Special Episode: Through the Window
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.
The rain is falling softly and quietly onto Ketterbridge, drawing sweet-smelling perfume out of the evergreens. The entire town is flooded with it, the air a sweep of rich green fragrance.
The night sky is heavy with white, fiery stars. Behind them, a purple stardust cloud is veiled across the velvety blackness. The raindrops glitter with the silver glow of the moon and slant across the shafts of warm gold falling from the street lights.
Ripley lifts his face to the raindrops, aware of none of it.
Normally he’s always on the lookout for beautiful little things around him, things that can be incorporated into paintings later. Tonight, though - he’s taking in nothing.
He’s walking very slowly down the empty sidewalk, taking shallow breaths of night air. He hasn’t cried, but he drags the back of his hand over his eyes anyways. Sniffling, anyways. Mouth trembling a little, anyways. He’s fighting down the lump in his throat, which is getting dangerously higher to the surface.
He feels blank and empty, hollowed out. Drained of everything. At the same time, he’s upset to the point of some quiet, internal panic. Some part of him is screaming that he urgently and desperately needs relief from this, rescue from this feeling.
He can’t pull together any thoughts beyond that. His mind is lost in featureless darkness. He’s not sure where he is, or how long ago it was that he snuck out of his bedroom window. He’s fumbling his way along automatically, going from sidewalk to grass to weaving through trees, climbing through brambles, walking up hills until he’s out of breath.
“What are you doing, mom?” he’d asked earlier tonight.
He had come into the living room to find her on the phone, an anxious frown turning down her mouth. She quickly pulled a smile onto her face, reaching up to tousle his curls.
“Nothing, sweetheart! Back to your room with you, please. You should have been in bed a while ago.”
He went halfway there, then circled back to listen from the shadows.
“-graduation coming up, I just want to make sure they use his correct name when it’s his turn to walk across the stage,” his mom was saying softly into the phone. “It’s Ripley, now.”
And then, after a pause - “No, not legally - it takes time to get it changed… Okay… well, who do I talk to about that?”
Ripley didn’t stay long enough to hear where things went from there. He went back to his room and laid down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
For the first time, he finally counted off all the things he missed out on because he didn’t feel comfortable going. All the school dances, beach days, camping trips - and now, depending on how that phone call goes, maybe graduation, too.
Ripley was secretly excited for it. He already got extra tickets so he’d have enough for all of the guys. And there’s a grad night party, after. The whole senior class has been simmering with excitement for that all year, but especially over the last few weeks. There’s been near-constant chatter about it, infectious enthusiasm that’s gotten hold of Ripley, too.
But you can only go if you walk the stage.
Now Ripley is totaling up everything he could have done, if he’d only had the freedom to do it. Not just the official, school-sanctioned stuff, either. He’s thinking about all the classic things that boys get to do in high school. How many of them he’s missed. It’s all he can think about, all of a sudden.
That, and the idea that there are those among the school staff who may never really have seen him as Ripley. Isn’t that why they’re giving his mom pushback on using his new name for the walk? It’s the easiest request in the world to fulfill, unless you just don’t want to.
Ripley staggers over a tree root hidden in the rainy darkness. Catches himself, and keeps going. He’s on the verge of a steep fall into some impossibly dark place. It’s going to catch up with him and push him over if he slows down. He’s felt it right behind him, just over his shoulder, ever since he dropped down from his bedroom window.
Ripley can’t take another second of this. He stops where he is, panting, struggling to think. He could go home and talk to his mom. The boys are always there for him, too. But those options don’t seem to fit right, to Ripley. Not now, for this.
Some internal voice is telling him that he needs someone else. Someone… he doesn't know. He’s had the vague, unconscious sensation of running to someone, not just from something, but he’s not sure why.
He slowly lifts his eyes, at a loss for where he is, where to go.
And finds himself staring up at Alix’s house.
Wrapped in the soft, rainy mist. Set in the trees. It rises above a big backyard, full of leaves that dance in the rain. A huge evergreen oak rises up by the lefthand corner of the house, its branches shading the window panes. Vines climb up the stone walls, reaching all the way up to the second floor.
Ripley’s eyes move slowly over the upstairs windows, eventually coming to a stop on the one closest to the oak. He can make out a bed set against that window. Or not the bed, he can’t see that - but the pile of soft pillows reaching all the way to the windowsill tells him it’s there.
Her room.
Ripley is completely and instantly certain of it. The slab of rich golden light from her window shines out to him, pulling him forward. He follows it instinctively, unthinking, his heart hammering in his throat.
Talking to Alix about this was the very first thing Ripley wanted, but he’d immediately decided against it. It’s been some time since the opening of Bright Future, when things officially started between him and Alix - although it actually started long before that, for Ripley. Even before her sweet voice startled him that one night on campus junior year, after the school play.
But this thing between them is still pretty new, and Ripley didn’t think it would be the best idea for him to show up like this.
His feet led him here, anyways. And as he stares up at Alix’s window, the idea of going away becomes unthinkable. Impossible.
He stands there in the misty rain, staring up at her light and twisting his fingers around his wrist, not sure what to do. It’s way too late for him to go to the front door. What would he say to her parents? He could text her, but she puts her phone on do not disturb when she’s studying, so in all likelihood that won’t work.
His eyes rove slowly over the frame of her window, then catch on something. Her window is cracked, very slightly open.
Ripley lets his gaze glance over the other windows. All closed. He can see the TV through the downstairs window, playing a documentary, but he can’t hear it. The glass panes neatly seal the sound out.
Ripley takes a long look into the living room, his heart hammering as he measures up the risk. Someone is relaxing on the couch in there, he can tell. Alix’s mom, maybe? But her head is tilted all the way to the side. She might be asleep.
Ripley swallows hard, then sneaks forward to stand right under Alix’s window. Sticking close to the big oak, in case he needs to hide. His hands are trembling as he cups them around his mouth.
“Alix,” he calls out.
He tried to keep his voice as soft as possible, so that only she would hear it, but to him it sounds impossibly loud. He flinches sharply, glancing at the living room, but there’s no response of any kind from anyone in the house.
He tries again, this time a tiny bit louder.
“Alix! Out here!”
Silence again, and then - a hand appears on the window, pushing it further open.
She leans out into the starlight, her silky black hair spilling over her shoulders. A flash of soft pink meets Ripley’s eyes as her shining locks go tumbling forward.
In spite of everything, he could smile as soon as his eyes land on her face.
Her eyes widen as she stares at him, stricken, one hand flying up to her mouth.
Ripley nervously, hopefully spreads his fingers in a wave.
“Ripley?” Alix whispers, visibly astonished. “What - what are you doing here?”
He looks into her eyes and slowly shrugs his shoulders, not sure how to answer. Alix stares down at him, taking a better look at his face. She bites her lip, then glances behind herself.
“Stay there!” she calls softly, and disappears from the window.
Ripley falls back into the shadows, then quickly runs a hand over his windblown curls. It dawns on him that there are leaves stuck to his jeans, that he’s wild-eyed, damp from the rain, wearing the same clothes he was painting in earlier. It looks like he crawled here, and he doesn’t have any time to fix -
“Rip,” comes a warm, soft voice from behind him.
Again, Ripley nearly smiles. There’s only one person who really calls him that.
He lifts his head and meets her eyes, grateful beyond words just to see her.
She’s beautiful, her wondering eyes wide and startled, her cheeks already coloring with a rosy blush. A shaft of honey bourbon light spills out from the open door of the house, painting her in gold. She’s wearing soft white pajama shorts, the sleeves of her oversized sweater falling almost to her fingertips. Fluffy, woolly socks on her feet.
Ripley breathes out a huge exhale, tilting his head back in infinite relief. He walks slowly to Alix, and doesn’t break his pace until his forehead is against hers, his fingers enfolding the back of her neck.
Alix holds perfectly still, then lifts her arms and gently draws him closer to her. They stand body to body in the gentle rainfall, her hands spread on his back.
She pulls away and tilts her face up to his, tucking a green curl out of his eyes. Her beautiful eyes fill up with concern as she takes in his expression.
She bites her lip, then glances back into the house and peers off down the hallway. Her fingers weave through Ripley’s, and give him a soft tug in the direction of the open back door. She lifts a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet.
“What-?” Ripley’s eyes widen in alarm, his voice dropping to an anxious whisper as he follows her inside. “Isn’t your mom on the couch?”
Alix gestures for him to shut up and get his boots off, then noiselessly shuts the door behind them. The lights are half-on downstairs, casting a dim glow, enough for Ripley’s fumbling fingers to get his lances undone. Alix snatches his boots up, then stares off down the hallway again for a moment.
Ripley stays frozen by the door as Alix treads down the hallway and peeks around the corner into the living room.
“Goodnight, mom,” she calls softly, hiding Ripley’s boots behind her back.
“Goodnight, bao bao,” calls back a warm, sleepy voice from the living room. “I’m just gonna wait up for your dad.”
“Okay.”
“Sleep tight. Don’t let me catch you up late doing extra credit things, either! Get some rest!”
A faint blush is showing itself in Alix’s cheeks when she turns back around. Whether from the cute little nickname, or from the thing about doing extra credit, Ripley isn’t sure. She rolls her eyes when she finds him grinning at her, her flustered blush growing darker.
She beckons for him. He stares at her incredulously, then haltingly goes towards her, picking up speed when she gestures for him to move faster.
Ripley is half in disbelief as he darts up the stairs after Alix in plain view of her mom, who’s already dozing off on the couch again with a huge black cat on her lap. The cat lifts his head and stares at Ripley, but makes no movement or sound.
Alix and Ripley silently slip into the upstairs hallway together, unnoticed.
“Holy shit,” Ripley whispers. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Alix throws him a smile over her shoulder. “Since when are you so afraid to break the rules?”
“Since I don’t want to get you in trouble - and since when are you such a rule-breaker?” he whispers back, startled, impressed. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around you coming with me to do the billboard, and now we’re really just gonna-?”
Alix presses her finger over her lips again, nodding at one of the closed bedroom doors. Her little brother’s room, probably. Ripley falls silent, and steals along down the hallway after Alix until they slip through the door at the very end.
Ripley stops just inside and blushes at finding himself in a girl’s room. Technically speaking, he’s lived in one for most of his life, but it never really felt that way to him.
Alix shuts the door as softly as possible, sets Ripley’s boots aside, then flips off the overhead light. The room falls into shadow, but the strings of paper lantern lights roped across the walls cast a dim, golden glow. They’re hanging up above Alix’s desk, where her laptop is open, along with a stack of textbooks and notebooks. And - her planner, its pages done up with all those tiny green stickers. Ripley’s eyes catch them even from where he’s standing, and a rush of affection warms his heart.
His roaming gaze falls on Alix’s bed. It’s almost exactly how he’s always pictured it since she mentioned it that one time junior year. Pushed right up to the window, soft and airy as a cloud with its faux-fur blankets and piles of cozy pillows. More of a nest than a bed. Looks like heaven.
Without knowing what he’s doing, Ripley drifts closer to it and touches the nearest of the blankets. Perfect softness meets his paint-stained fingertips.
Alix turns the lock, sealing them safely inside. Then she turns around to face Ripley and spreads her palms flat on the door behind her, the sleeves of her sweater kissing her fingertips.
They look at each other across the bedroom for a silent, lingering moment. Then Alix presses her fingers to her mouth, her eyes slowly widening.
“Oh, I - I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispers, shocked at herself. “Oh, my god. This is so not allowed!”
Ripley lets out a ragged laugh.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs roughly, his voice coming out all hoarse.
Alix goes perfectly still, her eyebrows drawing up and together.
She crosses to Ripley and closes her hands around his, gazing up into his face in the starlight.
“What happened, Rip?” she whispers, squeezing his fingers. “You look - just - and you’re so cold…”
Ripley bites his lip. Suffocation is pressing all the air out of his chest again, smothering him, and the lump in his throat is cutting at him. He tries for a breath, hates the way it trembles so audibly when he takes it.
“It’s - been a bad day,” he stammers, his words riding a heavy, shaky exhale. “Was just like - one thing much, and it brought the whole fuckin’ house down, you know? And now I’m thinking about what I’ve missed, and how people really look at - I don’t know. I don’t know. I try to just get over it, but eventually it gets you thinking, like - am I even here at all? And tonight I’ve just felt s-so - so - I just needed to be with someone who-”
He cuts himself off sharply, mortified at the wavering sound of his fragile voice. Hyperaware of how exposed and vulnerable he is right now. He turns his burning face aside and stares at Alix’s desk, focusing his gaze on the glow of her laptop instead of on her.
It goes dark right as he desperately turns his eyes to it, and his gaze automatically goes back to Alix.
She’s rooted to the spot, wide-eyed, holding tight to his hands.
She slowly sinks down to sit on the edge of her bed. She doesn’t let go of Ripley’s fingers, and the movement pulls him down next to her. He drops down into warmth and softness on all sides. The sheets breathe out a soft wave of air, sweet and clean and sundried.
Alix is gazing at him with a complicated expression glittering in her eyes.
“So you thought of me?” she murmurs, very softly.
Ripley shrugs his shoulders, helpless. “I’m always thinking of you. Even when I - probably shouldn’t be.”
He blushes a little when he realizes what he said, his jaw tensing up. Alix’s eyelashes flutter in surprise, but she breaks into a tiny, barely-suppressed smile. Her eyes are softened with moonlight, her pupils blown out.
“But you actually came to see me,” she says quietly, watching his face as he determinedly avoids her eyes.
Ripley struggles desperately for a good, not-weird answer. But it’s difficult to understand even for him, and he doesn’t know how to explain any better than - “I had to. Had to see you.”
He hears the words that left his mouth too late to stop them. He wretchedly runs a hand over his damp green curls, his cheeks dark with humiliation. Torn to pieces inside, silently and profoundly suffering as he tries to imagine how this is all coming off to Alix right now.
He steals a swift glance at her, then does a double-take, startled. Completely unintentionally, he finds himself staring deep into her eyes.
Some glow has just come into them. A flickering, smoldering glow like molten cinders, or like sunset light melting red against the cliffs at the beach, setting them on fire.
Ripley goes motionless, his heart suddenly racing. All he can do is stare wide-eyed at Alix as she wordlessly reaches for him.
Gazing up into his eyes, she slowly, slowly spreads her hands on his shoulders. Slides them up to the sides of his neck, strokes his jaw with her thumbs. Then her arms close around him, her fingertips sinking into his hair.
Ripley slowly lifts his arms and wraps them around her. He draws her in closer, and she lets him clasp her tightly to himself, lets him hold her in his arms.
Ripley drops his forehead onto Alix’s shoulder, then blinks in surprise as she falls softly backwards. Thinking she’s somehow managed to lose her balance even while seated on the bed, he starts to ease her back up, but she presses insistently against his arms, pulling him down, too. She sinks back onto the pillows until he gently lands on top of her, coming to rest with his face tucked into her neck.
Apparently that’s exactly what Alix intended, because she tightens her arms around him, and holds him there.
Ripley is frozen stiff in her embrace, completely disoriented, stunned.
Slowly, sensations begin reaching him. Alix’s body beneath him in the bed, her fluttering pulse stumbling against his. The softness of her bed, of her hair, her skin. The firm, steady pressure of her arms enveloping him, and the tenderness of her fingertips in his curls. The warmth of her, against the cold air still clinging to his clothes.
They’re so close together that his heart is beating against hers, and - that must be the way she wants things.
Immeasurable, unbelievable relief floods through Ripley like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. He sinks deeper into Alix’s arms as the raging, choking storm of pent-up misery pours out of him. Poison hit with an antidote, that’s what this is like. He didn’t even know how hurt he really was, until now.
Life comes rushing back into him in a big, beautiful sweep that nearly makes him gasp against Alix’s neck. His body is his again. He feels like a person again, like a man again, like - himself. He feels it all coming back, and he instinctively tightens his grasp on Alix, scared that she’ll move him away too soon. But she makes no move to do that. Her only response is to sink a gentle, soothing kiss into his hair.
The relief in Ripley is so overwhelmingly powerful that it swells into pure elation. What even compares to this feeling glowing in his heart right now?
He only has a second to wonder before he loses himself completely in it.
He snuggles up closer to Alix, pressing his face into her neck, resting in the rich warmth of her body as it seeps upwards into him. He’s struck with a strange sensation of gently healing, and at the same time, gently dissolving. His mind is suffused with pure, blissful heat, with a perfect stillness and peace that he’s not sure he’s ever found before.
Everything else evaporates, leaving him gently in his body. No thoughts pull at him, aside from the delirious sense of staggering relief. All he has to do is just be, and breathe. He’s so far away from everything else, and so close to Alix.
The wind is picking up outside, starting to sweep fiercely through the trees, but Ripley is in an unbreakable shelter of cozy warmth.
It’s some time before any coherent thought forms in his mind. The first thing that occurs to him is that he might be crushing Alix. He’s much heavier than he used to be, since he started going to the gym with Aiden.
He shifts himself slightly to relieve the weight he must be putting on Alix. She tightens her hold on him, silently telling him not to do that. He’s secretly relieved about it.
He hides his face against Alix’s neck, a self-conscious blush heating up his cheeks as his brain starts working again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispers back.
“I don’t know. Coming over here and - doing this.”
Alix strokes her fingers through his curls, her gentle voice soft and clear even at a whisper. “I knew there would be some really hard days for you, Rip. More than there would be with most other people. I was always planning to be there. Hoping you would give me the chance to, anyways. It’s - super cool that you already did.”
Ripley’s eyes flutter open, his body tensing up.
“What - makes you say that?” he asks, after a moment. “More hard days than there would be with most other people…? Why?”
“Because.” Alix’s fingertips go on playing with his curls as she talks. “You’re going to be a great artist, Rip. Great artists are mold-breakers. You are. Great art asks big questions, uncovers things, changes things. Yours will. But great artists tend to get ignored at first, and once they get past that part, they always piss someone off.”
She squeezes him tightly, protectively.
“You’re such a strong person, and I know you can take it,” she murmurs. “But I also know that it must be exhausting. Especially when you put your heart into your work. But I - I’m always here. When you’re tired. I’m always here.”
Silence falls, populated only by the soft tapping of the rainfall beyond the open window. Ripley knows he should answer her, but he’s struggling to speak. Suddenly he’s sobbing inside, barely keeping it beneath the surface.
“I thought… I thought you meant there were gonna be a lot of really hard days because I’m trans. Made it sound like you were saying something sad, instead of, um - the super nice thing you were actually saying.”
Surprised, Alix briefly pauses in her gentle stroking of his hair.
“Oh. Well - I’m here for any tough days related to that, too. Obviously. Of course I am. Wait-” Alix gives a little start in Ripley’s arms. “Is that what this is? One of those days?”
Just like that, her slender body is practically vibrating with anger beneath Ripley. She tightens her arms around him protectively again, then forcefully shoves him back so she can glare up into his face.
“Who did something?” she asks, absolutely seething, her words picking up speed.
Ripley lets out a helpless laugh.
“It’s fucking adorable when you’re mad. Too adorable.” He presses a hand over his aching heart, smiling dreamily down at her furious face. “Hurts.”
“Rip, I’m serious, tell me right now! If it was someone from the school, then they’re not gonna get away with it, believe me! I’m gonna-”
Propped up on his elbows, Ripley stares down at Alix, into her sweet, intelligent, generous eyes, so full of fire and determination. He’s not listening, but he can’t help it.
Alix stops mid-sentence when she gets a look at the expression on his face. She stares up at him searchingly, her arms still looped around his neck.
He has no words to tell Alix what he’s feeling, and even if he could, even though he’s desperately longing to - he doesn’t dare.
Instead he leans down and brings his face to hers. She closes her eyes, holding her breath.
Ripley places a tender, lingering kiss on each of her eyelids. First one, then the other. His fingers move instinctively at the same time, smoothing back her hair until the pink streak shows.
Alix slowly raises her eyes to his face when he draws back. Her gaze locks with Ripley’s, and his heart comes to a standstill.
He stares down at her, the full, soft curve of her very slightly parted lips. Her eyes, sharp and dark at the outer corners, fringed with those long dark lashes above and below. Her eyelids are so beautifully shaded, just a little darker than everywhere else.
Her inky, shining hair is tumbling and pooling around her shoulders, curling under her chin. The streak of pink is showing, matching the rosy pink blush dusted across her cheeks. Her skin is softer than velvet in the low light.
She’s so ridiculously, inexpressibly sweet to Ripley’s eyes like this. Spread out beneath him on her cloud of pillows, dipped in moonlight, something out of a dreamscape.
God, she makes him want to paint. He wants to paint her just like this, with her hair as floating clouds around her shoulders, lighter than air.
But more than that, he wants…
His thoughts melt away into nothing, his rounded, dilated eyes full of her.
Some rich current of electricity is growing between them. Flowing from him to her, and from her to him. Swelling slowly into an overwhelming rush, a raw kind of heat that fills up Ripley’s chest and spills over to flood his body. His soul is lit up, his heart breaking its own speed limits, his body hit with a wanting ache so powerful that it hurts.
Alix looks like she’s in the trance with him. Her breathing is growing deeper and softer. Her mouth is trembling, almost imperceptibly. Flakes of white-hot fire are shimmering in her gaze, crimson color blazing in her cheeks.
Her wide eyes are glossy, glazed over with that heat. Ripley can feel it dancing all around him, somehow. Her light, her fire. He’s full to overflowing with it, swept up completely in it.
Alix tightens her grasp on the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. Ripley needs no more encouragement than that to give in.
He sinks his mouth against hers and kisses her deep into the bed. Her lips are parted, waiting for him. Her hands tighten their grasp on his hair, her chest moving against him with her panted breaths. A deep, molten thrill melts through his veins, reaching him right to his core.
Ripley has never been this nervous before in his life. His heart is running frantic circles around his chest. He and Alix have been taking things slow, and this, whatever’s happening right now - it’s something new. Alix is trembling beneath Ripley as he starts kissing his way up the side of her neck, but if she wants him to stop, she isn’t giving him any sign.
In a startlingly graceful, swift movement, she twists beneath Ripley, forcing him to raise himself up on his knees and give her room. As soon as she has it, she repositions herself, then yanks him back down to her by his hoodie.
He lands between her thighs, and she folds them around him, like that was exactly what she intended. Then her mouth is melted against his, her hands cupping his jaw.
Ripley is struggling with all his might to get a hold of himself. He’s determined not to make even one wrong step with Alix. He doesn’t want to push it too far by accident, for himself or for her.
But his self-control slips right through his hands as soon as he gets to feel what it’s like to have her thighs wrapped around him like this, while she’s kissing him like this.
Panting, powerless to stop himself, Ripley smooths his hand over the soft, warm, clinging fabric of Alix’s sweater, then fumbles around until he finds the hem. He risks slipping his fingers beneath it, resting them on Alix’s bare skin, sliding them further up.
She shivers beneath his touch, dropping her head back against the pillows. Ripley drops his head over her throat, biting her softly between the lingering kisses he leaves on her. Her eyes flutter shut, her panted breaths growing heavier. She has two tight fistfuls of his hair in her hands.
Ripley is losing his head completely, abandoning himself to what he wants, to what it feels like she wants, to the sweet sensations overwhelming him from every direction. She’s sensory heaven, this girl.
Regardless, he wants to make sure she’s still with him, even if his every instinct is telling him she is. He draws back to ask, but he’s barely opened his mouth before Alix suddenly pushes him over, sending him flat onto his back beside her.
Taken completely by surprise, he hasn’t even caught his breath yet before she lands on top of him.
Ripley stares up at her, panting hard. She’s radiant in the moonlight. Her cheeks glowing from the scarlet blush, the waterfall of inky locks flowing around her shoulders, the fire in her beautiful eyes, her thighs pinning him down.
“Whoa,” Ripley blurts out eagerly, before he can stop himself. He’s half laughing, his heart crashing against his ribs. “Holy shit. Oh m-my god.”
Alix giggles softly, then starts to unzip his hoodie.
Ripley snaps back into the present. His hand flies up to catch Alix’s wrist, and she stops, her questioning eyes flitting to his face.
“I’m not wearing my binder,” he explains softly, all in a rush.
All he has beneath the hoodie is his t-shirt, actually. Even the sports bra felt like it was crushing the air out of him, with the ragged way he was breathing earlier.
Alix is caught off-guard, but she nods quickly, flashes Ripley an understanding smile, and lets go of the zipper. She starts to lean down to kiss him, then stops, hesitating.
“Hey, it’s - it’s okay by me,” she whispers softly. She gives the zipper of his hoodie a soft tug, not quite enough to move it. “If it’s okay by you.”
Ripley blinks at her in surprise. “You - yeah?”
She nods at him earnestly, gazing into his eyes. “Yeah. But only if it wouldn’t make you feel weird.”
Ripley takes a second to think about it.
“I just - don’t want you looking at me any different,” he finally whispers back.
The thought of that alone makes him heartsick.
Not you. You need to look at me the way you always have. You’ve always gotten it right, since the first moment we really talked. I know you have, somehow.
Alix shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing in faint confusion.
“Why would I do that?” comes her whispered answer.
Ripley stares up at her, framed against the moonlit window. Realizing slowly that he believes her. He implicitly believes her, and the total absence of any doubt feels good.
His heart is hammering so loudly he can practically hear it echoing off of the moon. All potential resistance blown to a million pieces, he unzips his hoodie himself, then leans up so Alix can pull it off of him and toss it aside.
She does look at him differently, as soon as he does it. But in just about the opposite way of what he was afraid of.
His breath catches in his throat as Alix eagerly leans down and sinks her mouth against his, nibbling his lips, her hand sliding up his shirt. Her fingertips ghost so lightly over him, sending waves of goosebumps down his arms.
She walks her fingers slowly right up the center of his sternum, then slowly back down. The fast-accumulating electricity in Ripley’s body multiplies in leaps and bounds with each little movement.
Alix is shivering all over, every now and then jolting in answer to his hands and his body. She bites her lip when his fingers steal up her sweater again, her thighs tightening around him.
“Rip,” she moans very softly, right in his ear.
His every sense swimming, Ripley tightens his grasp on Alix, trying not to gasp at the friction as her hips rock against him. He’s dazed, out of breath, lost in this. Alix’s eyes are hazy with pleasure, and he knows without having to look that his would match. The sweet, aching heat in his body is building and building, climbing, almost too much to bear.
It takes a sudden, overwhelming sweep upwards as Alix’s fingers wriggle just beneath the waistband of his boxers. She breaks off the kiss to look searchingly into his eyes, but Ripley doesn’t want her to stop. He’s instinctively, imploringly raising his hips, trying to make her fingertips go deeper.
Alix breaks into a nervous, eager smile, bends to kiss him again. He leans up to meet her, closing his eyes, sliding his palms up the outsides of her thighs…
Alix and Ripley break off the kiss sharply, at the same moment, then go perfectly still. From outside, in the hallway - they just heard the sound of heavy footsteps.
Alix bites back a soft gasp, wrenching her hand back. The waistband of Ripley’s boxers snaps against him, which feels startlingly good, and Ripley has to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the little sound that escapes him.
The footsteps outside come to a stop.
“Alix?” calls a man’s voice. “Are you still awake?”
Alix’s eyes go perfectly round with panic.
She bounds off of Ripley, who snaps upright on her bed just in time to catch her by her waist before she can go tumbling to the floor.
“Hi, dad!” she calls out, in a determinedly calm, bright voice. “I thought you weren’t gonna be home until late?”
She rushes across the room to snatch up Ripley’s boots as she speaks. He leaps up off of her bed, straightening out his rumpled clothes.
“Yeah, but not that late,” Alix’s dad calls back. “Can I come say hi? What - why is the door locked, baby? We talked about this, remember? Not while you sleep, it’s a fire hazard.”
“I was - still up!” Alix calls back, the faintest waver of panic in her voice. “Gimme one sec!”
There’s a pause from outside. “Is everything okay in there?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine! I’m just - changing into my pajamas, hang on!”
“Okay…”
“Ripley, you’ve gotta get out of here!” Alix whispers frantically, shoving his boots into his hands. “I’m not allowed to have a boy in my room like this!”
“Oh, that’s - yeah,” he whispers back, breaking into a grin as he stumbles back into his boots. “That’s right.”
Alix makes a face at him like he’s stupid. “Yeah, Rip, what did you think? Find somewhere to hide!”
She whips around to face the mirror, hastily fixing her tumbled hair and her pajamas, then freezes when she sees Ripley pushing the window all the way open.
“What the hell are you-?”
“Got a better suggestion?” he whispers, hopping up on the sill. “It’s all good, I’ve been working out with Aiden.”
“No, Rip, that jump is too far, it’s not just about leg strength, you-”
Alix cuts herself off with a gasp and rushes to the window. The next thing Ripley is aware of - after the sudden rush of cold night air, the sudden weightlessness - is the rough press of bark against his hands.
He drops the tree bough and lightly falls the rest of the way down into the backyard. It’s not too bad of a drop from the branch. He lands without hurting himself. Thank you, Aiden.
He straightens up, dusts his hands off. Then he looks up at Alix, flashes her a victorious grin.
She looks like she wants to tell him off in a million different ways, but instead she bites back a laugh, rolls her eyes, and tosses his hoodie out of the window at him.
“I’ll call you!” he whisper-shouts, pulling it back on.
“Get lost, dummy!” she whispers back, her voice full of warm adoration.
Ripley doesn’t do it, not right away. He stands there grinning happily up at Alix as she whips around, closes the window, and disappears.
Only when her dad comes to glance suspiciously out of the window does Ripley finally fall back, and run off into the dark.
~~~~
“Hello, miscreant,” Noah laughs, leaning his elbows on the roof of the car.
Ripley breaks into a grin as he jogs across the street to meet him, but tries to replace it with an innocent expression before he gets there.
“Miscreant?” he asks, pressing a wounded hand to his chest.
“Hey, you don’t have to pretend to me, brother,” Noah laughs, giving Ripley’s head a shove. “I’m just glad to know I’m the one you call when you’ve been out getting yourself into trouble.”
“I just went for a walk,” Ripley protests, working hard to keep his face and voice casual. “Didn’t realize how far I went.”
Noah clearly isn’t fooled. He arches a pierced eyebrow, taking a skeptical drag of his cigarette. “Mhm. You were just out selling Boy Scout cookies, huh?”
“Do they make Boy Scout cookies?”
“We’re the wrong people to ask,” Noah snickers, sticking the cigarette in his mouth so he can knot his long hair up in a bun. “Not exactly Boy Scouts, are we? The fact you’re calling me for a ride home at this hour is proof of that.”
Ripley slowly loses the battle against the grin on his face. He shrugs his shoulders helplessly, biting the inside of his cheek. “I was just-”
“No, man!” Noah snaps his inky fingers in Ripley’s face, cutting him off before he can finish. “Don’t tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing, I’m not tryna hear that! If I know then I’m complicit and shit. I don’t want Mrs. McKay on my ass, do I?”
“No,” Ripley answers firmly.
Noah breathes out a laugh, then narrows his grey eyes at Ripley. His gaze goes slowly down him, then back up. Taking in his rumpled clothes and hair, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Oh, hang on,” he says, breaking into a grin. “I know exactly what you were doing.”
Ripley shakes his head and pushes past him to pull open the passenger’s side door. “No, you don’t.”
Noah laughs again, dropping into the driver’s side. He pulls the door shut after himself, and he’s already got a gigantic, knowing grin in place when Ripley drops into the car next to him.
“You’re running from Alix’s house, right? Her dad almost caught you in her bedroom?”
“What-?” Ripley draws back sharply, blinking hard at Noah. “Okay, how the fuck did you know that?”
Noah pulls out onto the road so fast that Ripley barely has time to shut his door.
“Because, bro, I know the signs! The big grin is the biggest giveaway.” Noah already has the car flying over the pavement, racing through the puddles gleaming in the streetlights. He flashes Ripley a swift, dimpled grin. “What you just pulled is a High School Noah Classic. Running away from a girl’s house before her dad can catch you? Aiden could tell you the story about the time I had to do that without any of my cl- actually, nevermind. Don’t ask him about that.”
Ripley lets out a sputter of disbelieving laughter, pressing his fingers over his mouth. “Are you serious?”
Noah lets out a heavy, beleaguered sigh, then pops a french fry into his mouth. “Being a nonstop sex machine comes with perils. Know that before you decide to follow in my footsteps.”
Ripley lets out a choke of laughter, and Noah flashes him a silver-eyed grin.
“Thanks, Noah,” Ripley murmurs, after silence gradually falls. “For coming to get me in the middle of the night.”
“Sure, dude. I’ve always got you.” Noah slaps his shoulder, then flips on the blinker. “I feel like I’m supposed to tell you not to sneak out and do this again, or something. But that’s not really me, so I’m just gonna… not.”
Ripley smiles at him appreciatively, fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie. He leans back against the seat and helps himself to some french fries, suddenly and peacefully exhausted. Starving, too. He gratefully accepts the wrapped-up burger from the takeout bag when Noah points it out to him.
“What I will say,” Noah adds, “Is just wait until you have your own place after graduation, dipshit. It’s not even that far away, and you want her dad in your corner, right?”
“No, I know. I honestly didn’t go there meaning for that to happen, I just - had a bad day. Needed to see her.”
Noah glances over at him, dark eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on?”
It takes Ripley a second to remember. He completely forgot about everything that happened earlier.
“It’s okay,” he tells Noah, realizing it as he says it. “I don’t need to get into it, I’m - feeling way better.”
He means it. He’s riding high, right now. And Noah can tell, because the troubled frown on his face melts away into a barely-concealed grin.
“Yeah, you seem just fine to me,” he snickers, getting his eyes back on the road.
“You really did this same thing in high school, Noah?” Ripley asks, pausing suddenly with a french fry halfway to his mouth.
“Mhm, only you pulled it off better. Got away with your clothes, too! That’s good work, you get bonus points for that. I’m just glad I didn’t get a speeding ticket while driving back naked.”
Ripley drops his head, fighting down his laughter. “Why didn’t you just slow down, if you were worried about that?”
Noah blinks hard, then thoughtfully flexes the wrist he has resting on the wheel. “Huh. Guess it didn’t occur to me. Just didn’t think of it.”
“Noah,” Ripley half-wails, struggling to hold it together.
“Whatever, dude, we can’t all be as smooth as you! Point is, you’re partaking in a sacred tradition. I’ve done it, Aiden’s done it, Jamie has probably done whatever the dude version is - but mine was the best. And you got away with all your clothes, so your accomplishment is going in the hall of fame, right up there next to mine.” Noah reaches a tattooed hand across the car and affectionately messes up Ripley’s hair. “Hooligan round two, that’s what you are.”
Ripley sinks back against his seat, smiling to himself, and closes his eyes.
Turns out he’s a long way from missing out on all the good high school experiences, after all.
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