Alex Faulkner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
videokilledme) wrote2020-09-16 05:21 pm
videokilledme) wrote2020-09-16 05:21 pm
“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Six
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Six
[music]
Alex implemented step one of Plan: Be A Better Friend even before he got back to Carrington.
He’d been on his best behavior over the break, sometimes literally grinning and bearing Duke and Trey’s antics and Aunt Bess’s seemingly well-intentioned questions and concern, and he’d done it for one reason, and one reason only: as a way of getting on Bill’s good side, at least as much as possible. Alex had told Bill before they’d even gotten into the truck to start the too-long drive down to Alabama that he wanted to leave a few days early, since he had some projects to work on at the radio station and the music store. Bill had said we’ll see in that tooth-gritting tone that Alex knew meant his every action from that moment on would be on trial; but wonder of wonders, and largely thanks to the lack of fistfights and verbal snarking at mealtimes, in the end, Bill had actually (albeit grudgingly) agreed. It wasn’t a complete lie--Alex did have things to work on at both jobs--but he also really just wanted to get home so that he would have time to figure out how best to start making things up to Bianca.
Although he’d sent her texts and emails throughout the break, he had neither expected nor received any in reply. That didn’t stop him from writing to her, though. She’d see all the messages eventually, and he knew from past vacations that she’d write back as soon as she was able to. She’d told him that she would be back late Sunday night the day before classes started again, so she’d see him Monday--and in his hopeful ears, it had sounded like a promise. And so Sunday night, he sent her a text:
> Hey. Late lunch tomorrow? I’ve got that hour between Electronic Music Comp and Experimental Psych. Gotta give you back your ring.
It was a good half-hour before his phone dinged with her reply:
Sure, sounds good! I missed you :)
Not nearly as much as I missed you, Alex thought and halfway wanted to answer back, but refrained from actually saying. It was true, but you didn’t have to share every true thing that popped into your head, especially if it might make someone else uncomfortable. Instead he settled for a simple:
> Me too.
Before Bianca could give a teasing reply, something like oh, so you missed yourself too huh, Alex followed up with another question:
> Wanna eat outside? Maybe by the Reflecting Pool, if it’s not too crowded.
Ooh kinda like a picnic! :D
> Sure, except we’re just taking our cafeteria food out there. Unless you feel like making me lug a cooler around campus all morning.
Who says you’re the one who’d have to lug the cooler? :P
> ...Fair point. All right, if you bring the sandwiches, I’ll get drinks and bring dessert.
Great! It’s a date :)
Alex huffed out a sigh of annoyance as he stared at those three little meaningless words. It was just a phrase Bianca used sometimes, he knew that, and yet. And yet, it didn’t make what he was trying to do here any easier. Tempting as it was to leave it like that, he tapped out a fittingly snarky response instead.
> That’s funny, I thought it was just two best friends having a picnic.
LOL ALEX
You know what I meant!! XP
He did. He most certainly did. Even so, he couldn’t help the way his mouth pulled into a half-smile as he sent her one last message.
> Looking forward to it. See you tomorrow.
Yeah! Sweet dreams :)
That settled, he hauled himself up out of bed and headed to the kitchen to get back to work. He didn’t particularly enjoy doing it, but he was a passable baker, just like he was a passable cook. At his stepson’s surprising request, Joe had emailed Alex the recipe he used for his amazing oatmeal raisin cookies, and it all looked simple enough. So he’d stopped by the grocery store after his shift at the music shop to make sure he’d have everything he needed, and he’d had the dough chilling in the fridge for a few hours now, as per Joe’s instructions. Now that he knew for sure that Bianca was up for meeting tomorrow, he could get started on actually baking them.
Hopefully, they’d turn out at least half as good as Joe’s were; Alex would count that as a definite victory.
The next afternoon found Alex making his way down the sidewalk, a steaming cup of Sundollars coffee in each hand. He’d found a decorative (vaguely Christmas-themed) tin in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets, and while he had no idea where it had come from or how it could’ve possibly survived as many moves as they’d made over the years, once he’d washed all the dust off of and out of it, he’d found that it looked pretty nice. The cookies themselves had come out almost startlingly well--enough so that, when Alex had grudgingly given over a pair of them to Bill that morning, the older man’s eyebrows had gone up and up as he’d chewed. He’d given a quiet hum of thoughtful almost-approval, nodded slowly, and when he’d finished those two, he’d held out the plate for more. Alex had rolled his eyes as he’d taken the plate back, handing over an additional two cookies, though not without saying, “Wow, don’t be so free with your compliments, Bill. It might go to my head. Next thing you know, I’ll be dropping out of college and going to culinary school instead.”
That had earned him a flat, unamused glare from Bill, but the older man still hadn’t said anything, simply polishing off that second pair of cookies before disappearing behind his morning newspaper again.
Still, silent as it had been, it was nice to have that vote of confidence, and the weight of the tin in the plastic shopping bag on his arm was comforting. There was something else in the bag as well: a small magnetic photo frame he’d found on a back shelf in the Saltine Cask gift shop with a cute little skeleton sitting in the bottom left corner and an equally cute little ghost hovering in the upper right. He hadn’t had a picture of Bianca and himself to put in the frame, but he wasn’t certain that’s what she’d want to put in it anyway; the frame itself was the gift, a small token of thanks and the first step towards paying her back for letting him borrow that ring.
As he thought about it, he clenched his hand, feeling the subtle pressure of the cool band of metal against his flesh. Much as part of him wished he could keep it, that hadn’t been the deal. He was ready to return it, ready to tell her over a relaxing meal of sandwiches, coffee, and cookies just how much it had meant to him, how much it had helped him, how it had very likely saved him at least once-
“Hey hey, if it isn’t Alex Ace! Long time no see, man! But damn if you aren’t looking good, just like always.”
An unpleasant jolt ran through Alex, the sensation not unlike the time Trey had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt last week, and he gritted his teeth on reflex at that all-too-familiar voice. A quick glance to one side confirmed it: Connor Katou was loping across the green towards him, all grins and mischief and effortlessly long-legged strides.
Oh, hell no, was the first thought that leapt into Alex’s mind, immediately followed by, why is he here? And why now, of all times?
“Connor,” was all he said aloud once he’d managed to unclench his jaw, the usual halfway-grudging acknowledgement of his self-proclaimed friend’s presence, and he kept walking without so much as glancing back over his shoulder at the rapidly-approaching college grad.
Connor’s perpetual grin widened as he fell into step beside Alex, and he gave a theatrical shiver that was so exaggerated that the blue-haired student easily caught it in his peripheral vision. “Oooh, I see that ice-cold façade of yours hasn’t changed, either. Brrr! Still lovin’ it though~”
“Connor,” Alex repeated evenly, this time in a tone of audibly strained patience, “what are you doing here?”
“Whaaat, I’m not allowed to come visit one of my bestest buddies every so often?”
Alex sidestepped Connor’s attempt to drape an arm around his shoulders, expression largely impassive. “Of course you can. So you’d better stop wasting my time, and go find them.”
Connor’s jaw dropped and he stopped in place, staring after Alex with a wounded look, hand pressed to his chest dramatically--then suddenly burst out laughing instead as he hurried to catch up again. “Damn, you’re even better at that than you used to be. Guess that’s what a year of hosting a live talk show radio program will do for you, huh?” His previous laughter returned as a low chuckle, and he shook his head. “It’s like I never even left at all. Nothing’s changed.”
“Oh yeah? It’s been a lot quieter, that’s for sure.”
“Heh! More like boring-er! Quiet is overrated!”
Alex rolled his eyes at that, turning down a side-path to take a more roundabout way to the Reflecting Pool--he didn’t really want Connor following him to his meet-up with Bianca, didn’t really want to share her with anyone right now (least of all someone like Connor), but he didn’t want to be late either.
“Hey, wait up!”
Alex did no such thing, his stride not slowing in the least, but Connor caught up with him again easily--and then kept going, turning to walk backwards in front of Alex as he went, earning him a huff of annoyance.
“What are you doing.”
“Practicing my college campus tour guide walk! This way I can see your face a lot better as we talk.”
Alex’s deadpan expression spoke volumes about what he thought about that statement, but he didn’t rise to that particular piece of bait. “...You’re going to run into somebody, dumbass.”
“Aww, Alex, you do care!”
“Of course I care. Just not about you.”
“I haven’t changed either, you know. The more mean things you say to me, the longer I’ll stick around.”
Alex scoffed at that. “Somehow I doubt being nice to you would make you leave me alone, either.”
“Oh, and speaking of not changing,” Connor went on, undeterred by Alex’s flat response, but before he could finish what he’d been about to say, they passed in front of one the main entrances to the science building and were engulfed in a sudden rush of students flooding out of and into the doors. Alex attempted to make full use of the crowd, ducking and weaving without trying to look like he was rushing, so as not to draw extra attention to himself; but Connor wasn’t so easily eluded, clinging to Alex like a barnacle, or a particularly stubborn tick. He made use of the crowd, too--to jostle himself into his supposed friend, very nearly making him spill the coffee in his hands, and catching hold of the bag hanging off Alex’s arm.
“What have we here? A little bit of Christmas in March, huh? With a wrapped present and everything. Mmm~ Guess someone’s been a good girl, haven’t they~?”
“Connor-”
“That’s a shame,” Connor chattered on, glibly brushing aside the warning note in Alex’s voice, “a terrible shame, really. I can tell ya from experience, it’s always a lot more fun if they’re bad girls. Definitely makes it way more interesting when you get the chance to do a little...stocking stuffing.”
Alex emitted a low noise of disgust at that intentionally-crude euphemism, but by that point there was no chance of an easy escape. Connor had all but linked his arm with Alex’s, and took advantage of that position to dig into the bag, grasping the tin of cookies through the thin plastic and popping it open with a metallic clank, then giving a low whistle of appreciation as he surveyed the contents.
“Damn, Alex, these smell amazing-” Without even asking, he snatched one out of the tin, and before Alex could do more than suck in an angry breath, Connor had sunk his teeth into it, taking a generous bite and then talking around it. “-And they taste even more amazing. Holy shit, man, did you bake these?”
“Yeah, I did,” Alex growled, jerking both his arm and the bag away from Connor roughly enough to make a few drops of coffee splatter across the tops of their plastic lids. “They’re also not for you, and you didn’t even ask-”
“Pfft, lighten up! You’ve still got, like, two dozen in there, I don’t think you’ll miss one or two.”
“One, because you’re not getting any more.”
“Alex, it sounds like you need to learn how to share~”
“And you need to learn some basic manners and not just take things from other people without asking.”
“But if I’d asked, you would’ve just said no anyway, and then I wouldn’t’ve even gotten one!”
At that, Alex finally did stop, pivoting on the balls of his feet so quickly that Connor had to side-step to keep from running into him. Serious stark grey eyes locked on warm, deep brown as the blue-haired student stated in a calm, collected tone that brooked no arguments:
“Connor. I really don’t have time for you right now. I’ve got something important that I need to do, and honestly, you’re getting in the way. If you’re actually my friend, then you’re gonna turn around, and walk away, and stop following me. Stop touching me. Stop taking things from me without asking. And, for the love of God, stop talking to me.”
For a long moment, they both simply stood there in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other, the crush of humanity eddying around them like a living river, Alex stern and resolute, Connor visibly taken aback as he searched the younger man’s upturned, implacable (and unfairly pretty, he thought ruefully) face.
“...Geez man, harsh much?” Connor managed at last, forcing a half-laugh into his words and a crooked smile onto his face, though it didn’t make it to his eyes, which still had a scrutinizing gleam in them.
“I mean it, Connor. Get lost. Stay out of my way for now. If you really wanna hang out, I’ll text you later. We can get dinner or something.” There was a faint, grudging undercurrent of if we have to in that offer, but it wasn’t insincere. The handsome Asian-American student tilted his head in thoughtful consideration...then things suddenly slid into place exactly as he’d hoped they would, and he angled a rakish, crooked smile down at the younger man.
“...Fair enough,” he agreed blithely, and Alex’s eyebrows lowered, forehead creasing at the slight but still noticeable shift in Connor’s voice, which was abruptly louder and crystal-clear, “but just real quick, answer one teeny tiny little question for me before I go.”
He wasn’t really asking, Alex could tell, but that still didn’t mean that he was going to get an answer. If he hadn’t had those cups of coffee in both hands, the college junior would’ve crossed his arms over his chest; as it was, he merely quirked a skeptical, impatient eyebrow that said go on then, get on with it.
“So~ I’m sure I know the answer to this already, but--have you told Bianca that you’re completely, totally in love with her yet?”
Alex let out a noise that was much closer to a growl of annoyance than a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping in something like exhaustion. “This again? No matter how many times you ask me that, the answer’s always gonna be the same. I meant what I said last year after that first time I went on-air with you, and I’m not gonna change my mind. My feelings aren’t the only ones that matter here, and Bianca isn’t interested in anything more than friendship. She’s my best friend, she means the world to me, and I’m not going to ruin that by doing something as pointless and stupid as telling her that I’m in love with her, and have been for years-”
The sound of something hard and plastic hitting the sidewalk a few feet behind him stopped Alex mid-sentence, and for a few seconds he stood there, locked in place and staring up at Connor’s face, dread blooming dark and heavy in his chest as he watched Connor’s eyes focus on something over his shoulder, a flicker of surprise shifting into a broadening grin. Dragging in a ragged breath, Alex spun to look behind himself, heart high in his throat...and his grey eyes went wide with horror on finding Bianca standing there, nearly within arm’s reach, looking just as wide-eyed and shaken as he felt. A battered lunchbox-sized cooler was lying on the ground at her feet, several sandwich bags spilling out the open lid, and she made no move towards picking any of them up.
Even as he’d turned, both cups had dropped from Alex’s suddenly nerveless hands, dousing his shoes and spattering the sidewalk and sandwich bags with steaming coffee, but he hardly noticed the unpleasant heat on his feet or the rest of the mess he’d made. Everything around him faded out, his vision going grey, every sound save the relentless hammering of his pulse and his uneven breath muffled and slowed. The world didn’t seem quite stable beneath him, and he suddenly felt as if the heart that had been lodged in his throat a single instant ago had taken a meteoric fall, plunging down into the pit of his stomach with a sickening splash.
As he stood there, first Alex went concerningly pale, every freckle on his face standing out starkly as the blood drained away; mere seconds later, fierce color flooded his face, turning it a deep, burning crimson that swallowed up those freckles entirely.
“Hey,” Connor’s voice suddenly came from behind him, jarringly loud and clear and right there in his ear, tearing through the cocoon of shock that had spun itself around Alex--but then Connor made the mistake of reaching out to grab hold of one of Alex’s shoulders, his large hand too-warm and weighty and unwanted.
And that was when, at long last, Alex finally gave into nearly two years of frustration and anger. In a blur of motion almost too quick for the eye to follow, he pivoted like a martial arts champion and, using all of the momentum from his turn, landed a forceful right straight on Connor’s nose with every ounce of strength and rage in his body. He hit Connor hard enough that the tall alumnus stumbled backwards and sat down hard, a vividly scarlet splatter of blood already staining his shirt despite the hand clamped over his nose, his expression dazed.
Punching someone in the face was one of the easiest ways to break your hand, and also the stupidest. Bill had told Alex that time and again, and sure enough, something had popped sickeningly in Alex’s hand on contact with Connor’s nose. That still didn’t stop Alex from clenching his fist even tighter, earning himself a hot flash of pain and grinding bones; but despite that, he looked very much like the dearest desire of his heart in that moment was to lunge forward and take another swing at his so-called self-proclaimed friend, broken hand or no.
But Bianca was still there. Swallowing back bile and a bubbling rage as thick and black as tar, Alex risked a sideways glance at her...and found her still just standing there, staring at him like she’d never seen him before.
And maybe, he couldn’t help but think with a sick sort of recognition, maybe she hadn’t.
Without a word, Alex spun on his heel and marched off, the hardwired fight or flight instinct taking over, and in this case, flight it was. The bag with the cookies and the picture frame slid off his arm as he went, but he scarcely even registered when it hit the ground, his gait starting as an unsteady stumble that soon shifted into a rapid walk, then a quick trot, then a full-out desperate run as his mind descended into a haze of white noise, and for a time he simply ran and ran without knowing where he was or where he was going, not particularly caring about either. All that mattered was running, getting away, escaping from that terrible look of horrified realization on Bianca’s face. He ran until his lungs burned, his legs ached, and he couldn’t even stand up straight any longer due to the stitch in his side. When his vision cleared and he finally looked up, looked around and finally managed to make sense of his surroundings, he found himself leaning against the outside wall of the music store.
His whole body was shaking with nerves and exhaustion, his clothes were soaked with sweat despite the cool March air, and his backpack felt like a ton of bricks weighing him down...but something, some part of himself was drawn towards that door. The music store had always been a safe place, and weird as Duncan could be, Keiji was a calming force.
And Alex could definitely use some calm forced onto him right now.
His joints felt like rubber, his leg-muscles doubly so, and his hand throbbed with a dull, insistent pain with every beat of his heart and each lurching step he took, and he staggered and nearly went down on one knee after pushing his way inside the store, the merry jangle of the bell overhead an almost overwhelming cacophony at the moment. Keiji glanced up from the sheet music he was sorting on Alex’s entrance, did a quick double take, then paused for a long moment, seeming to resign himself to something before putting his work aside and coming around the counter to carefully catch Alex by the shoulders, helping to support him while at the same time holding the younger man rather away from himself.
“Alex, what...actually, never mind. Come on.”
The store was thankfully empty at the moment, so Keiji simply flipped the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ for now and locked the door before ushering Alex into the back room. For a long while, he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t even say anything; he simply sat Alex at the breakroom table, on the least wobbly of the breakroom chairs, set a bottle of water down within easy reach, and then fell to examining that visibly swollen right hand.
Keiji Akaashi was one of those people who just kind of seemed to be unfairly good at everything. Case in point, the way he sat across from Alex and carefully but confidently and very knowledgeably pressed his thumbs into the tender, bruised flesh of his hand, giving a nod and a quiet hum of satisfaction once he was done. It was then, and only then, that he spoke:
“You might not think of yourself as particularly talented on the keyboard, or have any real interest in playing the drums, but even so, you’re still a musician. You should take better care of your hands.”
Alex hadn’t said a word since he’d stumbled through the door, and that didn’t change now. His pale eyes were glazed, staring unseeingly at the scuffed tabletop, and he’d hardly even flinched regardless of how Keiji had prodded and pressed on his injured hand. At least this time he gave some vague sort of acknowledgement, letting his chin drop, his head dipping down towards his chest in a weary almost-nod.
Keiji’s dark eyes watched the younger man critically, and after a moment he huffed out a low sigh.
“...Looks like a fairly minor fracture in your fifth metacarpal, which should heal up in about six weeks. I have a splint you can use, but if the pain doesn’t improve after a few days, you should go see a real doctor. In that case, it might need surgery. If it doesn’t heal properly, you could lose a lot of grip strength and mobility in your hand.”
Alex gave another silent nod, still looking dazed and out of it, though Keiji could also see a curious tension running through him. After stepping away to get the splint out of his locker, then stopping by the fridge to get an ice pack out of the freezer, Keiji returned to his seat across the table, carefully wrapping the ice pack in one of the (clean) breakroom towels before carefully settling it on Alex’s hand.
“Since I closed the store to do some basic first aid on you, would you mind telling me what happened, Alex?”
There was no reply at first; Alex’s jaw was still clenched too tightly for him to answer. And so Keiji just sat and waited, watching the younger man in his analytical but slightly bland way.
“He told her,” Alex finally growled, the words so low and rough that they were nearly unintelligible, and after spending another short space of time wrestling with the stunning, heart-shattering force of the various emotions he was feeling, the whole story left him in a halting, stop-and-start rush: how he was supposed to meet up with Bianca, how Connor had shown up out of nowhere and bothered him like usual, and then had asked him that question at just the wrong time. How Alex himself had confessed without ever meaning to, and how Bianca had reacted every bit as terribly as he’d feared--worse even, just staring and silent, looking at him like she’d seen a ghost, like he was suddenly a complete stranger instead of her best friend who’d shared everything from drinks to dances to dreams with her for more than a year and a half.
Keiji simply listened to that whole pained outpouring, thankful that Alex was still far too shaken and angry for his emotions to give way to tears, at least for now. Only once Alex was in the middle of guzzling down that bottle of water did he say anything.
“So. Now that she knows, what are you going to do?”
Alex nearly choked on his water, surfacing with a gasp as he stared across the table at his immovably calm employer.
“I don’t have any real advice for you, since I don’t know the whole situation. But...you’re going to have to do something. If I were you, I’d take my time and consider what that should be very carefully. Otherwise,” he added, flicking a meaningful look down at Alex’s hand, “you’ll just make things worse.”
As if they could be any worse, was Alex’s immediate thought, so sharp and bitter that it set his teeth on edge, his shoulders and arms tensing up again-
“Since you’re here, and I doubt you can make it back to class in time, feel free to clock in and get to work sorting through the new shipment of records we received yesterday. There’s some new ones, but Duncan also brought three boxes back from a local estate sale, so there might actually be something good in there.”
Unable to hide the surprise on his face--that was it, Keiji wasn’t going to pry any further?--Alex watched his stoic-faced employer push himself away from the table and head back towards the public side of the store.
“You should be able to do most of your usual jobs one-handed easily enough...but let me know if you have any trouble with something or need a few days off. And definitely let me know if you’re going to need surgery. I’ll have to change the schedule entirely, in that case.”
Bemused, Alex watched him go, then stared back down at his hand, obscured as it was by the ice pack and towel. Hopefully it really wasn’t anything major, and he wouldn’t need surgery. He didn’t know how Bill would react to something like that--but at least it should be mostly free, thanks to how Air Force family medical coverage worked.
Who knows? Maybe he’d actually be proud of me for once, for trying to solve a problem with my fists instead of talking it out or just walking away.
Out of unthinking habit, Alex dug his phone out of his jacket pocket; he’d already tapped in his passcode and let it read his thumbprint before he realized what he was doing, but that still didn’t stop him from opening his messaging app. As expected, there were over a dozen messages from Connor...and one from Bianca. With a lump in his throat and a shaking finger, he tapped on that single message:
Hey!
My class got out a few minutes late but I’m on my way!!
As promised I made sandwiches
Turkey and Havarti cheese with honey mustard sauce on wheat bread for you
Your fave! :D
As his eyes skimmed over the words, Alex felt something in his chest loosen even as his heart seemed to clench. That message had obviously been sent before...Before. She hadn’t sent him anything since. And while he wanted to feel relieved, he couldn’t help but think that it was a bad sign. The few times they’d had minor disagreements, Bianca had always texted him soon after, to apologize or explain herself more clearly. The fact that this time, she hadn’t sent him anything at all...
Great. Just...great. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Well, one of the things I was afraid of, anyway...
Then again, even if she had sent him a message...what could he possibly say in response?
Returning to the list of messages and scowling down at the double-digit number beside Connor’s name, Alex gave a snort and tucked his phone away again, leaving those unread for now. Whatever Connor had to say could wait; Alex was pretty certain that he didn’t have the patience for it right now. It wasn’t like it was going to be an apology; most likely it was some sort of ill-conceived congratulations for finally--if unwittingly and unwillingly--telling Bianca how he felt.
With another snort, Alex slipped his hand into the splint Keiji had left for him. It felt awkward, but not uncomfortable, and seemed to fit well enough. It would definitely keep his hand largely immobile, particularly the fingers he wasn’t supposed to move. It would be a pain, and only being able to play his keyboard one-handed would suck, but ultimately six weeks wasn’t too long.
His hand, at least, was something he could trust and believe would get better. The other, far more delicate and important-seeming thing that he’d also broken today...that, he wasn’t so sure about.
The next few days were awful.
For the first two days, Bianca didn’t message him at all. Alex had tried to text her first, but whenever he did, he just ended up staring blankly at the screen of his phone as seconds stretched into minutes, any semblance of coherency melting away the longer he sat there, thumbs poised to start typing.
Because when it came down to it...there was nothing left for him to say. He’d already shown his hand, completely unintentionally. He couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t meant it--that would be even worse than not ever telling her would have been, and even if he could have found it in himself to attempt to pass off that soul-deep untruth, he knew that Bianca would’ve seen right through it.
He also couldn’t simply carry on as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed, because things had changed. He’d seen it in her face, in how wide and startled those sea-green eyes had gone, how she’d looked at him almost like he was a stranger. Which made sense, considering how he’d been lying to her for so long. A lie of omission, sure, but that didn’t make it any less of a deception--of a betrayal. He hadn’t told her something that had everything to do with her, with both of them, and he couldn’t blame her if she was hurt or upset or even blindingly angry about it.
Which was part of why he also couldn’t just...ask her out, now that she knew about his feelings. Her expression had been one of confusion and dismay, without even a trace of any sort of happiness, nothing the least bit positive or encouraging...which made it pretty plain to him what her answer would be, if he did ask.
So far as he was concerned, that wide-eyed look that he read as shock-bordering-on-horror was answer enough.
...But as those two days passed, the idea of actually hearing her say it, or something even worse, grew more and more excruciating.
I know, he very nearly texted her half a dozen times, I know you’re not interested in me. I know you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to say anything. So let’s just forget you overheard that, and go back to how things were.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself send that message any more than they could go back to how they’d been before. Even if she didn’t just friendship-dump him immediately for that awful lie, no matter how hard she tried not to be, Bianca would be guarded around him now, and the thought of that was almost worse than the thought of hearing that obvious, inevitable I’m sorry fall from her lips.
The first time they saw each other again was at Tae Kwon Do class Thursday night. Due to a minor emergency that called the instructor away, Tuesday’s class had been cancelled, much to Alex’s relief. He had emailed the instructor to let him know about his hand, and had been told to continue coming to classes anyway for now, since there were still plenty of exercises and drills that he could do without putting any strain on his hand. Instead of partnering up like usual, Alex paired off with the instructor himself, and they figured out what would and wouldn’t work for the next six weeks of the semester. After class was over, Alex snatched up his bag and his jacket and made a beeline for the door...and Bianca didn’t call out to him, didn’t follow after him, didn’t make any sort of effort to stop him.
And really, that lack of action was what sent a new set of spiderweb cracks through the crumbling hatchwork of Alex’s already roughly patched-together heart.
He was more than halfway to the campus bus stop when he heard her calling out to him across the quad, but by that time, it was already too late. Instead of stopping, turning around, or even looking back, he just sped up, head down, walking faster. He didn’t want to talk with her--no, that wasn’t true, he did want to talk with her, he always wanted to talk with her. The only thing he wanted more was for her to still be unaware of his unfortunate, clearly unwanted romantic feelings towards her.
But both were impossible. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to hear the words he knew she’d say. Couldn’t bear seeing her watch him with careful caution. Couldn’t endure losing so much as half an inch of that innocent, trusting closeness they’d had before.
If he was going to lose any of it, he might as well lose all of it, and make as clean a break of things as possible. Better to simply let go entirely, rather than try to hang on to any of it. Better that he should be the one to end it, rather than having to hear the one and only real friend he’d ever had tell him that she hated him, that she couldn’t trust him any more, that he was disgusting and a liar and someone she didn’t want to have anything more to do with ever again.
It would hurt either way, the rough and unexpected amputation of a vital part of him. Hopefully, it would just hurt less this way.
Alex...hey
sorry for the radio silence these past few days
and for not talking with you during or right after class
I just
I don’t know what to say
Alex I’m sorry
just
I had no idea
Connor was telling the truth right??
of course he was otherwise you wouldn’t have hit him
nice punch btw
think you broke his nose
he deserved it tho
I’m so sorry
oh gods and right there in our last convo i said IT’S A DATE
and YOU corrected ME
gods there’s
so much for me to apologize for
like that convo we had about you not wanting to do anything to me I didn’t want
when I said BUT YOU ONLY WANNA DO THINGS TO SOMEONE YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR SO NBD RIGHT gods how awful of me
Alex
please
let’s meet up and talk about this
?
please??
how long??
how long have you felt this way
??
Alex plz
plz answer
I wish you’d at least read my texts
I can see you haven’t
:(
gods
no wonder you won’t answer
or read what I sent you before
I did so much shit to you
the dancing thing last year
getting drunk and PULLING YOU INTO MY BED last year
cuddling in my bed to watch movies
falling asleep on you all the time
gods I was the worst
that must have been torture
you were acting weird after your birthday this year too
did I do something then??
I must have
but you never did anything to me
no matter how much you must have wanted to
bc you cared enough to not want to hurt me or take advantage of things
the more I think about it all the worse I feel
gods I’m so sorry
I want to see you Alex
really
please??
we need to talk
Alex why won’t you talk to me
READ MORE
"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Twenty-Six
[music]
Alex implemented step one of Plan: Be A Better Friend even before he got back to Carrington.
He’d been on his best behavior over the break, sometimes literally grinning and bearing Duke and Trey’s antics and Aunt Bess’s seemingly well-intentioned questions and concern, and he’d done it for one reason, and one reason only: as a way of getting on Bill’s good side, at least as much as possible. Alex had told Bill before they’d even gotten into the truck to start the too-long drive down to Alabama that he wanted to leave a few days early, since he had some projects to work on at the radio station and the music store. Bill had said we’ll see in that tooth-gritting tone that Alex knew meant his every action from that moment on would be on trial; but wonder of wonders, and largely thanks to the lack of fistfights and verbal snarking at mealtimes, in the end, Bill had actually (albeit grudgingly) agreed. It wasn’t a complete lie--Alex did have things to work on at both jobs--but he also really just wanted to get home so that he would have time to figure out how best to start making things up to Bianca.
Although he’d sent her texts and emails throughout the break, he had neither expected nor received any in reply. That didn’t stop him from writing to her, though. She’d see all the messages eventually, and he knew from past vacations that she’d write back as soon as she was able to. She’d told him that she would be back late Sunday night the day before classes started again, so she’d see him Monday--and in his hopeful ears, it had sounded like a promise. And so Sunday night, he sent her a text:
> Hey. Late lunch tomorrow? I’ve got that hour between Electronic Music Comp and Experimental Psych. Gotta give you back your ring.
It was a good half-hour before his phone dinged with her reply:
Sure, sounds good! I missed you :)
Not nearly as much as I missed you, Alex thought and halfway wanted to answer back, but refrained from actually saying. It was true, but you didn’t have to share every true thing that popped into your head, especially if it might make someone else uncomfortable. Instead he settled for a simple:
> Me too.
Before Bianca could give a teasing reply, something like oh, so you missed yourself too huh, Alex followed up with another question:
> Wanna eat outside? Maybe by the Reflecting Pool, if it’s not too crowded.
Ooh kinda like a picnic! :D
> Sure, except we’re just taking our cafeteria food out there. Unless you feel like making me lug a cooler around campus all morning.
Who says you’re the one who’d have to lug the cooler? :P
> ...Fair point. All right, if you bring the sandwiches, I’ll get drinks and bring dessert.
Great! It’s a date :)
Alex huffed out a sigh of annoyance as he stared at those three little meaningless words. It was just a phrase Bianca used sometimes, he knew that, and yet. And yet, it didn’t make what he was trying to do here any easier. Tempting as it was to leave it like that, he tapped out a fittingly snarky response instead.
> That’s funny, I thought it was just two best friends having a picnic.
LOL ALEX
You know what I meant!! XP
He did. He most certainly did. Even so, he couldn’t help the way his mouth pulled into a half-smile as he sent her one last message.
> Looking forward to it. See you tomorrow.
Yeah! Sweet dreams :)
That settled, he hauled himself up out of bed and headed to the kitchen to get back to work. He didn’t particularly enjoy doing it, but he was a passable baker, just like he was a passable cook. At his stepson’s surprising request, Joe had emailed Alex the recipe he used for his amazing oatmeal raisin cookies, and it all looked simple enough. So he’d stopped by the grocery store after his shift at the music shop to make sure he’d have everything he needed, and he’d had the dough chilling in the fridge for a few hours now, as per Joe’s instructions. Now that he knew for sure that Bianca was up for meeting tomorrow, he could get started on actually baking them.
Hopefully, they’d turn out at least half as good as Joe’s were; Alex would count that as a definite victory.
The next afternoon found Alex making his way down the sidewalk, a steaming cup of Sundollars coffee in each hand. He’d found a decorative (vaguely Christmas-themed) tin in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets, and while he had no idea where it had come from or how it could’ve possibly survived as many moves as they’d made over the years, once he’d washed all the dust off of and out of it, he’d found that it looked pretty nice. The cookies themselves had come out almost startlingly well--enough so that, when Alex had grudgingly given over a pair of them to Bill that morning, the older man’s eyebrows had gone up and up as he’d chewed. He’d given a quiet hum of thoughtful almost-approval, nodded slowly, and when he’d finished those two, he’d held out the plate for more. Alex had rolled his eyes as he’d taken the plate back, handing over an additional two cookies, though not without saying, “Wow, don’t be so free with your compliments, Bill. It might go to my head. Next thing you know, I’ll be dropping out of college and going to culinary school instead.”
That had earned him a flat, unamused glare from Bill, but the older man still hadn’t said anything, simply polishing off that second pair of cookies before disappearing behind his morning newspaper again.
Still, silent as it had been, it was nice to have that vote of confidence, and the weight of the tin in the plastic shopping bag on his arm was comforting. There was something else in the bag as well: a small magnetic photo frame he’d found on a back shelf in the Saltine Cask gift shop with a cute little skeleton sitting in the bottom left corner and an equally cute little ghost hovering in the upper right. He hadn’t had a picture of Bianca and himself to put in the frame, but he wasn’t certain that’s what she’d want to put in it anyway; the frame itself was the gift, a small token of thanks and the first step towards paying her back for letting him borrow that ring.
As he thought about it, he clenched his hand, feeling the subtle pressure of the cool band of metal against his flesh. Much as part of him wished he could keep it, that hadn’t been the deal. He was ready to return it, ready to tell her over a relaxing meal of sandwiches, coffee, and cookies just how much it had meant to him, how much it had helped him, how it had very likely saved him at least once-
“Hey hey, if it isn’t Alex Ace! Long time no see, man! But damn if you aren’t looking good, just like always.”
An unpleasant jolt ran through Alex, the sensation not unlike the time Trey had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt last week, and he gritted his teeth on reflex at that all-too-familiar voice. A quick glance to one side confirmed it: Connor Katou was loping across the green towards him, all grins and mischief and effortlessly long-legged strides.
Oh, hell no, was the first thought that leapt into Alex’s mind, immediately followed by, why is he here? And why now, of all times?
“Connor,” was all he said aloud once he’d managed to unclench his jaw, the usual halfway-grudging acknowledgement of his self-proclaimed friend’s presence, and he kept walking without so much as glancing back over his shoulder at the rapidly-approaching college grad.
Connor’s perpetual grin widened as he fell into step beside Alex, and he gave a theatrical shiver that was so exaggerated that the blue-haired student easily caught it in his peripheral vision. “Oooh, I see that ice-cold façade of yours hasn’t changed, either. Brrr! Still lovin’ it though~”
“Connor,” Alex repeated evenly, this time in a tone of audibly strained patience, “what are you doing here?”
“Whaaat, I’m not allowed to come visit one of my bestest buddies every so often?”
Alex sidestepped Connor’s attempt to drape an arm around his shoulders, expression largely impassive. “Of course you can. So you’d better stop wasting my time, and go find them.”
Connor’s jaw dropped and he stopped in place, staring after Alex with a wounded look, hand pressed to his chest dramatically--then suddenly burst out laughing instead as he hurried to catch up again. “Damn, you’re even better at that than you used to be. Guess that’s what a year of hosting a live talk show radio program will do for you, huh?” His previous laughter returned as a low chuckle, and he shook his head. “It’s like I never even left at all. Nothing’s changed.”
“Oh yeah? It’s been a lot quieter, that’s for sure.”
“Heh! More like boring-er! Quiet is overrated!”
Alex rolled his eyes at that, turning down a side-path to take a more roundabout way to the Reflecting Pool--he didn’t really want Connor following him to his meet-up with Bianca, didn’t really want to share her with anyone right now (least of all someone like Connor), but he didn’t want to be late either.
“Hey, wait up!”
Alex did no such thing, his stride not slowing in the least, but Connor caught up with him again easily--and then kept going, turning to walk backwards in front of Alex as he went, earning him a huff of annoyance.
“What are you doing.”
“Practicing my college campus tour guide walk! This way I can see your face a lot better as we talk.”
Alex’s deadpan expression spoke volumes about what he thought about that statement, but he didn’t rise to that particular piece of bait. “...You’re going to run into somebody, dumbass.”
“Aww, Alex, you do care!”
“Of course I care. Just not about you.”
“I haven’t changed either, you know. The more mean things you say to me, the longer I’ll stick around.”
Alex scoffed at that. “Somehow I doubt being nice to you would make you leave me alone, either.”
“Oh, and speaking of not changing,” Connor went on, undeterred by Alex’s flat response, but before he could finish what he’d been about to say, they passed in front of one the main entrances to the science building and were engulfed in a sudden rush of students flooding out of and into the doors. Alex attempted to make full use of the crowd, ducking and weaving without trying to look like he was rushing, so as not to draw extra attention to himself; but Connor wasn’t so easily eluded, clinging to Alex like a barnacle, or a particularly stubborn tick. He made use of the crowd, too--to jostle himself into his supposed friend, very nearly making him spill the coffee in his hands, and catching hold of the bag hanging off Alex’s arm.
“What have we here? A little bit of Christmas in March, huh? With a wrapped present and everything. Mmm~ Guess someone’s been a good girl, haven’t they~?”
“Connor-”
“That’s a shame,” Connor chattered on, glibly brushing aside the warning note in Alex’s voice, “a terrible shame, really. I can tell ya from experience, it’s always a lot more fun if they’re bad girls. Definitely makes it way more interesting when you get the chance to do a little...stocking stuffing.”
Alex emitted a low noise of disgust at that intentionally-crude euphemism, but by that point there was no chance of an easy escape. Connor had all but linked his arm with Alex’s, and took advantage of that position to dig into the bag, grasping the tin of cookies through the thin plastic and popping it open with a metallic clank, then giving a low whistle of appreciation as he surveyed the contents.
“Damn, Alex, these smell amazing-” Without even asking, he snatched one out of the tin, and before Alex could do more than suck in an angry breath, Connor had sunk his teeth into it, taking a generous bite and then talking around it. “-And they taste even more amazing. Holy shit, man, did you bake these?”
“Yeah, I did,” Alex growled, jerking both his arm and the bag away from Connor roughly enough to make a few drops of coffee splatter across the tops of their plastic lids. “They’re also not for you, and you didn’t even ask-”
“Pfft, lighten up! You’ve still got, like, two dozen in there, I don’t think you’ll miss one or two.”
“One, because you’re not getting any more.”
“Alex, it sounds like you need to learn how to share~”
“And you need to learn some basic manners and not just take things from other people without asking.”
“But if I’d asked, you would’ve just said no anyway, and then I wouldn’t’ve even gotten one!”
At that, Alex finally did stop, pivoting on the balls of his feet so quickly that Connor had to side-step to keep from running into him. Serious stark grey eyes locked on warm, deep brown as the blue-haired student stated in a calm, collected tone that brooked no arguments:
“Connor. I really don’t have time for you right now. I’ve got something important that I need to do, and honestly, you’re getting in the way. If you’re actually my friend, then you’re gonna turn around, and walk away, and stop following me. Stop touching me. Stop taking things from me without asking. And, for the love of God, stop talking to me.”
For a long moment, they both simply stood there in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other, the crush of humanity eddying around them like a living river, Alex stern and resolute, Connor visibly taken aback as he searched the younger man’s upturned, implacable (and unfairly pretty, he thought ruefully) face.
“...Geez man, harsh much?” Connor managed at last, forcing a half-laugh into his words and a crooked smile onto his face, though it didn’t make it to his eyes, which still had a scrutinizing gleam in them.
“I mean it, Connor. Get lost. Stay out of my way for now. If you really wanna hang out, I’ll text you later. We can get dinner or something.” There was a faint, grudging undercurrent of if we have to in that offer, but it wasn’t insincere. The handsome Asian-American student tilted his head in thoughtful consideration...then things suddenly slid into place exactly as he’d hoped they would, and he angled a rakish, crooked smile down at the younger man.
“...Fair enough,” he agreed blithely, and Alex’s eyebrows lowered, forehead creasing at the slight but still noticeable shift in Connor’s voice, which was abruptly louder and crystal-clear, “but just real quick, answer one teeny tiny little question for me before I go.”
He wasn’t really asking, Alex could tell, but that still didn’t mean that he was going to get an answer. If he hadn’t had those cups of coffee in both hands, the college junior would’ve crossed his arms over his chest; as it was, he merely quirked a skeptical, impatient eyebrow that said go on then, get on with it.
“So~ I’m sure I know the answer to this already, but--have you told Bianca that you’re completely, totally in love with her yet?”
Alex let out a noise that was much closer to a growl of annoyance than a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping in something like exhaustion. “This again? No matter how many times you ask me that, the answer’s always gonna be the same. I meant what I said last year after that first time I went on-air with you, and I’m not gonna change my mind. My feelings aren’t the only ones that matter here, and Bianca isn’t interested in anything more than friendship. She’s my best friend, she means the world to me, and I’m not going to ruin that by doing something as pointless and stupid as telling her that I’m in love with her, and have been for years-”
The sound of something hard and plastic hitting the sidewalk a few feet behind him stopped Alex mid-sentence, and for a few seconds he stood there, locked in place and staring up at Connor’s face, dread blooming dark and heavy in his chest as he watched Connor’s eyes focus on something over his shoulder, a flicker of surprise shifting into a broadening grin. Dragging in a ragged breath, Alex spun to look behind himself, heart high in his throat...and his grey eyes went wide with horror on finding Bianca standing there, nearly within arm’s reach, looking just as wide-eyed and shaken as he felt. A battered lunchbox-sized cooler was lying on the ground at her feet, several sandwich bags spilling out the open lid, and she made no move towards picking any of them up.
Even as he’d turned, both cups had dropped from Alex’s suddenly nerveless hands, dousing his shoes and spattering the sidewalk and sandwich bags with steaming coffee, but he hardly noticed the unpleasant heat on his feet or the rest of the mess he’d made. Everything around him faded out, his vision going grey, every sound save the relentless hammering of his pulse and his uneven breath muffled and slowed. The world didn’t seem quite stable beneath him, and he suddenly felt as if the heart that had been lodged in his throat a single instant ago had taken a meteoric fall, plunging down into the pit of his stomach with a sickening splash.
As he stood there, first Alex went concerningly pale, every freckle on his face standing out starkly as the blood drained away; mere seconds later, fierce color flooded his face, turning it a deep, burning crimson that swallowed up those freckles entirely.
“Hey,” Connor’s voice suddenly came from behind him, jarringly loud and clear and right there in his ear, tearing through the cocoon of shock that had spun itself around Alex--but then Connor made the mistake of reaching out to grab hold of one of Alex’s shoulders, his large hand too-warm and weighty and unwanted.
And that was when, at long last, Alex finally gave into nearly two years of frustration and anger. In a blur of motion almost too quick for the eye to follow, he pivoted like a martial arts champion and, using all of the momentum from his turn, landed a forceful right straight on Connor’s nose with every ounce of strength and rage in his body. He hit Connor hard enough that the tall alumnus stumbled backwards and sat down hard, a vividly scarlet splatter of blood already staining his shirt despite the hand clamped over his nose, his expression dazed.
Punching someone in the face was one of the easiest ways to break your hand, and also the stupidest. Bill had told Alex that time and again, and sure enough, something had popped sickeningly in Alex’s hand on contact with Connor’s nose. That still didn’t stop Alex from clenching his fist even tighter, earning himself a hot flash of pain and grinding bones; but despite that, he looked very much like the dearest desire of his heart in that moment was to lunge forward and take another swing at his so-called self-proclaimed friend, broken hand or no.
But Bianca was still there. Swallowing back bile and a bubbling rage as thick and black as tar, Alex risked a sideways glance at her...and found her still just standing there, staring at him like she’d never seen him before.
And maybe, he couldn’t help but think with a sick sort of recognition, maybe she hadn’t.
Without a word, Alex spun on his heel and marched off, the hardwired fight or flight instinct taking over, and in this case, flight it was. The bag with the cookies and the picture frame slid off his arm as he went, but he scarcely even registered when it hit the ground, his gait starting as an unsteady stumble that soon shifted into a rapid walk, then a quick trot, then a full-out desperate run as his mind descended into a haze of white noise, and for a time he simply ran and ran without knowing where he was or where he was going, not particularly caring about either. All that mattered was running, getting away, escaping from that terrible look of horrified realization on Bianca’s face. He ran until his lungs burned, his legs ached, and he couldn’t even stand up straight any longer due to the stitch in his side. When his vision cleared and he finally looked up, looked around and finally managed to make sense of his surroundings, he found himself leaning against the outside wall of the music store.
His whole body was shaking with nerves and exhaustion, his clothes were soaked with sweat despite the cool March air, and his backpack felt like a ton of bricks weighing him down...but something, some part of himself was drawn towards that door. The music store had always been a safe place, and weird as Duncan could be, Keiji was a calming force.
And Alex could definitely use some calm forced onto him right now.
His joints felt like rubber, his leg-muscles doubly so, and his hand throbbed with a dull, insistent pain with every beat of his heart and each lurching step he took, and he staggered and nearly went down on one knee after pushing his way inside the store, the merry jangle of the bell overhead an almost overwhelming cacophony at the moment. Keiji glanced up from the sheet music he was sorting on Alex’s entrance, did a quick double take, then paused for a long moment, seeming to resign himself to something before putting his work aside and coming around the counter to carefully catch Alex by the shoulders, helping to support him while at the same time holding the younger man rather away from himself.
“Alex, what...actually, never mind. Come on.”
The store was thankfully empty at the moment, so Keiji simply flipped the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ for now and locked the door before ushering Alex into the back room. For a long while, he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t even say anything; he simply sat Alex at the breakroom table, on the least wobbly of the breakroom chairs, set a bottle of water down within easy reach, and then fell to examining that visibly swollen right hand.
Keiji Akaashi was one of those people who just kind of seemed to be unfairly good at everything. Case in point, the way he sat across from Alex and carefully but confidently and very knowledgeably pressed his thumbs into the tender, bruised flesh of his hand, giving a nod and a quiet hum of satisfaction once he was done. It was then, and only then, that he spoke:
“You might not think of yourself as particularly talented on the keyboard, or have any real interest in playing the drums, but even so, you’re still a musician. You should take better care of your hands.”
Alex hadn’t said a word since he’d stumbled through the door, and that didn’t change now. His pale eyes were glazed, staring unseeingly at the scuffed tabletop, and he’d hardly even flinched regardless of how Keiji had prodded and pressed on his injured hand. At least this time he gave some vague sort of acknowledgement, letting his chin drop, his head dipping down towards his chest in a weary almost-nod.
Keiji’s dark eyes watched the younger man critically, and after a moment he huffed out a low sigh.
“...Looks like a fairly minor fracture in your fifth metacarpal, which should heal up in about six weeks. I have a splint you can use, but if the pain doesn’t improve after a few days, you should go see a real doctor. In that case, it might need surgery. If it doesn’t heal properly, you could lose a lot of grip strength and mobility in your hand.”
Alex gave another silent nod, still looking dazed and out of it, though Keiji could also see a curious tension running through him. After stepping away to get the splint out of his locker, then stopping by the fridge to get an ice pack out of the freezer, Keiji returned to his seat across the table, carefully wrapping the ice pack in one of the (clean) breakroom towels before carefully settling it on Alex’s hand.
“Since I closed the store to do some basic first aid on you, would you mind telling me what happened, Alex?”
There was no reply at first; Alex’s jaw was still clenched too tightly for him to answer. And so Keiji just sat and waited, watching the younger man in his analytical but slightly bland way.
“He told her,” Alex finally growled, the words so low and rough that they were nearly unintelligible, and after spending another short space of time wrestling with the stunning, heart-shattering force of the various emotions he was feeling, the whole story left him in a halting, stop-and-start rush: how he was supposed to meet up with Bianca, how Connor had shown up out of nowhere and bothered him like usual, and then had asked him that question at just the wrong time. How Alex himself had confessed without ever meaning to, and how Bianca had reacted every bit as terribly as he’d feared--worse even, just staring and silent, looking at him like she’d seen a ghost, like he was suddenly a complete stranger instead of her best friend who’d shared everything from drinks to dances to dreams with her for more than a year and a half.
Keiji simply listened to that whole pained outpouring, thankful that Alex was still far too shaken and angry for his emotions to give way to tears, at least for now. Only once Alex was in the middle of guzzling down that bottle of water did he say anything.
“So. Now that she knows, what are you going to do?”
Alex nearly choked on his water, surfacing with a gasp as he stared across the table at his immovably calm employer.
“I don’t have any real advice for you, since I don’t know the whole situation. But...you’re going to have to do something. If I were you, I’d take my time and consider what that should be very carefully. Otherwise,” he added, flicking a meaningful look down at Alex’s hand, “you’ll just make things worse.”
As if they could be any worse, was Alex’s immediate thought, so sharp and bitter that it set his teeth on edge, his shoulders and arms tensing up again-
“Since you’re here, and I doubt you can make it back to class in time, feel free to clock in and get to work sorting through the new shipment of records we received yesterday. There’s some new ones, but Duncan also brought three boxes back from a local estate sale, so there might actually be something good in there.”
Unable to hide the surprise on his face--that was it, Keiji wasn’t going to pry any further?--Alex watched his stoic-faced employer push himself away from the table and head back towards the public side of the store.
“You should be able to do most of your usual jobs one-handed easily enough...but let me know if you have any trouble with something or need a few days off. And definitely let me know if you’re going to need surgery. I’ll have to change the schedule entirely, in that case.”
Bemused, Alex watched him go, then stared back down at his hand, obscured as it was by the ice pack and towel. Hopefully it really wasn’t anything major, and he wouldn’t need surgery. He didn’t know how Bill would react to something like that--but at least it should be mostly free, thanks to how Air Force family medical coverage worked.
Who knows? Maybe he’d actually be proud of me for once, for trying to solve a problem with my fists instead of talking it out or just walking away.
Out of unthinking habit, Alex dug his phone out of his jacket pocket; he’d already tapped in his passcode and let it read his thumbprint before he realized what he was doing, but that still didn’t stop him from opening his messaging app. As expected, there were over a dozen messages from Connor...and one from Bianca. With a lump in his throat and a shaking finger, he tapped on that single message:
Hey!
My class got out a few minutes late but I’m on my way!!
As promised I made sandwiches
Turkey and Havarti cheese with honey mustard sauce on wheat bread for you
Your fave! :D
As his eyes skimmed over the words, Alex felt something in his chest loosen even as his heart seemed to clench. That message had obviously been sent before...Before. She hadn’t sent him anything since. And while he wanted to feel relieved, he couldn’t help but think that it was a bad sign. The few times they’d had minor disagreements, Bianca had always texted him soon after, to apologize or explain herself more clearly. The fact that this time, she hadn’t sent him anything at all...
Great. Just...great. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Well, one of the things I was afraid of, anyway...
Then again, even if she had sent him a message...what could he possibly say in response?
Returning to the list of messages and scowling down at the double-digit number beside Connor’s name, Alex gave a snort and tucked his phone away again, leaving those unread for now. Whatever Connor had to say could wait; Alex was pretty certain that he didn’t have the patience for it right now. It wasn’t like it was going to be an apology; most likely it was some sort of ill-conceived congratulations for finally--if unwittingly and unwillingly--telling Bianca how he felt.
With another snort, Alex slipped his hand into the splint Keiji had left for him. It felt awkward, but not uncomfortable, and seemed to fit well enough. It would definitely keep his hand largely immobile, particularly the fingers he wasn’t supposed to move. It would be a pain, and only being able to play his keyboard one-handed would suck, but ultimately six weeks wasn’t too long.
His hand, at least, was something he could trust and believe would get better. The other, far more delicate and important-seeming thing that he’d also broken today...that, he wasn’t so sure about.
The next few days were awful.
For the first two days, Bianca didn’t message him at all. Alex had tried to text her first, but whenever he did, he just ended up staring blankly at the screen of his phone as seconds stretched into minutes, any semblance of coherency melting away the longer he sat there, thumbs poised to start typing.
Because when it came down to it...there was nothing left for him to say. He’d already shown his hand, completely unintentionally. He couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t meant it--that would be even worse than not ever telling her would have been, and even if he could have found it in himself to attempt to pass off that soul-deep untruth, he knew that Bianca would’ve seen right through it.
He also couldn’t simply carry on as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed, because things had changed. He’d seen it in her face, in how wide and startled those sea-green eyes had gone, how she’d looked at him almost like he was a stranger. Which made sense, considering how he’d been lying to her for so long. A lie of omission, sure, but that didn’t make it any less of a deception--of a betrayal. He hadn’t told her something that had everything to do with her, with both of them, and he couldn’t blame her if she was hurt or upset or even blindingly angry about it.
Which was part of why he also couldn’t just...ask her out, now that she knew about his feelings. Her expression had been one of confusion and dismay, without even a trace of any sort of happiness, nothing the least bit positive or encouraging...which made it pretty plain to him what her answer would be, if he did ask.
So far as he was concerned, that wide-eyed look that he read as shock-bordering-on-horror was answer enough.
...But as those two days passed, the idea of actually hearing her say it, or something even worse, grew more and more excruciating.
I know, he very nearly texted her half a dozen times, I know you’re not interested in me. I know you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to say anything. So let’s just forget you overheard that, and go back to how things were.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself send that message any more than they could go back to how they’d been before. Even if she didn’t just friendship-dump him immediately for that awful lie, no matter how hard she tried not to be, Bianca would be guarded around him now, and the thought of that was almost worse than the thought of hearing that obvious, inevitable I’m sorry fall from her lips.
The first time they saw each other again was at Tae Kwon Do class Thursday night. Due to a minor emergency that called the instructor away, Tuesday’s class had been cancelled, much to Alex’s relief. He had emailed the instructor to let him know about his hand, and had been told to continue coming to classes anyway for now, since there were still plenty of exercises and drills that he could do without putting any strain on his hand. Instead of partnering up like usual, Alex paired off with the instructor himself, and they figured out what would and wouldn’t work for the next six weeks of the semester. After class was over, Alex snatched up his bag and his jacket and made a beeline for the door...and Bianca didn’t call out to him, didn’t follow after him, didn’t make any sort of effort to stop him.
And really, that lack of action was what sent a new set of spiderweb cracks through the crumbling hatchwork of Alex’s already roughly patched-together heart.
He was more than halfway to the campus bus stop when he heard her calling out to him across the quad, but by that time, it was already too late. Instead of stopping, turning around, or even looking back, he just sped up, head down, walking faster. He didn’t want to talk with her--no, that wasn’t true, he did want to talk with her, he always wanted to talk with her. The only thing he wanted more was for her to still be unaware of his unfortunate, clearly unwanted romantic feelings towards her.
But both were impossible. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to hear the words he knew she’d say. Couldn’t bear seeing her watch him with careful caution. Couldn’t endure losing so much as half an inch of that innocent, trusting closeness they’d had before.
If he was going to lose any of it, he might as well lose all of it, and make as clean a break of things as possible. Better to simply let go entirely, rather than try to hang on to any of it. Better that he should be the one to end it, rather than having to hear the one and only real friend he’d ever had tell him that she hated him, that she couldn’t trust him any more, that he was disgusting and a liar and someone she didn’t want to have anything more to do with ever again.
It would hurt either way, the rough and unexpected amputation of a vital part of him. Hopefully, it would just hurt less this way.
Alex...hey
sorry for the radio silence these past few days
and for not talking with you during or right after class
I just
I don’t know what to say
Alex I’m sorry
just
I had no idea
Connor was telling the truth right??
of course he was otherwise you wouldn’t have hit him
nice punch btw
think you broke his nose
he deserved it tho
I’m so sorry
oh gods and right there in our last convo i said IT’S A DATE
and YOU corrected ME
gods there’s
so much for me to apologize for
like that convo we had about you not wanting to do anything to me I didn’t want
when I said BUT YOU ONLY WANNA DO THINGS TO SOMEONE YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR SO NBD RIGHT gods how awful of me
Alex
please
let’s meet up and talk about this
?
please??
how long??
how long have you felt this way
??
Alex plz
plz answer
I wish you’d at least read my texts
I can see you haven’t
:(
gods
no wonder you won’t answer
or read what I sent you before
I did so much shit to you
the dancing thing last year
getting drunk and PULLING YOU INTO MY BED last year
cuddling in my bed to watch movies
falling asleep on you all the time
gods I was the worst
that must have been torture
you were acting weird after your birthday this year too
did I do something then??
I must have
but you never did anything to me
no matter how much you must have wanted to
bc you cared enough to not want to hurt me or take advantage of things
the more I think about it all the worse I feel
gods I’m so sorry
I want to see you Alex
really
please??
we need to talk
Alex why won’t you talk to me
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