Special Episode: The Prince
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
Alix shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Watching with wide, curious eyes from the third row of the darkened theater. Her heart is beating hard and fast, to the point it’s making her chest ache.
She never once in her life expected to watch a school play with such rapt attention.
Not that Alix normally goofs off or zones out during school-sponsored events. Usually she was on the team that planned them, for one thing. And - corny as it is, she does have some true, genuine school spirit. She goes to school functions determined to keep an open mind, and always makes a heartfelt effort to enjoy herself, to learn something. Even the events that everyone is cynical about and laughing at as soon as they’re announced. Even the events centered around things Alix doesn’t particularly care about.
If the event does turn out to be bad, she still puts in the effort to seem like she’s having a nice time. Partly for the sake of whichever friend on the student council did the planning. Partly because Alix really honestly does want the events to be good, special - memorable.
It sounds incredibly dorky, so she keeps it to herself. But she doesn’t see what’s so bad about trying to make sure that everyone walks away from high school with at least a few rich, beautiful memories to look back on. Even if sometimes that involves Alix feigning attention, interest, and smiles. She’s happy to do it, if it helps.
But if Alix was faking her spellbound attention to the school play right now, she’d be way overdoing it.
She doesn’t mean to be sitting so tense and upright, so perfectly still, her fingertips resting on her lower lip. Her toes curled in her boots of their own volition. She’s not trying to do that stumbling thing with her heartbeat.
And to think that she actually voted against doing the collection of fairy tales for the school play. She’s so very grateful now that the rest of the student council outvoted her.
How was she supposed to know that they’d find an actual Prince Charming to cast in the show?
Alix’s heart skips again as the prince turns his face to look out at the audience. This scene is set at night. The blue stage lights slide over his soft blonde curls, the gold-lined navy blue jacket. Beneath the jacket is his loose white shirt, open enough to show his throat, his collarbones. It’s tucked into dark breeches, which are tucked into knee-high boots. A fantasy costume, but he seems perfectly natural in those clothes, like an actual prince who’s worn those things all his life.
Alix bites her lip, wondering if they’ve met before. He must be a student here, right? And he moves in a way that feels vaguely, inexplicably familiar to her. Light-footed and sure-footed, two things Alix is instantly jealous of.
It feels completely right to her that all the princesses in the various fairytales are after him. His smile is sweet and enchanting, but there’s also something roguish about it, mischievous. He’s funny, too. He can say a lot with only his eyebrows.
It seems like he’s honestly, truly having a good time out on the stage. His brightness has infected all the other performers, giving the whole show a sort of carnival feeling. Everyone is performing at their best, at the height of their energy. The way he moves across the stage from one actor to another sets them all off dancing.
Despite all that, he’s actually been quiet during his performance. His character has much more action to perform than lines. Alix, without meaning to, has found herself holding her breath every time he goes silent again. Waiting for the next time he opens his mouth to speak.
He’s handsome, this prince. He has soft, melting eyes, colored a rich and bright shade of green. He also has a way of tilting his head slightly back and his chin slightly up when he listens, something that Alix notices every time with another fluttering stumble of her heartbeat.
She realizes all at once that her mouth has fallen slightly open, and her head is tipped to one side, almost to her shoulder.
She snaps back into it and pulls herself together, blushing deeply. She steals a glance to her left, then her right, but no one is watching her in the darkness of the theater. All eyes are on the stage.
Alix smooths her dress out over her knees, then lets her face cool off for a second, watching some painted prop trees on the stage instead of looking at the actors. When it feels like the blush isn’t so visible, she leans over and tugs on the sleeve of the girl sitting next to her.
“Psst. Violet.” Alix nods her head at the stage, keeping her voice to a confidential whisper. “Who’s the prince, and how have I not met him? Is he new here?”
Violet is one of the student council members who helped out with the planning of the school play, so she would probably know. For some reason, though, she looks at Alix and raises an eyebrow like that was a weird question to ask. Alix makes a questioning face at her, spreading her fingers in confusion.
“Oh, come on,” Violet whispers, gently reproachful. “I know she’s quiet, Alix, but she’s in so many of our classes. You know who she is.”
Alix blinks hard at Violet, then looks at the stage again, baffled. She stares incredulously at the prince, the handsome cut of his face, his playful little grin.
“She?” Alix repeats, half-laughing, assuming that Violet is making some kind of joke she doesn’t get. And then, when Violet nods at her, completely serious - “Wait - what?”
“Wow, this is a reversal of things. Normally you’re the one who remembers everybody’s name, and I have to ask you.” Violet screws her face up, struggling to remember. “Her name is… oh, god. I’m blanking. She goes by her last name, right? It’s - McKay! That’s her. Her first name’s in the program somewhere, but I wouldn’t use it. Apparently she hates it.”
Alix’s mouth drops open. She nearly jolts in her seat as the realization hits her like a lightning strike.
She doesn’t need to open her program. Violet is right - Alix never forgets a name, and the name McKay has already placed a clear image in her mind. She understands exactly why something about the prince feels so familiar.
Because the girl playing him is in a lot of Alix’s classes.
Holy shit. Alix didn’t recognize her, not at all.
Not that they’re friends, or that they even know each other. The opposite, really. Alix is open to talking with anyone, but McKay is such a quiet, withdrawn person. She’s never once spoken to Alix. Although - sometimes she laughs when Alix makes a joke in class.
But she doesn’t laugh much. She always seems vaguely - uncomfortable. Uneasy, maybe? Like her clothes don’t fit her right, even though they pretty much do. They tend to be a little oversized, if anything. She’s usually wearing a shapeless hoodie, black studs in her ears, and a hat down low over her eyes.
A lot of the time she doesn’t seem like she’s listening in class. Her clouded green eyes drift to stare out of the window, and she bites down hard on the inside of her cheek, tensing up her whole jaw.
She mostly keeps to her own little cluster of friends, the girls who get together in the art building after school. They paint and sculpt and draw in there, play music, and sneak around back for joints or cigarettes after it gets dark.
Alix has wondered about McKay. She just - seems like a whole lot of contradictions.
On the one hand, she’s almost painfully shy and quiet, but - somehow she also has her own kind of chill. Alix has never seen anyone able to get McKay riled up. She never gets angry. If someone is being rude to her, she gets this entertained expression instead, like the situation is extremely funny to her in some private way. She sits there all kicked back, quirks up her eyebrow, tilts her chin up, and silently laughs with her eyes. It tends to send people on the retreat faster than yelling would, and usually they’re blushing in confusion as they go.
And the contradictions don’t stop there, because despite her unshakeable chill, it seems like McKay is - chaotic. She gets herself into a lot of trouble. Everyone knows that she was held back a grade for disciplinary issues. She’s already been suspended once this year, and on one memorable occasion, Alix saw her go down the hallway on her skateboard, with two outraged teachers running after her and shouting.
Alix doesn’t have a single infraction to speak of on her academic disciplinary sheet. But she does try to make sure that everyone feels included in school things, regardless of what their disciplinary sheet would suggest about how interested they might be in participating.
Given that McKay has skipped every school event Alix can remember, she’s given some thought to trying to talk to her. Sometimes a personal invite is all it takes to make sure someone doesn’t miss out. Alix has done it many times before, with different shy ones.
She hasn’t done it yet with McKay because… well… something about her makes Alix flustered and nervous. Compared to McKay, Alix feels like this - goodie two shoes, teacher’s pet, rule-following - whatever. Not that McKay does anything to make Alix feel like that. She seems like a nice person, from what Alix can tell. It’s just that she’s so cool-headed and quiet. She has such solid gravity. She makes Alix feel like a silly, ridiculous little butterfly fluttering around her.
It doesn’t help that McKay is tall for a girl, and Alix has to tip her face up to look at her. Or that her voice is a little on the lower side, and Alix’s is soft and fast and high. All that only adds to the effect.
That’s why Alix is always caught by surprise when McKay laughs at her jokes in class. Alix never expects her to find anything she said worth paying attention to. McKay just doesn’t seem like the type of person who gives a fuck about school, or school spirit, much less the school play.
“You’re joking,” Alix whispers to Violet, still reeling, overwhelmed with disbelief. “That’s her?”
She stares at Violet incredulously when she nods in confirmation.
Alix’s wide eyes go back to the prince. He’s leaning back on his palms, seated on a vine-heavy bench, listening as the princess gives her monologue. He’s got his knees apart and his chin tilted slightly up, which is - yeah, that’s the same way McKay sits in class.
“But she looks so - so different,” Alix sputters softly, leaning back over to Violet. “I can’t believe…”
“I know, right?” Violet whispers, widening her eyes in amazement. “I barely recognize her.”
It’s not just about that princely appearance, either. It’s the magnetic, roguish smile. The relaxed easiness of his movements, the confidence he breathes. His eyes are alight, full of playful warmth, glowing like fire. In the copper-colored stage lights, he looks gilded, his hair burnished gold. Like a young Hermes, or with that devious grin, a son of Pan.
Daughter, Alix reminds herself numbly, still motionless with astonishment.
“Apparently she’s been really dedicated to the role,” Violent murmurs. “Everyone’s kinda surprised. Can you remember the last time McKay even bothered to attend a school thing, much less participate? She even skipped beach day. Who does that? It’s the best out of all the school events. You just lay around in your swimsuit and fuck around in the ocean, what’s not to like?”
“What do you mean, she’s been dedicated to the role?” Alix whispers back.
“I mean - she cut her hair for it, for one thing,” comes Violet’s whispered answer. “I would never do that, not for a school play! And that short, too, when it was so long and beautiful? Oh my god. Never.”
Violet hesitates, then giggles and adds - “She pulls it off, though, don’t you think?”
That’s part of why Alix didn’t recognize McKay. The long ash-blonde waves that were there before are gone. Cut away and buzzed into a very short, boyish tumble of curls that barely reach down to kiss the prince’s eyebrow.
Alix is bewildered beyond belief as she tries to grasp that that’s really McKay on the stage. The idea that she would audition for a school play, where she’d have to stand tall in front of everyone and perform - Alix never would have guessed she’d do something like that. Alix would never have guessed that was a girl on the stage at all.
She would have guessed that he was a real prince before she ever would have guessed that.
~~~~
The theater is emptying. The last stragglers of the chattering audience spread out and away from the warm glow of the theater lights, streaming out into the rainy, chilly night. The seats inside are empty, the stage lights switched off, the voices bright but tired. A few students have already begun striking the set. Pulling down the props, taking apart the vine-laden bench where the prince sat to listen to the princess. Sleepily sweeping up the aisles between the seats and gathering up dropped programs.
Alix came to the play alone, tonight. So she’s leaving alone, too.
She’s been to every single performance, but all the previous times she found some friend who hadn’t seen it yet so she would have an excuse. Who she needs the excuse for, she’s not sure. But she knew she couldn’t go with anyone else this time. This was the closing night, the last show.
She breaks away from the slowly-dispersing crowd, leaving the golden brightness of the lights behind. She puts her head down against the rain, tugs her bag higher up on her shoulder, and watches the path as she walks. The pavement is darkened from the soft rainfall, which makes shimmering patches of puddles here and there.
Alix carefully weaves around them, trying to do a better job of watching out for obstacles in her way. According to some blog posts she’s read about addressing clumsiness, just paying better attention to your surroundings can help…
Is this distraction working? a skeptical voice in her own head asks. Did that take your mind off of it, thinking about the puddles?
Alix closes her eyes in self-directed frustration, bewildered and stressed out to the point of anguish.
She didn’t think too much about what she was doing, going to every single performance. She just kept buying a ticket and going back, like it was only natural. Acting on instinct. But there’s no show tomorrow, and now, leaving the theater with that realization finally settling over her - Alix feels crushed. She can’t exactly ignore that, which means she can’t ignore any of the rest of it, either.
What’s going on with her, honestly? This has been some weird behavior, and completely unintentional. Alix knows now that she’s subconsciously been working hard to avoid explaining it to herself. Maybe because the explanation is so completely, unavoidably obvious.
It’s him. Every time Alix has gone back to see the play, she only watches him.
There’s only one answer, and it makes Alix feel so goddamn, unbelievably, helplessly stupid. Her brain bought the costume too well and registered McKay as a boy. Alix has a crush on a boy who doesn’t even exist. Who she knows doesn’t exist.
But if he doesn’t exist, why does Alix feel so miserable knowing that now he’s gone?
She squeezes her eyes shut and drops her head, her heart sinking. The play is over. He’s gone.
Right, but the girl who played him isn’t, a different internal voice argues. She’ll be in your classes tomorrow, just like she always is. It’s only junior year, too. She’ll be here for senior year. That’s plenty of time.
But it’s not her, it’s him, Alix argues back. He’s the one I want. If she was him, that would be great, but she isn’t. If I’ve been looking at her differently since this all started, it’s only because I’m - looking for him. It’s him, not her.
Couldn’t you just like a girl? tries the first voice hopefully. If you tried?
Don’t you think I would if I could, in this situation? That would solve everything, but I can’t.
But don’t you already, if you like McKay? How else do you explain the way you’ve been watching her, when she's on stage?
Not her, him. The prince. It’s not the same thing. I don’t know how, but - it’s not the same thing.
As she’s done many times before, Alix devolves into a silent, internal, full-fledged argument with herself.
Barely aware of what she’s doing, she walks alone across campus, retreating from the warm glow of the theater. Going very slowly through the rain.
She takes all the time she wants, and she doesn’t bother to hide the expression on her face. No one is around to see her. She’s one of the last people still on campus, because she went backstage for a while after the show closed. On the pretense of delivering congratulations from the student council, but really to get a last look at her prince before he disappears for good.
Alix tries to fix the mental image of him in her mind as she walks, but she’s got nothing. There were way too many people between them. She knows it’s ridiculous, but she was too shy to get close, or to talk to him. She didn’t get that last perfect picture she wanted to keep in her memory, not at all. When she tries to pull the image together, all she has are flashes of him through the crowd. A glimpse of his vivid eyes, of his shoulders, his smoky blonde curls.
Even those fragments, though, make Alix’s heart flutter the same way it did every time his eyes glanced over where she was sitting in the darkened theater. This feels deeper and stranger and more difficult to cope with than any crush she’s had before, but softer and warmer, too, better…
Pink in the face, biting her lip in helpless frustration, Alix looks up to make sure she’s even walking the right way.
And there he is. Her prince.
Just down the slope of the hill, heading towards the gate to leave campus. Walking on the grass instead of the path, his boots leaving imprints on the rain-softened turf.
He’s moving along very slowly through the moonlight, half in the shadows. Taking his time, lightly trailing his fingertips over the low-hanging leaves of the nearest branches. It’s a cloudy night, but there’s enough of a pale glow from the stars for Alix to make him out against the wild, lonely landscape of the autumn trees.
The rest of the cast changed out of their costumes before they left, but he’s still wearing his, and the makeup to make his face look more masculine. His close-cropped curls are falling forward into his eyes, shielding his expression from view. But a small, almost smile is playing around his mouth.
Strange to see him wearing McKay’s backpack and carrying her stickered skateboard.
He’s walking along at such a deliberately slow pace, and as Alix watches, he comes to a gradual stop, gazing down at something in the rain-sodden grass.
Alix stands motionless right where she is, her cheeks growing scarlet with a hot blush, her heart sorely stirred.
Scarcely conscious of what she’s doing, she suddenly and impulsively leaves the path, heading down the grassy slope right for him. She knows that McKay is shy, and would probably rather be left alone, but - this is her last opportunity to talk to her prince. She’s not about to pass it up.
Maybe she can just tell him what a great job he did in the play. Maybe they can talk for a little longer, and she can tell him how handsome of a prince he made. Maybe, if she does that -
Oh my god, relax, she tells herself desperately, cutting that line of thought short before it can run away with her.
She quickly fixes her rain-damp black hair and smooths down her dress, no longer feeling quite so stupid about spending such a long time picking out her outfit for the play tonight.
McKay doesn’t hear her coming. He’s still looking down at something in the grass, his body curiously motionless and tensed up. His fingers are holding tight to the skateboard.
Alix’s nervous voice comes out all soft and quiet when she stops behind him.
“Hey, Charming,” she murmurs, twisting her fingertips together.
He looks up in surprise. Two sharp, bright green eyes flit to Alix’s face.
He blinks hard at her, then kind of glances around at the dark campus, like he’s not sure if she’s talking to him. His searching eyes flick back to Alix when they find nobody else around.
“Hey,” he says softly, uncertainly, after a silent moment.
Alix glows with delight inside. As if he knew what she wanted, he’s pitching his voice slightly down deeper than it normally is, the same way he did on stage. His almost-smile forms into a real, shy, tentative smile as he looks at Alix, his blonde eyebrows knitted with confusion.
His little smile, the way that single, soft-spoken word fell from his lips - it moves something deep in Alix’s heart. Trembling inside, the heat in her cheeks growing deeper, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
There’s a brief silence, broken only by the soft sound of the rainfall, the distant rumble of cars on the road beyond the campus gate. The stars glitter quietly overhead, studding the night sky with light.
Alix takes a step closer to McKay, her curious gaze going to the grass. “What were you looking a-?”
She cuts herself off with a gasp as her feet slip on the rain-wet earth. She instinctively seizes a handful of McKay’s shirt, but he’s already caught her. One warm arm is suddenly wrapped tight around her waist, stopping her just before she can go stumbling right into the giant puddle of rainwater behind him.
Alix straightens up as she regains her footing, gasping for breath. The handful of McKay’s shirt she’s holding is warm from the heat of his body. Through the palm she has pressed against him, she feels his pulse racing.
Alix doesn’t look at him. She’s staring down at the grass, bewildered to find herself gazing into her own eyes. She’s so flustered from the slip that it takes her a second to understand.
Her reflection is staring back at her from the surface of the rainwater pool. The puddle is clear and several inches deep, like a little pond with grass as its flora. The moonlight has turned it into a silver mirror dotted by the ripples of the raindrops.
Panting, Alix stares at the reflection of herself in the prince’s arms. The stars glittering behind the two of them, his startled green eyes looking at her, the ripples on the water making everything flicker and dance.
McKay hastily lets her go, blinking hard and fast.
“God, I - I’m sorry!” Alix finally catches her breath, her cheeks practically crimson with a mortified blush. “I’ve got some, um - gravitational issues?”
He shakes his head, his mouth curling up and his soft eyes warming like he’s trying not to laugh. “Gravitational issues?”
Alix lets out an embarrassed laugh of her own, winding her hands together and holding them to her chest. “I’ve - I’ve tried all kinds of different things to sort it out, but nothing seems to be working… maybe it’s my socks?”
McKay bites his lip, his laughing eyes resting on hers. “Your socks?”
“They’re fuzzy, and I slide around in my boots a little. I have a weakness for soft things, okay? My bed is one giant pile of super soft blankets and pillows.”
McKay doesn’t answer that, but Alix gets the impression that she just accidentally put an image of her bed in his mind, because a faint blush colors his cheeks. Or - was it already there, and is it only growing darker?
“Are you gonna say anything besides repeating back what I’m saying?” Alix asks desperately.
McKay hesitates, a faintly puzzled expression knotting his brow again.
“I’m - afraid to,” he answers quietly. Then he blinks at her like he didn’t mean to say that, and hastily adds - “Am I in trouble with the student council or something?”
“No, I just-” Alix stops, tilting her head to the side suspiciously. “Did you do something that would get you in trouble with us?”
He pauses, then answers, very slowly - “No?”
“Very convincing!” Alix laughs breathlessly, shaking her head at him.
He gives her that reckless, devious smile that melted her into her seat at the theater. He’s the very face of mischief, this one. And Alix had only just caught her breath. There it goes again.
“Well, you’re not in trouble with the student council,” she says, suddenly glad to have an excuse for the blush in her cheeks. “I just thought it would be super cool if I came over here and fell on my ass right in front of you, so.”
His chest moves sharply up and down once or twice, like he’s caught his laughter and he’s trying to keep it in there. The way he bites his lip backs up that theory.
“You alright?” he asks softly, gently.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alix groans, shaking her hair out. “Did my dress get messed up? I feel like I just kicked some grass and mud onto it.”
McKay’s eyes rove over Alix as fast as they can. But Alix could swear they lingered for a split-second on the places where the curves of her body softly swell the fabric of her moss-green, velvet dress.
McKay silently shakes his head no, then quickly swipes a hand under his nose, half-hiding his face with the movement.
Overcome by her curiosity, Alix just asks.
“Seriously, why’d you think you’re in trouble with the student council? What kind of trouble have you been getting into? A lot, or?”
“Nah, I haven’t.” His bright green eyes are full of confusion as he gazes down at her. “I’m just - tryna figure out what…?”
He fades off, not sure how to put it, but Alix understands what he means.
It’s ridiculously easy to forget, but this is the same person Alix shares classes with every day. They’ve never talked, and now, out of nowhere, here she is, doing this. This must seem bizarre to McKay, and that’s fair.
Alix meant to explain right when she got here, but she lost her train of thought and her plan completely, distracted as she is by the unusual, startling beauty of his face. His warm green eyes, shaded like bottle glass.
Alix pulls herself back on track with tremendous effort, struggling for an explanation.
“Yeah, I’m sorry! This probably seems weird, and I hope I’m not bothering you while you were, um…”
She glances down at the mirrored surface of the puddle again, understanding all at once what McKay was staring at. His own reflection.
He seems to realize that Alix reached that conclusion. Clearly he’s alarmed at the idea that she might think he was staring at himself, because he says suddenly, in a quiet rush -
“Nah, you’re not bothering me, I was just - thinking.” He shrugs his shoulders beneath the gold-lined navy jacket. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”
“I can understand that, after the performance you gave tonight,” Alix tells him earnestly, holding tight to the strap of her bag as she gazes up into his eyes. “That’s actually why I came over here, I just wanted to say that you - you were really amazing. In the show. Seriously, I was blown away.”
He blinks in surprise, some sweet, half-hidden expression rising in his eyes. Then he quickly sends his gaze around the starry landscape, looking anywhere but at her.
“Oh,” he says softly, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
His voice is so quiet, but it goes right through Alix’s veins, making her heart flutter wildly. She shifts from foot to foot, fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
“You know, I’m always trying to get people to participate in school stuff,” she tells McKay.
She had more to say than that, but her follow-up sentence is stopped by the sudden smile turning up McKay’s lips.
He breathes out a laugh, still not looking at Alix. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh.” Alix draws back slightly, caught totally by surprise. “Then you’ll know why I have to ask you what successfully motivated you to try out for a school play.”
McKay doesn’t answer for a few seconds.
“I just, um - felt like trying out something new.” He shrugs his shoulders slightly, casually, but he’s tightening his grasp on the skateboard. “Good to get out of your comfort zone sometimes, right?”
“That was you out of your comfort zone?” Alix stares at him in disbelief. “I was gonna say you’ve never looked more at home.”
McKay suddenly looks at her again, his eyebrows drawn up and together, his jaw tensed up. His green eyes are wide and huge. Catching all the moonlight, except where they’re shadowed by that soft tumble of curls.
Alix can’t quite understand the complicated expression on his face. But the intensity of his vivid stare as he looks right down into her eyes sends a strange, heavy wave of melting heat through her, nearly making her dizzy. She waits for a second for it to fade away, but the intoxicating feeling only swells the longer he looks at her.
“Are you - gonna audition for next semester’s play?” she asks, feeling helpless.
He shakes his head no, and Alix’s heart falls.
“Nah, just wanted to try it. It’s not really my thing, it wasn’t about… I - I think I’ll stick to painting.”
“So irritating that you’re good at both of those things,” Alix groans. “Some of us can’t even draw cute little icons in our planners, and have to buy pre-made stickers to keep things organized…”
Alix trails off, abruptly realizing that she went up to someone who’s been held back a grade due to their blistering disregard for the rules, someone she’s found too intimidatingly outside of the lines to talk to - and started talking about organizing her planner.
She blushes again, but he’s got that smile back on his face.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you with your little stickers,” he laughs softly, teasingly.
Alix draws back, caught completely by surprise.
She sets up her planner for the week at the farthest table outside of the cafeteria, the one nearer to the trees and away from everything else. It’s the moment she gets all to herself. She sits alone with a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin and meticulously goes through her plans, marking her schedule with tiny planner stickers that have assigned meanings in her mind. Test, homework, quiz, extra credit opportunity, meeting, volunteering, and so on. It brings Alix a sense of comfort and peace to see it all clearly marked out before her.
She never for a second thought that anyone had noticed her doing it. Especially not McKay. Why would he have been paying attention?
“No you haven’t,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him accusingly.
He draws his head back and arches an eyebrow, like he didn’t expect her to question that. “Yes, I have.”
“M-m. And that’s rude of you, to lie to me.” She clicks her tongue at him. “I bet you think all you have to do is smile at people and they’ll forgive you for anything.”
“No, I don’t,” he answers, startled. “Why would I think that?”
“Because-” Alix cuts herself off, her eyes briefly flitting to that sweet, handsome, roguish smile. “Nevermind! The point is, no one has been watching me sit and sticker up my-”
“They’re green,” he says softly, as his gaze darts away from her again. “The stickers. Kinda the same color as your dress.”
Caught totally by surprise all over again, Alix puts her fingertips to the edge of her mouth and answers without thinking. “It’s my favorite color.”
She instantly feels stupid, realizing there’s no reason that would be interesting to him. He’s probably bored to death by all of this. He’s not even looking at her, he’s looking at the ground -
She realizes abruptly that his green eyes are lingering on her reflection in the pool of rainwater. The raindrop ripples on its surface make her reflection tremble, the same way she’s secretly been trembling inside ever since she came over here.
McKay runs a hand over his blonde curls, his fingertips briefly sinking deep into them. Alix wonders what they feel like.
“What’s your favorite?” she hears herself ask.
“Pink,” he answers, without seeming to think about it.
Alix’s mouth falls open in amazement. “Pink? I’ve never seen you wear pink.”
His eyebrows furrow again, this time in faint confusion, and he breathes out another quiet laugh. “Oh. For some reason I thought you meant to paint with, not to wear.”
Alix laughs, too, tucking her hair behind her ear, gazing up at him in disbelief. She can’t believe this. She can’t believe how much he’s said to her. This is the most she’s ever seen him talk.
She’s half-lost in astonishment. Taking the deepest breaths she can, breathing in the smell of grass and the rain and some nice smell from McKay that she can’t quite place. Her heart is aching from beating so hard, so fast, for so long.
“I’m sad to hear you’re not doing any more plays,” she admits, unable to stop herself. “It was nice to see you come out of your shell.”
“I’m going right back in,” McKay tells her firmly.
Alix lets out an indignant laugh, trying not to make a pleading face. “Okay, but maybe next year…”
She trails off, because he’s already shaking his head no.
“Definitely not next year,” he murmurs, carefully avoiding her eyes. “I’ve got - other stuff I’m gonna be - not next year.”
Alix nods slowly, hoping the crestfallen sensation in her chest isn’t showing in her eyes. “Big plans, huh?”
He lets out a sudden, quiet laugh, but this time it sounds strangely serious. “Sure, guess you could say that.”
Alix bites her lip unhappily. She’s just realized that his voice, like this, at its stage-level of deepness - she’s going to miss it. When will she ever get to hear this voice again? Never.
A powerful, overwhelming temptation to kiss him seizes Alix out of nowhere. Knowing this is, without a doubt, her very last chance - she nearly takes an involuntary step closer to him before she catches herself. She freezes in self-directed disbelief, her cheeks red with a blush so deep that it tingles almost like a sunburn.
Holy shit, Alix - please, please get a hold of yourself.
But her heart is pounding against her ribs, fluttering wildly, glowing with that deep, molten ache. It melts through her body and tries to push her closer to the prince. She wants so badly to step right back into his warm arms, smooth her hand over his cheek, lean up on her toes…
He’s looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. In the depths of his eyes, she thinks she sees something flicker, as if answering something in hers.
He hesitates, then takes a breath to say something. Before he can, another voice calls out from the pathway. Both Alix and McKay whip around, startled at the interruption.
“Girls!” It’s their math teacher, and he’s squinting through the shadows to see them. “You know you’re not allowed to wander around campus in the dark! Get home or into a building where you’re allowed, please! What - Alix, is that you?”
Mr. Burke sounds bewildered to find himself yelling at Alix, which is understandable.
“Come on,” he adds. “Get over here before the others get out of the staff meeting and find you breaking the rules!”
Alix turns to look at McKay, her eyes wide with distress.
“A teacher is yelling at me,” she whispers, pressing her fingers over her mouth.
“Oh, shit,” McKay whispers back. “Holy fuck.”
He says it with such overdramatized dismay that Alix has to smother a startled laugh beneath her hand. He breaks into that small, devious grin again, breathing out a laugh through his nose.
Alix takes a helpless, flustered, shallow breath. She turns to head back up the hill, then immediately slips on the stripes of exposed mud in the grass, left there from where she nearly fell before.
Just like last time, there’s a warm arm there to catch her. The rush of sweet sensation it puts in her chest cancels out the humiliation as she catches his forearm, gasping.
“Oh, god,” she groans, as McKay quickly lets her go. “It’s the socks, I’m telling you!”
“Right, the socks.” He nods very seriously, trying not to laugh. “Undoubtedly.”
Alix lets out another groan, but this one is half laughter. “Shut up!”
“Girls,” Mr. Burke calls, his voice full of rising exasperation. “Really, come on!”
“In trouble with a teacher,” Alix murmurs to herself, horrified all over again as she heads up the grassy slope to the path. “A teacher is mad at me.”
“This doesn’t count as being in trouble with a teacher,” McKay murmurs, coming up to stride along beside her. “This isn’t even mad. You want to see a teacher actually get mad? Let the professional through, ‘cause I’m the king of that.”
McKay pauses suddenly, alarm filling up his green eyes. Like he said something wrong. Alix isn’t sure what, though. She definitely didn’t hear anything wrong. Oh, wait -
“You’re the prince, actually,” Alix reminds him, with a shy smile. “If you want to graduate to king, you’ll have to audition for another play.”
He blinks down at her. The small, almost-smile slowly turns up his lips again.
“Thank you,” groans Mr. Burke, as they stop before him. “Come on, I’ll walk you two to the gate.”
McKay shakes his head, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “I’m going to the art building. Mr. Hudson said we’re allowed after hours, if it’s for-”
“Alright, alright, go on. Alix, let’s walk.”
“Oh, you’re - not coming with us?” Alix asks McKay softly, her heart sinking.
She wanted more time with him, just a little more time -
He shakes his head, already walking backwards down the path in the direction of the art building.
“Feel like painting,” he murmurs.
His eyes linger on Alix’s face for a split-second longer before he turns around and walks away.
Alix obediently falls into step beside Mr. Burke, but she steals one last glance at her prince over her shoulder. He’s disappearing into the shadows, his figure in the navy jacket already harder to make out against the night.
The last thing Alix catches is the moonlight sliding over his blonde curls, and then he’s gone.
~~~~
The yearbook photographers are perfectly capable of handling everything on their own, but Alix snatched up her bag and leaped to her feet as soon as she heard they were going to the art building to snap some photos. A little extra assistance never hurt anybody.
The art building is a tiny place, set off and away from the rest of the school buildings. More like a small house than anything, although no one lives there. Well. You could make the argument that some of the art kids live here.
As soon as Alix sets foot inside, she’s met with the mingled smells of paint, clay, wood, and construction paper. The windows are open, adding a touch of wind and sunshine and autumn to the mix.
Alix recognizes the taste of the air in this place instantly. This is the sweet, warm fragrance that was clinging to the prince.
The place is a giant, wonderful mess. Stacked high in every direction with half-finished projects, drying brushes, easels, paint-splattered sponges, bottles of Liquitex, jars of brushes. The students have drawn and painted on every wall, making the place into a riot of colors. An old-school stereo is playing music that the art teacher has to pause in order to hear the yearbook photographers as they explain what they’ll be doing.
Alix leaves them to it and drifts around the space. There are a few students at work in here, but her roaming eyes don’t find McKay.
Alix spots another familiar face and heads over to her. She’s on her knees on the ground, carefully melting droplets of wax onto a painting.
“Hey, Mariana!” Alix leans back against the counter next to her, flashing her a friendly smile. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, it’s alright.” She glances up at Alix, then at the photographers. “Do you guys need anything from us?”
“No, I think we wanted to…” Alix trails off, her eyes landing on a stack of oversized black portfolios further down the counter. “What are those?”
Mariana follows her eyes to the stack. “Those are the student portfolios. We have to turn them in at the end of the semester.”
Alix bites her lip, her eyes resting on the McKay stamped on the spine of one of the portfolios. “Can I look through them?”
Mariana shrugs her shoulders, tucking her earbud back into place. “Knock yourself out.”
Alix pulls out a few of them, so it’s not obvious, then carefully opens up McKay’s.
There are a bunch of paintings tucked neatly away inside, separated by very thin, fragile sheets of protective paper. Alix swallows, then very, very carefully reaches out to lift the first one away. She refuses to let her clumsiness strike right now. Not at this moment, with something precious in her hands.
The protective paper slips free into her fingers, lighter than a feather, leaving the painting beneath exposed. Alix stops still, her eyes widening.
“I know,” Mariana says, nodding up at the portfolio. “She's pretty good, right?”
Alix nods silently, staring down at McKay’s paintings. She flips slowly and carefully through them, stopping on each one to stare for a moment.
They’re all different, but it’s clear they all come from the same artist. There’s a definitive style linking each one to the next. Infinitely delicate and beautiful lines of paint, the work of steady hands. Each paper is filled to the edges with different shades, sometimes with the barest hint of the sketch-lines showing through.
There’s a theme across the paintings, too, although it’s something more easily felt and sensed than explained. One piece is a house in the sunlight, with the front door wide open. Night and stars stream out through the doors, spilling like ink. Another painting shows a suitcase left open, with a forest growing out from it. Tiny blue birds burst from the treetops, gathering around the boughs, and tiny clumps of moss cling to the trunks. One painting is of a censer, like they swing in church. But instead of clouds of incense, it’s putting off storm clouds, giving off a rich fall of shimmering rain and flashes of lightning.
There’s a kind of magic to each painting, the sense of it coming from some secret, enchanted world. And everything, without fail, has a dreamy touch of soft pink to it. Pink the shade of coral, of rosy sunlight, of lips.
The very last painting in the portfolio is unfinished. It’s a human figure, swimming upwards through an ocean of water that’s clear, but dark. A boy, making his way upwards through the abstract obstacles floating all around him. He’s not completely painted in yet, but he’s nearly to the surface, to the peach-pink skies overhead.
He looks ready to take in a huge, gasping breath of air. So ready that Alix is nearly holding her breath with him.
Alix has been staring in spellbound silence, but she looks up sharply at the murmur of a familiar voice saying hello to Mr. Hudson. Not nearly so deep as it was last night, but still that voice.
McKay glances Alix’s way at the exact same moment that Alix looks over at her. Then she does a double-take, blinking hard at Alix.
Alix quickly pushes the portfolio aside and opens another, pretending to examine it closely. Pretending to be calm, too, but she’s almost startled to see McKay back in her usual clothes, looking how she always does. With the exception of the now very short hair.
“Hey,” Mariana calls, as McKay crosses towards the two of them. “You know Alix, right?”
Alix looks up hopefully at McKay. She thought about it last night when she was laying awake in bed, and - even if she can’t like McKay the way she liked the prince, they can be friends, right? It was so easy talking to her, last night.
Alix fixes her with a tentative, friendly smile, then spreads her hand in a wave.
But if anything has changed in McKay’s book, it doesn’t show. She gives Alix a tiny nod of greeting, without looking at her. Then she goes right past her, headed for a different room.
Alix’s heart begins to sink - then stops as McKay pauses in the doorway, hesitating. Her back is to Alix, but it seems like she might turn around. Then, without even glancing back, she pulls her hat down lower over her eyes and disappears into the other room. Alix only has time to watch her reach for a paintbrush and stick it behind her ear before she lets the door swing closed after herself. The brush is stained with bright green pigment, and so are McKay’s fingertips.
Alix turns away, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek.
Leave her alone, she tells herself sadly. You tried, but she’s not him. You always knew that.
Mariana has gotten to her feet and set aside the half-melted wax. She nods down at the painting of the boy in the sea as she pulls off her gloves. Alix gathered it back into her hands without thinking about it.
“So good, right?” Mariana asks Alix, gazing at the painting with admiring eyes. “I keep telling McKay if she can just finish that one, it’ll be the best out of all of them. It’s definitely my favorite.”
Alix gazes down at the boy suspended in the water, reaching up for that big breath of air.
“Yeah,” she answers softly. She means it completely, even if she doesn’t know why. “This one is my favorite, too.”
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