6. Zeno
ZENO
Zeno’s not sure how many hundreds of times he’s stood in front of this door since he was twelve years old, but he can recreate it with his eyes closed.
Dark wood with two tiny marble columns carved into the wall on each side of it. An ornate knocker, but no handle—like all of the high-security offices, the door can only be opened with the tenant’s ring.
The plaque on the door reads: Councilman Seventeen, Bios.
Zeno has been waiting here for several minutes now. Not because he’s afraid to talk to the Councilman in general—he does that all the time. More because he’s afraid of what the Councilman will say tonight.
What he’s implied already will be solidified and Zeno just can’t… he can’t let that happen.
He’s ready to wait indefinitely, desperate to avoid the confrontation that’s bound to happen—and by confrontation, he means him crying and Bios comforting him—but Bios somehow knows that he’s here because the door buzzes lightly and swings open unprompted.
“Hey, Zeno,” Bios says from his usual spot on the plush green couch in the center of his office.
“Hi, Dad,” Zeno replies, collapsing into a stack of pillows next to one of his many bookshelves. It’s only here, entirely shut away from everyone else, that Zeno can call Bios what he is: Dad.
“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Bios says, dropping next to him on the floor. “I didn’t want this to happen, I promise you. But I didn’t have a choice.”
“Okay.” He does not try very hard to hide the dejection in his voice. It’s uncharacteristically underhanded, but he isn’t really feeling like himself at the moment.
“Really, Zeno. I had no control over this.”
“It’s fine. If you say it’s not your fault, I’m sure it’s not your fault,” he mumbles.
Because he just doesn’t get it! His father holds one of the highest seats in the government. He has the power to ensure Zeno keeps his living situation the way it is. So why? Why take it from him when he knows how important it is to Zeno that it stays the same?
“The Educator came to my office today,” Bios explains, and Zeno shoots upright.
“What?”
“Lykos. The Educator. He came to my office. And he said he’s… concerned. That I’m favoring an Auxiliary. One that he knows I know is my son.”
Roommate versus no roommate versus… whatever pales in comparison to all the horrible possibilities in store for him and his father. Suspension? Branding? Exile?
Death?
“He said,” Bios continues, “that we are both valuable members of the community, and he doesn’t want to bring the hammer down.
He told me if I take away all of your special privileges, even the ones you earned yourself, pair you up with a new recruit he tasked me with fetching, and stay away, he won’t feel the need to enact any… punishment.”
“You really think he’s not going to do anything else? Make you do anything else?”
“He also had me rescind all of my requests for Academy-sanctioned aid in the lower Arcs. And my request for an investigation into DNA encoding and unethical procedures in the field of experimental science within the Academy.”
“So he blackmailed you.”
Bios lets out a weak chuckle. “Yes, I suppose he did. Though I’m sure he’d prefer the Councilmen to call his negotiation techniques ‘polite requests.’”
“Oh.”
“You’re not the only one to suffer here, but I’m sorry you have to at all.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. What I gave you… I never expected you to take to it like you did. You’re so talented. And you care so much.”
That’s the thing. He does care so much.
And he wants to not be selfish. He wants to be good—to be who everyone thinks he is.
But there are a few things in this world that make him not good. Things that he wants so badly he becomes greedy just to keep them. So instead of comforting his dad, he responds, “What would you have me do? Play with Alexander there in the room? He’ll report me.”
“I think—”
“Look, can we just not? I don’t blame you. But this is hopeless.”
“Alexander is from far away. I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it.”
“Are you serious?” Zeno scoffs, failing to tone down his antagonism. “Everyone knows that Plato forbids music for pleasure among the Leadership Classes. Even people from the countryside. And it’s his first day, he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He will report me.”
“The rules in the countryside are different. People are kinder there—more lax. Just ask him. Just try.”
What his dad is proposing is impossible—no one would accept breaking the rules so obnoxiously. Except for Eudoxia, of course, but she’s not just anyone. Eudoxia is perfect.
But Bios is right. Zeno lives for the smooth expanse of ancient wood, the taut strings, tuned and retuned, the bow of horsehair from thousands of years ago. The instrument has been preserved so carefully for so long, and he cannot let it sit neglected and unloved.
“What would I even say?” he asks, despite himself.
“Be direct. And don’t be nervous. I really don’t think he’ll care. Where he’s from they don’t… they don’t care.”
He’s sure this will go poorly—that this might be the end for him, his last night at the Academy. But he’d rather be kicked out than never play again.
He’d rather die than never play again.
“I’ll try. And if he tells and something happens… Well, I love you.”
His father gets to his feet, pulling Zeno up and into a hug as he does.
“I love you too, buddy. Forever and always.”
“Forever and always.”
When Zeno quietly opens the door, he has to suppress a sigh of frustration. If Alexander were asleep maybe he could have pushed off this talk till morning.
But here Alexander is, sitting on the floor surrounded by open textbooks.
When he hears the door click, his head lifts and he smiles in greeting. “These history textbooks are pretty sparse, huh?” he asks, ignorant to Zeno’s inner turmoil.
“Oh… um, yeah. After everything was wiped out in the Fall of Nations, the Republic took a while to find its footing, and they didn’t really write down anything about the founding or the fifty years after.”
“Wiped out?” Alexander asks with wide eyes.
“Yes.” He gets a little sadder for Alexander every time they reach a gap in his basic cultural knowledge.
It makes Zeno wonder what they even teach in the countryside.
“I mean, there was a world before the Republic, you know. It’s just gone now.
Quite sad, in my opinion. How everyone tore each other to shreds in the end. ”
“Tore each other to… right. Yes. Of course we believe that there’s nothing out there. That nothing survived.”
Zeno’s not sure what to say to that. He wants to give Alexander time to process, but he also needs to have this conversation or else he’ll explode.
“So, Alexander. I wanted to ask you something,” he says. “It’s not, like, super important or anything. Like, it is to me, but not to you. Or it might be depending on how you… feel about certain things. Like rules. Some rules.”
His dad would definitely laugh if he saw how loosely Zeno took his ‘get to the point and don’t be nervous’ advice.
Alexander stands and places a hand on his shoulder. “Look, man. If this is something about why you didn’t want to live with me, you can just tell me. I don’t want to keep you from whatever it is you usually do.”
“I have… So, basically… Forms, I don’t know how to put this.”
With every second that passes, Alexander’s face gets more apprehensive and all of the anxious energy in the room builds and builds until—
“Violin!” he finally blurts, which sends Alexander’s brows up to the Forms and makes his head tilt like a curious puppy.
“What?”
“Violin. I play it. With my hands. For fun. And it’s okay if you don’t want me to, just tell me now and please don’t tell the Guardians. I won’t get you in trouble. I won’t play if it makes you uncomfortable. Oh, what am I saying, of course it makes you uncomfortable. I’m so stupid. I–”
“Whoa, whoa, Zeno,” Alexander says. “Is that it? This whole time you’ve been worried about… playing violin?”
Well, this is not how he expected things to go.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what roommates you’ve had in the past, but with me?
Play away. I love music. My brother and I…
” Alexander trails off, probably reminiscing about the family he left behind to come to the Academy.
Zeno never had to experience that, but he can imagine it would be hard.
“It’s not a big deal, is what I’m saying. I’m happy to hear you play.”
Zeno squints. Why isn’t Alexander more put off, upset, or, at least, conscious of the potential issues here?
“Music at the Academy. For fun. It’s not allowed here. Everyone knows that,” he says, almost as a question.
For a flash, Alexander looks horrified, but he recovers so quickly Zeno’s not sure it happened at all.
“Well, I thought you would know that in the country the rules are different. We love music. And I’m not going to submit to all the whims of the Academy just because I live here now.”
Zeno flops onto his bed with a sigh of relief, and Alexander follows suit, not bothering to shut the books on the floor. His clothes from today are on the ground too. Zeno kind of wonders who Alexander thinks is going to put them away—do they live like royalty in the country or something?
“I hope you know that you’re going to have to play for me every night starting tomorrow,” Alexander says, cuddling up in his blankets.
He really is a perfect-looking guy: tan skin, dark hair, light eyes. In the blankets he looks cozy and sweet with a hint of mischief in the smirk on his lips. If not for Eudoxia, Zeno might think about making a move.
But no one is as beautiful as Eudoxia.
Usually he can talk himself out of things, but he can’t talk himself out of loving her. Pathetically enough, he doesn’t even want to.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Zeno says; better that than ranting to Alexander about a girl who has no interest in him. “I’m still learning.”
“Everyone has something to learn, even the best of the best. So say that with pride instead of embarrassment.”
“Where’d you learn that? It’s really profound.”
“What, you don’t think I could have come up with it myself?”
“Hmmm, let me think.” Zeno makes a big show of it, tapping his chin and pursing his lips. “Nah.”
Alexander laughs. “My dad. He’s the one who taught me. He would always say that when—he would just say that a lot. Things like that. He was good with words…”
Alexander trails off and his smile fades, sudden waves of grief emanating off him.
“Did he… you know.”
“Die? Yeah. A month ago today.”
Oh, Forms.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry. Was your family okay when you left? Your mom, your… you mentioned a brother, right?”
Alexander laughs again, but this time it’s cynical. He opens his mouth, then catches himself and takes another moment to think.
“My mother has been gone a long time. And I think my brother was happy to see the back of me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. You don’t have all that crazy family stuff at the Academy, I guess. Not sure if that’s better or worse.”
Zeno sighs. “Me neither.”
Then Alexander plasters his charismatic smile back on with visible effort. “Well, what a fun turn this conversation took,” he says. It’s clear he wants to return to their banter rather than his memories, and Zeno lets him.
“Best time I’ve had in ages, Alex.”
Alexander groans. “Please, don’t call me Alex,” he begs. “I hate Alexes.”
“No, Alex, I love nicknames. Everyone I know has a nickname. You can’t take that away from me.”
Alexander gags, and Zeno responds, “Would you rather Xander?”
Alexander’s gags turn into convulsions, and Zeno cackles until Alexander falls apart too.
“Okay, Alex—”
“Aaaaaah.”
“Aleeeeeeex.”
“Agh, fine! But I’m calling you Zee then.”
“Wow, that’s horrible.”
“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”
Their fit of giggles begins anew.
“Goodnight, Zee,” Alexander says.
Zeno smiles in acquiescence and turns off the lights for them with his ring.
“Goodnight, Alex.”