...the next thing I knew, she was on top of me, pinning me down. I was drunk enough that it was hard to focus, but I was still mostly in control of myself…” Alex trailed off, suddenly wishing he had some kind of drink right now, to supply a little boost of courage or whatever. Probably not a healthy thought. Considering how heavily Bill leaned on his drinking those first few years after Gemma left...yeah, maybe better not let this turn into any kind of habit.

“And?” Jess was practically vibrating on the couch next to him, eyes wide and eager. “What happened? Did you-”

“No, of course not! But...she k-kissed me. She kissed me like...like she couldn’t get enough. Like she’d been stranded in a desert for days and I was an oasis.” Grimacing at both his stuttering and how corny that had sounded, he swallowed hard and forced out something he’d hardly even dared to think to himself. “She kissed me like she meant it.”

By now Jess had both of her hands clamped over her face, holding back the excited squeal she’d very nearly released when Alex had admitted to that kiss--and melodramatic as he’d been, she was eating it up. Swallowing down further shrieks of girlish, giddy elation, she pulled her hands away from her mouth long enough to eagerly blurt out, “Well, have you ever thought that...maybe she did?”

“What?” Alex’s mind had clearly wandered from the conversation for a moment after that confession, going back over the event yet again; he blinked as her question brought him back to the present, and he turned a curious look towards his cousin. “Maybe she did what?”

Jess gave a huff, her body language screaming pay attention to me, dammit, especially when we’re having a conversation, rolling her eyes as she repeated herself--and more forcefully this time, a statement rather than a question: “Maybe she meant it!”

Alex’s eyes went wide and he jerked back away from Jess so hard that he nearly fell over sideways on the couch. “Im-impossible,” he snapped a moment later, gritting his teeth and stealing himself against the shame of further stuttering. “She doesn’t even think of me as a guy, really. If you saw how she acted around me-”

“So she’s comfortable around you. So what? She’s got lots of brothers. I’m comfortable around guys, too.”

Alex gave Jess a reproving side-eye. “Not like this...at least, I hope not.”

His cousin rolled her eyes again. “Puh-lease, don’t give me that. Like I don’t already have enough super-overprotective brothers in my life.”

“Fair enough,” Alex conceded, though not without the grim thought that this was one area where he might very well agree with Duke and Trey. “But still...you’re wrong about Bianca. She doesn’t...she doesn’t, okay. I definitely know her well enough to know that much.” He gave Jess a half-hearted, crooked smile. “Honestly, I’m fine with that. This last year and a half have been...they’ve been great. Wonderful, even. I’m happy just to be her friend-”

“Oooh, ‘I’m happy just t’be her frieeeend~!’ ”

Alex’s entire body locked up, his blood running cold with dread as that all-too-familiar mocking voice came from the dining room door behind him, an equally-familiar snicker following right on its heels.

“I sure am surprised though, Alexis. I knew ya didn’t have a girlfriend-”

“-And that you’ve never had one-”

“-But I didn’t think you’d even want one. Didn’t really think ya were the type, if ya catch my meanin’.”

Swallowing down the reflexive impulse to bolt--that was no good around born and raised hunters like his cousins, they’d only see him as prey even more than they already did, if possible--Alex woodenly turned around on the couch to angle a glower up at Duke and Trey, both of whom were grinning at him from the doorway, their expressions every bit as charming and considerate as wolves in the middle of tracking down a wounded deer.

“Yeah, I think your meaning is pretty obvious, so I’m not sure what’s there to ‘catch’. Unless your stupid hyper-masculine bigotry is contagious, that is.”

Alex resisted the urge to flinch when his retort only caused their smiles to widen, even as their eyes narrowed. Duke pushed off from where he was leaning on the door frame and sauntered into the room, propping himself up on one of the overstuffed chairs by the unlit fireplace, and Trey took up his former position, looming in the doorway behind Alex. It felt like a trap, and judging by the looks on their faces, it was meant to feel that way.

Once he was in place, Duke gave an overly-careless shrug. “Whaaat, ya can’t blame us fer thinkin’ that! I mean, just look atcha! The painted nails, the makeup...”

“Right?” Trey agreed from the doorway, “I mean, what kinda girl would ever want a scrawny little thing like you? Nah, you’d be better off not even tryin’ to go after women--after all, ya are purty enough that plenty of guys would prob’ly-”

“Trey!” Jess cut in with a snap, and he suddenly seemed to remember that his little sister was there, a brief flicker of shame crossing his face.

“Uh--sorry, Jess.”

“Me? I’m not the one you-!”

“No,” Alex cut in calmly, “Jess, it’s fine. I don’t take any of it as an insult, even if it was meant that way.” He felt his mouth turn in an unpleasant smile, the heat of anger flaring in his gut, but so long as Jess was there he knew he could probably get away with telling off her brothers the way he would have if they’d called in to his show.

Probably.

“After all, you can’t blame them. You can’t expect their simple caveman brains to have much emotional depth, or to understand wanting something like real friendship from a girl instead of just mindless sex.”

“Why you-” Trey began, his voice a guttural growl that gave credence to the ‘caveman’ accusation; but Duke cut him off by throwing up a hand, one eyebrow raised mockingly, his own nasty smile still firmly in place.

“Oh-ho reeeeally now? ‘Cause it sure sounded to me like ya want more than ‘real friendship’ from this ‘Bianca’ of yers.”

Alex’s throat seized up for a moment--how long had they been listening? And if they were here, where was Bill?--but he forced his voice to come out calm, smooth, and cynical as ever as he said, “Eavesdropping? Gosh, Duke, I didn’t know you were interested in listening to someone talk about their feelings. Don’t let the other guys know, or it’s your blood in the water.”

Duke just re-crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing and chin tipping up in a way that would’ve made cowboys in old Westerns proud. “Reckon my point still stands, Lexy. Don’t seem like yer much of a friend t’me if yer spendin’ all yer time together secretly mopin’ an’ lustin’ after her.” He snorted a half-laugh. “So she doesn’t want ya, there’s a big surprise. Get over it, man.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Trey sniggered, catching on to Duke’s line of attack at least, though not quite his line of thought. “A whole year and a half of that shit? Geez, grow some balls and tell her you wanna bang her already, or move on.”

“If that was all I wanted-” Alex began, his voice low and tight with sudden fury--but as he balled his fists, he felt the weight and resistance of Bianca’s ring around his finger. Clenching his jaw, he clamped his mouth shut, shot both of his older cousins a look that would’ve eviscerated them if looks could kill, and left the room, heading out the other door before either of them could make things worse, or he said something that he’d regret. It wasn’t like they’d really listen to anything he had to say anyway.

As he climbed the stairs up to the second floor, then kept going up into the third floor attic he stayed in now that Aunt Bess had cleared it out, his temper cooled completely, leaving him with a profoundly unpleasant thought:

His cousins were right.

Real shame, I’m not ready for the end of the world just yet.

His sarcastic inner monologue brought a self-deprecating smirk to his face even as he locked the door then collapsed face-down onto the loudly-creaking bed, but it didn’t change the fact that for once, Duke and Trey (well, Duke, anyway) really weren’t entirely wrong. Moping and feeling sorry for himself about the fact that Bianca wasn’t going to return his romantic feelings...how long had he been doing that?

Out of the mouths of dude-bros...

It wasn’t like it was a groundbreaking new line of thought; rather, it was something that Alex had already told himself time and again, as recently as last week when Bianca had let him borrow her ring. Feeling like this was a huge waste of time, a damper on his enjoyment of the priceless minutes, hours, and days they spent together. Even worse, it was a really crappy thing for a friend to do, for a wide variety of reasons. He needed to buckle down and get serious about what he’d told himself before the break: stop thinking about it, stop thinking about her that way, and just embrace her fully as a friend without any of those other less-important feelings getting in the way and clouding (or poisoning) the water.

No, he had to stop feeling this way. The thought of her learning about his true feelings and feeling disgusted, or upset, or betrayed...no, he couldn’t stand that.

I have to let her go.

Heaving a sigh into his pillow, Alex rolled over onto his back, ignoring the mattress’s groans of protest, and draped an arm over his eyes.

...Yeah, right. Easier said than done.

Still...he was going to try. No, he was going to do it. He was going to let go of this, his first love, for the sake of a different but no less viable sort of love. Like he’d decided before, he’d give Bianca whatever she wanted, so long as it wouldn’t hurt either of them, but he wouldn’t ask her for anything, and he especially wouldn’t ask her for anything he knew she couldn’t give him. Was he really so obsessed with the idea of kissing her, of touching her and sleeping with her, that it outweighed all the other feelings he held for her?

Of course not. It couldn’t.

...So what had he been thinking all these months? Why had he been so hung up on that, of all things?

Because you wanted to be closer to her, he reminded himself, and bit his lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut. As close as possible. You wanted to belong with her. To belong to her. You wanted to give her the rest of your life, all of everything you have, all of yourself. You wanted to grow old with her. Her, and only her. The only person who ever cared enough to get past all your icy defenses. The only person who ever really took the time to get to know you, to understand you, to really and truly listen to you.

The only person who has ever really loved you for yourself, for who you are, not out of obligation or for who they want you to be.

...It would be a lie to say that he didn’t want all of that still. But it was too much to ask of her, especially when she had already given him so much, her glorious sunshine-warmth helping him grow and change into a bolder, more capable, and most of all kinder version of Alex Faulkner.

All the more reason to let her go. To accept all she’d given him gladly instead of selfishly asking for more when she obviously didn’t feel the same way.

She’s changed me so much over these last two years. So...now it’s up to me to change myself into someone who can truly deserve to call himself her friend. Her...best friend. Well, second-best, anyway.

If he really wanted to do that, he had a long way to go. But he was stubborn enough that he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could manage to at least stop pining after her in such a painfully obvious way.

Alex gave a little jump as his phone buzzed in his pocket, and felt a flicker of hope and excitement at the thought of Bianca texting him while he was thinking about her; a glance at the screen showed the message was from Jess, no doubt an apology about her brothers’ behavior.

Alex stared at his phone, flipping through his contacts to let his thumb hover over Bianca’s name, then hesitated.

What would he even say? Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all. Or maybe he should just wait to talk to her after the break, in person.

Indecision won out in the end, and with a sigh, Alex swiped away from his text messages, turning off the screen before tucking his phone away again.

He’d make it up to her. The very first chance he got, as soon as Spring Break was over, he’d make all of this up to Bianca. Somehow. He didn’t know how just yet, but he’d think of something.


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