Work Text:
“I think it’s just up there,” says Tom, pointing towards a dimly lit shop with grimy windows, a rusty iron shutter pulled halfway down over the door as if it’s stuck, and a sign with peeling blue lettering spelling out ‘Micelli store’. “Friendly-looking place, isn’t it?”
“As long as they’ve got what we need I don’t really care how dodgy the place looks.” He’s starting to feel a bit on edge at the prospect of breaking into Consanto.
But ten minutes later they’re leaving the shop with a powerful torch, a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a few other things they need for that evening that they hadn’t been able to ‘borrow’ from Jay’s collection, and he’s feeling a bit more relaxed.
They wind their way back through Valletta’s streets, past enclosed wooden balconies overhanging the cobbles, Vespas causually propped against scratched stone walls, the odd potted geranium or hibiscus adding colour to the pavements.
The bars and restaurants of the city are just starting to open for the evening, wait staff laying tables and chairs out across the pedestrian only streets and shoeing away stray cats.
He loves the way Valletta comes alive at night – that you can turn a corner and come across a new, incredible view of the sun setting, or walk down a street you’ve been down many times before and discover a hidden bar that wasn’t there during the day. And then the music begins to start as well and you can hear the distant strains of tuning instruments or a familiar tune floating through an open kitchen window accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans.
And talking of familiar… They’ve turned onto a new street now and from a newly opened bar just across from them comes the familiar techno thump of Gates of Dawn. He laughs out loud.
“What?” asks Tom, stopping to look at Alex.
He shakes his head. “Nothing, a memory, that’s all.”
“Of Malta?”
He grins. “Of Point Blanc.”
Tom looks at him incredulously. “And it made you smile?!”
“Yeah…”
He doesn’t elaborate but Tom is clearly waiting for more. “Why?”
“It was a few of us – well, me, James, Laura and Kyra – and we were doing the washing up-”
“-the washing up?”
“Yeah. Builds character or something like that.”
He stops, thoughtfully. “Though come to think of it, probably more like a way to reduce the number of people exposed to the school and the secret – make us do the washing up and save on bringing anyone else in…” he trails off.
“Anyway, I thought I’d liven things up and put a bit of music on and we had this impromptu party in the kitchen and we’re all dancing to Spektre – that song-” he nods his head towards the bar, “and the next thing I know James is emptying these big bottles of washing up liquid and there are bubbles everywhere. Kinda mad.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah…” not the punishment though, he thinks. That wasn’t fun at all. But can’t quite bring himself to talk about that to Tom.
“Wait, wait. Kyra was dancing to Spektre too?” Tom’s looking at him sceptically now.
Alex thinks back to the Kyra he first knew at Point Blanc. Quiet, reserved. Witty and cutting when spoken to, but rarely willing to offer up a contribution to the conversation. He grins at Tom. “No. No, Kyra didn’t dance. She just sort of stood there watching the chaos – I don’t think she was very impressed with us.”
He considers that day in the kitchen and Tom falls quiet as they walk on, letting him reminisce. “I definitely think I saw her smile though – she might not have joined in but I’m pretty sure part of her thought it was funny.” He grins at Tom. “You know that look she gets when she’s sort of fondly despairing at us?”
“Do you like Kyra?”
The suddenness of Tom’s question catches him off guard and he doesn’t know what to say.
“Where did that come from?”
“Well, we were talking about Kyra and I thought I’d just come out and ask.”
“Okay…”
“She likes you.”
He tries to brush off the comment. “Well of course she does, I’m brilliant.”
“You know what I mean. She cares about you.” Damn, Tom’s really not giving up on this.
“We’re friends, Tom.”
“I dunno, mate, seems to me like you might like her a little more than as just friends.”
They’re almost back at Jay’s but Tom is meandering more slowly now, as if to take advantage of them being alone together to badger him.
“Fine. Don’t tell me then. But maybe consider telling her if you do like her because she definitely fancies you too and I think you’d be great together.”
He looks at Tom and without thinking and before he knows what he’s doing he’s asked: “you really think she likes me?” It’s a knee-jerk reaction and he wants to take it back the second he’s asked the question.
Tom looks like Christmas has come early. “Wahoooo! You do like her!”
He’s furious with himself. “I didn’t say that! I simply questioned your assumption that there’s anything between us.”
“Sure, mate, that’s what your question was about.”
Alex is quiet – not trusting himself to speak again. But he does contemplate what Tom has said. Because if he’s being brutally honest – and he’ll only admit this to himself and even then he doesn’t like to dwell on it – he thinks that maybe he does like her a little bit more than as 'just friends'.
“But, to answer your question-that-you-say-is-not-a-question, yes. She likes you.”
His heart is thumping even harder now and he doesn’t quite trust himself to believe what Tom’s saying. Because Kyra’s amazing and funny and beautiful and clever and one of his best friends and if she likes him too then it’s just too much good luck for one person and surely something will go wrong.
Plus, and he’s willing to admit this, he’s a coward. He’s scared that if he pushes too far and goes for what he really wants then he’ll lose her and/or what they’ve currently got. And he values their friendship too much to risk not having her in his life.
He shakes his head, pushing the idea of them together back to where it belongs, locked and bolted in a little box at the back of his mind, and he firmly closes the lid of the box, a lid that’s been gradually trying to inch open over the last few weeks and months.
He sighs at Tom. “It’s not going to work mate. Even if we do like each other… well. There’s too much at stake. Too much going on. So do me a favour and just forget about it. Okay?”
They’re at Jay’s front door now. “And that’s that?” asks Tom.
Alex nods and pushes the door open. “And that’s that.”