Archive of Our Own ^beta

Prologue.

One year ago

“You can do this, you've done nothing wrong,” Alex tells himself three times for good luck before he even looks up at the PRINCIPAL plaque on the door in front of him.

Despite having been a History teacher for well over a decade, Alex doesn't like the principal’s office any more than his students. One could say it's almost a bad memory from his own school years, from being called in so often since he wouldn't stop talking back to his bullies.

As he knocks to announce his presence and walks in, he's first met by Moya, the new assistant, then led with a careful hand toward the office where Principal Bankston is sitting at her desk, jotting down on her trademark brown leather notebook.

“Good morning. You wanted to see me, Ms. B?”

“Good morning. You're dead tired of knowing it's Bankston, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” she scolds him for the nth time since he was hired four years ago. Alex only hums in recognition, the both of them know it’s not really going to happen the way she wants anyway. “Yes, I wanted to see you. Thanks for coming in.”

“Is this about Mallory in 12A? I thought I’d sorted it out with her directly. We—”

“It isn’t about any of your students. I already spoke with Ms. Greene about the episode from last week, and she said you had discussed her ‘unsavory comments’ during your advisory period. So nothing to worry about on that front.” Alex waits for her to continue without interrupting. She adds, “This is actually about the Homecoming draw.”

“Okay, cool, uhm, I already received some submissions through the—”

“Please let me finish?”

“Oh, sure, sorry.”

“As you know, monitors for each of our school’s events are selected using a digital randomizer,” Bankston says. Alex frowns at the mention.

The draw has already happened last week, and it was announced via email, so it’s really confusing why she’s bringing it up again. Alex can’t say he was too pleased to be selected to help organize one of the busiest weekends of the school year with the one math teacher who has despised him since day one, but he was ready.

Okay, he’s working on being fine with it, he can admit as much. Thankfully they haven’t met up yet to discuss details with the other two teachers who were also selected for the same purpose.

“Yes, of course I’m aware. Is there a problem?”

“Not anymore. Mr. Baker and Mrs. Rivera were teamed up, as were you and Mr. Fox.” Alex refrains from reacting to his lack of luck. His best friend, roommate, and colleague Nora already got an earful of his complaints about it, as did his older sister on the phone, and his father when he asked why Alex sounded more grumpy than usual on their weekly catch-up. “What happens is that Mr. Fox requested to be pulled out of the event.”

Alex practically hears the whoosh-whoosh of his eyelashes from how quickly he blinks at that. “What?”

“And it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I am familiar with your history of talking back, so here’s my question. Did something serious happen between the two of you?”

“Not that I recall…”

“Please think carefully,” Bankston says, totally casually but at the same time implying that Alex might have either forgotten or lied to her face about this. “Not a joke, or one of your poignant comments, perhaps a cross conversation that he might have heard…”

“Nothing at all. You can ask Nora, I’ve been nothing but an example of righteousness and politeness around Fox.”

“That’s funny you mention Ms. Holleran…” Bankston trails off, moving to place both hands on her desktop and leaning on them. “I did ask her about it. She mentioned a, uhm, and I’m quoting her here, ‘a pseudo-episode in the copy room.’ Ring any bells?”

Alex breaths heavily. That had been a misunderstanding and nothing more. He had not pushed Fox; it had been the opposite, in fact. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“The smallest misunderstandings can lead to great tragedy, but I digress. What matters is that he pulled out of organizing Homecoming, so we redid the draw and you got Mrs. Cohen to team up with you, hope that’s alright? I also honestly just wanted to confirm things were fine between you and Mr. Fox. I have already a few hundred students to stop from tearing at each other’s throats. Would hate to have to do it to two respectable adults such as yourselves.”

It’s not easy to dish out what Alex wants to reply to first from that whole speech. Mrs. Cohen is one of his fellow social studies teachers, an older lady who always treated him like a godson, so he can’t say he didn’t luck out with this new draw. But it is rather daunting that someone would refuse to work with him on such a big event. Even someone like Fox, with whom Alex hasn’t been able to get along despite his efforts.

Nevertheless, he puts aside any doubts, buries deep any instinctive impulses to go ask for an explanation, and only says, “It’ll be a joy to work with Mrs. Cohen. As to Fox. Well. If by fine you mean nonexistent, then yes it’s fine and will continue to be fine. Because I will continue to ignore he exists.”

“Yet what I’d really wish for is that you two got along. He just transferred to our school this year…” Bankston talks with her shoulders in a way Alex has never seen. They’re slanted right now, stiff, showing off annoyance and what might be just a tiny bit of impatience. “And also as an example to our students. You do realize they pick up on these quarrels, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Wonderful. I trust you to work on maintaining a healthy, professional relationship with every member of our faculty, including Mr. Fox.”

“I’ll try my best. Just so you know, he was the one who sh—”

Bankston raises her hand. “I’m your students’ principal, not your kindergarten teacher, so spare me any details of the sandbox squabbles you have with him, if you please. Save them for after school when you’re home and bored and I’m not there to listen to you whining, okay?” She exhales loudly and starts rummaging through her papers. “I do unfortunately have to dismiss you, I have a meeting in five minutes that I still need to finish prep for.”

Upon leaving the office, Alex digests and finally understands what he was just told. The Almighty Mr. Fox pulled out of monitoring and organizing one of the most traditional events for the school community because he’d been teamed up with Alex. Randomly. Using a digital tool the teachers had agreed to implement a few years ago, to avoid that always the same people would volunteer to participate in these activities.

Alex had been excited despite the company. He’d been excited because he knew he could help his students put together something fun and memorable. But now—

Everybody always tries to make him see the good side of Henry Fox, Math Teacher Extraordinaire, beyond the blonde stuck-up haircut and the upsetting beige sweaters regardless of weather, but apparently Alex kept being dealt the shitty side.

Well, he can be shitty right back.

**

**

Monday.

Leadership Day

Have you placed your bids for Lessons for Good? Learn something new from your peers or your esteemed teachers, and help one of your favorite nonprofits. Don’t miss our very special guests from the mayor’s office and the chamber of commerce. And don’t forget to wear your reds, your whites, and your blues!

*

“That’s not really blue-blue, is it?”

Alex exhales loudly. This is going to be a long ass week.

Every year, in the second week of May, right after midterms, Alexander Hamilton High organizes a Spring Spirit Week with several types of fundraisers for different purposes. All money raised benefits in part the school community and mostly local nonprofits chosen by the students.

Being drawn for the team of five teachers who organize Spring Spirit Week along with a selected committee of students was a total privilege for Alex. They’ve been planning and strategizing for well over a month so that everything goes swimmingly.

Year upon year, faculty carefully selects a topic for each day to inspire activities and a sense of communion. On their end, students are allowed to choose what the dress code will be, as long as it’s related to the main theme somehow. Finally, together, all decide the different types of fundraisers and the corresponding beneficiaries.

The first day was programmed around leadership and empowerment, with a special visit from a county’s official and a representative from the local chamber of commerce set for later in the day.

It all started last week, with the creation of a new thread in the online forums where students and teachers could offer their proficiency to be bid on by the rest of the community, an activity called Lessons for Good. Aside from being donated to local nonprofits, all bids would also be matched by selected local businesses.

To make a very important topic easier to handle, the dress code of choice was the colors of the US flag. Despite the politics of it all, it felt natural to stem from one of the classics.

That’s how Alex finds himself in a lovely blue two piece that he was lucky enough to scavenge for at the thrift store two streets from the two-bedroom apartment he shares with Nora. He wears it over a vest with embroidered red details, over an old white button down he usually saves for special occasions. It seemed to fit this one beautifully.

Now that Spirit Week has officially kicked off, Alex isn’t going to let one English bloke ruin it for him.

“It’s more like…” Fox adds, earning only half of Alex’s attention. He keeps one eye on the single-serve coffee maker in the corner that’s been pouring a delicious aroma across the whole room since Alex clicked it on a few minutes ago. “More red white and royal blue, isn’t it?”

He’s talking about Alex’s suit, that’s pretty clear. Nora totally nagged his ears off when he started boasting around about how he was going all out every day for Spirit Week. After all, it didn’t have to be just for the sake of the students.

“Oh god, don’t you look dashing,” his sister June told him over videocall just this morning. They keep chatting at least twice a week, now that she’s stationed in Japan, working a story for the national news channel that hired her as a reporter.

Nora herself had rolled her eyes at him for his sister’s compliment, but he was perfectly aware of the layers of sarcasm that riddle them both. And it’s not like she didn’t dress up to theme too, presenting herself in pegged pants, one leg blue with stars, the other red and white horizontal stripes.

“I think you look charming, Alex-cakes.”

That’s Percy Okonjo, or Pez, who asked even the students to call him Mr. Pez. He’s a beautiful specimen of a man that Alex adores. Pez is always there not just with the compliments, but the silly nicknames, and the boisterous laugh at every corner. He’s the purest aura that blessed the entire school last year as a way to balance the odds in good-spirits’ favor, since he joined the Art Department at the same time his best buddy Fox started haunting the Mathematics classes.

“Also quite brave, by the way,” he adds, approaching Alex and touching their elbows together. “Don’t think we can’t see the Mexican flag pins you’re wearing as cufflinks, baby.”

“The point is for them to be seen,” Alex clarifies, turning off the big red button on his favorite machine in the world. “Just because the dress code is inspired by country spirit, it doesn’t mean exclusively the country of the USA. Well, at least not to me, that is.”

“Yes, gorgeous, embrace who you are with the lack of shame that sparkles in your beautiful soul.”

“Dammit, Pez,” Alex laughs as he adds a sprinkle of his secret stash of cinnamon from one of the cabinet drawers. “You really go all-in with the flattery. I’m loving it.”

“Knew you would.” Pez winks at him.

“I should say something back, shouldn’t I?” Alex jokes. Pez is nothing out of the ordinary, if you think of his trademark exuberance. A dark blue jacket with rhinestones that look like stars, red pants with vertical white stripes, and an ascot tie which Alex suspects is wrapped around Pez’s neck to hide the fact he's not wearing a shirt. “You do look so handsome. I love that we both went extremely formal for this.”

“Worth it, innit?”

“Absolutely. And you’re—what?” Alex turns back around to face the table where Fox, Nora, and two other teachers are sitting. All clearly paying attention to what he might say next. Though only one of them is so stiff in his chair that his veins are popping on his neck. Alex makes sure their eyes are touching when he musters as much sass as he can into his eye-roll. “You’re Algebra, with and without Honors, AP Calculus, Drama Club, Book Club, Chess Club, English Cunts Club, and now what… fashion designer with a side of color specialist? ‘Royal blue.’ Please. I thought that was Pez’s expertise as a teacher of the Arts.”

Fox looks abnormally appalled at Alex’s intervention. Good. It had been on purpose. He says, “Perhaps I’d rather invest in different interests than resign myself to being a bellend like yourself.”

“What the hell is a bellend, man?” Alex nearly cackles, safely guarding his mug of coffee between two hands. The liquid shakes slightly with his laughter, and it tastes as soothing as the smell that fills his senses.

“Why don’t you look it up?” Fox pulls him back out of his reverie. “If you don’t know where to look, I suppose I could direct you to a dick-tionary. They’re still quite popular, I believe.”

“You gotta take care of that British stick up your bum, sweetheart, or it may soon get infected.”

The words are barely out of Alex’s mouth by the time Fox abandons the room. Everybody else stays behind blinking at his shadow that soon disappears through the glass.

Alex ‘pffts’ out loud and murmurs into his mug, as loudly as possible, “Is it just me or does he argue like one of his 9th graders?”

**

Tuesday.

Western Country vs. Country Club

Are you flannels and cowboy boots? Or are you khakis and polo shirts? Whichever the case, bring out your best outfit and enter our western vs. club fashion show promoted by our talented freshmen classes. Come earn your AHB Points and a special participation badge!

*

Alex will never forget the look of absolute disgust on Fox’s face when the dress code for the day was announced a few weeks back.

“Country clubs khakis and polos. Wow. This must have been your suggestion, wasn’t it, Fox?” he had made sure to say with a little laugh. It wasn’t a day at school if they weren’t teasing each other somehow. Although annoying that they disliked each other so much, Alex was never one to miss the chance to poke his nearest enemies with his salacious figurative stick.

“It was not, but—” Fox tried to argue, but Alex didn’t let him finish this time.

“I guess it kinda makes sense,” Alex went on and on and on as per usual. “It is gonna be just another Tuesday for you, ain’t it?”

Fox apparently didn’t like his comment that much, judging by the furrowed crease that appeared right in the middle of his eyebrows. It still didn’t make him look that menacing; he did have that look of lost puppy at all times, although Alex wouldn’t do much to take this one pup off any New York street.

Now that it’s Spirit Week Tuesday, Alex approaches the teachers’ lounge and realizes he made it early, even without Nora to urge him on. If she doesn’t have class first period, it’s not rare that Alex will on occasion not make it on time.

Today, thankfully, he’ll get to sit comfortably with his phone, browsing the news pages he likes to check every morning while sipping the delicious coffee he just bought at his favorite shop right next to the school. They pour just the right amount of cinnamon that it doesn’t overwhelm him. It never happens anywhere else unless he adds it himself.

He sighs into his cup, content.

It all goes awry when he walks in and says good morning to the one person sitting at the long table in the room. Because it’s Fox. Alone. Not even with Pez, who’s much better company and always provides a wonderful distraction from the fuckface that Alex is shown whenever Fox greets him. Neither is any less polite for it, but the whole mood changes drastically when they’re forced to sit face to face. It’s undeniable.

Alex starts because when does he not. “So, Fox, did you prove me right and came dressed normally, or did you do the unthinkable and came dressed up like a Westerner?”

“Neither,” Fox says placidly. Not like he has any other tone when he’s around Alex. “And I’m not fishing for compliments nor any sort of a fight, so save whatever you have to say for someone who’s not tired of your chittering all day.”

“It’s literally seven in the morning and you’re already cranky. Slept poorly, did we? I hear those melatonin gummies are pretty great. Though I guess they may not cure chronic bitterness.”

“Slept fine,” the other says, starting to stir a spoon in a teacup with a starry design around the side that Alex has seen him use often. “It was the first person to waltz in here like he owns the lounge that slaughtered my positive disposition. You know him, right? Alex, unpronounceable surname, vertically challenged, an absolute helmet?”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Yes. It means the same as bellend, in fact. Did you remember to look it up at all?”

“Hey guess what, the internet is a blessing, in case you haven’t installed the latest updates into your robot software. Dictionaries are everywhere these days, did you know? So. I did look it up. And you know what I realized? First bellend, then dick-tionary, now—what was it, helmet?” Alex doesn’t wait for confirmation, he just goes for his next strike. “One might think you’re obsessed with dickheads. Mine in particular, maybe? What does that tell you, Mr. Foxy?”

“Do not call me that,” he says with an attempt at a furious look that seems more cartoonish than serious.

“Or what, it’ll make you want to suck my dick even harder?”

“I’ll have you know that—”

“Good morning, gorgeouses,” Pez interrupts him abruptly. “The sun is out, and it’s finally fashion runway day at this school! Why’re you already sparring with each other? Have some fun for once in your sad teachers’ little lives.”

“Morning, Pez,” Alex says, still keeping one eye on Fox’s reaction. He’s red in the face, all the way up to his ears. It might even crawl down to his neck, but it’s covered by his shirt. And it’d be kind of cute if it weren’t a matter of pride for Alex. “We were just… fooling around. Or so Fox wishes, at least.”

Fox gags on his tea quite dramatically at this point, coughing for a few seconds into the crook of his elbow.

“There, there,” Alex says with pure, categorical sarcasm. It’s not meant to be soothing at all, as the expression would suggest. And it must work because Fox sends him a glare that could maybe graze a glass at surface level.

He blinks at the second person that walks into the room. Head to toe in her personal version of westerners culture. “Uhm, Nora? Where the hell’d you come from? You weren’t even out of bed when I—”

“Don’t believe everything you can’t really see, Alexander,” she says cryptic as fuck as she shoves down her bag into the chair she always occupies, then a stack of what looks like essays on the tabletop. He has no idea what she just meant.

“Wait, what—”

“She wasn’t home, Alex, get the hint. How dense are you, dear lord,” Fox speaks again. The pink flush seems to have vanished, now replaced by his daily constipated essence.

Alex blinks between his best friend and roommate, and the one Englishman in school he respects. They did just come into the room one after the other. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nora says.

“Quite,” adds Pez. “Either way, Alex, darlin’,” he calls. Alex looks up with curiosity to hear what’s about to come next. Hopefully a change of subject. “You look extra handsome today, what’s this that you have going on here?”

“Oh!” He perks up at the mention, lowering his cup onto the counter behind him, where Nora busies herself with the coffeemaker in the corner. He takes two steps to the side to give her room. “I went the casual route today, sort of a relief from yesterday being so formal, with that suit and the cufflinks and all, y’know? What do y’all think?”

Alex opens his arms to show off his outfit. It’s nothing fancy today, like he said. Very casual, very Texas, to pay tribute to his roots more than anything else.

Classic white jeans, a belt with a large oval rancher’s buckle, a long-sleeved dark brown henley on top—though he had to battle temptation in front of his mirror to leave only two buttons undone instead of the usual three. He also made sure that the neck chains he chose for the day are visible through his collar; his daily one that holds a key to his childhood home in Austin, and a couple of others he had lying around his bathroom. Then he finished it off with bead bracelets on his wrist, a pale brown suede trenchcoat, and cowboy hat and boots, of course.

“I’m not even sure what to think. You look fabulous, totally yummy—” There’s an indistinct choking sound somewhere in the room that breaks Pez’s cadence. “—and surprisingly, although I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it totally fits you.”

“I do come from Texas, y’know. This is second nature to me,” Alex mentions proudly, with a flick of his fingers against the brim of his hat, the other hand holding to his belt, a full-blown stereotype down to the bone. Pez laughs with obvious joy. Alex can only grin in response. This one art teacher is as contagious as a cold bug.

“You on the other hand,” Alex adds, pointing a finger at Pez and his multicolored outfit. Color is one of Pez’s trademarks on the regular, but today it’s an immensity of it like never before seen at this school. It absolutely matches his wide, perky grin as he twirls to show off what he’s wearing.

A pastel blue button up and an orange sweater on his shoulders over yellow and blue plaid knee-length shorts, which seem like an affront to the school’s handbook guidelines on appropriate clothing. There is less dark skin showing due to the white socks pulled up to just below his knees. Topped with a large bowtie that matches his bottoms and an off-white beret. The colors shouldn't match at all, but Pez gives it so much life that it makes sense when you know his personality.

“I’m loving the croquet mallet, by the way,” Alex points out to what Pez is holding to the side of his body.

“Isn’t this fabulous?” Pez grins and giggles, swirling it around in his hands before dropping it over a shoulder. “Nothing says country club like a pointless, posh team sport.”

“I absolutely love it. The kids are going to as well, I’m sure. And you got that happy look, it’s awesome.”

“Thank you, Alex-cakes. That’s so sweet of you,” Pez says. “And right back at you. You know, the Crooke twins might just faint when they see you.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Alex grunts with a choked laugh.

While it’s hilarious that two of his former students have such an infatuation with him to the point of sitting at the back of his government class even though they’re not taking it, he’d rather not feed into the situation any more than what it is.

Alex looks down at himself, then at Pez and his lopsided smile, at Nora beside him sipping her coffee in silence, then at Fox’s uninterested form who’s now scrolling two-handedly on his phone. Plagued by the thought of a potential developing crush, he looks back down at his outfit and redoes one more button on his collar just in case so that only the top one will stay open. “Better?”

Nora makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Pez only chuckles where he’s standing at one of the ends of the table. “I don’t think it makes that much of a difference, but hey. At least you’re trying, which is amazing. And you never know, maybe everyone will be more enthralled by the idea that Ms. Holleran was able to find a jumpsuit that still fits the theme.”

“It is Jumpsuit Tuesday, isn’t it?” Nora points out with a click of her tongue. The concept is originally hers, a weekly schedule to minimize the difficulties of choosing what to wear every morning. Pant Monday, Skirt Wednesday, Monochrome Thursday, and the well-established Casual Friday.

This time, she’s wearing a denim bell bottom jumpsuit with buttons down the middle, a patterned bandana fluffed up around her neck, with a cowboy boot pendant necklace over the layers, and dark brown cowboy boots that curiously match her skin tone.

“I already owned this one,” she says. “And lucky for me, you did have that cowboy hat in your closet. It was the only thing missing from all of this, now it’s perfect.”

“Oh my god, you did sleep over at his place.”

“You’re just now figuring this out?” Nora asks with half of an eye-roll. Pez for once doesn’t say anything, merely glancing between her and Alex with his eyes cast low.

“When did you even leave? We hung out after school.”

“When you went for a run before dinner. Obviously.”

“So I cooked you an extra tartlet for no reason, is what you’re saying?!”

“Sorry?”

“Unbelievable.” Alex tsks into his cup before realization hits and he’s forced to utter a grunt of displeasure, if not worse. “I’m never gonna ask about what’s going on there, okay? And don’t ever bring him home while I’m there. Knowing Pez, he’ll be loud as fuck and there are some things you shouldn’t know about your friends.”

Both Pez and Nora just laugh at him. In unison. Alex still can’t believe he’s missed any sort of entanglement brewing between them two.

Thankfully, three more teachers file into the room with good mornings falling out of their mouths. Neither of them dressed up on theme, of course. How boring.

“Hen, love,” Pez breaks his thought. “What about your outfit? You did say you were following the dress code, so. Come on. Let’s see it. Oooh, is that colors that I’m peeking?”

Alex himself had completely forgotten that Fox was even in the room. He notices now that Fox’s teacup is empty and his laptop is on the table, though he stops typing at Pez’s intervention. 

“Look at this, Alex, doesn’t my man look exquisitely dashing?”

Alex, true to his disdain, denies himself the pleasure of checking it out for the purpose of picking on him about it later. “I can’t imagine that he would.”

Though when Fox rises from the table with his mug in one hand, Alex eats his words a little. It’s throat dryness inducing, even. All at the sight of Fox’s full outfit.

It’s a combination of different hues of blue that bring out—wait, were his eyes always that deep shade of ocean blue?? Alex is somewhat speechless, but it isn’t something he’s willing to admit to anyone, friend or foe. He’s looking at dark pants, a white thin shirt under a fitted jacket, unbuttoned enough to reveal suspenders in the same pattern of his bowtie. Blue plaid with yellow dotted lines across the fabric, how dainty. Fox looks, well, devastatingly something, if the fizzy bubbling in Alex’s stomach means anything at all. He stores that sensation into the never-again dark closet in his brain.

“That’s more Kentucky Derby than English country club with its sad pastels and boring camels, ain’t it, Fox?” he asks, pointing at the outfit with a dismissive hand. The sound of the figurative closet doors in his mind slamming shut.

Fortunately, he can hide the reality of his physical reaction behind a sturdily built self-wall and a sip of his coffee. His hand is shaking from his efforts, dammit, that’s ridiculous. Meanwhile he’s hoping they’ll relate his widened eyes to his known addiction rather than to anything else in the room.

“You’re one to talk,” Fox rallies back. “You’re dressed in camels right now.”

“This? This is layers and shades, so. Not so boring.”

Fox releases a heavy sigh. “Regardless, I figured I’d fit better by evoking an American tradition, that is all.”

“Yes, absolutely, you look totally bangable, mate,” Pez says with a funny arch of his eyebrows, eyes on Alex inexplicably.

“Trying to look less like an alien in town, I see,” Alex taunts.

“Nothing of the sort, no.” Fox shakes his head, as he finishes rinsing his mug at the small sink. Body bent far enough that he won’t get splattered by any water. 

“Y’all—”

“Oh my god. I’ve only just walked in and I’m already fed up with you both,” says Principal Bankston in an overtired tone, then greeting the room with the typical good mornings. She clacks into the room with her heels and a clean skirt suit like she always wears.

The room goes quiet in her presence save for the murmur of all insentient things.

Moya, her assistant, stops under the doorway with a flick of her asymmetrical natural red bob, typing into a tablet while Bankston stores her daily snacks into the small fridge in the corner. She adds, “I swear I age about five years every time I have to listen to your roughhousing. The rest of you have a good day.”

She leaves as suddenly as she came in, Moya loyal on her heels.

“I’d better get going. The students will be coming in soon,” Fox says too, grabbing his shoulder bag from the table, laptop in arms, and bolting out the open door.

Alex stays blinking at the two. Hopeful that neither will hear him, he murmurs, “What’s the fun in no roughhousing though?”

Bankston, always the one to prove him wrong, peeks her head back over the door jam. “I heard that!”

*

A giggle. That’s the first thing Alex hears when he approaches the makeshift runway in the middle of the gym, built from wood crates embellished with old fabrics. The main activity for the day would be a fashion contest, Western Country vs. Country Club, where participants would show off the outfits they had prepared for the day and the whole student body would vote for their favorite. The crowned winner up for an additional special prize in the end, a gentle offer from a local waffle house.

The event was planned in detail by the freshmen classes, along with the Spring Spirit Week committee, under close monitoring of Alex himself and Ms. Gray-Meyers, the oldest Geography teacher in school. Their function, they agreed, had been to oversee and support the assigned group throughout the process, only intervening when needed.

It’s the first day of the week that the school will be open to the public between 11am and 1pm, so any interested parties can come in and participate in the fundraisers, and right now the crowd is somewhat impressive. Students and their guests filing into the gym for the runway show.

Two girls from the committee are giggling incessantly to the side of the raised stage as he walks toward them. They send him a strange look and acknowledge his impending approach, before looking off in another direction. He doesn’t check which. The giggles do intensify when they glance back at him. Then away.

It doesn’t stop until Ms. Gray-Meyers reminds them to settle down so the event can start. Alex can’t put his finger on what was going on. Maybe just teens being teens, or maybe something more worrying that he might want to keep an eye on. He chooses to let it go for now.

He settles next to Nora as she sets up the tech that will soon be needed for the voting process. Pez joins her to ask if he can offer any assistance, which she denies. His Fox-shaped shadow comes with him as always.

The giggling rises up again. Though when Alex looks closer, it’s no longer just the two girls from before. The whole committee of four students, one from each class year, has gathered around Nora and ask her if everything’s ready, all of their little beady happy eyes still on him.

Alex looks away to avoid seeming confrontational. Blinking at the moment and how unsubstantial it seems, he signs off a new mental note to question them about it later. After the show that’s about to start anyway.

“Mr. CD?” the junior of the group calls. He glances back at them, now quiet and focused.

“Yes, Rita?”

“We were talking just now, and since so many teachers adhered to the day’s dress code, we were wondering if they shouldn’t walk with us too?”

“The teachers? In the competition?” he asks as a way to clarify their intention.

While it’s true that more than about a third of the faculty had come to school on theme, plus a whole bunch of other staff as well, it seems odd that they should participate as well.

“No, maybe not in the competition,” Rita says, tugging at the end of her single braid. “But we thought since so many are dressed up, it’d be fun if everyone got to show off their hard work even if only the students were allowed in the contest itself.”

Ms. Gray-Meyers turns to them at this suggestion. She isn’t dressed up, save for a pink plastic cowboy hat one of the seniors handed her just outside the gym. Nora and Pez agree, apparently delighted at the idea. It adds up since they’re both equally close to the students and have a bit of a showoff personality.

Other teachers that have gathered up for the beginning of the show share their views, and it’s not decisive. Votes in favor and against, as expected. Alex among those not so fond of the idea. He says, “Didn’t you already plan how the whole show was going to go? Where is this coming from?”

“We did, yes,” Theo, a senior, replies. They were in Alex’s class last year, all correct responses and well-argued opinions all around. “But we also added an asterisk to an extra point that said that depending on how many teachers have dressed up to code, we should consider asking them to walk the runway. So. What do you think? C’mon, Mr. CD, it could be so fun.”

“I still vote no,” he insists, turning to his colleagues around him. “This should be about y’all students, not us.”

“And it will still be about the students!” Rita argues. She’s just as vocal and assertive when she sits in class right in front of him. One time she even claimed that he was quoting the wrong speech, and she had been right.

Theo adds on, too. “It’s just—some people clearly put a lot of effort into their outfit, so that should be recognized as well, we think.” The whole group behind them vocalizes in agreement.

“Oh my god, I don’t have any more arguments right now,” Alex panics with a chortled laugh. This doesn’t happen often, so he turns to his peers for help. “No point in asking you two, is there,” he says to Nora and Pez who share a look and a shrug, then smile back at Alex quite arrogantly.

With one look around, he realizes there aren’t many options to choose from, at least none that might side up with him. The rest of them have somehow disbanded and are now tending to their classes that keep chattering while filing onto the bleachers. So Alex takes a deep breath and goes for the least probable option to actually work.

“Fox? Anything you might want to add to this?” Alex widens his eyes at the surprised face in front of him, really not wanting to walk any runway however rudimentary it may be, and hopes it works in his favor.

At first Fox seems at a loss for words, a mix of shock and awe and disbelief on his features. Alex has lost any remnants of hope he had, when Fox finally says, “I think it should be enough that this event is for the student body, that’s more than a valid argument. The faculty and staff joining in is nothing but a bonus that should not be accounted for at all.”

The sigh of relief that abandons Alex against his will is half drowned by another set of teenish giggling.

“How about a flash poll?!” Teena, from one of his sophomore classes this year, suggests.

“A flash poll!” Rita immediately parrots back. Her eyes wide and twinkling in Alex’s direction. “We should totally do that. Let us decide if teachers should walk or not. How about that?”

“It’d still be our decision, just like you keep advocating for.”

Oh god not again, thinks Alex. His students tugging at his heartstrings and fair-minded brain to have their way is nothing new. And it’s not like there’s much he can do right now. If it were his class, he would have the final word. But here? He’s only one of many.

Less than a few seconds and another giggling session later, Theo putting it up to a vote among the Spirit Week committee, the rest of the student council, and any member of faculty and staff that’s present in the room.

Ms. Gray-Meyers says, “It could be fun. And if you really go old school and choose silly entrance songs, we might pull some laughs off the students. It could be quite epic.”

“Did you just say ‘epic’?” Alex looks incredulously at her.

“Of course. Despite my old age, I like to follow the youth trends.”

And just as they laugh it off, Alex with a shake of his head, not seeing how this could work in his favor, the flash vote officially ends and the final tally is revealed. All willing members of faculty and staff are welcome to walk the runway.

Alex for sure still doesn’t want to participate. It would be hypocritical to do so when he had been so against it up to now, based only on a vote that he didn’t even partake in. “I still don’t think I’ll be walking,” he says to Nora.

“Awwwwwn!” Rita and the rest of the Spirit Week committee react around him. “C’mon, Mr. CD, the contest was practically your idea.”

“You know this borders on not respecting consent boundaries,” he says with a finger pointed at them, already sensing his previous wall of objection starting to decay. All from their candid expressions of disappointment.

They give him such big, bright puppy eyes. Alex takes a deep breath and vows himself to be strong enough, though half of him can’t deny it’s an honor to even be considered. More for the sentiment than anything else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it, stop looking at me like—mmph!” He’s immediately tackled by three of them, Rita, Theo and Teena, six arms tightly wrapped around his middle. “Yes, y’all love me so much right now. Look at yourselves, hugging a teacher in the middle of the gym with the whole student body watching you. Think of your street cred.”

“Street cred?!” two of them shout. Rita grimaces at him, too.

“Oh. Too millennial?”

“Yeaaah, just a smidge…” They grin at him in such a loving way that Alex can’t even stay mad at them for insisting.

“My bad, but I guess I can’t deny what I am,” Alex says as they move away. “Come on, let’s get this done before the lot of ‘em gets bored then.”

Taking two steps back, Rita gives him a tender tilt of her head and says, “Thank you, Mr. CD, you really are the best.”

“That’s not even remotely close to the truth, but I’ll accept it.”

“And look who’s been watching us,” Theo says, sharing a knowing gaze with Rita, then with a motion of their head toward something behind Alex.

He squints at the words and at Rita’s glance back at her friend. Turning in the direction they were motioning for, he finds… Fox. Alex isn’t even surprised at this point. He’s stationed by the end of the runway, one hand on the surface, eyes cast down on Nora who’s right next to him before he lifts them toward Alex and his students.

They soon approach Fox and leave Alex wondering what just happened. There would be no reason for anybody to be paying special attention to his debate with his students. Yet he does the same right now, observing how the group of kids scatter about. He realizes the whole committee is going around the room, asking personally to each teacher and staff in costume.

Focusing back on Rita and the change in her demeanor just as she asks Fox, “A hug?” and waits for his response. When he consents, the meaning is all there on the gesture they share, but only half the enthusiasm she had showed with Alex, her body language completely different. More cautious than blunt. Her eyes find Alex as she smiles.

He allows it for only a second before he looks to find Ms. Gray-Meyers so they can proceed as planned. She asks, “How about those entrance songs?”

“Uhm, maybe not, an entrance song can’t be chosen at random just like that. We would’ve had to pick in advance.” He speaks for himself at least.

Teena, who is returning to join them, shouts, “We have a playlist!”

Alex can only give him a sideway gaze. “Man, did you think about everything.”

“We did.” Two of them, Rita and Theo, now giggle again.

“Plus you all look sooo—”

“Careful…” Alex warns them, knowing how it could be so easy to say something that might be perceived as inappropriate in regard to any teacher, even if that wasn’t their intention.

“Sorry, all I was going to say was stylish and on theme. Oooh,” Rita trails off excitedly, turning to the rest of her proud committee. “Why not in pairs?!”

Someone gasps, someone cheers, someone agrees with a, “ooooh yes!” And all four of them grin massively all at once. A well-rehearsed Cheshire cat. Kind of creepy. And Alex can’t shake off the prickling from his skin that they’re clearly up to no good. He just hasn’t the gall to ask them directly as it may be something not related to Spirit Week.

About twelve teachers and three members of the staff, all dressed up to code as agreed, soon gather up by the back of the runway, covered by a large banner from a previous basketball game that now serves as a separator between the watching crowd and what is technically some form of a backstage.

The Spirit Week committee starts pairing them off while a senior from the student council hypes up the crowd. The school’s mascot, Coco the Cardinal, in full headgear also mingling in the midst. Rita goes on leading the group as they point at someone with a western outfit, then at someone in country club colors. One Western Country, one Country Club. Western Country and Country Club.

Alex sees them picking at random, seemingly because people are standing next to each other. Then he notices they’re running out of options as they near his section of the small group. Immediately he moves to stand beside Pez, just behind Nora, to avoid a certain someone on the other side.

Yet somehow, like magic or pure lack of luck or even pure strategy, though he can’t recognize which, Theo pairs up Nora and Pez, but before Rita has a chance to take another breath, Alex is quick to butt in. “Wait, wait, hold on. Why not Pez and I? We’re standing right next to each other just like everybody else was.”

“I know, Mr. CD, but we’re thinking vibes, you know?” Rita is quick to argue. “Yours and Mr. Pez’s just wouldn’t match, you’d faster clash together. Too much… energy boost, if you know what I mean. It makes more sense to pair you up with someone like Mr. Fox.”

“Care to explain why?”

“I just did. Because vibes. Because it makes sense. Right?” she asks the committee behind her and they all support her weak argument. Alex isn’t buying any of this. None of what they’re saying makes sense at all. How could he and Fox have matching vibes? “Please? Mr. Pez, can you sign off on this? From an art slash color combo standpoint, of course.”

“Of course,” Pez agrees. Alex snaps his head in that direction and frowns deeply at who he once considered his friend. “I don’t see why we can’t follow your idea, it does match perfectly.”

“In what way whatsoever?!” Alex interjects, but he sighs anyway. A few steps to the left, Fox doesn’t look so happy either. A mismatch of dread and what has to be disgust in his face. Instinct reverberating like a growl inside Alex’s chest. So he tugs at that thread. Again.

With a half obnoxious, half necessary hand gesture pointed at the students, he says, “Fox? A little something here? Please?”

“Erm, I don’t know,” he kind of stutters through his words. Alex already knows he’s lost this battle. “I’m no fashion designer with a side of color specialist, as someone very shrewdly pointed out. I’m leaving it to the experts here.”

Alex feels his eyes pinching into slits as he glares at his not helpful reply.

As the group of pairs starts moving about in order and discussing ideas for their runway walk, Alex goes around trying to switch with any kind soul in the room. He’s only just above begging. There isn’t enough time to get to all of them before Principal Bankston arrives and starts to rush them before they run out of time as they have to finish by 2.30pm.

Nobody he asks actually wants to switch with him. Alex wonders if it’s because of him, if somehow everyone has suddenly been conspiring against him, or if it’s actually because, just like him, nobody wants to pair off with Fox.

Well, Alex resigns himself to his vibes, apparently. However treacherous they may seem.

The show itself is kind of ridiculous, but also ridiculously fun to watch as teachers and staff walk onto the runway with quick steps and turns, all of them pretty funny as wannabe models, but all seem to enjoy the music and the cheers of the room and the almost mandatory commentary over the mic from the senior team of announcers in the booth over the bleachers.

Alex and Fox however go out there without so much of a plan. He tries to at least agree on something, but by the time it’s their turn, Fox has barely even acknowledged his presence. So they walk out there and do not make the finest pair, Fox refusing to engage in any of Alex’s suggestions to the beat of their pump up song that booms through the gym speakers. Of course Alex has to resort to what he always does, being his boastful self to disguise his discomfort, watching Fox be more stuck up and reserved than ever, a strong blush on the full scope of his ears.

Forgetting this ever happened is Alex’s next step. He slumps against a wall when it’s finally over, covering his eyes with the palm of one hand.

Thankfully the rest of the show goes much better. There’s a quick cheerleading routine to hype the crowd, then the actual fashion runway with the students—who do have a lot more fun than him, thankfully. All proud and grinning and showing off their creations, and who knows maybe they’re just happy not to be sitting in class.

The voting happens via a mobile app that the AP Programming classes have designed over the last week or so, under the smart, insightful guidance of their teacher, one Ms. Nora Holleran. The results are nearly immediate and are projected onto the big makeshift backdrop, with only one or two minor technical setbacks. Nora looks so proud of her students for pulling it off with so little mishaps. Alex gives her a tight hug in congrats.

As the winner is announced and given his special prize among the roaring of a boosted up crowd, through another routine from the cheerleading squad, and the excited short phrases by the announcers, Alex can’t help but think someone is watching him. His neck keeps prickling and spreading a shiver down his spine.

When he looks, he finds everyone focused on different tasks or celebration. Except Fox. Standing in a group of other teachers, sans his jacket now, his sleeves rolled up to mid forearm, which may be the most skin he’s seen on his nemesis. But it couldn’t be him that Fox was focused on. Vibes or not, that definitely wouldn’t make sense.

And neither does the way Fox freezes, stares for a second, then pretends he wasn’t in the next.

What a day.

**

Wednesday.

Mental Wellness Day

Join the AHH community in fighting the stigma around mental health. With no classes after 11am and lots of activities at your disposal, come learn more or spread awareness with us:

— Gym: Unwind & recharge in our Stress-Free Zone, explore resources in our booths, and talk with experts from nonprofits and local organizations.
— AH4MH Bulletin Board: Myths vs. Facts, infographics from health centers, and a Gratitude Wall to share positive affirmations with your peers.
— Art Show Sale: Explore art pieces about self-care from local artists scouted by our incredible sophomores; all items up for sale during open school hours.
— Journey of Self: After 1pm, hear powerful stories of resilience and recovery from our speakers with lived experience in mental wellness.
— AH4MH Resource Center: Visit the school’s forum boards for information about local services, support groups, hotlines, and more.
— Wacky Sock Day: Be wacky! Be yourself! Promote healthy practices by embracing your own weirdness. Wear your most awesome-sauce socks!

*

Today might be the most important day of Spirit Week for the school community as a whole. The mental wellness theme they selected will allow students to focus less on results and more on self-care during their daily school work, a personal skill that Alex himself believes should be developed from a young age.

The suggestion of relating this topic to the dress code of wacky socks for the sake of ‘health is in embracing your own weirdness’ sounded perfect to Alex from the moment that discussion first came to the table. It aligns with everything that mental wellness represents. Self-acceptance and self-care walk hand in hand through any daily battles.

It’s why Alex roams the school halls one hundred percent proud of his socks. They’re top to bottom brown and yellow stripes with a drawing of a turkey with a hat on the front and the words “gobble gobble” in all caps on the back. And he’s wearing them over the cuffs of his pants because if the day’s to go weird, he’ll go weird all the way.

“Good morning y’all!”

“What’s with the extra energy?” Nora immediately asks, but Alex doesn’t have to answer her as he puts down his takeaway cup of morning coffee.

Pez does it for him this time. “Loving those socks by the way!”

“Cute, huh?” Alex stretches one leg and twists it around to show off his choice of wacky socks. “Oh, and check out this.” Then he hooks one foot on his other heel and kicks off his shoe, wiggling his toes at the room.

“Ugh! Not the toes! This is too much…” Joe, Geography teacher, one of the others in the room says from the corner.

“Oh, Joe, c’mon. Aren’t they amazing?!”

“I reckon your brain may be mistaking the concepts of amazing and utterly upsetting,” Fox says as Alex puts his shoe back on.

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Fox, you have no opinion on this. You’re no fun,” Alex fights back. “Oh, let me introduce you by the way,” he adds, pointing at each drawing on his calves. “This one’s named Corn, and this one’s Bread.”

“You gave them names?” Pez laughs.

Alex raises his hands in the air. “What? It’s only normal. You have something, you name it.”

“No, no, no, Joe’s right. This is too much,” Nora interjects. “I’m raising your rent.”

“On what basis?”

“Oh boy, you really are the son of lawyers.” She rolls her eyes. “Uhmm… On the basis of you’re ridiculous, how about that?”

“I am allowed today. Embrace your weirdness and all,” Alex retorts proudly.

There’s a muffled laugh in the room. When Alex looks around, he finds the culprit. Fox.

Fox laughing.

Okay, well, it’s more Fox chuckling into his hand, the other safely wrapped around a steaming teacup. Today it reads POSI-TIVI-TEA. Which is also on theme for today, Alex kind of loves that a little. The rest is par for the course; wrinkles around the eyes, shoulders shaking, little giggles escaping over Fox’s palm.

Followed by the unexpected. A sped-up beat in Alex’s chest. Heart palpitations at its best.

Alex gasps at the scene to disguise it, hand to his stomach and everything. “Oh my god, Pez, did your robot just got the latest update that allows him to feel emotions? You must be so excited.”

“Yes, you could say I am feeling a lot of emotions right now,” Fox says.

“I can imagine,” Alex retorts with a slow nodding of his head. “The new update installed on startup, did it? It’s understandable if it gets a little overwhelming at first. Probably gonna feel a little wacky for a few days.”

“And are you capable of any emotion that isn’t sarcasm and mocking?”

Pausing to pretend he’s thinking about it, mouth pursed to the side as if in deep thought, Alex reaches for his cup to sip some coffee. Leans against the counter behind him for purchase. With an accidental loud slurping noise, he admits, “No, I’m afraid not, sorry.”

“Hmm. Makes sense.”

Alex scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It explains what’s been going on every day since I’ve met you, nothing else. Don’t lose your wits about it.” Fox clears his throat and gets up from the table. “I need to go, you’ll have to excuse me. Have—”

“Leaving already? Not that it’s anything new.”

“Ms. Llewellyn from 9C requested to see me before class.”

“Wait, is that how you actually pronounce her name? ‘L-wellyn’? Not ‘Lou-wellyn’?” Alex asks in all honesty.

“That’s right. It’s a traditionally Welsh name, though I believe both Welsh and American pronunciations can be acceptable,” Fox explains as he carefully places his belongings into his shoulder bag. “Hm. It’s no wonder she was surprised when I was the first teacher here to get it right. Her words, not mine.”

“Well, thanks for telling us. Now she’ll be impressed when I use it in our next class.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Fox adds, “If you had asked her just once, you would have found out earlier.” Well, so much for Alex’s sarcasm and mocking.

From the lack of a proper comeback, Alex focuses on the rest of the room and asks to see their socks. He already knows about Nora’s chicken leg knee-high pair that she’s wearing under her skirt, and apparently only Pez has brought some too. He’s wearing fuzzy, clearly crocheted socks that make it look like his feet are being devoured by crocodiles. Both of them fun enough to extract a little laugh from his chest.

Just as Fox is about to sneak out the room, Alex catches him by the doorway. “Hey, Fox, before you go.”

Fox hesitates with a little sigh, but ends up turning around to face him. “Yes, Alex?”

“Uh, Alex…” Nora says kind of in a warning tone.

Alex makes a face at her and tells her to shush. Turning back to Fox, he asks, “What about you? Did you bring any fun socks, or does your software not allow fun anything?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Thought it was a wonderful theme, so this is me celebrating it,” Fox replies, tugging just a bit of his bottoms in between two pinched fingertips.

“Beagles!” Alex exclaims at the sight of burgundy socks decorated with little dogs in different positions. Everybody else in the room ‘aww’s at them, too. Nora even comes up closer to inspect them better. Pez, beside Alex, smiles brightly and totally pleased, arms crossed over his chest as he leans backward into the counter. Alex looks from him back to Fox and says, “How sweet. You got one?”

“Yes, I do, since I was about sixteen years old. His name’s David.”

Alex blinks up at him. “Is he a robot, too?” The room ‘aww’s again, but in a negative, sort of downer way at his intervention. “Hey! Why else would a sweet little thing like a beagle have such a lame, boring, inexcusable name? It must have come in the box or whatever.”

Fox only sighs. “I really have got to go.”

“You know, one day you’re gonna have to stop running off on me, uRobot,” Alex jokes as he watches Fox leave the room without a response.

“Alex!” Pez jolts with a chuckle. “You were going so well with the beagle talk. Davey’s the sweetest gem, by the way. Boy, but you really do never stop once you get going, huh?”

“What? It’s just banter,” he argues. “It’s fun, it’s healthy, gets your brain and your pheromones going. It’s more on point today than any other day. And to be fair, I thought that was pretty harmless for our usual, no?”

He looks and gestures with his hands around the lounge, asking for confirmation. Nobody in the room seems to agree, so he turns back to his coffee. The only one in this place to always understand him.

*

“Hey Theo, you have a minute?” Alex asks at the end of second period. His junior class has just been dismissed and he’s out the room on the way to the lounge for a quick coffee refill when he sees the senior passing in the hall.

“Hey, Mr. CD. Sure. We have about, um, four of them. What’s up?”

“Mind if I walk you to class? Wanted to ask how’ve you been,” Alex assures them, sidling up to their side. The height difference being non-existent doesn’t bother him as much as it would have a few years ago. Besides he’s here for his weekly catch-up with one of his students, not for a fight with his own self-image. “Carlson and his buddies giving you any more trouble?”

Alex listens closely and offers comfort and advice as Theo shares with him what they want about their last week. It’s a moment Alex has been trying to get with a select few of his students who have reached out to him at any point. It’s also a way to stay in touch and aware of any possible issues that might have been swept under the rug.

“Look, maybe this is weird and you might not want to hear this at all, but you really are one of the best teachers in the school,” Theo says, already on the way from their locker to the next class. “Not just from your classes. We can tell that when you talk of resistance and educating others, you speak from experience too.”

Alex almost dismisses the compliment, but he takes it dead-on instead. “Oh for sure, but there’s only so little I can do from where I am now. Seeing y’all thrive is as big of a thanks as I could get. But I do appreciate the sentiment, Theo, thanks for thinking of me in such kindness.”

“And y’know, it’s not just us who— sorry.” Theo cuts themself off.

Alex tilts his head at them. “You can finish that thought, if you want.”

Theo shakes their head only. “No, nevermind.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Just. Thank you. For checking in every week too, by the way.”

With a final smile, Alex jokingly extends a hand and offers, “Hand shake?” He knows perfectly well how some students don’t agree with his predisposition for hugs, especially out in the open like they are.

“Nah, definitely a hug, we all know you love them,” Theo replies with a chuckle. The sound shaking with the tremble in his ribcage as well.

“Right in the middle of school like this?”

“It’s embrace your weirdness day, nobody can judge me for it,” Theo says with a grin as they share a quick lopsided hug. “And nice socks, by the way. Over the pants and everything. Definitely weirder than hugging a teacher out in the hall.”

“I don’t know about that…” Alex chuckles along with them, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Did you bring any?”

“Mine aren’t too wacky, they’re just mismatched.”

“Diamonds and pencil stripes, not bad!”

“Thank you, sir.”

Alex squints at them. “Haven’t we talked about that already?”

“Old habits.” Theo laughs, he seems content. Alex couldn’t be happier and warmer inside too.

“Alright. Thanks for talking to me. This your next class?”

They’re now stopped in between two classroom doors, face to face, sideways towards the hall, one with a backpack over a shoulder, the other with a messenger bag wrapped around his torso.

“Thank you. And yes, this is me,” they say, head pointing at the door behind them. “Mr. Fox. Most perfect time of the day for math, he says.”

Alex blinks at that response. “Oh. Uh, I better get going then. Don’t want to, uhm—”

Theo tilts their head at him. Alex has never felt judged so hard by a student. “You know, Mr. CD, I can’t imagine not liking Mr. Fox. He’s so bright and well-spoken.”

“Yes, well, while I don’t doubt that, we all have our differences.”

“Indeed we do,” Fox says, coming up to his classroom door to unlock it. Alex couldn’t escape him after all. “Good morning, Watkins. Shall we get inside?”

At being completely ignored, Alex reacts only with wide eyes and arched eyebrows, not wanting to get too acrid around a student. “I better get to class. See y’all later at the assembly?”

*

The assembly is mostly an excuse to share guidelines and instructions for how the rest of the day is supposed to go. The students are divided into groups, each accompanied by a designated teacher, so all have a chance to explore the different activities and booths available throughout the school.

Alex follows happily along one of his sophomore classes, and the active participation rate he sees is almost astonishing. Two spots are particularly popular for all, students, faculty and staff alike. The Stress-Free Zone with relaxation chambers that all can use to experience ‘10 minutes of peace’, as the technician calls it. And the single booth stationed in the football field, from a county nonprofit that works exclusively with therapy pets.

It isn’t until his lunch break, however, that Alex finds his own peace. The whole time he’s been looking over his shoulder at the sound of a giggle, or at the minimal sign of prickling on his neck. Or on the small of his back. Even up and down his arms, or a tingling on his feet to the point of his toes twitching in his shoes. Something has been chasing him today and he can’t quite figure out what it is.

He’s with Nora now, after steering their classes to the cafeteria for lunch. They’re sitting cross-legged on an old sheet they secretly stored in one of the teachers’ lounge cabinets, in the old basketball court out in the yard, enjoying the remnants of sun that’s just starting to hide under thick white clouds. Two containers on their laps with flavory burritos he dutifully prepared last night. They needed something light and easy enough to eat.

Alex is studying the plan for the rest of the day. At one, the whole school community is expected to attend two 30-minute sets of speeches around mental wellness. A myriad of different speakers have been invited to share their experience in the first person, with the intention of educating and spreading awareness.

As he scrolls through the list of invitees, he stops on one name.

“Hey Nora,” he asks around a bite of peppers, onions, and black beans. Frowning at his screen as he swallows. “Is this who I think it is?”

She inspects his phone when he passes it on into her hands. “That’s right. Didn’t you organize the whole week? I thought you’d be one of the first to know that our very own Mr. Henry Fox would be giving a speech.”

“Nah. Bankston wanted Thilda to handle it by herself,” he explains. Ms. Gray-Meyers, or Mathilda if he were only among fellow teachers, had been pretty adamant in not letting him even peek at the list of speakers. This is probably why, so he wouldn’t interfere with Fox’s speech. Not that he would, but maybe his principal, his superior, a fellow teacher herself, doesn’t trust him as much. “Now it makes sense why they didn’t let me have a say in this part of the event. Bankston, man, she really doesn’t trust me, does she? I don’t get it.”

“I kinda do,” says Nora, watching him through gleaming brown eyes, meaning every word. Alex glares at her, chest inflated with a deeper breath. “Everyone knows you two don’t get along, that neither of you even tries. And week after week, there’s this or that episode that eventually the whole school hears about. Maybe this is news to you, but it is Bankston’s job to know what happens around here, Alex, so stop looking at me like that. You know what I mean. There’s always something. It’s, like, inevitable with you two.”

Alex sighs. He never really understood it to be fair, was never able to pinpoint what he had done that had been so wrong in the first place. 

Last year, Fox and Pez were two of the new teachers at school, one for the Maths, the other for the Arts. Two completely different spirits that somehow never left the other’s side. The problems started early on, as every time Alex tried to approach Fox to introduce himself and welcome him properly, he’d end up facing Fox’s back as he abandoned the teachers’ lounge. Or the hallways. Or the Principal’s office that one time they met at the door, Fox closing it behind him despite seeing Alex about to go inside.

Yet his own animosity started after Fox pulled out of organizing Homecoming with him. Fox was pretty new at the school at the time. Alex had plenty of ideas and was willing to listen to any suggestions. He even thought that some new, fresh blood would be good to put a different twist to the yearly fundraiser.

But then Bankston told him Fox had backed out of it. Not to mention how resolute she was in asking him if anything had happened between them, way before there had ever been anything at all. Later on, whenever Alex tried to ask Fox about it in the friendliest ways he could find, mostly at the teachers’ lounge so they could talk in an impartial middle ground, Fox simply bolted on him. Turned on his heel and left. Poof. Just like that. Every single time. So Alex started paying back in the way he knew best. He played a game of push-and-pull to see who would give first.

To this day, neither of them has yet. So they went on disliking each other and teasing each other.

It wasn’t going to be Alex to break first because he had never done anything wrong to deserve what Bankston had implied that time in her office.

“I think I tried hard enough after the Homecoming draw episode. I mean, at the time we had, what, exchanged a few words a few times at most? He spent most of his breaks inside his classroom, for fuck’s sake. Was hardly ever in the teachers’ lounge with us, even when Pez was, remember the first weeks?” Alex huffs through his words, mostly to get a breath in between.

“I could never understand what actually happened, if something happened at all even, and Fox never allowed me to ask him. Not once. And look, I tried plenty of times. I even made him tea a few mornings, remember? And he would all but shrug it off like it was poisoned or something.”

Nora snorts. “Tell me honestly. Would you have been any less cynical or arrogant with him if he tried to make you coffee and like, drenched it in too much cinnamon?”

“Uh… I guess not, no.” Nora widens her eyes at him. Okay, he kind of gets her point. Maybe Alex simply didn’t make good tea. “Oh shut up, he didn’t even try it. He’d just shove it aside in disdain.”

“If it serves of any consolation, that’s not true.” Alex blinks at her, waiting for the rest. “He’d shove it aside, yes, but then you’d leave the room and he’d drink it with a little smile, thinking I wasn’t looking. Choked on it the one time I commented I was still there, and then he didn’t drink it the last time you tried. And then you stopped trying anyway.”

“So what you’re saying is, he did it on purpose to fuel the animosity between us. So. Technically? Still not my fault.”

“Argh, Alex, you really are too stubborn sometimes. And blind. Both of you,” Nora says with her eyes on Alex’s and her burrito pointed at his face. “Neither of you can see you’re actually just tugging on each other’s pigtails to get the other’s attention?”

Alex totally gapes at her. “What? He keeps running off on me, that’s what. It was a matter of time until I got tired of chasing him. So what you just said makes on sense at all.”

She only tilts her head and shrugs with one shoulder in pure arrogance. “It’s actually textbook talk for idiots in love.”

“Oh shut up, you’re full of it.” He covers his face with his forearm, uncovering only one eye to say, “You’ve been hanging out with Pez too much recently. Hell, you’ve slept over at his place. Their place. So like, you’re just seeing the world in rose—or sex!—colored glasses or whatever.”

“Sure. Fine, let’s pretend I’m the one who’s wrong…” Nora chuckles. She takes another bite of her burrito while Alex drinks from his water bottle, then says, “You’re gonna be fine with him on stage later?”

“Of course. It’s an important event, and I am curious to see what we’re going to be talking about. These summaries on the leaflet Bankston posted on the forums aren’t exactly exhaustive. Can’t tell much from this. Besides…” He chews and swallows around a smaller bite of his food. “All that talk about ADHD symptoms at my last therapy appointment didn’t make me any less eager to find out more, y’know? So maybe I’ll luck out and at least this— wait, hang on.”

Alex shoves a few fries into his mouth before he grabs his phone and unlocks it, pulling up the previous forum board page to point at the few summaries that stirred his curiosity. “Uhm, so, at least this and this speakers got my attention. I don’t know what to make of these descriptions, but I did some research into them and they seem to at least have worked through symptoms similar to what Dr. Ackerman asked me about. So. Will see, I guess.”

“Promise no repeats of that fatidic teachers’ meeting before last summer break?” Nora asks out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“You know, the one where Fox was trying to propose adding a full advisory period to our timetables and you—”

“Oh my god. That was a little embarrassing,” Alex admits with a nervous laugh.

That faculty meeting wasn’t too long ago. Towards the end of last school year, Bankston asked for any improvement suggestions that she could discuss with the administration board over the summer meetings. Fox was making a fairly decent point about the benefits of having the chance to talk one-to-one with students who felt they needed any kind of extra support during class. Then Fox had to go and suggest implementing this ‘advisory period’ twice a week, thus reducing each teacher’s free periods to three a week instead of five.

Alex didn’t handle it too well. He released a resentful scoff and a very loud “yeah right” in the exact moment the whole room fell silent. Fox stared at him for two long-ass minutes and Alex was, for the first time, the one to shy away from their mutual glaring.

It wasn’t pretty, but Alex did apologize right after, exposing his opinion on the matter in detail. Especially since it had been his personal fight to ensure that every faculty member had a free period every day to be able to plan their time, grade any necessary homework, and to ensure that as little work as possible would bleed into their personal time at home.

The request was reasonable, and so was his indignation at Fox’s initial suggestion. Something that even Fox did agree on afterward. Still that sudden intervention wasn’t Alex’s best moment, that’s for sure.

“But no, don’t worry,” he adds, chugging some more water to clean his mouth. “I’ll just stand there and be quiet for once. Or I’ll try anyway.”

“I’m proud of you that you’re even trying,” Nora says with a smile and her head tilted over one shoulder, a hint of sauce in the corner of her mouth.

“Wow, thanks so much.” He giggles as he reaches over to wipe the stain off with his own napkin. “I’m most interested in seeing how the kids will react to this anyway. Two sets of thirty minutes with a fifteen minute break in between doesn’t seem too much, but you never know. If the topics don’t capture their—” Alex chokes on his next word when his eyes find two figures walking in his direction from down the court. “Are you kidding me?” He grunts. “Is that them coming this way?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Nora looks anything but apologetic when Alex tiger-growls at her only half playfully. She seems to be grinning and hiding it under a grimace and another wipe of her napkin. “I invited Pez to meet us here so we’d go together to the coffee shop after lunch.”

“And Fox has to come too, of course. Fucking lapdog, or something.”

“Stop. You see, it’s you saying that kind of stuff that keeps him from trusting you,” Nora says. Alex dismisses her with a pretty heavy eye-roll.

“Yeah, no, I disagree. He never trusted me in the first place, way before I started saying— hiiiii, Pez, what’s going on? Hey, what happened to your cute-ass croc socks?” He shoves a few more fries into his mouth to engage listen-only mode.

*

“Thank you for listening. Feel free to come talk to me about this or any other topic any day of the week. Thank you.”

As Fox wraps up his speech, a sincere, firsthand recollection of memories and fight-worthy strength points, the whole gym erupts into candid applause. There’s cheering and students calling out his name, gestures of thrill and support. In general, a sweet reaction to what someone directly from the school community has just shared. Yet Fox seems overwhelmed by it all.

Alex follows him with his eyes as Fox stumbles down from the small stage in the middle, remnants from yesterday’s runway staging, right in front of the same old school spirit banner, and out the back door into what Alex knows will be the main halls. So he flees out of his spot in the back of the crowd and exits through the closest door too, trying to meet Fox halfway.

In his mind, there’s only the vulnerability of the last moment and the magnitude of the whole day itself. Fox had shared something that sounded incredibly personal, nothing in detail of his own struggles, but an overview of his stance on the topic of mental wellness, on depression in particular, combined with beautiful words and candid, crude insights on the matter.

The act of listening really does have the power to change one’s views on anything or anyone. And it helps Alex look at Fox in a completely different way, now that he’s learned that there is so much more depth to him than their mindless bickering.

Judging from what little he knows about Fox, Alex figures he might go for what was once his usual hideout. His classroom.

They both cross into the hall at the same time, though Fox is closer, so when Alex steps up to the door, Fox has already unlocked it. He turns to Alex with wide, hurtful eyes and says, “Not now, Alex. I beg of you. You’ll get a free pass in taunting me for the rest of the year. Just forget this ever happened, all right?”

What can Alex do if not just stand there blinking at the door?

He used to be good with people, reading them, charming them, understanding them. A sense of empathy Alex was sure he had grasped from watching his parents, both self-sufficient lawyers, and from their vast experience in family law and civil rights law. Not to mention from his sister June and her tendency to always look outwards first.

Now, however, as he turns around to face the empty hall, the thought that wanders in his clusterfuck mind is fragmented into a million scraps and versions of itself, but it collapses into only one—which is how the hell he fucked up so badly with Fox.

*

Alex stares up at the cork wall in front of him.

He’s trying to remedy his lack of trying to get to know Fox better. Looking inward, he realizes that Fox might not be the one to take the first step, but Alex has never shied away from an opportunity to do better. From a challenge to be better.

In front of him, dozens of messages pinned to the Gratitude Wall, a place to leave short messages to others. He recognizes some of his students’ names, tugging at the bottom of a couple of them that seem to have been addressed to him. Simple words of appreciation and care, hopefully honest.

Then he stares down at the paper in his hand. It’s anonymous, and he had to discard several previous drafts of the same message because he couldn’t totally disguise his handwriting in the first few attempts.

It looks perfect right now. A short, sincere note to someone he never even thought he’d ever write to. And it didn’t even take him too long to put down into words, that had been the greatest surprise.

Alex hesitates with the small rectangle in his hands, carefully checking the hall around him. It remains empty since the whole school community has been summoned back to the gym for the final assembly of the day. With a deep breath, he takes a red pushpin and hangs his note on the white board. Staring at the blue paper for a few seconds. Not thinking twice about leaving it behind as he joins everyone else in the gym.

**

Thursday.

Barbies vs Kens

Dress up like Barbie and Ken, two staple figures of fashion and style. Bring doll-like glamour to your class and reinvent haute couture to the multitudes of you. All shades of pink welcome! Show up for group photo and collect your AHB Points and a special pink-tastic badge. Juniors, it’s your time to shine; make sure all your meals are in order for our charity community lunch!

*

“You’re actually going to teach class dressed like that?”

Alex glances at a giggling Pez, who’s wearing salmon trousers and a shirt with pineapples and watermelon slices. Hair dyed light blonde and pushed back and to the side into as much of a quiff as his short strands allow. “Just your regular Ken-job,” he called it when someone asked earlier.

For his part, Alex studies his own look carefully. He’d figured there wouldn’t be many Barbies in the lounge since most teachers had said they wouldn’t dress up today, so he went into as many details as he could. Just last weekend Alex was able to procure a pair of fuchsia pants and a pink floral jacket that’s actually Nora’s but does hug his figure quite gently. The white top underneath might be a little risky since it’s also Nora’s and not really his size, but Alex is sure he can make it work with an extra effort.

“Of course,” he replies ecstatic about the day. It should be pretty normal, though the ambiance will be more vibrant than usual given the topic the faculty and students agreed on for the day. “It’s on theme, it’s drastic, it’s fashion. Barbie would be so proud. Look at the detail on the jacket, the flowers are embossed. Ugh, it’s too perfect. I’m sorry you can’t see the vision.”

“Oh I’m seeing it clearly,” Nora says with a chuckle. She’s in a pair of pinstriped sequin pants that make her look freakishly tall despite her short stature, it’s incredible. “But what I’m seeing is that you’re not wearing a single piece of clothing that’s yours.”

“So what, most of it’s yours, big deal,” Alex retorts with an eye-roll.

“They’re Nora’s?!” Pez nearly cackles, also almost choking on his morning mocha chai.

“Not all of it. Oooh, and watch this,” Alex says excitedly, putting down his travel coffee cup before he bends down to tug on the right leg of his bootcut pants and show off his pink cowboy boots. Mid-calf, a bit of a higher heel than he’s used to. They’re actually his sister June’s, and more than one size too small, but it’s worth the hassle for the excited gasps he gets from the room. “I’m Tex-Mex Barbie, baby!”

Pez points at the boots. “Also Nora’s?”

“No. My sister’s.”

“Is that all?” Fox asks from the table. He looks terribly bored by the conversation as he sips his tea and leafs through an old and worn book.

“Uh, sorry if I’m not boring like you.” Alex scoffs.

“Oy, please, I came dressed the part. Just more… delicately, one might say.” Alex scoffs again at the reply, drinking his coffee to avoid making any comments on Fox’s choice of outfit.

Technically he is on theme, only in a more traditional kind of way. Clearly a Ken, in a turquoise paisley pattern summery shirt under his tailored navy blue blazer, plain trousers, and a pair of sunglasses atop his head. Alex remembers him saying it was a “tribute to the beach.” As if white, pasty, British Fox has ever stepped on a real beach. Please.

“Delicate, my–mhmm,” Alex clears his throat to swallow down the curse word. Fox does look cute enough, and he always dresses in a way that brings out two of the best features of his face, the eyes and somehow the curve of his jaw always juts out amidst his clothing. Though Alex has no idea where that thought just came from. He shakes his head, throws another one into the never-again dark closet in his brain, and sips some more to keep the doors firmly closed.

“Anyway, yes, there is more, hold on.”

Excited about this next detail, Alex breaks into a massive grin. While it usually bothers him to confess this physical weakness, today he grabs his reading glasses from the inside pocket of his messenger bag and slides them on proudly over the bridge of his nose.

When all the six other people in the room look up, he adds, “Teacher-Mex Barbie! Personally I think it’s going to be a success.”

“Glasses, huh?”

“Does Bankston know about this?” Nora puts in.

Alex’s shoulders slump down as he hums. “Not yet.”

“Can I be there when she finds out?”

“What? It’s not that bad.”

“Erm, did you know your midriff is showing?” Fox asks. Like he was looking at it. Ugh.

“No it isn’t!” Alex hugs his middle, but removes his arms right after and gestures them around in different directions. Well, Fox is actually right, bits and hints of skin do show when he moves, which is a risk and against the school’s handbook. “Okay, fine, you’re right. So maybe it does show, but only when I move. I’ll just have to keep it light on the hand and arm gestures.”

“Mhmm. Of course. Because you never talk with your hands, do ya, Alex?” Nora giggles.

“Argh! Alright.” Thankfully, Alex had the same fear when he was carefully planning his outfit in the mirror last night and stuffed an additional item as a precaution into his messenger bag. He dives through it now as he adds, “I guess you’re right, it would be inappropriate. Thankfully I brought— a-ha! An extra tank top. And this one goes down under the waistband, so it’ll be fine. Relax, you guys, stop looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“The problem, you see, is that you are crazy,” a gravelly voice says from the double doors that connect the lounge to the contiguous meeting room. “Good morning everyone. What’s Mr. Claremont-Diaz up to this time?”

“Nothing, uhhh, I’ll be right back.” And he’s out the door before Bankston can get another word in.

He still hears her say, “That’s the first time I’m seeing him flee out of a room you’re still in, Mr. Fox.”

“Hmm.” Alex hears the infamous low, throaty chuckle he’s used to hearing when Fox is peeved at him.

He stomps the whole path to the teacher’s bathroom two doors down from the lounge with a gaping mouth and his jaw dropped way down.

*

“You got this on this side of the camera?” Alex asks Rita, the one student from the school’s photography elective that made it into the Spirit Week committee. That class is typically in charge of this big event, and Alex remembers seeing Rita behind the camera for the past three years.

“Yes, Mr. CD. I just need everyone to line up so I can adjust the settings to the lighting and all that.”

“Alright. Who’s on crowd control?” He turns to the rest of the committee.

“We got this,” Theo and another student, Merla, say at the same time. Theo adds, “Mission ‘Get everyone into the frame’ is underway.”

“Thank you.”

Alex leaves them to it for now, trusting them entirely with this ‘mission’.

At the gym, right before the school opens its gates for a very special charity lunch, the school community gathers around for the mandatory group photo. The idea is to share the pictures on the school’s forums, as a reminder of this year’s edition of Spirit Week.

Coincidence or not—though based on recent behavior, Alex is more inclined to believe that it is not—he ends up ‘shoved’ to Fox’s side as the students organize the spread-out group of over sixty Barbies and Kens into a less messy crowd that fits under the camera’s lens.

Something’s odd about this moment, and for once it isn’t him.

First, three of the students in the Spring Spirit Week committee that he knows seem to be constantly exchanging glances among themselves. Teena, a sophomore at the front of the group; Theo, a senior pursing their lips while giving out instructions alongside Mrs. Sangi, the tutor in charge of photography class; and Rita, a junior, still behind the camera, grinning to herself, looking more foolish than focused. Second, Nora and Pez are glued at the hip as they’ve been the whole week, standing a few kids away from Alex so he can’t even make small talk with them.

Alex tries to convince himself that this is fine, that nothing will come out of it, that he is the one being paranoid, regardless of the uncomfortable prickling down his spine at the thought and sight of who’s right next to him, making him twitch into oblivion as well. Toes curled tight in his shoes so he has something else to focus on.

In fact, Alex squints his eyes at the scene and wonders if his so-called best friend and roommate and colleague Nora doesn’t have any bit of a participation rate in this madness. It’s too much of a coincidence that she’s stuck together with Pez during every activity this week, leaving Alex to fend for himself against a committee of students who seem to want him to always stand next to the same person. Someone he used to think he had to despise, but who had actually allowed Alex and so many others to see into a deeper side of him. A side that hurts and understands.

They’re in a room full of people, about to take a group picture, so there isn’t anywhere for Fox to run or hide. It might feel like a trap, but Alex will give him as much leeway as Fox demands. He’ll go gently and speak calmly to avoid triggering any reaction. All he wants is to discuss whatever little complicated moment they had had the day before, when Fox dismissed Alex after the seminar. To make sure Fox didn’t think he was trying to distress him, quite the opposite. And the note, of course, Alex’s curious to know if Fox has even read it. 

He turns slowly, trying not to catch Fox’s eyes right away, and asks, “Hey, do you mind? I wanted—”

Instead of a response, and instead of letting him finish, Fox simply moves a few people to the side so he won’t stay in the shot right next to Alex anymore. Bolting off yet again. Alex wonders when this saga will ever stop. And right as the final countdown begins, so there isn’t enough time for Alex to follow. For Alex to insist regardless of what his thought impulse silently impels him to do. So he stays put, looks around for Nora, finding her engrossed in conversation with Pez and two of the students nearby, then he looks up.

First at the camera, just as Rita joins the group and kneels in the front. Then to the side. Where he finds Fox’s eyes sparkling in the light. Staring back right into his just before the flash goes off. And they don’t pull away until it’s too late.

*

Alex has a free period next, now that he’s finished with his part in monitoring today’s community charity lunch. The junior classes promoted the event around town, first asking around for local restaurants willing to offer their services, then gathering orders from families and friends and neighbors and acquaintances.

He just wanted to grab some coffee before he dedicates himself to replying to loose emails from parents and to other school matters he only does because it’s part of his job description. But for that, he needs to go by his favorite coffee shop for a decent refill. The single serve maker in the teachers’ lounge is enough for emergencies, but not when he has a bit of time to indulge himself. Besides the small streak of sun he might get on his face will be good, too.

His bag is in the lounge however, so he walks through the halls still bustling with student energy, stopped only a couple of times to answer worried questions about this or that assignment. Though when he goes by one particular classroom, some voice he can’t recognize without looking jests, “Hey, Mr. CD, if you came looking for Mr. Fox, he isn’t in yet.”

A comment he absolutely doesn’t understand, but judging from the sudden curse word that follows, Alex figures someone else acknowledged it semi-violently for him. He lets it go for now, throwing it into the pit of the never-again dark closet in his brain. For good measure.

There’s only a couple more minutes before the bell rings again, so he thinks he’ll find the lounge pretty empty since everyone will be getting ready for the next class. He never makes it there though.

“Oof!” Alex knocks hard against the person who’s just coming out of the lounge, a shroud of papers flying about and straight to the floor.

He looks up finding a pair of shocked little blue eyes. Fox, of course. Because why wouldn’t it be Fox? “I’m so sorry, man.”

“No, I’m terribly sorry,” Fox says, voice as thick as his English accent. Eyes casting down at the mess spread all around their feet.

“Hey, it’s fine, it happens,” Alex says, motioning to pick it up.

That’s when he feels it. The sharp intake of breath. The instant shift in the mood. The tense body in front of him. He thinks of one too many possible ways to approach this moment, but he takes the easy way out and squats down to gather what seems to be a handful of exams. Alex can’t help but wonder if it was actually unavoidable. Hopes even that this was the universe trying to give him a break from having been ignored so blatantly all morning.

Now they’re both crouched at the knees, a shared surprised look in between. Alex softens while Fox widens his eyes in panic. Their hands so close that there’s a crackling noise in Alex’s ears. Only Fox doesn’t seem to enjoy the proximity.

In Fox’s eyes, the same exact dejected kind of stare he’s been seeing since yesterday.

“Hey, I wanted—”

Fox nothing but plucks the last stack of papers from under Alex’s grasp and mutters through his teeth, “I’m sorry, I—I have to go.”

Glancing up at his glaringly flushed face, Alex recalls where he just came from. After lunch and directing the last of the students to their next class, he stumped across the halls in his own haste to pick up his things. Stopping only by the Gratitude Wall.

Because something had caught his eye.

A blue note. A single blue note on the board, in a sea of yellows and whites and oranges. Held uniquely by a red pin. The note he had left there for Fox. The one Alex wonders if Fox has even seen, if he’s read it, if he understands the meaning behind the words and the exact moment that turned Alex’s core upside down and made him realize that Fox is more than just an enemy.

“I just wanted to ask,” Alex tries. Tries to ask about the note, wants to recite and shout the words in Fox’s face. He fists around the handle of Fox’s own bag that’s barely hanging on his shoulder, knowing he shouldn’t touch someone else’s property like that, no permission asked whatsoever, but it’s a desperate last resort. All he wants is a chance to get a question in. “Have you seen—”

But he’s cut short by Fox’s dismissal. He’s looking at his watch. Fancy leather watchband under a paisley sleeve. Alex knows the bell is imminent and doesn’t judge him this time, he knows the school’s rules on tardiness like the back of his hand, from getting the brunt of them on his skin a couple of times already. But it’s the panic in Fox’s eyes that he can’t read or understand. He doesn’t even have a chance to try this time.

He just blurts out in a question, “You're going to run off again, aren’t you?”

“I'm sorry,” Fox says again, “I really have to go, I’ve got class.”

When the bell rings, Alex doesn’t even feel mad about it. He’s perfectly aware that the running is reasonable. Doesn’t make him less susceptible to it though.

There’s one last restless staring contest in between them, a glance from Fox’s eyes to where Alex is still holding on to his shoulder bag, letting it go right after. And then one final glare into a fuzzy hall as Fox turns on his feet.

Body freezing on the spot against all rational thoughts losing themselves in his head, Alex pretends and lies to his conscience that he’s not watching Fox cross the hall in rushed steps. That he doesn’t feel the sting of knowing Fox doesn’t look over his damn shoulder once. But that’s on Alex for thinking he’s in a high school cliché. Those simply don’t happen to people like him.

Alex charges ahead in a single gust of wind. Stomping across the halls. Ears ringing and echoing in his head. Vision blurry from rejection. A single thought going round and round, lost in the fabric of mind only to be brought back to the forefront in the same second.

The next thing he sees clearly is his own note. Blue paper, red pin, white background. Perhaps it’s the color scheme that helps his brain focus. Tunnel down his sight.

The words begin to tremble in black ink. With the memory and gut wrenching from not having seized another opportunity to finally talk his heart out, just now outside the teachers’ lounge, his arm moves without him thinking. Hand around blue. He rips the note off the corkboard, leaving only a red pin holding on to the remnants of someone’s name.

To: Mr. Fox

The rest of the message rests heavy and hurtful in his fist, wrinkled and balled over, hopefully to be forgotten soon.

**

Friday.

Sports Day

It’s Coco’s day! Be fierce like our favorite Cardinal. Wear your favorite jersey today and if you find Coco’s booth, get in there with your friends for a fun, spirited photo op. Your seniors also count on your support at the School Spirit Store and at the afternoon game mix, exclusively during open school hours. Be there or miss out on great fun!

*

“Is that also yours?” Pez asks Nora.

The fun coincidence is that he’s talking about Alex’s attire. An old jersey from his senior days as a high school lacrosse player. Good times, of piling win after win to impress his coach and his dad and his team, but also bad times, of mouthing off to white bullies who he couldn’t help being compared to. It all comes to him in waves, depending on the memory he tries to evoke.

“No, this is mine,” Alex says, rubbing a thumb over an old stain at the hemline that never washed away despite his mom’s efforts. “I used to play lacrosse in high school. First ever sophomore captain in the county. State fastest sprinter for my age bracket. It was a fun time. And I am actually surprised this still fits. Ish.”

“Yeah, ish,” Nora chuckles. She sounds nervous, but Alex can’t pinpoint what it is in her demeanor that tells him so. “Still looks good though. And no midriff showing this time.”

“Yes. Always a bonus,” Alex agrees. Looking around, he sees the usual early group in the lounge, this time all of them on theme. Sports Day calls for a simple jersey or school colors, it wouldn’t be too hard to match.

Well, save for the one standing figure by the window. Fox, in his regular taupe sweater over blue shirt. A book in hand, though he keeps leafing through it without ever looking down at the words on the page. He’s been quiet this whole time, contemplative with the morning sun peaking through grey clouds to light up his face in riddles.

“Has the plan for the day been shared yet?”

“It should be up on the forum boards by now, yeah,” Alex replies as the sole rep of the Spirit Week monitors team in the room. He checked yesterday and found the proposed calendar in the corresponding page. He checks it on his phone again, reading it out for his fellow teachers. The ones paying attention, that is. “Short day class schedule, then after noon a game mix in the gym and the football field. Mandatory for students, open for local community, two monitors per group, list to be announced as planned by the student committee.”

“Bankston let the students choose the monitors for each class at the game mix?” Joe, Geography teacher, asks from where he’s sucking on his gum.

“Looks like she did.” 

“Sounds dangerous.”

Alex shrugs. He doesn’t know what it means. Or what it could mean. And if the week’s tendency of pairing him up with Fox remains the plan, he’s more than rehearsed his arguments to refute it all. He’ll be ready this time.

As he’s thinking this, Fox finally moves away from the window. Alex tries not to follow him, but the pretense to look at this phone instead isn’t too strong this time. He’s more interested in seeing if Fox can or cannot sense Alex’s eyes on him, if he’ll say something back. If he’ll react. Fuck knows Alex is dying for a reaction of any sort. Just to test the vibes between them. Still feisty or are they going full silent instead? That’s not typically Alex’s style, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do in this case either.

Instead Fox merely heads for the door without a single sound, his bag thrown over his arms, a handful of assignments on top. Ever so quiet as a mouse. Yet Alex doesn’t seem to be the only one who notices.

As soon as Fox reaches the door frame, Joe asks, “What, no bickering today? Is this finally a truce in the teachers’ lounge? Should we bring out celebratory drinks?”

“No, Joe, no celebratory anything. Fox is giving me the cold shoulder, punishing me with the silent treatment, the whole deal. Oh it hurts so much,” Alex jests with full scorn palpable in his tone. It kind of does hurt, from not understanding when and where and how things have changed without an explanation, but it seems to work.

Fox looks over his shoulder, red-weary gaze shooting right through Alex’s. No response whatsoever, not even a gesture. He only pretends to look down at his watch, leaf through the papers he’s carrying, before he abandons the room altogether.

Making sure Fox doesn’t have time to get out of hearing range, Alex adds, “And he’s off. Alright, who had twelve minutes before the bell?”

“Alex,” Pez calls from somewhere, on his way to the door too when Alex looks up to search him. “That was extremely spiteful of you. Insensitive and unnecessary. You know he heard you say that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex concurs with a mindless shrug. “I was hoping he would. Getting kinda tired of his running away, y’know? I’ve been trying to ask him something—something important—but he’s the one keeping the baby attitude. So I’ll baby him right back, what else am I supposed to do?”

“You could be the bigger guy and wait for him to come to you.”

“I've been waiting, Pez. And no—” Pez ends up leaving, too, with a mumbled apology and only one last look at Alex. “Screw the Brits and their leaving rooms without answers, man.”

Alex doesn’t have time for one anyway before his phone starts vibrating. Same as other colleagues’ phones in the room. He sees Nora picking up hers, too. Then looks at his own that’s still in his hand.

“It’s the schedule from the students committee,” Nora says. “Sanctioned by Bankston, it seems.”

“Let me guess…” Alex trails off as he opens his email notification. And as expected, his name right next to Fox’s. In the exact same slot. Two teachers monitoring the same group for the whole of the afternoon mix.

He doesn’t comment on it loudly. Just ruminates the thought in silence as the rest of the room discusses their own assignments. Alex thinks maybe this will work out, maybe this is his chance to somehow find a way to work with Fox despite everything that’s been going on. All the running and hiding, all the lost attempts Alex has insisted on to try and talk to him, only to be rejected in the end.

“Fuck.”

*

Nora: Group pictures are up on the board!

Nora: Lets check it out after third?

Alex sees Nora’s texts over half an hour after she’s sent them. The fifteen minute break between third and fourth period has just started, the students have filed out of class and he’s about to follow them when she appears right at his door.

“Wanna come?”

“Uhm, is it just you or are there any unfortunate surprise guests awaiting in the corner?”

“Just us. We always check out group pictures by ourselves, don’t we?”

Alex sighs. That’s true, they do, but things have been so uneven and different in recent times that he’s got no point to make here. “Alright, I guess we do. Wanna go now on our way to the lounge? I am in desperate need of more coffee.”

“Bad class?”

“Don’t even mention it,” he says, but Nora’s kind enough to know what he means by that. He doesn’t want her to mention it because he’s about to blurt out every single little thing that went wrong inside his classroom in the previous hour.

From handing out the wrong assignments to struggling with the white board like he hadn’t done since he’d been transferred here, and it’s been years. It was embarrassing, but the excuse of having been tired due to Spirit Week planning worked as a great defense. And it’s not untrue anyway. Just not the whole span of it, and he can’t be blamed for not sharing personal details with his students, now can he?

He’s listening to a funny anecdote from Nora’s class two periods before when they get to the announcements board in the main hall of the school. The Gratitude Wall from Wednesday remains, littered in post-it notes and colored pushpins, but now there’s a whole section of pictures from Spirit Week. Alex had never paid attention to it on his way past the board, but now he studies some of the best moments from the week he helped to plan. They didn’t turn out that bad.

There are several pictures from yesterday’s group photo, Barbies and Kens all over, and Nora keeps pointing out different details, different faces, something about Pez making her snort and laugh in a few of the takes that have been pinned to the wall. Yet Alex’s eyes are glued to a single detail.

Him and Fox are staring at each other in every single take. And there’s about ten of them that he can count.

It brings his eyes to the other side of the board, to the Gratitude Wall, looking for the area where he had pinned his own message. The one he took down, too. The only proof that it was ever there being the blue scrap of ripped off paper and the red pin barely holding it together. To: Mr. Fox, it still reads. It taunts him.

Alex looks away at the thought.

“Hey, Nora,” he calls, waiting for her to acknowledge him. “Let’s just grab our stuff and go sit outside on the patio. I need some fresh air.”

“Everything okay, honey?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Or it will be fine as soon as I get some coffee into me. Things have been—uh, my whole head is about to explode. I need to sit down, drink my miracle drink, and chill.”

She doesn’t disagree.

*

“I’m sorry, there’s a what?”

“They call it the hashtag #mrfoxcd project, it’s so funny.”

“That is not funny at all, Nora, that’s outrageous,” Alex complains, peeking over her shoulder where she’s sitting next to him on the bench, hunched over her laptop.

It’s the only free period they’ve got in common every week, fourth period on Fridays. Usually Alex can be found grading his students’ work and Nora on her laptop. The only difference being the location, depending on the weather. When gloomy, they stick to the teachers’ lounge and the concrete view from the tall windows, but on days like today, with the sun peeking through less thick clouds, they come to the covered patio behind the main building. Sitting side by side on one of the picnic tables available for the school community.

In front of Alex, a pile of essays from his junior classes he’s been grading since last night, but he disregards them now at what Nora just told him. As far as he knows, she’s been working on one of her regular tasks, checking the school’s forum boards for all sorts of problems or infringing content.

The forums are for everyone, from the administration, the faculty to the student body, mostly for school related issues, but there is one general board for all sorts of miscellaneous discussions.

“So, here’s what’s been going on,” Nora starts to tell him. “I was just doing my weekly job, you know, checking the boards, reporting concerns, so on and so on, but recently Principal Bankston must have noticed something because she asked me to also start looking for gossip about the faculty.”

“What?!”

“I’ve never found anything too bad,” she adds, dismissing the matter with a quick gesture of a hand. “It’s— you know, there’s always the who’s married, who’s single, who should be married, who should be single because they’re so annoying, and all that. Mostly harmless from what I could gather so far.”

“And you report this to Bankston?”

“No, not really. Instructions explicitly said to only report infringing behavior, nothing like mindless gossip amongst students. And so far nothing has seemed problematic enough to report, but this, oh my, a whole thread about you and Fox.”

“I’m feeling sick,” Alex claims. “Stop talking about me and him in the same sentence like that.”

“Someone’s been wondering if the two of you might actually be together but pretending to hate each other at school. Then someone else is saying that if not, you should be because all you do is talk about each other behind the other’s back, and that is so funny because it’s true. It’s astounding how they’ve noticed and they spend way less time with you than I do. This is amazing.” Nora chuckles.

Alex sends her what is supposed to be a threatening look, but they know each other too well by now. They’ve always been close, since her family moved to his hometown in Austin, Texas, and they started hanging out in similar circles during high school. From friend of a friend to girlfriend to ex to best friend in less than a year, it had been a wild ride for the both of them, but it had been worth it. Alex knows Nora’s got his back despite the teasing and bantering that comes natural to them.

“Wait, should I be worried about this?” Alex starts to panic, before realizing what he should be panicking over instead. “Hang on. So you did just find this?”

“Yes, honey, I literally just found it, I swear, you can relax,” Nora says quickly, a gentle hand on his forearm to calm his rising breath. It grounds him like she’s always known she can do. “I might have to report this given how long it’s been going on, but look how cute. There’s a whole—” She starts swiping on her touch screen and reading what she finds, the image scrolling down too fast for Alex’s eyes to find any particulars, but trusting her to at least catch the gist of it.

“There’s a whole plan to, oh my good, look at this.” She points at some message on the board. “The oldest message is over six weeks old, and about two weeks ago someone said they had a whole plan to get you two together by the end of Spirit Week.”

Words warped by a fog because Alex can barely focus on them now. The sunlight is too bright and his brain is too scrambled over the idea of anybody thinking of him in those terms—him and Fox, god, just his luck, why couldn’t it have been his friend Joe in Geography, ruggedly pretty for a former jock, or pixie-bob-cute Physics teacher Ms. Klundt, who he always had an infatuation for.

“Uh… that’s ridiculous.” Alex shakes himself into the moment with a shake of his head, but then he does the math. That explains so much of what has happened all week. The students giggling when he would come close, exchanging looks during any activity where they had Alex and Fox paired together for no apparent reason. It had all been about this damn project, this plan to— Ugh, it’s disgusting.

“And well, it’s Friday,” he adds anyway, trying to swerve around the issue to put an end to this at once. “Week’s over. And we’ve never been further apart. The plan’s busted. And I’m reporting this to Bankston by the way.”

“Alex.”

“Like it shouldn’t be reported? A whole plan to play match-up with two teachers? Kids, please, mind your own business. Be teens. Enjoy life, be mischievous. Leave the grown-ups alone in their misery.”

“I don’t think I’m going to report it, but—” Alex opens his mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let him finish. “But I am going to take it down. You should talk to your students about it, I’ll give you a list of the users. And you should definitely talk to Fox too, he should be informed of this post as well.”

“Why can’t you talk to him? Or ask Pez to do it.”

“I don’t think you’d want either of us telling him,” Nora says with three quarters of a smirk. “We’d just encourage this whole plan.”

“What?! What do you mean, encourage it? There’s absolutely nothing to encourage in this.”

“It all makes perfect damn sense, Alex. You both just don’t want to see it.”

“See what? My god, y’all are nuts,” he nearly spits. “Did you not hear me saying that things are worse than ever between us? Should I spell it out for you in binary code?”

Nora seems to pause at Alex’s intervention. “Why are they worse than ever? Did something happen?”

“Uh, the note?” Alex sighs.

“What note?”

He blinks at her first before diving through his brain and his memories in search of the moment he must have told her about the note he wrote to Fox on Wednesday. He’s sure that he told her about it. Except there’s no memory whatsoever. Because he didn’t.

“Did I not tell you? I pinned a note for him on the Gratitude Wall after his speech on Wednesday. You know, it was such a vulnerable moment and he looked so overwhelmed, plus the whole speech was…” Alex sighs now. “I don’t know. At the end, there was something different about him. The proverbial seeing it in a different light and all those cliches. Guess they’re real. I even followed him after he ran off stage, knowing exactly where he would hide—”

“His classroom?”

“His classroom,” Alex concurs with a shrug of his right shoulder. In the gentlest tone he can muster, he says, “Since he seemed genuinely bothered at the time, I wrote what I had to say instead of saying it to his face. He wouldn’t have heard it from me anyway, so I said it to the Wall.”

“And what happened to it? Do you know if he read it?”

“No, I have no idea. I took it down anyway.”

“Why would you take it down?” Nora asks, clearly dumbfounded about Alex’s actions. He’s not sure he understands them himself, but he was confused and hazy on the mind from being ignored and pushed away at every corner. “Did you see any message for you?”

“Why does that even matter?” he asks with a hand rubbing at his eyes in frustration. Either something here doesn’t make any sense, or he’s losing his grasp on the conversation altogether. Maybe even both. Nora’s next gesture tells him she wants him to answer the question, so he adds, “Uhm, a couple of them from my students, why do you ask?”

“Come on.”

Seeing Nora shut her laptop closed and gathering up the rest of their things in her arms is the weirdest reaction to what he just said. “Where the hell are you going? You’re making me dizzy with this whole thing, and it should be so easy. I should just forget about it. Spirit Week’s over anyway, today I finally get to go to the gym, and the weekend is right around the corner, so let’s just forget—”

“No way, we’re not forgetting anything. I need to—”

“What!?”

Nora drags him all the way inside and through the school hallways without a single answer. Alex isn’t even sure why he’s following her, but she did grab a hold of the essays he was grading, so he has no other choice. They stop only in front of the Gratitude Wall, brimming with thankful words scribbled on colorful pieces of paper. A lonely red pin on the exact spot where Alex had once left the message he wrote to Fox.

It’s empty now. Not even the scrap of blue paper Alex left behind yesterday remains on the board. Most likely someone cleaning up the board and the school or just his whole life.

“What are we doing here? Can’t you just let this go?” Alex asks.

“No. I honestly can’t. This is so odd,” Nora says, cryptic as ever. “Because Pez told me that Fox was going to leave a message for you.”

“I dunno, that doesn’t seem like something he’d do at all,” Alex dismisses her thought disregarding the level of certainty she’s showing off. It’s unlikely that he would think otherwise in any circumstance. They’ve done nothing but pull the other apart. Unless— “Wait. Do you think he didn’t put it up because he saw my message and didn’t like it? Mine was here the whole day yesterday.”

Nora blinks at him from the side. “Why wouldn’t he like it? Did you say something mean or sarcastic? I know you can’t help it, it’s right there in your blood and it’s usually fun and welcome, but please tell me you didn’t do that.”

“No, of course not!” Alex defends himself, stepping to the side to really look his friend in the eye. “It was a genuine message with kind, what I think were supportive words after his speech, but I dunno. Fuck knows he’s all weird about me, so it’s not impossible that he saw it and freaked out or whatever.”

“He’s not weird.”

“He’s totally weird,” Alex disagrees with a grimace, mouth contorted to the side. “I honestly have no freaking idea what else to think. Everything’s been strange this week, I don’t know what it is. Well, I mean, now I know, everything’s out of balance because of that ridiculous plan from the students or whatever.”

“Have you asked him?”

“I tried, but the last time I saw him, it was right before class so he bailed on me again. With reason, but y’know. Didn’t say he’d talk to me later or anything, just left,” he drawls in with a stronger exhale, eyes wide and dry on the red pin. “He always has class or grading to do or a cup of British tea to drink. Or always has to run. You know what he’s like by now, don’t you? You’d think he’s training for a marathon that might just exist in his head.”

“Okay, but something here doesn’t add up…” Nora trails off, not saying anything else before she takes off in the direction of the teachers’ lounge.

“Wait up, do you know anything?” Alex rushes to ask, in an elongated stride to catch up with her in as few steps and as fast as possible. “Nora! What the hell?! You and Pez, and the students, you’ve been up to something, haven’t you? Is that why you don’t want to report the forum thread?”

“No, that’s not it. I just. I dunno. Something isn’t right and we need to get you to talk to Henry like, now.”

“Yeah, good luck with that alright,” he chuckles dryly.

*

“Hey, Levy, how’s things going ‘round here?” Alex asks from where he’s perched on the makeshift counter of the School Spirit Store the seniors set up in a corner of the patio, just outside the cafeteria. He wants to contribute to the donation drive, so he stuffs what he finds in his wallet into the hands of Levy, someone he knows well from his class just last year. When asked what items he wants to buy, Alex says, “Keep them, resell them to someone else who may need it more than me. See you later at the mix?”

Despite hanging around talking to the kids he knows for a few precious minutes, Alex still doesn’t see Fox. The asshole has simply vanished into thin air. Alex hasn’t been able to find him anywhere, though he stopped looking about two seconds after Nora abandoned him in the lounge before the end of their free period, his thoughts running on empty.

It’s a scary place in his head when he’s on his own, so instead Alex focuses on what really matters at his place of work. His classes. His students. On new assignments he can suggest to help them learn, to hopefully pass to them his own aptitude for wanting more and better at all times.

He carries that thought with him until the very end of his lunch break, resorting to walking by himself to his usual coffee shop by the school, surprising both baristas that he finds serving behind the counter.

“Extra large, triple shot, no cinnamon? Are you sick?”

“Nah, skipped lunch. Can’t go too hard on the sweets,” he explains to the one forty-something lady who always serves him coffee with the warmest smile this side of the Hudson.

“That doesn’t make sense, but you’re the boss. Here you go, Alex. Maybe don’t go too hard on yourself today, honey.”

“Thanks, Deirdre. It’s, uh—” Alex thinks back to how he’s one of the assigned monitors at the game mix, in a little less than a half hour, and how his name in the schedule was sitting next to none other than—

He gulps in dry. There’s always hope that this afternoon might be the chance he gets to work with Fox and perhaps work it out with him for good, too. Still, it’s going to be one hell of a herculean task to muster the energy and the mental stability to last a whole hour without driving Fox away with his toomuchness.

So he tells Deirdre, his favorite barista, “Yeah, it’s not going to be that easy, but I’m counting on survival. Hoping the odds are in my favor this time. See you tomorrow, have a great one.”

Acrid warmth settles down his throat and in his stomach as he sips, but doesn’t settle anything else. The drop in his mood was too sudden for it to sink in that easily. It follows him through the rest of his break and straight into his shift at the afternoon’s game mix.

The faculty have been taking turns to monitor and support the students and their guests during today’s open school hours, out in the sunny football field, where a considerate crowd is clearly enjoying the different stalls with a bunch of old traditional family games. Grins and a loud, engaging murmur all around.

And that’s where he finally finds— Wait. Fox seems to be with a class already instead of just arriving to the field, but Alex could swear—

He throws the empty cup into the closest trashcan and pulls his phone out of his pocket in a single motion. He didn’t see it wrong. Just this morning, when every member of the faculty received a notification about the day’s activities, Alex remembers seeing their names on the same slot, even remembers thinking it too much of a coincidence again—though now he knows it was anything but.

Double checking it again, in his email and in the school’s forum boards to make sure he didn’t miss any updates, there’s his confirmation. Clear as day. Both his and Fox’s names, one right under the other. An unfortunate alphabetical order. So they were supposed to be on the same shift.

First things first, he reports for duty to Ms. Gray-Meyers, who stayed in charge during his break. Nora is just approaching her as well, saying, “Hey, Alex. Thilda, I went to check on that problem you mentioned, so no need for you to fuss over the bocce ball stall. It’s all taken care of. We can just proceed as you’d said before, now that Alex’s here too. George and Tina and, uh, I think Stella? Are coming this way as well. So it all seems to be in order.”

“Thank you so much, Nora, I owe you my sanity,” Thilda says with a relieved smile. “Alex, I’ve put you with one of your junior classes and you’re starting on 9-square, yeah?”

“Sure, you got it,” Alex agrees. Monitoring the games for an hour shouldn’t be harder than teaching a class anyway. It might even help keep his mind in check since it’s been too much of a mess lately. “Hey Nora,” he asks when Thilda turns to direct the rest of the team to their assigned spots. “He asked you to switch, didn’t he?”

“He did. But really only at the last minute,” she says, immediately knowing who he was talking about. “I was already here with Pez so it didn’t make a difference, but now I’m staying to fill in for him as well.”

“That’s so—” Alex exhales through his mouth. “Anyway, when did you even eat lunch? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Nora’s pause and the shifty looks she gives to her right, toward someone that ends up being a laughing Pez, tells Alex enough. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I do,” he agrees.

Alex would have liked to think all of it wouldn’t bother him the whole afternoon, but still his eyes always seek the one thing he seems to find in his peripheral vision. Fox has remained near the field, no longer monitoring any class, but still hanging around. In a—borrowed, Alex presumes—school football jersey and a candid laugh that make him look so much like a young, blonde floppy haired jock.

He seems to be accompanying a freshman who Alex knows he’s been monitoring from up close more than usual, someone who was recently outed in the online forum boards. The issue was reported by Nora and the post promptly removed before the news spread beyond his class, though an experience like this is hardly ever controlled in an environment like a school.

As impactful as it was, Alex himself has kept up with the student since the report, but never quite to the same level of proximity and connection Fox seems to be having right now. There’s even a younger child engaged in lively conversation with him, a sibling that stuck around even after the end of open school hours, Alex assumes, who he hears keep calling him ‘Mr. Henry’. 

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Except it is because such a sight shouldn’t be so—

“Hey, uh, Mr. CD?” a voice says to his right. Alex turns to find Rita standing beside him. He doesn’t remember feeling her approach him. After he acknowledges her, she says, “You’re going to have to excuse me for being so brash, but you’re kind of staring and you’re also kind of drooling.”

“No, I’m not,” he retaliates immediately, wiping his mouth with his sleeve nevertheless, just beneath an old lacrosse jersey he’s been wearing all day. “Brashness not excused, by the way.”

“That’s what it looked like, is all.” She chuckles at his response. “Besides, it’s pretty clear that you—”

“Rita,” he scolds her for what he’s sure this was going to turn into. He’d been expecting it already. Her little eyes gleaming up at him remind him to moderate his tone. “I think I know where you’re going with this, so here’s something you should know too. We found the forum thread. And your ‘project’ or whatever y’all called it.”

“Oh. You did?”

“Yes. Ms. Holleran found it during her daily check of the forums earlier today,” he replies. “Fortunately, I was standing right beside her, otherwise who knows when I would’ve found out. Maybe never?”

“Are you going to report us, Mr. CD?”

“Nora—sorry, Ms. Holleran said we shouldn’t, but honestly I am considering it,” he says with as much of a schooled expression as he can. “As you can imagine, I didn’t appreciate it that much, finding y’all have been conspiring about any part of my personal life like that. Not to mention someone else’s private life, someone who may not even know yet that—” he trails off slightly with his eyes finding Fox in the distance, grinning wide and oblivious. “—that post is out there discussing his business in such a way. Two of your teachers nonetheless.”

“You’re right, I know. It was inappropriate, and I’m—I’m sorry, but we all think you two—”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Rita. Y’all can think whatever you want, of course,” he course-corrects before he grinds too hard on one of his favorite students in his whole career and ends up hurting her feelings. “But that’s not the same as being online, in a public forum of all places, maybe even out there in the middle of the school for everyone to hear, engendering some plan and discussing things that don’t concern you. So please.” He pauses again, seeking her eyes for a moment. Finding them regretful and maybe even scared, which is fitting for the moment, but not what Alex wants at all. “Just promise me you’ll put an end to this immediately, and that it doesn’t go back to the forums after Ms. Holleran removes the current thread.”

“We won’t.” Rita shakes her head vehemently. “I—we won’t.”

“I know I’m probably scolding you too hard on this, but this isn’t at all what I expected from anyone in your class.” Alex immediately thinks of another point of worry in this whole conversation, adding, “Do you know who else may be involved? Actually, let me ask you this. Is the whole Spirit Week committee in on this? Because y’all have been awfully giggly lately.”

“Kind of?”

“Rita…”

“I’m sorry,” she immediately says, hands flailing about in big gestures, “but we just— I don’t know, there’s no excuse obviously, we just thought. I mean, none of us understands how anyone could ever dislike you or—or Mr. Fox, and we thought it’d just take a little push. Guess we were wrong. I, uh, hope we haven’t made anything worse.”

Alex thinks carefully how he wants to answer that. His instinctive response would be that he doesn’t think that her, his students or anyone could possibly make it worse than himself and Fox have already made it. But he also doesn’t want to imply that it’s something that concerns her in any way.

“Let me worry about that, okay?” he says instead. “But this ‘project’ ends now.”

“Sure, yes. You have my word.”

“And don’t do it again,” Alex waits for her to nod her head in acknowledgement. “To us or to anyone, even your own friends, alright? This is not okay, matching people up without their saying so. And I know you know it.”

“Okay, yes, of course. Yeah. You’re right, Mr. CD.” With a tentative smile, her shoulders relax at last. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way, too.”

“Thank you. Now off you go,” he tells her, motioning with his head toward the field around them bustling with activity. “We’re both behind on our duties at this thing. I’ll see you later, Rita.”

Alex watches her walk away, but he stays put against his own advice. Eyes on Fox’s, who meet his right after. Full of shock or fright or unease, or perhaps just nothing at all, Alex can’t be sure anymore. Still he wonders if Fox has already been informed of that thread, if Nora already talked to him or if she figured it wasn’t her business—even though she is responsible for checking the forums, and therefore for reporting content and even informing the involved parties.

Yet it’s something else that punches Alex in the gut. It’s the familiarity of how Fox looks. Blonde locks scattered over his forehead, unruly from the spring winds, wide, happy grin lightening up his face as he talks and plays with the little girl—Mariluz, he calls her, the vowels melodic and gentle in his deep, throaty natural accent. And the jersey, of course, on par with the day’s chosen dress code. The school’s reds and black lines fitting him like a glove, heightening the daylight that colors up his hair and his sun-kissed cheeks.

The glow shifts and nearly blinds Alex, who has to cough into his fist to hide the fact that he’s been caught. Again. Another staring contest with Fox himself.

The eye contact proves to be unbearable for his current state of mind, so Alex forces himself to look away as he leaves too. The dread of too much, too confused wrapped tight around every human-like mechanism of his breathing.

**

Saturday.

Game Day

Batter up, let’s play ball! It’s the last game of softball season for our school’s heroes, and they’re counting on your support and your highest spirits to celebrate the end of Spring Spirit Week. Be sure to also check out the food, drinks and trinkets stalls at your disposal. Open to the whole community! Bring thy neighbors and thy friends!

*

“Give it up already, I’m not going to the game,” Alex claims as he steps into their shared living room, running shoes in hand. He points at the phone in Nora’s hand. “And now you reeled my sister into this? Hi, Junebug. Don’t bother, I told y’all I ain’t going. And when are you coming to visit? I’m sick and tired of this weirdo mooching off of my food in my kitchen.”

“That’s mean, take it back,” Nora says, “and technically I moved in here first, so you cook in my kitchen. Mine.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that. I’m hopping into the shower.”

“Good ‘cause you smell like you’ve been running for days in a row.”

“Watch it, or I’ll go roll over your bedsheets.”

“Twenty minutes before we have to leave, Alex.”

“I ain’t going!”

He did indeed have to come. Alex had promised his students that he’d be here watching them play, so he’s doing this for them. Not for Nora and her tedious nagging, not for his sister and her combination of Claremont arm-twisting and Diaz charm. It’s for his students. Who are actually doing pretty great at the last game of the season, claiming third place in the softball championship, the highest ever for their school.

After congratulating the team, and the four students from his classes in particular, Alex breathes in the floral spring air and enjoys the moment’s peace he’s been granted for now. It soon ends, as he expected now that the game’s over and people will start gathering for the party that sets the end of Spirit Week, when Nora joins him and brings Pez along, his arms wide open around both of their shoulders.

“Hey, Alex-brew, guess who we are about to meet, darlin’,” he says, as enthusiastic as ever. The energy simply doesn’t stop flowing in him and in everyone else who’s lucky enough to walk in his friendly shadow.

“Who? Who are we about to meet, Mr. Pez?”

“Principal Bankston’s husband! And here they—”

“Someone actually married her by choice?” Alex dares to ask, chest inflated with a laugh, only to choke on it when he notices Nora’s wide eyes, Pez’s snorted laugh, and two other approaching figures. “Oh shit, are you standing right behind me, Ms. B?”

“Where else would I be if not haunting your ever-annoying presence,” Bankston deadpans, voice sharp and serious as ever.

“Ay, didn’t see y’all there,” he adds with an honest smile, turning on his heels to face her and her guest. “And you know I didn’t mean it in a bad way, you are a delight on any rainy day, Ms. B.”

“It’s Bankston.”

“Of course.” Alex smiles mischievously.

She sighs in response. “I’ve aged about twelve years just from these three lines of conversation.”

“So sorry, Ms. B.”

“You were right,” a tall Indian man says to the right of Bankston. Roguishly handsome, Alex can admit just so, with a neatly trimmed beard, wearing a navy blue blazer with a shiny AHH pin on his lapel, holding the softball team flag in one hand. Alex has never seen him at any school events, so he assumes it’s the husband. “He doesn’t look it.”

“He never does,” she concurs.

Alex lets a smile grow larger on his face. “Happy to know my word-of-mouth reputation matches reality. Hello, sir. I’m Alex. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Shaan Srivastava, the husband,” the man says quite coolly, inscrutable smile on thin lips. “Who did marry her. Willingly, might I add. It’s lovely to meet you as well.” When they shake hands, much colder and much larger than Alex’s, Bankston and her husband exchange a quiet look, a hint of a smile on both of their faces. Even on hers, which is something so rare, Alex wonders if he may be blinded by the sun.

“Oh my god, if it isn’t Mr. Principal,” another voice comes up from behind them. Alex doesn’t have to look to recognize it. He can tell from the tiny dots of prickling that start crawling down his neck and up the back of his legs.

When he does look, he finds Fox and Bankston’s husband engaged in a pretty friendly hug. Looking quite familiar with each other as they trade greeting pleasantries. “So good to see you again, mate. What a surprise indeed. So Principal Bankston and ‘Z-My-Wife’ are the same person then?” Fox is saying. “We do inhabit a small world, innit?”

“Pardon me for bursting your bubble, but not exactly, no.”

“You came very well recommended, Mr. Fox,” Bankston adds to the conversation.

“Ooh, I see how it is,” Alex meddles because he just has to, the pull is too strong by now. “Someone pulled some strings for you, huh, Mr. Foxy?”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t all that, Alex, you can put away your pitchfork,” Fox retorts with a squinted, sideways look toward him.

“It really wasn’t,” Bankston confirms.

“So this is the American who’s been giving you trouble, Mr. H?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Fox says with half of a laugh. The other half is buried within a low-tier grunt. “If you could, do remove him from my sight, would you please arrest him and drag him in shameful chains.”

“C’mon, Fox,” Alex retaliates in the same tone, “don’t threaten me with a kinky time if you can’t keep up to your word.”

“Ah, a classic response.”

“I see what you meant on the phone,” Shaan says. So Alex has been in the midst of conversations between two people he works with and this stranger. That’s… nice to know. In a way. Weird, but hopefully innocuous.

“Yours truly ACD, the talk of the town. Why am I not surprised?” Alex tugs on the sleeves of his dark bomber jacket. “My charm truly knows no bounds, I can’t help it if the crowds love me at the end of the day. Damn, what’s that line y’all? Oh—I am inevitable.”

“Quite so,” Pez puts in, bringing some new blood into the moment. Alex grins at him for the refreshness and his newfound way out as Pez grabs him by the arm to pull him into the empty space between him and Nora. In the background, Alex notices Bankston pulling up her phone as Fox and her husband resume chatting. Alex’s never seen him this animated.

“Seriously, Pez,” he says to his left, “is there like a gentleman’s club in town for British expats or something like that? You don’t have to tell me details, just nod if there is one, and how I can learn to avoid it.”

“Yes, of course there’s a gentleman’s club,” Pez agrees, though his tone suggests pure mockery. Still Alex wants in on the fun, just to keep the mood light and the day a total breeze, so he wraps his own arm around Pez who adds, “It’s called the British Consulate General. Spread throughout the country, in most countries, I’m afraid.”

“Makes sense. Colonizers since birth and all.”

Pez laughs his full-blown boastful laugh. “See, you totally get us.”

“I really, really don’t think I do,” Alex joins him, “but I’m going to let it pass since you’re a fun person to be around and I’d miss you.”

“I’ll take that compliment, Alex-cakes.”

“You sure you don’t want to hang out with your best mate and his new old buddy today?”

“Nah, not at all,” Pez says, looking over his shoulder. Alex follows his gaze, glancing behind them to find the two still engaged in conversation, Fox standing there at a range so close that Alex doesn’t remember seeing him have with anyone at the school. “Old friends like that, let them get reacquainted. It’s been a few from what Henry told me.”

“How do they know each other? Do you know?” Nora asks, finally letting go of whatever she’s been typing into her phone since she joined them earlier.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Shaan was a substitute lecturer while Henry and I were studying at Oxford,” Pez clarifies, continuing to walk them away from the other two. “Philosophy of mathematics, if that makes any sense—it doesn’t to me, but Henry was stupidly into it. He was going through a curious phase at the time.” Pez chuckles. “You should probably hear the whole story from him, not from me, but it was, erm… it was a fun term, yeah.”

“And they stayed friends, huh? How long’s it been?”

“Well over a decade now. And, yes, they stayed friends,” Pez replies to Nora’s question, trailing off only slightly, a tilt of his head suggesting he wants to add more, but might not say anything else due to his status as the protective best friend. “The same way you and Alex stayed friends, I suppose,” he says in the end, blurting out to add, “Don’t tell Henry I said that, he’s going to loathe me for the comparison.”

Pez is grinning nonetheless, so Alex figures it isn’t that big of a deal. He does exchange a look with Nora, thinking of the course of his friendship with her to try and place what exactly Pez might have meant with that comment. The story always goes the same way when he tells it, from friend of a friend to girlfriend to ex to best friend in less— oh.

“Oh.”

Nora reacts in the same way, but drags the sound a lot longer than necessary. “Ohhhh, so they hooked up?”

“Yeaaah, you know,” Pez adds with a shrug. “It sort of makes sense, doesn’t it? Knowing what we know now and all.”

“It totally does.”

“What makes sense?”

Alex suddenly went from understanding that Fox and Shaan—the husband nobody knew Principal Bankston even had—had a past as more than acquaintances at the university, to being unable to process whatever this joke was between Nora and Pez. He squints at them, allowing himself to be completely lost, willing to let it go for once like he’d been advised before. It’s like they share one single hive mind right now, and Alex isn’t going to question them on it. Out of fear of what they may reveal, but mostly out of fear for what they may not reveal at all.

“It’s only natural that Henry has a type,” Nora says to fill in the silence. “And don’t worry, Pez. It’s not like Alex is going to talk to Henry about it, so your secret’s safe with me.”

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to be insulting to me? The joke’s on you then ‘cause I’ve been trying to talk to him for days and he’s still the one avoiding me.” Alex scoffs.

Pez laughs, glancing to the side to where Nora is wiping a finger over her lips to—yep, that’s a growing smile that she’s hiding.

He says, “I’m totally in favor of Henry having a type. Especially when it’s more than just the looks, you know? When it’s more the intelligence, emotional intelligence included, the honey eyes, the smart talk that keeps him engaged, the pretty, delineated mouth that spews it out, and maybe sporty enough that Henry can be convinced to exercise as well. What do you think, Alex?”

It’s the fact that Pez is talking with his eyes very focused on Alex that gives him away. Probably was his intention the whole time, pointing out attributes Pez knew Alex would recognize in himself.

“I’m going to keep pretending you’re not trying to lure me into this conversation by implying that somehow I’m Henry’s type, what the fuck? The guy hates my fuckin’ guts.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Nora rushes to put in, “but it is kinda true, isn’t it, Pez?”

“Shut up y’all.”

“Hey, guess what I brought to lighten up the party and make that frown on your pretty face disappear for good?” Pez perks up altogether.

“What? Please tell me you pulled a students on prom thing and smuggled alcohol into this dread of a block party.”

“You know me too well, babydoll.” Pez grins as he scuffles through what seems to be a pink camo cooler messenger bag. “Here, have a drink on me to forget all about the mean white Brit who despises you and ignores you.”

“Uh, this says orange juice. I thought you were smuggling adult drinks into this.” Alex chuckles, studying the small bottle he’s now holding.

“I know what it says,” Pez dismisses his comment altogether, unscrewing the lid himself. “But it’s what’s on the inside that matters. Didn’t your parents teach you all of that?”

*

Another lesson he got from his parents was that, however inexcusable and too late on occasion, an overdue apology should still be shared, and that’s the perpetual thought in his mind over an hour later. The crowd has started to disperse after the party, after the success of the food and drinks and trinkets stalls, after a final announcement of the total tally of donations that would soon make their way into the local nonprofits the students had selected at the beginning of Spring Spirit Week.

And although the week was officially over by now, and only the structure of the stalls remained intact around the playing field, Alex is nervous but pleased and thankful but erratic when his eyes land on Fox. He’s leaning against the corner of a closed stall, wrapping up a phone call with words Alex can’t hear but unhappy gestures he can see.

He approaches carefully, noisy steps so Fox can tell that he’s coming. He inhales as soon as their eyes meet, phone shoved into the deep of his pocket, spine straightening up and stiff so fast Alex can sense the snap of it in his own neck.

“Alex…”

“Hey. Can we please talk?”

“About what?” Fox says, animosity clear in the seethe of air between his teeth. “Pretty much everybody has already left, what are you still doing here?”

“I was hoping you’d let me apologize for what I said earlier,” Alex replies. Arms a rigid line down the sides of his body, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm into his hips either in search of a pocket or anything else. “It wasn’t right of me to even imply that anyone had interceded for you to be hired into the school. Being old friends with a person you clearly didn’t even know was married to your superior shouldn’t mean—”

“Pez told you.” Fox exhales. “Didn’t he?”

“Only the basics,” Alex clarifies instantly, not wanting to give the impression that Fox’s friend had talked too much about his best friend behind his back. “That you met at Oxford and all that, but he also said that I should hear the whole story from you, so.”

“Right. Why would I share anything about my personal life with someone who hates me like I’ve disgraced their entire family.”

“I’m not saying you should tell me, just that Pez didn’t, and—” With a rapid blink in his eye, Alex stops and adds, “I don’t think I hate you, not really.”

“Oh. All right then.”

“I don’t, and if I ever did it’s ‘cause you hated me first, man.”

“Are you trying to turn this into a competition of sorts? Or just trying to rattle me off as always?” Fox says with his eyes down on the ground, hands shoved into pockets and shoulders curved inward like he’s trying to hide his whole existence inside them as well. “It’s Saturday, Alex, you should take the day off from pestering me. So please just go away, I’m not in the mood. Bloody Pez and his spiked—”

“Ah. Drank from the magic pouch, did ya?”

Fox sighs. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Probably one of the few places in the world where OJ is actually distilled, isn’t it?”

Fox chuckles into his hand as he wipes a few fingertips over his bottom lip, then his chin. Both eyes on Alex now, though just for a moment.

“You see, now this—” Alex inadvertently takes a step forward as he starts speaking, but he stops and checks himself when he realizes what happens next. Fox looks up suddenly, a deer in headlights cliché, with that pained look on his face and the shoulders rigid and straightened all the way up, the fleeting image of someone just about to run off again. So Alex has to act fast before Fox is gone. Thankfully he has yet to meet someone who talks as much and as fast as him. “I guess we are able to keep a normal conversation. It’s been, what, a minute and still no insults in sight so far. I’d call that progress.”

“Yeah. So far,” Fox parrots him. “Do you plan to start spewing them soon?”

“Not really. I do have something I need to tell you though.”

“What’s that?”

With a short breath before he starts, Alex studies the stiff curve of Fox’s frame, wonders what it would take to watch it go lax at last. “Nora and I yesterday, we, uhm,” he finally says, all ten fingers of his hands entangled messily. “She was checking the school’s forum boards the way she usually does, as you must know, and she found this old post about—well, us? In not such school-friendly terms, and—”

“I know.”

Alex blinks at the hardened face in front of him. “You know? What do you mean—”

“It means just that, Alex, I already knew,” Fox says.

“How—”

“Pez caught the students talking about it yesterday at the mix, told me about it this morning,” he adds, calm and collected, in a way Alex has never seen him from this close. “And honestly I thought it was sort of sweet—”

“What? Sweet?” Alex breathes out through a hard scoff. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Maybe Fox is used to being matched up to fellow teachers from unconcerned third parties who are children, or maybe he honestly doesn’t mind that people talk of him in such a way behind his back, but this placidness around the issue is unsettling. “Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know what it’s like in England, if it’s common practice to let your students play matchmaker for just about anyone, but it’s not sweet. Someone’s—some kids discussing your personal matters all over the school and you find it sweet? That’s not—"

“Why does everything have to be a crisis with you?” Fox cuts him off, wide-eyed, the ends of his hair sticking out to set a similar tone. “It’s sweet because it’s kids thinking romance rules the world. It’s sweet because it’s us. We’re constantly at each other’s throats, yet someone out there saw something different in us. They saw something good.”

“Oh my god, Fox, I can’t believe you just said something like that. It’s insane.”

“Don’t you remember what it was like?” Fox asks, voice a lot more moderate and quiet now. “That naive view of everything around you? When it was good, and easy, and anything seemed… possible?”

“What seems possible?”

“Christ, Alex, you truly are the most—” Fox starts but instead he leans in to grab Alex by the face and kiss him. Just like that, out of nowhere, both mid speech, between his two cold hands, doing the unthinkable. Lips pressed into Alex’s like it’s natural to them. Like it’s sweet.

Which… it kind of is, Alex allows his swimming brain to come ashore to that realization. Sweet, smooth, soft. Plump limps that taste like orange and vodka and man. Somehow mathematically perfectly lodged into place in between Alex’s, historically unprecedented. But surprisingly good. Relieving even.

Around them only the sounds of an empty field.

Alex leans into it, into the hot unknown in the corner of Fox’s mouth, where it slides open under his. Into the wet poking of an exploring tongue that has Alex sighing into it with ease. There’s a hand that crawls up his neck and into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, tangled in them with a slide and a tug at the root that draws an unexpected sound out of him. Wanton and surprised, making Alex press further into the kiss, head tilting to puzzle in closer, mouth collecting Fox’s full lips, as his own palm draws from the empty air to the angle of Fox’s elbow and up his bicep.

Fox pulls away at the touch. It could have been a lifetime, but may have been less than two seconds. Alex’s brain freezes and record-scratches as they both stagger backwards on their feet. In opposite directions, the way they’ve always done. Not enough to miss the twinkle of shock in Fox’s eye, not enough to avoid the first instinct response that comes to the front of the mind.

“Hey, what the hell are we doin’?” Alex asks in a low rasp, just as suddenly as the kiss. And he sees it again, shock, fright, unease, all in a second’s flash. All in Fox’s eyes and facial expression.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he stutters and before Alex blinks, he’s wide-eyed and spinning on his heels to cross in fast, unsteady steps to the other side of the field.

Alex tries to call his name, ask what just happened before Fox is too far to hear him, but nothing comes out. Tongue-tied isn’t typical for him, but perhaps Fox’s awkward silences are contagious. Even after he’s run off after them.

“Well, that didn’t go so great,” Alex sighs again, wiping the remnant taste of orange and Fox from his mouth. But before any thought process occurs, he sees shadows in his peripheral vision. Thinking it might be Fox coming back, he glances to the side in a Pavlovian turn. But finds only three students whispering in the distance, three pairs of eyes on a phone, three figures that evade the field just like Fox did.

And he’s nowhere to be found now. Alex wonders until when, and how the hell is he meant to decode the pit of longing in his gut.

**

Monday.

“G’morning, Alex, you good? You’re later than usual.”

Pez is the first to greet him the moment Alex steps into the teachers’ lounge, but the words only half register into Alex’s brain. It’s been like that, scattered and distracted, ever since he woke up in a tizzy at five o’clock in the morning. Out of nowhere and for no reason at all. After trying and failing to go back to sleep, tossing and turning too hot in his bed, he’d got up and gone for a run. A remedy for any and all of his past and current ailments.

“Yeah, longer run this morning,” he clarifies, wiping his empty hand over his face. The other still holding to his takeaway cup, now with only a few drops of coffee left after he chugged it all while crossing the street from his favorite shop into the school. “I need more coffee.”

“Didn’t you just finish that cup?” Nora asks, a pencil hanging from her lip. “Good morning. Maybe… consider taking it easy if you’re not having the best morning.”

“Morning. It doesn’t matter, I, uh, yeah, I need this more than a best morning,” he stutters through his words, dropping his bag onto his usual chair and beelining for the coffee maker in the corner.

“Everything okay, darlin’?” Pez asks, friendly as ever.

Alex swirls on the balls of his feet in time to see Nora removing her elbow from Pez’s side. “No, Pez, everything is most definitely not okay,” he starts matter-of-factly. Pez gapes at him from where he was just gaping at Nora’s gesture as well, closing his mouth as Alex resumes explaining it to him. “And I’m positive you’re well aware of this by now, so let’s cut the crap today. I’m really not in the mood. Hey, everyone, sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he greets the rest of his colleagues that are already looking everywhere but at him. Their responses either come in mutters or he’s simply filtering them through a fog. “Fox in today?”

Pez offers, “Yeah, he’s in—”

“Classroom, yeah, I know exactly where he is,” Alex says, abandoning the only half warmed up coffee maker behind him. “I’m gonna be right back, you guys. Don’t wait for me if the bell rings.”

“Alex?”

“What?!” Alex stops just under the door frame, looking at his two blinking friends, a crowd of staring eyes all around them in the background.

“He’s also not doing too well, so please try not to press each other too hard,” Pez asks, nearly begs, if his poised face is any indicator. Being serious is not a trait Pez is commonly known for, and Alex is widely aware of this fact.

Still he says only, “That will depend entirely on him.”

As he leaves, there are a million things going off in his mind. The too early wake up call, the run he rushed out of the apartment to make, climbing two steps at a time as he went down the stairs. Out on the way to his favorite park, knowing it would be empty at that time in the morning. There was barely any sun yet, barely any signs of the awaking nature around him, but he was only the more thankful for that today. Soon picking up his rhythm, leg wise and brain wise, wishing for a clean slate of his mind as he went.

His fingertips had been tingling the whole weekend, extending to a full body low rumble, his nerves still on edge after Saturday. After the nonsense of the whole of Spirit Week. After that kiss that hadn’t made anything clearer. Alex had spent the rest of the evening with his face in his pillow, drunk out of his conscience after a quarter of a bottle of self-inflicted whiskey, head swirling and swirling into oblivion around a single moment that had stolen his complete focus.

Sunday had been lost in the same thought in and around the city, Nora at his side chattering about mindless things like their rent and how he still had to hand in his minutes from the last teachers’ meeting and how they were picking up June for lunch after her flight landed. It had all seemed pointless in comparison to how all Alex could hope for was bumping into Fox at any corner, just to ask why the fuck he’d leaned in for a kiss. Just to ask why the fuck he’d run away even faster. Though with no luck.

With his flooded brain and nothing but the sunrise colors to distract him on his run, Alex put all of his effort into running everything out of his system. Except he was probably running it further into his system with the way that image of Fox grabbing his face and leaning closer was all he could think about and dream about and replay on a loop in the drama reel of his mind.

It was impossible to make sense of it all. Because how could it make sense when they had always avoided each other? When Fox would bolt out of Alex’s sight as soon as their eyes would meet? When they couldn’t even utter a full sentence without an insult or a poorly structured piece of nasty wit? Ever since Fox had transferred into the school, they had run in opposite directions, so it was categorically impossible that their puzzle pieces would even match after roughening them up at the edges for so long.

And yet that dichotomy felt so familiar at the same time. Alex letting antsy unwanted thoughts assail his rationality. He had done just so all the time, all throughout his life. This back and forth, this push and pull, overwhelming his brain capacities. It had all happened to him before, and every time he had been close to losing each battle with dejection.

He ran and ran and digested every big wrong in his life, the ruminated concern filtering through the very present.

Alex finds himself now trudging through the school halls, starting to brim over with life and the murmur of students, debating how he wants to proceed. Whether he wants to wait, or to attack. Whether he wants to let the impulses win or reign them in for the sake of the argument. At first, there’s no plan, no brilliant idea, all he knows is that he’s approaching Fox’s classroom.

When he thinks of Fox right then, a sharp intake of breath rattles in his chest. Oh, that’s—that definitely hadn’t been there during the weekend or on his run this morning. Something entirely new. Yet now all he can imagine is, instead of a chaotic line of thinking, the slate of a one year old hatred feud is replaced with a slate featuring imagery of their kiss. And there it is. A keen-edged pang of wonder right in the spot where his ribs connect. Slithering down the bone, through flesh and organs, simmering and settling into his stomach.

Where the deepest of his gut tells him he wants to do it again.

Well, fuck.

His mind scrambles through memory, and Alex understands in a rush of thought just why that tug of pain is so familiar.

It had been in that very same spot, pulsating with light, at the young age of seventeen. The peak of his high school lacrosse career, when confusion and denial had gotten the best of him. It had all started with a gratuitous drunken kiss, him and his then best friend Liam, the result of a dare after a successful game, evolved into fooling around constantly at the end of any game, only to end because Alex had bailed on too much self-resignation. Still today he owes Liam an apology for what Alex might have put him through after that summer, when they went back to school and Alex started wandering the halls with Nora, the friend of their mutual friend, perched on his arm.

This time he wouldn’t do the same, he wouldn’t let shame win, wouldn’t let any nullification or idealization of feelings weigh in. He wouldn’t let anything other than his own sense of preservation guide him through action.

With a deep breath before he steps in front of the door, Alex goes to knock but notices through the glass that Fox isn’t alone. He’s speaking with a couple of students and Alex isn’t going to interrupt. Later, he tells himself. Later, he’ll do what he has to do, and say everything he has to say to clarify this idiotic chasm between the two of them, hoping he isn’t met with resistance similar to that which had once been his demise.

*

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ jokin’, man, goddammit.”

First period, second period, third period. Three of four morning classes have come and gone. Alex has spent every break in between roaming through the halls, stopping only to acknowledge any student that may approach him. In the hope of catching Fox wandering around. But he isn’t giving up any time soon. Or ever. Not until he has cleared the heavy slosh of doubt in his chest.

By the time the longer fifteen-minute break after third period hits, Alex is trying to come to terms with the reality that Fox is always ahead of him. He’s come and gone past Fox’s classroom countless times since he’s arrived, all to naught due to finding a student in there every single time.

Except right now.

Most of the students seem to be enjoying the warmer weather outside in the patio and gardens, but in the middle of the empty Alex finds him. There Fox is. Surprisingly by the Gratitude Wall. Eyes down on his hands, however.

Alex steps up behind him unannounced. “Long time no see, Fox.”

The rigid line of Fox’s shoulder is clear in his open field of vision. Fox turns slowly to him, eyes cast low, practically curled in on himself. Soon swapping this figure for a more composed posture, chin jutting out slightly though his eyes remain slanted to the side.

“What the hell was that on Saturday? Why—”

Fox meets Alex’s eyes at last. “Not here.”

Alex grabs his wrist in fear of what might just happen. He’s been left alone talking to these school halls way too many times. “Oh no, you’re not running on me this time, Fox.”

There’s a glance at the hand on his wrist before Fox checks the surrounding area like he’s thinking of a potential escape. Except this time he can’t. This time, Alex literally has the upper hand, and it’s wrapped tight around Fox’s wrist. Tighter around Fox’s wrist. Higher on Fox’s forearm too.

A door in his peripheral vision catches Alex’s attention. The fact that it’s a janitor’s closet and not a classroom is the biggest bonus of all, so Alex dives for it. “Get in there.”

Looking to the left end of the hall to find nobody, then to the right, where a couple of students are walking by, he rushes inside to avoid being spotted. With Fox nonetheless. Alex practically shoves him in there, this time on purpose, no misunderstanding like last year in the copy room, turning around only to close the door without slamming it. Behind him, only deep, noisy breaths of a man who’s most likely confused about all of this.

Alex inhales and exhales slowly to let the edge of the whole morning wipe off of his body. When he turns again, he finds Fox’s face in the dark. Finds Fox’s lips in the dark. And the pang of wonder, the tug of pain grows back in his chestbone. Calling out to him. Dialed up to a million by temptation that reminds him he wants to do it again.

Well, fuck.

He might as well just do it again. And so he does.

His hand is still around Fox’s arm somehow, tightening under flesh where Fox begins to squirm away. It takes one second for Alex to tug on it, to where it gives in, comes closer. It takes another second for his lips to be trapped against Fox’s static captive mouth. And it takes just one more for Fox to pull away with a gasp.

“Wait a minute, I—” Two quick breaths later, Fox asks, “What are you doing?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell—”

Fox gasps again at the shrill ringtone that goes off in their middle. A fucking phone. There’s always something in the midst of them, much to Alex’s misfortunate. Though by the look of relief in Fox’s eyes, the interruption is more than welcome.

“I’m sorry, I really have to take this. It’s—” He looks down. “It’s my sister, she’s coming to visit. Soon. I—I’m sorry, but I—”

Alex can’t keep him here against his will, so he steps to the side and waits resignedly for yet another chance.

*

“Sorry, I’m not going this time,” he tells Nora, who’s now quirking an eyebrow at him since Alex just refused an invitation to go to his favorite coffee shop for a refill after lunch. “I have to go find Fox, or I’ll never get this shit outta my chest.”

“Good luck,” she tells him gently before she jogs down the hall to where she’s meeting a group of three other teachers.

As for Alex, he gazes down at his feet, strangely forlorn in brown shoes against the light linoleum of the school floor, takes a deep breath, and looks up again. Head held high, that had been the result of his own pep talk. He almost had it right before fourth period, but he’s positive he won’t let his luck run out before their lunch break is over.

He starts by marching to Fox’s classroom, but the answer comes before he even has to look through the little glass on the door. A freshman is just walking out, distracted by their phone, leaving the door ajar after them. Alex takes his chance. He walks into the room, unannounced, without knocking. Finds Fox bent over his desk, ruffling through his shoulder bag. The door closes behind him with a quiet, gentle click.

Fox looks up from where he is at last. “Hello there, how may I—Alex. Oh.”

“Can we talk now?” He wheezes through every word, speaking them calmly to keep himself in check. “Or are you going to freak out all over again and leave me hanging? I’m getting a little tired of that bullshit.”

The curve of Fox’s shoulders gives him away once again, a stiff, dire sign of what he must be thinking. He doesn’t want Alex so close. So bad he’s practically curled in on himself. Still he says, “Of course, we can talk, but I—”

“Fuckin’ finally, no?” Alex practically spits. And it must be worth it because it gets Fox to meet his eyes at last. “What the hell was that on Saturday? What’s with that kiss? I thought you hated me.”

“No, you just assumed that I did.”

“Uhm, maybe because you were giving me all sorts of signals that you did, Fox.” The response Alex gets is only silence, so he does what he’s done best his whole life. He powers through. “Since day one. You waltzed into that lounge on the very first day with your two-piece suit and your grandpa sweater, your stupidly groomed hair that looked like a wig, man, playing polite little Englishman with everyone, but the second I approached you, you switched.”

When Fox gulps only, Alex adds, “You looked at me from the down up, from your invisible high fucking horse racing stallion, then turned and said ‘oh bloody hell save me’ to your precious Pez, shook my hand in a rush and crossed all the way to the opposite side of the room before I was able to introduce myself.”

Fox blinks, allowing Alex to wrap up the monologue that isn’t even close to letting off any weight off his chest. “So what was I supposed to think, huh? That you wanted me to be your new mate?”

“I didn’t know you’d heard that.” Fox looks down playing with his hands, shoves them into pockets next.

“Well I did hear it, but it’s nice knowing you at least admit it was a shitty thing to say.”

Fortunately, Fox has the decency to look up when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Alex quiets down to grasp Fox’s exact reaction, though there isn’t much to see. He’s breathing in slow lifts and drops of his ribcage, gaze wavering between Alex’s and whatever’s behind him. Alex’s own lungs brawl for a proper rhythm, heavy from emotional toil and the impromptu monologue, his knuckles cracking down at his sides to match.

He expects everything but the words that end up coming out of Fox’s mouth.

“The best teachers teach from the heart.”

Alex stops at the words, body frozen from the inside out. He recognizes them immediately. When he straightens up and his knuckles crack loudly from where’s tugging on them, he finds Fox’s now awaiting eyes. Fox says the rest, “And yours is the size of the world.”

“Where did you hear that?”

Fox angles an elbow and plucks something out of the right pocket of his pants, raising it in the air. “Read it in what used to be left of this.”

The small wad of blue pauses Alex’s thoughts for him. Fox stares forward at Alex now, sincerity glinting in the dark shadows around them.

“I was right, it was you who wrote that note,” Fox says quietly. Eyes glistening with either light or water, Alex can’t focus enough to pick it out of the scene in front of him. “Was it also you who took it down from the Wall?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you take that down? It was so… beautiful.”

“Because you were fuckin’ ignoring me, Fox. Harder than ever. Blocking me out every single time I tried to talk to you, no matter the topic I tried to introduce. You’d lock yourself in your classroom, you evaded me every time in the halls, you walked away on purpose during group photo, and fuck else. I don’t know. I lost count of how many times I fuckin’ tried.”

“I just don’t understand what you might still have to say to me, Alex. Lately, I’ve been so—”

“So what, Fox? So tired from all the sprints that you do every single day at this school?” Alex almost spits in his face, saved only by the sticky distance between them for now. With a woeful chuckle, he thinks back to Spirit Week in flashes of memories and adds, “Then on Friday you really did me one, man. At the game mix. I was looking forward to finally talking to you since that fucking stupid plan from the students had put us together somehow.”

Alex is still trying to figure out how the student council has so much pull in the school to manage something like that every single day of Spirit Week, and namely the depth of the ridiculous project they had planned for the whole week or who knew if not even longer. Nora had promised him she was going to handle it after he talked to both the students and Fox about it.

“But you just went and had to switch with Nora, didn’t you?” he rattles on, not giving Fox much of a break to swoop in and run this time. “Just like you backed out of Homecoming last year the second you saw my name on the drawing list, wasn’t it?”

“Erm, no,” Fox puts in with a strangled noise in the back of his throat. It makes him sound so small in his millennium-long legs. “That wasn’t why I did it, but—”

“Did you know Bankston called me into her office because of that bullshit?”

“You serious?” Fox looks panicked at the mention. “I didn’t— I didn’t know.”

“She did. Asked me if something had happened between us. Actually, she asked me if I—me, Fox—if I had done anything or said anything that could have led you to do something so rash. So please, tell me what it was that I did. If she’d asked me now, there would be plenty of reasons for you to hate me, but then? We’d barely even talked.”

“I had no idea she had summoned you into her office. It wasn’t my intention at all.”

Alex makes a gesture with his hand, dismissing that point altogether. Though there is something he still needs to ask. “So what was it? What had I done so hideous that you couldn’t go and organize a fucking school dance with me?”

“You had done nothing.”

“Then what was it?” Fox continues with his hesitation, lip bitten into on repeat, arms flexing uncomfortably. Alex can’t tell who’s mirroring who in their nervous fidgeting. “C’mon, Fox, out with it. We’re running out of break time as it is.”

“It was me,” Fox finally says, straightforward in his answer for once. Alex keeps his mouth shut for now, allowing Fox to have his own personal monologue. “All of this time it was me. I was the problem, Alex. From the moment I walked into this school, I’m afraid. I was just visiting that day, Principal Bankston was showing me around and you were out with your class at the small outdoor auditorium, simulating a debate or some sort of group activity like that. And just from that moment, I knew I was done for, okay?”

“Every class loves that auditorium simulation,” Alex puts in quickly, with a small smile. It’s one of his favorites, too. He gets to take his government students outside and mock up a town meeting to discuss problems of the diverse backgrounds of townspeople, watching the cogs in their brains putting pieces together for their future. It’s awesome.

“I can imagine why they would,” Fox says, sounding only slightly dreamily. “But from those few minutes I stood there with Principal Bankston watching your class, I knew you would ruin me. And I was right. I’ve spent every single minute of the past year struggling with—with this thing—”

“Fox, you don’t have to—”

“—with this massive source of fire in my life,” Fox goes on despite the interruption. Alex can tell this means immensely to him, just from the tearful undertone of his voice. “One that was capable of not only making me fall for them, but making me burn. And after all this time of me thinking I was going to be fine because you would never look at me that way, you go and you write this.”

“I put it up on Wednesday, if you want to know,” Alex hurries to confess, watching as Fox shuts his mouth with an unmistakably clanging of his jaw. “After your speech. You didn’t let me talk to you, and I knew you wouldn’t listen to me after that—I just knew—so I told it to the Wall.”

“God, Alex, when I went by the board the other day and I couldn’t find it anymore. After…”

Clearly overcome with emotion, Fox turns sideways to face the white board on the wall of his classroom. It’s covered in a mathematical language that Alex couldn’t try to understand right now, but hopes it’s within Fox’s line of sight enough that it may help soothe what he may be feeling.

It isn’t long before Fox goes back to what he was saying. “I didn’t understand how you were able to speak so closely to me just with a note, but it makes sense now. If it was on Wednesday. It wasn’t an easy day, putting myself out there like that, and then seeing you run after me. Thinking you were going to roast me for it.”

“I wouldn’t…” Alex reassures him. “That speech was singularly the most meaningful thing you’ve ever done for this school. The students’ reaction and support were living proof of that. And it put so many things into perspective for me.”

“I could tell. That note was honestly see-through.” Fox quiets down with an exhale. “So little words and it was all there. The fear of being irrelevant, of being forgotten. Of not getting through to my students or my colleagues, of not being seen through life. So yeah, all of this? It was all an act of self-preservation, Alex, do you get it? It’s all been for the same reason. You. Because you’re too…”

Alex holds his breath for what might come next. There’s been way too many times he’s come out wounded from similar adjectivization.

“You’re the bloody sun, Alex.” Fox’s tone is as satiny as his pink lips when he speaks. “You’re too bright, a fountain of knowledge and youth and life. Impulse, determination, and courage. So full of light and with so much fucking fire in everything you do and everything you say. Even in the way you would hate me. And that—that’s not for me. I’m too scared of being burned. That’s just—for someone who’s brave, someone who takes risks.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve taken risks, and I’ve seen you act with a lot of heart and plenty of courage. Ask any of your students, Fox. Hell, you came all the way over here from England, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Because I was running,” Fox says, eyes brimming with a sad choice. Or a choice made out of sadness. Alex will have to ask about the difference at some point. “From something out there that I couldn’t handle anymore. That’s what I do. I run.”

“Well, unlucky for you, I like to run,” Alex interrupts, finally getting Fox’s eyes back on his face. A little sigh of relief or dismay right after. The weight on his shoulders giving way to quiet sincerity in his gaze. “And I happen to like a challenge. And maybe I’ve only just realized this, but if you run? Yeah. I might just have to keep chasing you.”

Alex grabs Fox by the edges of his cardigan, open and loose over his inflating chest, and kisses him until his brain flatlines.

Fox responds in tandem this time, a tilt of his head, lips spread in a rasping gulp of breath, arms and hands down his sides. Alex reaches over and squeezes them in his, feels the slight tremble on Fox’s skin. The way it reverberates straight to his core. And he needs more of it, more of Fox, of his heat and the clear passion in his kiss, so he grasps around his cardigan, a finger or two looping into the buttonholes, letting go only to seek a better place to find purchase.

He finds it in Fox’s waist, the way it dips just under his ribs when Alex presses into it. Swallowing the soft, whiny moan that follows.

Fox gasps and pulls away, keeping them at a distance of mere inches, breath still hot on Alex’s skin. He seems to be hesitating, eyes closed, a hand hovering just over Alex’s shoulder. But Alex doesn’t push. He’s just heard about Fox’s doubts, Fox’s fears, and he’s willing to wait a few more beats for Fox’s decision.

His hand lands on Alex’s shoulder right as he thinks this. It slides over to his neck, then under his shirt where the fabric gives way. Skin on skin, cold on heat. Fear on fire.

There’s another gasp, but after Fox’s eyes open in full, wide and wet at the edges, and Fox says, “You don’t burn.”

Alex shakes his head and smiles, collecting Fox’s lips with his without shame. Alex’s style.

Only the sound of the bell could have brought them back into reality.

“Fuck.”

“Bloody hell,” they say at the same time.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” Fox responds only with a hum, wiping his mouth as though he can still taste Alex’s flavor in them. “We have a lot to discuss. Like the fact that you fucking want me.” Fox breathes hard through the words, but he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t dare say a single word. “But you do have the tendency to run off on me, so.”

“I really can’t help it,” Fox tries at last.

Alex holds that thought with nothing but a gesture of his hand. He swallows down Fox’s own flavor out of his tongue. “Unfortunately, no matter how badly I want to do this right now, it’s going to have to be after class, right?”

“Looks like it, yes,” Fox concurs.

“But it’s going to have to be today. No running. You should know by now that I run as a hobby, so I won’t have any problem chasing right after you. Not even figuratively. I mean literally. And I will.”

“I won’t run. Not this time.”

“Good.”

With a mental note that they’re already late as it is, Alex retreats his hands from where he was warming them on the small of Fox’s back.

“I’ll be in the lounge after class, and you better be there too.”

“I will be there, waiting to be burned.”

And then Fox does the unthinkable. Leaning closer for a sweet peck on Alex’s lips. Alex smiles into it, a delicate tick of warmth all over his face. Never in a million years had Alex ever thought he’d be here, welcoming Fox’s kiss without even blinking.

“We should go,” Fox whispers still onto Alex’s wet lips. “You’ll be late for class, and mine—bollocks. The students have been watching the whole thing through the glass.”

Alex gives a shrug with just the one shoulder. “I don’t mind. Do you?”

“Not right now,” Fox replies with a shake of his head, stepping back so Alex can leave.

“Don’t run,” he says while turning on his heels.

Fox makes a muffled sound that sounds half hum, half laugh. “What if I want you to chase me?”

With one last glance over his shoulder, Alex faces the door and reaches for the handle. Nothing but soft breathing and the ruffle of papers in the background. That’s soothing enough for him now.

Stepping outside is a different story. There is a small crowd of students outside the door, waiting to be let inside for class to start. One particular pair of shiny brown eyes blinks up at him.

“Rita.”

Alex walks past her and the rest of them, everyone in silence save for a few murmurs he can’t make out in the distance. It’s only a small group of students, perhaps a few more than the class Fox is about to start, but not by many. Yet it’s numerous enough to create a small commotion as he leaves, solid steps down the hall toward his own classroom. He looks to the side and half-shouts, “Stop high fiving each other and get to class, y’all.”

A giggle. Then Rita’s little voice. “You’re welcome, Mr. CD!”

**

Epilogue.

One year later

“Class, I know it’s almost bell time, but I’m not finished yet.”

It’s Friday, the very last class of the day. Well, of the week. And it’s been quite the week, riddled of study guide flashcards, guidelines, and orientation before midterm assessments kick off in full. Alex understands the humming rush of wanting to get out of school, he’s very eager for it himself, but it still doesn’t mean he’s going to allow his students’ attention to disperse in the middle of very important final announcements.

Yet clearly nobody seems to be listening anymore. “What— What are you looking at?”

Alex glances at the door and nearly swallows his tongue at what he finds. Henry is standing right there, the man he once called Fox and his enemy, under the doorjamb, the door itself opened ajar so he’s visible through it. Looking extremely handsome and downright yummy in his button down and tie, sweater vest to match, the delicate crease in this neatly ironed trousers making his legs look deliciously long. Both arms crossed over his chest as he pretends to play with his nails. A slight bulge of his bicep, thanks to Alex dragging his English ass to the gym at least twice a week, first to keep him company, now so they can spot each other and exchange indecent comments.

To the delight of the whole class, one of the front row students says, “Looking foxy, Mr. Henry!”

Henry himself hums, amused at the comment, and clearly at the interrupting Alex’s class. “Thank you, Mr. Vidal. Send little Mariluz my love, will you?”

It should be nothing new, shouldn’t get Alex all weak in the knees just how perfect Henry’s Spanish accent has become over the last few months. Much thanks to Alex himself, with his very interesting, very nude learning techniques he’s been using. But also thanks to the wonderful and wonderfully close relationship he’s been witnessing grow in recent weeks between his lovely man and his father.

Alex knows by now that he’s lost his students, so he wants to wrap up his final notes in two or three strikes so he can dismiss everyone right into the weekend. “Mr. Fox, please, don’t distract my students right in the middle of class.”

“So sorry, love,” Henry says with a smile, but he’s clearly not and he doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. He’s been hanging around Alex too often, everybody would tell him just so. Alex knows Principal Bankston and her dear husband, also Henry’s personal friend, certainly have.

“Well, alright, there’s no use going back to the final notes, is there?” Alex admits defeat, shutting off the interactive whiteboard next to him. “Y’all check your email before next week, I’ll be sending you the full summary and notes as per usual. Class dismissed. Have a good weekend everyone.”

The door creaks open, but never loud enough to stop the unruly commotion of students eager to leave school and start enjoying two days of freedom. Alex can’t wait himself. It’s going to be quite a special one, with Alex’s parents in town for dinner.

“And what are you doing here, Foxy?”

All these months later and Henry still squints at that nickname. Still he says only, “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” Henry suddenly melts into this greeting. “Since it’s your last class of the day and I was free last period, I’ve decided to come pick you up for a very special date. Need any help tidying up?”

“If you don’t mind.”

It takes them half the time, half the effort to get through it together. Once the classroom’s ready and Henry has picked up Alex’s messenger bag and draped it over his shoulder, Alex has a bit of a moment the way he always does when Henry enlaces their fingers together, then he lets himself be guided out the room. Hand in hand with his boyfriend.

“Where we going?” Alex asks.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oooh, I do love your surprises, ever since that mythical Memorial Weekend of ropework and—"

“Shush, not at school!” Henry tugs on his hand until the side of Alex’s body meets his.

Alex cackles into a laugh. Then imitates Henry’s own accent from before. “So sorry, love.”

Henry smacks him for good measure. He always does. Alex absolutely, positively, one hundred percent loves it, and he probably will until eternity. Mostly because he gets to quickly peck the side of Henry’s face in return every time. Today in the strategic spot just where his cheekbone protrudes under the skin.

Someone awws and says, “We did that!” It’s clearly directed at them because when Alex follows the sound with his eyes, mouth still slanted against Henry’s cheek, he finds Rita, now a senior, and a couple of her friends high fiving each other. Still for some reason celebrating their silly online boards project to get them together, even though it’s been one entire year.

“You look even hotter all loved up, sir,” one of the Crooke twins says. Then the other adds, “It’s been impossible to sit still in Gov class this year, lord.”

Alex continues walking, tightening his hold on Henry when he looks up with a silly smile. He has learned not to comment on it anymore, in this case very much thanks to Henry who’s been teaching him how to separate himself a little further from his students.

“Have a good weekend, ladies,” he tells them nonetheless.

The response comes in a trio of unison. “You too, Mr. FoxCD.”

Alex smiles at the nickname that simply never left them after they were officially uncovered as a couple at the school, after last year’s Spring Spirit Week. It’s been a rollercoaster—mostly good climbs, a few scary rapid dives, the occasional screaming match because they’re both equally headstrong—but thankfully both staff and students were pretty accepting of their blossoming relationship. Even Principal Bankston was left without words when they made the formally mandatory announcement to the school’s board of directors.

“Oh, guess what happened today,” Alex suddenly remembers after hearing someone’s phone vibrating in the halls. Henry hums in his ear. “Liam finally texted me back. Says he’d love to meet up when we go to Austin.”

“Are you serious? That’s wonderful, I told you he would love to hear back from you.”

“Yes, you did. Thank you for pushing me into apologizing to him.”

“Oh Alex, I didn’t push. I hinted at it at the most,”

“Nuh-huh,” Alex disagrees with an obvious tilt of his head to the opposite side of Henry. “You totally pushed. But I love you even more for it, baby.”

“Oh, do shut up.”

“Uh, excuse me?!”

“What? You tell me to shut up all the time,” Henry says with a loud scoff. “Why can’t I do it back to you? It’s only fair.”

“Mhmm. You’re just a copycat,” Alex argues back. “You really can’t be cool on your own, can you, Englishman? Always have to follow the footsteps of your hot American boyfriend.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know you think he’s hot.” Henry grins at his joke just a little wider than Alex. Then in the fuzzy murmur of a crowd of students that’s just about to burst into the hallways, evident in the static that filters through the air, Henry grabs Alex by the hand and adds, “Wanna see me doing something really cool?”

“Always.” Alex arches an eyebrow in curiosity, just on the edge of confused as to what Henry means. They are still in the middle of the school hall, lined up with lockers on both sides, the announcement board not too far, still a few steps away from the safety of the teachers’ lounge.

The tug on his hand drags him with a giggle through a familiar path. One he has paved himself, but in opposing positions. Today it’s Henry who stomps in front of him and guides him, straight through opening a small door and filing into a janitor’s closet. The janitor’s closet.

Alex recalls this is where their second kiss—or first, depends on who you ask. He remembers the conversation they once had about it.

“Uhm, well, second,” Alex argued with Henry at the time. It had been merely days since they started officially calling each other by a label.

“No, it was definitely our first kiss,” Henry argued. “I don’t count the one after the softball game.”

“Why not?”

“Because I ran like a coward.”

Alex hummed and pondered the case. He had always disagreed with that assessment, but he couldn’t judge Henry either way. “I guess I see things differently,” he said instead. “I see it like you took the first step like a brave—”

“I’m afraid that wasn’t bravery, Alex. That was vodka.”

Alex laughed at the reference. That had been the day Pez had ‘smuggled’ very special bottles of orange juice spiked with his personal preference of vodka and rum. “Yep, sure, that’s fine. But who’s to say I don’t like just how brave vodka makes you? Brave, sexy, mouthy, and dare I say—”

“Don’t say it—”

Alex defied him none the same. “Randy.”

Thankfully Fox joined in with a giggle. “Good with my mouth?”

“Wonderfully good with your mouth, baby,” Alex said before leaning in for a kiss.

He does the same right now, in the janitor’s closet again, arms safely wrapped around Henry’s broader than ever shoulders. Bless their gym subscription.

“So what are we doing here now?” he asks with just a hint of a peck on the corner of Henry’s mouth.

Henry who looks at him very… suggestively, Alex would say. His features open and teasing, eyes blown wide and twinkling in the dark. They both step away at the same time, Henry immediately loosening his tie, stopping only when Alex tilts his head. He says, “Ever since I watched my first American high school movie, I’ve always wanted to have my own personal janitor’s closet moment.”

“Well, well.” Alex grins at the provocation. “Someone’s about to come out of their shell, aren’t they Mr. Fox? Or dare I say, soon-to-be Mr. Fox CD?”

“God, Alex. You can’t promise me things like that in a dark room like this.”

Alex draws a curious hand down Henry’s bicep, flexed and firm under taut fabric, swiftly reaching lower and lower until their hands wrap together. The room illuminated by the glint of the promise rings they exchanged just a few days ago, on the true anniversary of their very first kiss—after the softball game, absolutely, Alex will fight Henry to death for his truth if he has to.

Then letting Henry draw nearer and nearer until Alex’s back is touching wood, same as his crotch, Alex also hikes up his left leg around Henry’s hip. Rubbing their enthusiastic bodies together from all possible angles. His free arm steadily looped around the back of Henry’s neck, wide palm, long fingers lost in the blonde strands of his hair. He hauls him even closer until Henry’s shoulders—fuck, those massively beautiful, strong shoulders that Alex has come to adore—encompass his own frame all over again.

Just from the shadow of them, Alex knew this last year and he’ll reiterate his point every single year that Henry chooses him. However many times he’ll need to, wherever far it may take him, Alex will keep running after Henry. For always.