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They had barely been there five minutes and Alec was already regretting it. Izzy, the one who had dragged him there, tugged on his arm and grinned, yelling over the noise, “See… it isn’t that bad.”
Alec begged to differ, but he forced a smile anyway, and Izzy was drunk enough that she believed it.
It's not that Alec didn't like parties, and he knew that he was being a buzzkill. But these weren't the kind of parties he was particularly used to, having grown up the son of two politicians.
The experience had made his sense of danger, i.e anything that would reflect badly on his parents, especially acute. He had counted at least 5 possible felonies in the little time they had been here, wandering around the frat house and trying not to breathe too deeply (if he didn’t smell the weed, he could technically plead plausible deniability).
As they wandered further into the house, Alec gripped Izzy’s arm and began, “I’m just not sure this is my thing-”
“You always say that!”
“Maybe I should just go-
“Over my dead body , Alec.”
Izzy was still grinning as she said it, and Alec’s trepidation and the deep twisting feeling in his gut only increased. He sometimes envied his sister her ability to do this. How had she come out of their childhood with seemingly no reservations? No voice at the back of her head telling her that she was wrong? Izzy walked straight into every situation with her head held high whereas Alec needed to run through each possible scenario at least ten times before being anywhere near comfortable to do the same.
As they maneuvered their way through the crowd of sticky, sweaty bodies, Izzy -being Izzy- was offered a red cup by a guy Alec didn’t recognize and immediately didn’t trust. She accepted it with a flutter of her eyelashes and linked her arm through Alec’s, pulling him in the other direction and away from the red cup guy who Alec was sure was still looking at them. Well, at Izzy.
“I get you to come to these things exactly once a year. All the other 364 days I let you hole up in your dorm room by yourself and quote Shakespear to your reflection- or whatever the hell it is you do, so suck it up and enjoy .”
Alec couldn’t argue with that. Izzy was right, as she usually was, and anyway, the party wasn’t that bad. It was certainly higher up on the list of tolerability than the others Izzy had insisted he come to since starting at Alicante University.
But it was still uncomfortable, and he still didn’t know what to do, and he still wanted to go back to his dorm and -he reluctantly admitted to himself- read Shakespeare. Because that’s what he was used to. The thing was, Alec didn’t know what to do at these parties. He had been raised on cocktail mixers and dinner parties, cheuffeured out to one of his parents’ various estates and dressed in something that had been designed specifically for him by a designer their mother had paid half a million dollars to.
He was good at those. Extremely good. He had come to live for the compliments he would receive about how ‘mature’ and ‘intelligent’ and ‘well-spoken’ he was after he had made his rounds and charmed all the people on the list his mother’s assistant had provided him with. He had mastered the art of small talk, could bring up a dozen interesting facts about any given topic. Always knew what to say, what to do, how to do it, and who to do it with. Being a politician's son was easy. Being a college student, Alec had quickly realized, was not.
It had been 3 years, and he still didn’t know what to do with sweaty bodies grinding to way too loud music and drinking way too much alcohol- the sickly sweet smell of it all in the air made him nauseas. He didn’t know what constituted appropriate conversation when the person you were talking to couldn’t hear half of what you were saying and was probably too wasted to process the half they could hear. Alec found himself usually clinging to Izzy for rescue, but Izzy wasn’t the type to just hang around in a corner when there was a great time to be had, so more often than not Alec had to choose between following his little sister around or sitting in a corner and waiting until she was ready to leave.
This time, as Izzy stopped to greet one of her friends, he chose the latter, and was about to walk off when Izzy grabbed his shoulder and said, “If you really want to go, Alec, you can.”
Alec paused, surprised. He hadn’t been expecting that. Izzy never suggested he leave, before. But she was looking at him soberly now, brows pinched together in concern as she took him in. She almost looked sorry for him.
“Izzy-”
“I just wanted…” Izzy began, sighing, “I just wanted you to have a good time, Alec.”
“I do-”
“You spent our entire childhood being mom and dad’s puppet, and then you came here and you’re still letting them control you. And you’re graduating next year and they’re gonna make you marry-”
“ Izzy !”
“You’re miserable, Alec!” Izzy hissed, but there was no malice in her tone. Just concern, and somehow that made it worse.
“I know you are. You aren’t happy and I see it in you every day that you’re just… I just want you to be happy.”
Alec, knowing that what she was saying was true but not wanting to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, hardened his gaze and said, “Well I’m not fucking happy at these parties you keep dragging me to, Iz.”
Izzy flinched, and Alec immediately hated himself for being the cause of any pain she felt. She pulled away from him as he reached out for her, and before he could even open his mouth to call, she was gone. Alec stared, unseeing through the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked them away furiously and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning on his heels and making his way back out of the frat house.
The music was too loud, everything was just too much, he just wanted to get out of there and back to his apartment-
Something hard collided with his chest, and then the front of Alec’s shirt was soaking and sticking to his body.
“What the-”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay-”
“It’s not. Let me just-”
The person who’s drink had been spilled all over Alec reached up, and then seemed to consider, “I… I can dry clean that for you. It looks expensive.”
Alec looked down at his now ruined shirt. It was expensive, but it wasn’t much more than a plain grey t-shirt.
“Sorry,” The guy flushed, “It’s- the material. I’m a fashion major. I noticed… It’s nothing. Do you go to school here? I’ve never seen you around before. If you give me your dorm number I can just-”
“Hey, hey, seriously,” Alec stopped him, realizing that the guy had started rambling, “It’s honestly okay. It’s just a shirt. It doesn’t matter.”
“Please,” He said, “I insist.”
Alec hesitated, and after a beat, nodded his agreement.
They ended up leaving immediately after. Apparently Magnus -which was his name- had been on his way out as well. Alec stood now, in the empty laundry area of his dorm building, his shirt discarded and in the washing machine, his torso clothed only by the leather jacket he’d worn over it.
He glanced at Magnus, who was looking down at his ring-clad hands with a suspicious amount of interest. They hadn’t said much to each other. For all Magnus had been rambling on after their collision, he was strangely silent on the walk here.
Alec shifted his weight and tried lightening the mood a little, “I’m starting to think this was all just an elaborate ploy to get me naked.”
Magnus’ head snapped up, shocked that Alec had spoken.
“Never mind.” Alec said quickly, “I just… forget that I said that.”
God, he was so fucking stupid.
“Alexander-”
“How do you know my name?” It came out a bit harsher than Alec had intended it to, and he saw Magnus flinch.
Great. He thought, Now I’ve hurt two people in less than an hour.
“I- it was on your card.” Magnus said slowly, his head inclined towards the door. Oh. Alec flushed, and turned away from him.
“I’m sorry.” Magnus said behind him, “For… I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.”
“You already apologized.”
“I know.”
“Why’d you decide to study fashion?” Alec asked suddenly, in his desperation to change the subject, before he’d given himself permission to ask. He turned around, and saw Magnus looking at him with the same confused, surprised expression he’d had before. Except now he recovered quickly.
“I’ve always loved the way people could express themselves with what they wear.” He shrugged, “My mom wanted to be a designer, but she gave it up after she had me. So I figured I’d give it the try she never got to.”
Alec felt something warm spread through his chest, “That’s… really sweet.”
Magnus tugged at the cuff in his ear and smiled, “What about you? Why are you studying… what are you studying?”
“Law.” Alec said.
“Oh.”
Alec caught the flash of disappointment in Magnus’ eyes.
“What’s wrong with law?” He asked, trying not to sound offended. Not that he even knew why he would be offended. It’s not like he was particularly attached to his major, and in fact, Alec could think of several things wrong with Law all on his own.
“Nothing!” Magnus insisted, “I’d just thought… I don’t know.”
Alec frowned, and because he couldn’t stand the possibility of Magnus not liking something about him, quickly added, “I’m doing a minor in English Literature.”
“Are you ?” Magnus repeated, this time with much more genuine interest. He raised a brow, as though encouraging Alec to continue, and Alec took it.
“My parents wanted me to study Law.” He explained, “They’ve always wanted me to follow in their footsteps.”
“I understand.” Magnus said, “So why English Lit?”
Alec looked away again. He wasn’t used to talking about his minor. No one ever really expressed interest in it further than to say that they thought it was a waste of time.
“I love reading. Always have. I used to want to be a librarian when I was younger.” Alec laughs at the memory now, of course. It’s so far removed from his current goals.
“And you don’t anymore?” Magnus asks. Alec frowns. Of course he doesn’t. No one really dreams of becoming a librarian.
But he doesn’t say that, because as the words form in his brain, a small part of him wonders if it might be true.
“No,” He says instead, “No. I’m happy with doing Law.”
It’s a practiced response, and he’s said it so many times it’s basically second nature at this point. From the way Magnus tilts his head and regards him, he realizes this immediately, but decides not to push the topic. Alec is grateful.
“Your shirt’s done.” Magnus says instead as the machine cuts off. He pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against and moves towards it, getting out Alec’s newly clean shirt and holding it out to him. Alec accepts it, murmuring a thank you that Magnus receives with a smile. Alec decides that he rather likes Magnus’ smiles.
“I’ll… see you around, I guess?” Magnus says.
“Yeah. I hope you do.” Alec replies, and he means that.
“Good-night, Alexander.”
No one calls Alec Alexander, except his parents, and they always do it when they’re scolding him, or telling him that there’s something he needs to improve on, something he isn’t doing well enough at. Alec had thought he hated his name, but he finds that he likes the way Magnus says it. Magnus says it almost like a caress, like it’s the purest and most beautiful thing to have ever graced his tongue. Alec wants to hear more of that.
He watches as Magnus disappears out the building, and hates himself for knowing that nothing will ever come from the way he feels right then.