12. Alexander
ALEXANDER
Alexander is not usually a stalker—actually, he is not ever a stalker—but needs must.
Every night for the past week, Kallias has snuck out of the dorms. Alexander first noticed it while walking out of the restroom around eleven at night.
It was late enough that most people were studying in their rooms, but a flash of gold up the stairway showed him that not everyone was getting ready for bed.
He didn’t find it particularly suspicious, even with his hyper focus on Kallias since the Nickel Incident two weeks before; Kallias is known to have hickeys on his neck almost all of the time, and Alexander figured that was where he was going.
Then, two days later, he saw it again. The exact same time, eleven o’clock.
The next day, again.
He waited in the dining hall the day after that because if Kallias went through there it meant he was going somewhere out of the dorm. That would eliminate a regular hookup as a possibility.
And if it was a possibility? Alexander would have to figure out how to get himself added to that rotation.
He expected to be sitting there all night, but, sure enough, at six minutes past eleven, Kallias walked through the dining hall and into the kitchen. Alexander waited to see if he was getting water or something, but he didn’t come back until an hour later.
And, look, suspicious movements through the Academy? A suspiciously large amount of information? Those two have got to be connected.
It’s been weighing on his mind heavily enough that he swears, if he doesn’t figure it out within the next few days, he’s going to go insane. So here he is, in the dining hall at three minutes past eleven.
Alexander’s not sure what he expects to find, but even if this is a dead end, at least it’s distracting him from his restlessness.
He crouches a little further behind one of the dining hall tables when someone enters from the stairwell.
Kallias would be perfectly sneaky—he makes almost no noise even when moving swiftly—but the moonlight illuminates his hair like a beacon.
He walks with purpose toward the kitchen door and slips through it. Alexander runs after him. When he enters the kitchen, Kallias is already through a swinging metal door near the industrial ovens. Alexander sneaks in behind him.
He’s surprised to enter a cellar, covered floor-to-ceiling in wine bottles.
Someone must have hosted a spectacular party here because it’s a total mess.
He tries to ignore the pungent yet appealing smell of alcohol; he hasn’t had a drink since arriving at the Academy, and he can’t afford to fall back into the violent drunken spiral he was stuck the month before the shipwreck, as much as he might like to.
Alexander navigates carefully around trash and discarded bottles, sticking close to the wall.
He’s so focused on the floor that he doesn’t realize how close he is to the bottle rack on the wall next to him until a loud clink bounces around the room.
Alexander cringes and holds his breath when Kallias’ head whips around, praying the darkness is complete enough to keep him hidden.
He doesn’t exhale even when Kallias shakes his head and continues on, moving a barrel aside in the back corner of the room and entering a tunnel behind it.
He leaves the opening exposed, probably because he’s returning soon, and Alexander doesn’t waste a moment. If he’s going to lose Kallias anywhere, it’ll be the mysterious tunnels.
As they trek through dirty paths, empty cups and clothes strewn about, Alexander wonders where these tunnels came from in the first place.
There’s a whole network of them, turn after turn, some even leading to openings in the cliffside.
But he doesn’t have much time to think about it because Kallias turns left at a fork and stops at a ladder.
Alexander waits for him to get all the way to the top, then takes the rungs two at a time to follow after him.
Alexander pops out at the back corner of the Main Building, where the rose-covered columns meet the ones covered in barbed wire, and sees, from afar, golden hair bobbing down the rose hallway.
Alexander pushes himself onto the grass, only letting his gaze stray for a second, but when he looks back up, Kallias is gone.
Crap.
He breaks into a run. He would really prefer not to lose Kallias after this whole game of follow-the-leader. But he couldn’t have made it that far. The hallway stretches longer than anyone could cover in just a few seconds, so Kallias must have turned a corner into the inner courtyard.
When he finds an arch with the curtains open, Alexander swings through it double-time, hoping he hasn’t completely lost his target.
Well, ‘target’ feels a little violent.
His goal?
Hoping he hasn’t completely lost his goal—and then he hears a crack and the world goes black.
When Alexander opens his eyes, he finds Kallias, head cocked and eyes curious, looming above him with arms crossed and his cute scowl at full force.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Kallias,” Alexander groans with a hand to his head.
Then his eyes fly wide open because ‘Jesus Christ’? Did he learn nothing from the Nickel Incident?
When he takes the hand off his forehead he’s met with an expression kind of like… vindicated disappointment. If that’s even possible.
Maybe Kallias was hoping Alexander wasn’t as dumb as he seemed.
Alack and alas.
“You were following me,” Kallias finally notes.
“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”
Kallias rolls his eyes.
Worth a try.
“Fine, yes, I was following you,” Alexander confirms without elaborating.
Kallias looks unimpressed. “Why?”
“Right, well…” Alexander has two options. One, he makes up a lie on the spot, with the guarantee that it will sound creepy and/or completely unbelievable. Two, he tells the truth. At least, a watered-down version of it.
And, you know what? Screw it. Kallias is onto him already, and Alexander really, really needs help.
And he really needs… something else too.
Because he can’t stand to be alone anymore.
Alone in what he knows, in what he’s terrified to share.
It makes him restless, and it takes him right back to the beach: everything he has, lost to the sea.
“You know I don’t belong here,” he says.
“You could say that.”
“I just want to get back to where I do belong.”
Kallias nods. A simple thing, just the dip of his chin. “What does that have to do with me?”
Because I’m lonely. Because I need someone, anyone, to make me feel real again.
“I need help.”
Kallias hums in agreement. “I know. I’m just struggling to understand why that’s my problem.”
“Be a Good Samaritan?”
“You do know that’s a Bible reference, right?”
“Christ,” Alexander curses, on instinct. “Ah, shit.”
“Idiot,” Kallias murmurs.
Alexander pushes himself to stand and tries again. “You have a lot more information than most people here have access to. That’s true, right?”
Kallias shrugs.
“No one else has singled me out yet. No one else knows anything from before this stupid state was created, and they definitely don’t know about anything after. So how do you?”
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t?” Kallias asks, mocking Alexander’s words from earlier.
“Please.”
“Why does it matter how I know?”
“I want to leave. And I need to educate myself on this place. The number of times I’ve had to say ‘we do it differently in the country’ is astounding.”
Kallias snorts—the most reaction Alexander has ever gotten from him—so he keeps going. “I’m sure I’ve insulted them a thousand times over. I feel bad. Their culture is probably beautiful.”
Eye roll. “Let’s say I do agree to help,” Kallias says. “Does that mean you want me to get you out of here? Because I’m not doing that.”
“No, no. I just need information, honestly. I’ll figure out everything else myself, I swear.”
“On what?”
“On… On the Forms.”
“Good.”
Silence falls, and they both just look… at each other.
Alexander’s not quite sure what to make of it, but it’s hard to make anything of anything when faced with pools of midnight black. Kallias is careful with his emotions, so Alexander has gathered, but his eyes? His eyes are so alive.
They’re almost exactly the same height, he and Kallias. It makes it all the easier to get lost.
“So?” Alexander asks before he does something stupid.
Kallias scans his face, stepping closer.
“Fine. But I want something from you in return.”
“Anything,” he says, and it’s true.
“That’s a dangerous proposition.”
“I trust you. I shouldn’t, but I just… do.”
An indecipherable look crosses Kallias’ face but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual, flat expression.
“Half-past midnight, tomorrow.”
“Sure, sure.” Alexander nods frantically. “But since I’m already here, can’t we just go now?”
Kallias’ brows scrunch together in a glare. “Tomorrow. I’m going somewhere else tonight.”
“Alright.”
Kallias turns to walk away, into the courtyard, and Alexander wonders what business he could possibly have at eleven thirty in the Main Building.
“Kallias,” he calls, ready to ask, but when Kallias turns around with a stony expression, Alexander decides it’s best not to piss off his new friend.
“Thank you.”
“See you tomorrow, idiot.”
Alexander can’t help smiling as he walks away. He must be messed up to enjoy being called ‘idiot’ this much.
The dining hall is, in a word, tense. In two words, very tense.
Alexander hears talk of the Trials at nearly every table, if not just distressed silence. It’s like everyone has suddenly realized the gravity of whatever is coming. Zeno and Eudoxos are quiet too, even though less than twelve hours ago they were joking about Lazarus’ intensity.
Alexander is jittery too, practically vibrating in his seat in fact, but not because of the Trials. He doesn’t even understand what the Trials are.
No, he’s jittery for half-past midnight tonight when he’s finally going to get some answers.