12. Alexander #2
He robotically scarfs down his dinner, half listening to his friends, half intensely watching the ridiculously golden-haired enigma read a book like nothing abnormal is happening tonight. Kallias is entirely frustrating, has been all day.
“I was watching some old Trials on my ring yesterday with Ar— by myself,” Eudoxos says. “The team Trial in general doesn’t seem that hard, but the Cohort Leader needs their shit together.”
“Lazarus has his shit together, right?” Zeno asks.
“Does he?” Eudoxos says.
“Alex, what do you think?” Zeno asks, but Alexander doesn’t fully register it until Zeno pinches his arm. “Where are you today? I swear you’re on a different planet.”
“I’m here,” Alexander assures him, pointing under the table. “Look, feet on the ground.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, you goof,” Zeno scoffs. Then he notices, “You’re looking at something. What are you looking at?”
Alexander quickly averts his gaze from Kallias, but it’s too late.
“You’re kidding, Alexander! You have to cut it out with him, I’m serious.”
Alexander opens his mouth, trusting it to come up with a passable excuse, but Eudoxos interrupts him, pointing to Alexander’s split brow. “Seems like you already paid the price for messing with him last night.”
Zeno gawks incredulously.
“I tripped on my way up the stairs. I was studying yesterday!”
Zeno sighs like he doesn’t believe Alexander, which, Alexander supposes, he shouldn’t.
“Okay, just… please be careful.”
“Right, of course. Don’t worry.”
Zeno nods and continues his conversation with Eudoxos about the Trials. Alexander zones right back out again.
By the time he’s in his room pacing the floors, he’s hypothesized almost every possible destination for tonight from the dining hall to an underground boxing ring. Zeno shoots him suspicious looks until he falls asleep.
Alexander checks his ring and his heart rate spikes when he sees the time. Two minutes.
As quietly as possible, he leaves his room and gently closes the door behind him.
And suddenly his nervous energy is replaced by something quieter, more watchful. Because Kallias stands leaning against his own door, book in his hand. He’s biting his lip hard, like he’s thinking, and his glasses are perched precariously at the end of his nose.
Zeno said he would get over it. The so-called ‘Kallias Effect’. Alexander’s not sure he can.
“Ready to go?” Kallias asks.
“Yeah, ready,” Alexander says. “You’re not going to, like, push me off the cliff or something, right?”
“Shoot, there goes tonight’s plan,” Kallias says with a disappointed sigh. If Alexander weren’t well-acquainted with scathing sarcasm already, he’d be running back into his dorm and locking the door.
Instead he laughs. “You say that like I wouldn’t pull you off with me.”
“Is the golden boy capable of such brutality? I don’t think so,” Kallias scoffs.
“Then I’m capable of a lot more than you know,” Alexander responds, and the tone shift is palpable. He cannot allow Kallias to believe that he’s some noble, scared kid who can do no wrong. He’s no Prince Charming—never has been.
Kallias narrows his eyes, embracing the sudden shift from banter with no hesitation. “If you say so.”
Alexander smiles again, his winning grin. “Oh, I do. Now please lead the way or else I shall faint from the anticipation.”
Kallias shakes his head in exasperation, and, are Alexander’s eyes deceiving him or did that eye roll look a bit fond?
He takes off, not checking to see if Alexander is following.
They descend the spiral stairs until they stop on the second-to-last step. Kallias looks behind him to see that Alexander is watching, then pushes two tiles on the wall, both of which move like buttons.
He nods to Alexander. “Step on that tile for me, would you?”
Alexander does, though he doesn’t doubt Kallias could do it himself.
Right when his foot goes down, a quiet mechanical buzz fills the stairwell.
The circular floor under the stairs pulls slowly into the walls and reveals more steps that make their way into the darkness.
When Kallias starts down the new set of stairs, torches flicker to life, lighting the long, continuing path.
Alexander rushes after him, staring upwards in awe as the secret entrance shuts above them.
He gets lost in the meditative act of descending stair after stair, running his hand along the stone wall and admiring the carved torches. When Kallias abruptly stops at the end of the stairwell, Alexander nearly trips trying to avoid bumping into him.
Kallias crouches on one knee in front of the door and pulls a few metal sticks out of his pocket. He’s picking the lock, Alexander realizes as he watches. His hands move with a practiced grace that shows he comes here frequently.
But how often he comes here isn’t the most pressing question right now. The real question is whether this is a secret sex dungeon or something that’ll actually be helpful.
Is it bad that he doesn’t mind either way?
Yes, that is bad, isn’t it?
Something clicks in the door, but when Alexander moves to go inside, Kallias blocks the entryway. “Not quite, golden boy. First, what I want from you.”
Shit, he’d forgotten about that.
“Behind this door is an archive containing materials from thousands of years before the Republic along with very confidential information about its founding. What is not in there is what happened outside the Republic after its founding.”
“Okay?”
“I want to know what happened out there—what it’s like now.”
“That’s all you want? For me to tell you what the world outside the Republic is like?”
Kallias scowls. “Did you want me to ask for your soul? Or give you three riddles like a bridge troll before letting you in?”
“No! No. I’m happy to tell you.”
“You sure? I wouldn’t mind drowning you in swamp water.”
“If it’s you doing the drowning, I might be okay with it,” Alexander flirts.
Kallias cocks a brow and pushes the door open.
And, oh.
What lies behind it is ethereal, existing in what must be some liminal plane between the world and the heavens. It reminds him of Kallias in that way.