7. Alexander #3
Zeno waves as he goes, and Alexander almost wants to tell him to sort this whole thing out once he’s gone. Alexander has had too many short-term girlfriends and secret boyfriends who loved to play matchmaker, so at this point it’s a habit for him.
He hops down the stairs two at a time—he tried for three yesterday, but he almost fell and broke his face—then comes to an abrupt stop when he sees what awaits him on his floor.
Kallias stands across from the entrance to their hallway with his back against the wall and a paperback book in front of him, cover folded back so he can hold it one-handed. When he notices Alexander, he pushes his glasses up to his hair and tilts his head to the side.
“Well, if it isn’t the brand-new golden boy himself,” Kallias says, placid as usual.
Alexander can’t believe that Kallias has actually started a conversation with him, but he doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity.
“You know, I think that’s the most words I’ve heard you speak in a row.” He mirrors Kallias’ stance.
“What can I say? I’m not a big talker.”
“The silent and broody type? I could be convinced.”
“To what?”
To push you up against a wall and learn everything about you.
Alexander shrugs. “So, what does the ‘not big talker’ want with me? Surely I’m not worth your precious few words of the day.”
“Oh, you’re not,” Kallias says, sighing like he’s already tired from this short interaction.
“You can sign it to me if you’d prefer not to speak.”
Kallias’ face takes on that adorably terrifying scowl. “Are you always this much of an asshole?”
“Christ, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that…”
Kallias’ eyes narrow, and for a moment he looks uncharacteristically engaged. Then he slips right back into his sarcastic aloofness. “You’d be rich,” he replies.
“Damn straight.”
“So, then, asshole. How exactly did you wind up here? You can imagine that we don’t get many new people this late in the game.”
“Aww, are you curious about me?”
“Yes, actually.”
You could push me up against a wall and learn everything about me, if you’d prefer that.
“Cute.”
Kallias doesn’t respond, clearly expecting more of an answer and willing to wait for it, and Alexander considers turning around and leaving, but who is he kidding? He’s not ending this unless he absolutely has to.
“I was pulled up. I’m from the country.”
“I didn’t ask from where,” Kallias replies. “I asked how.”
“I—” Alexander stutters.
Everyone has mentioned that you have to accomplish some great feat to get pulled up past seventeen, but he has no idea what that feat is supposed to be.
“When you started spouting philosophies more profound than anything Plato’s ever written?” Kallias prompts. “Lifted a moped off a basket of dying kittens? Parted the ocean to bring peace to your people?”
“You’ve got a crazy imagination, gorgeous.” Alexander laughs, feeling distinctly caught. In what, he doesn’t know.
“Hey, if you don’t provide me with details, I have to fill in the blanks myself,” Kallias says with a shrug. Then he snaps his fingers. “Oh, I got it. You hosted a feast for all of the poorest in your town, and turned the water into wine like a modern-day Jesus Christ—”
What? Did he just… Was that a Bible reference?
“—or did he turn his skin into crackers? I’ve never really understood the whole thing.”
Alexander looks at Kallias in shock, reassessing him as a much bigger threat than he’d initially thought. Beautiful, smart, and… knowledgeable. About things he shouldn’t know anything about.
Is Kallias from the outside too, then? Is that why he’s so quiet, so guarded? Or does he just have access to information that he isn’t meant to?
And what even tipped him off? It’s like Kallias read his—
Oh.
Oh, Hell.
‘Christ, if I had a nickel.’ Alexander said that. Just now.
Jesus, he’s such an idiot.
Kallias stares at him expectantly, and now Alexander really has gone and screwed this all the way up, standing here, silent, stewing in his own freak-out.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, far too defensive to be casual.
Kallias cocks a brow, and Alexander understands the expression completely. He’s starting to get the hang of reading this guy. It asks, Do you really think you’re getting away with that?
But Kallias doesn’t press him on it. He just hums in acceptance and looks away, down the hallway.
“So what did you do?”
An unexpected display of mercy. This olive branch can’t be out of kindness, though. More likely, Kallias is just waiting for a strategic time to confront him.
Alexander still clings to the return to banter like a lifeline. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Kallias rolls his eyes, visibly fed-up—an expression he seems to have reserved only for Alexander.
Alexander smirks back at him.
“Goodnight, Alexander,” Kallias says, pushing himself off the wall and turning to walk to his room. His mouth tightens and the message is clear: This isn’t over.
Alexander follows behind until he arrives at his own door, a few doors before Kallias’.
“Goodnight, Kallias,” he says. He hopes his face communicates what he’s desperately trying to project.
I don’t want it to be.