A Little Sad

By the time he was done with all his language lessons Saturday afternoon, Alex desperately wished he had been brave enough to ditch. His Mandarin and Korean tutors were fairly understanding that his week had been less than ideal. They mostly just reviewed some old stuff he had been struggling with and didn't assign much practice work. However, his German and Spanish tutors were less accommodating, instead working twice as hard to make up for the fact that last weekend's session had been cancelled. 

His new Japanese tutor, a woman named Emma Maeda, was pleasant enough, but Alex's mother had scheduled their session to be two hours long. To make up for him starting it so much later than the others. It didn't help that Alex was almost immediately confused by everything she introduced. However, it was hard to tell if that was because of the language or just because his brain was already too fried. By the time they wrapped everything up, Alex couldn't help but feel like he knew less about Japanese than when he started. 

When Alex trudged back to his flat that evening, he paused right outside the front door as he heard soft guitar chords flowing from the lounge. He could tell right away it was coming from a live instrument. It didn't have that mechanical quality innate to recorded music. It kept stopping and starting and stopping again. As if whoever was playing wasn't sure how they wanted the song to sound. 

Alex unlocked and opened the door to see Matthew sitting on the sofa. Sitting on it, like a person was meant to. His back was against the back cushion and his feet were planted on the floor. He had a guitar resting on his lap and didn't even look up from fiddling with it as Alex walked in. 

Alex took off his shoes and walked around to Matthew's line of sight. His expression was the most focused Alex had ever seen on him. His brows were scrunched together, his gaze fixed solely on the guitar's strings and tuning knobs. His glasses were pushed up on his forehead. Alex had yet to figure out if he needed them for distance or close reading. He seemed to use them based more on his mood than what he was looking at. 

Matthew fiddled with one of the tuning knobs. Plucked a string. Frowned at the sound, even though it sounded fine to Alex. Fiddled with the knob again. Plucked a string again. Nodded. He was so engrossed in it that Alex couldn't help but just stand there and watch. Partly because he didn't want to interrupt, but also because it was slightly hypnotic. Watching someone so focused on what they were doing you could tell they were in their world. 

Matthew suddenly reached to grab something on the coffee table, and the break in his routine made him notice Alex for the first time. He jumped slightly, causing Alex to jump in response. 

"Christ, dude," Matthew muttered. "How long have you been standing there?" 

"Just a minute," Alex said quickly. He honestly wasn't sure. "Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt. You looked... engrossed." 

"My dad calls it el vacío," Matthew said, picking up what he had been reaching for before. A small black guitar pick. 

"The void?" Alex guessed. 

"Yeah. Just throw something soft at me next time. That's what he does to snap me out of it." Matthew used his pick to strum the guitar again, more confidently this time. Like he knew exactly what the music should sound like now. He started playing a soft and slow melody. It was a little sad, but also a little hopeful. It didn't sound familiar, so likely not something Matthew had played on his stereo yet. 

"Did you write that?" Alex asked, remembering the sheet music Matthew had been working on before. 

Matthew chuckled and shook his head without pausing his play. "No, it's 'The Boxer'," he said as if that was an explanation. "Simon and Garfunkel?" he added when he noticed Alex's blank expression. 

Alex shrugged, noticing he no longer felt embarrassed to admit his ignorance about pop culture. Matthew stopped playing and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small ratty notebook with a tiny pencil tucked inside it. 

"Adding it to the list," he muttered, scribbling something into a page. 

"Wait, you're keeping an actual list?" Alex said, moving to sit down next to him so he could see what was inside. The newest additions, Simon and Garfunkel, were at the bottom of a multi-page list of all the things Matthew had discovered Alex did not know of. Alex rolled his eyes when he saw Beatles(?). 

"I know who The Beatles are," he said for what felt like the hundredth time. 

"What are their names?" Matthew challenged. 

"I don't know. George, probably. English parents love that name." 

"You think they're all named George?" 

"One of them is, isn't he?" 

"That's not-" 

"Bet one is Edward too. Or John." 

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "You're messing with me." 

"I've got three of them right, haven't I?" 

"Two. Don't get cocky." 

"I can't believe you've been writing these all down," Alex said, looking through the other things on the list. Every time Matthew had talked about adding things to a list, Alex thought it was just a figure of speech. Almost everything he said he would add was there, in his barely legible writing. Sesame Street/ The Muppets (KERMIT!). Chef Boyardee. MTV. Stephen Spielberg. Nirvana (The band, not the Buddhist concept, genius). The Godfather. Rocky IV + V.  

"Well at first I was keeping it in my head," Matthew said, flipping the book closed. "But you were making it too damn long." 

"I wasn't making anything. Did you need to write it all down?" 

"Yes, because from now on, every time you help me with French homework, I will repay you by educating you on the vast wonders of the world outside these walls. You're welcome." 

"I'd rather you put this much effort into helping me with Chemistry and Spanish." 

"No, no. This stuff is way more important." 

"I'm sure your values aren't skewed at all." 

Alex glanced down at the guitar, noticing a few details that made him pause. It was well taken care of, but worn, like whoever it belonged to loved it but also used it a lot. It was light blue but had chips and knicks in several spots. Its most unique features were the several pink and glittery butterfly stickers that had been stuck all over the body. 

"That's an... interesting guitar," Alex said, tapping a butterfly. "Was this the best one you could find in Brighton? Or was it a personal preference?" 

Matthew smiled and swatted Alex's hand away. "I didn't have to go into town at all today," he said. 

"Don't tell me Professor Zakowski gave you that as a loaner." 

"No, she did not. You were right, it takes a couple of weeks for your request to get approved if you're not requesting it for a class. But Ellie put the word out yesterday at McAvoy in case anyone had one I could borrow. She showed up with this after you left for the library. I'm honestly not sure whose it is. Neither does she. They just left it outside her dorm room." 

"I see. I'm glad it worked out for you." 

"Yeah... You can come, by the way." 

"What?" Alex said, even though he knew exactly what Matthew meant. 

"Tomorrow. The vigil. I know Ellie never explicitly invited you, but that's just because she kind of assumed you would know you were." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. But I think I'm catching on to the way you think, so I figured you needed someone to make it clear for you." 

"Right. Yeah. I've been told I can be pretty... dense." 

"I wouldn't put it that way," Matthew said, his voice and expression suddenly very tender. "And look, I... I know you might think you don't... that you don't belong with us but..." Matthew let out a frustrated sigh and tapped on one of the butterfly stickers, not quite sure how to say whatever it was he wanted to. 

"I just don't want to intrude," Alex said. "Things are still so tense. I know Emilio isn't the only one suspicious of me or my family. Plus, I didn't... I didn't know him very well." 

"None of us did," Matthew muttered, his eyes shining. "That's kind of the point, Allie. And look, I don't... I don't want you to feel pressured or anything, but- It's just that I- He-" Matthew clenched his fist around his guitar pick and let out a shaky breath, turning his head to look Alex in the eyes. "I understand if you don't want to. I do. It's... it's a lot. I get it. But if you do want to, then you should come. You shouldn't stop yourself just because you think you don't pass some minimum requirements. Or because some idiots haven't figured out yet that you're more than your last name." 

Alex's chest tightened, and again he was tempted to ignore his reservations and give Matthew the answer it seemed like he wanted. But then he thought about how many kids hadn't abandoned Emilio when he started causing a stir. About the ones who had migrated to Warren's table, and how he would catch them looking at him with disdain or suspicion. How even a fair number of the scholarship students who now sat at his table didn't look like they fully trusted him either. 

"I... I don't think it's a good idea," he decided to say. 

Matthew looked like he wanted to disagree or push it further, but instead, he just nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If... if you change your mind..." 

"Yeah. Thank you, Matthew," Alex said, getting up from the sofa. "I've got some things to review from my new tutor, so I'll leave you to it." 

"I can head over to McAvoy to practice if you need the quiet." 

"It's fine. Your playing is beautiful." 

Matthew looked down at one of the butterflies. "Has more to do with Paul Simon than me, I think," he muttered. "But thanks." 

"There's a Paul now?" 

Matthew snorted out a chuckle. "Music history is going to be our second lesson," he said, playing the same tune from before. 

"Why not the first?" 

"Because the longer I let you go on not knowing who Kermit the Frog is, the closer I get to insanity." 

"I'll make sure to take detailed notes, then," Alex said before turning to go down the hallway. When he closed the door to his room, he could still hear Matthew's muted playing, but just barely. 

Alex had been trying not to think about the vigil since Ellie told them about it on Wednesday. Which meant he had spent a fair amount of time not only thinking about it but overthinking it. He hadn't been sure if Ellie wanted him there, and he was way too nervous to ask outright. He didn't know what to do now that he knew he was. He had this desire in the pit of his chest to be there for them, but did he even know how? What comfort could he bring? What difference could he make? 

What could you do?  

Alex flinched as the memory of his mother's voice echoed in his head. As it told him that he could only make things worse. That the reason he was born into a life with a pre-charted course was to protect the rest of the world from his constant fuckups. 

Alex felt the air around him start to heat up. No, no, no, he thought to himself. He dropped his schoolbag by his door and rushed over to where the suppressants were still sitting on his desk. He managed to control his heat long enough to open the bottle without melting it and threw a pill down his throat. Once he swallowed it, he felt that sensation Jack had mentioned. Like a sense being taken away. Like the way he was experiencing the world around him was being altered in a way he couldn't quite define. The air around him simmered back down to normal, though he could tell his skin was still probably too hot for anyone to comfortably touch. 

Alex shrugged off his clothes and crawled into bed in his boxers. You know what I would love? AJ asked as Alex wrestled with his blankets. 

"I don't entirely care right now," Alex muttered. "But I'm sure you'll enlighten me." 

I would love it if you didn't have to jump through hoops like a veteran circus tiger every time you're faced with a quite basic decision. If you want to go, then go. Why can't it be that simple?  

"You know why. And you're one to talk. You tell me not to do things that I want to all the time." 

The only thing I've ever told you not to do is get infatuated with your flatmate. Which you didn't even manage, by the way.  

"Shut it." 

Wow. Not even going to try to deny that one, are you?  

"I said. Shut it." 

You know if you don't go, you're giving them what they want, right?  

"What are you talking about now?" Alex said, putting a hand over his forehead as if that would stop this unwanted conversation. "Who are 'they'?" 

Your family. They want Baptiste to be ignored. They want him to be forgotten.  

Alex squeezed his eyes shut as a pang went through his chest. Before he could even tell they were welling up, tears spilt out of his eyes. AJ didn't say more right away, almost like he was letting Alex have a moment to himself. Letting him sit with the wash of grief that felt like it came from nowhere. Grief had been sitting just under the surface the whole time, waiting for a moment when he would let his guard down long enough for it to break through. 

You know how annoyed Thomas must be, AJ said after he gave Alex a couple more minutes to himself. That his statement on Tuesday wasn't the end of the conversation. That this vigil means he's not getting the final word. He wants everyone to forget. That Baptiste was here. That he died here. And yeah, maybe you won't ever prove what happened. Maybe you won't be able to shed light on those rumours that Thomas is so clearly afraid of. But at the very least you can show him that he can't erase Baptiste's existence. That there's one Conrad who will refuse to forget.  

"I don't need to prove anything to him," Alex argued. "I don't need to prove anything to any of them." 

What about those kids, then? The ones who are scared no one gives a damn about them? You don't think your being there can mean something to them? Something good? Why does the power your family name holds only have to cause strife? Why can't it be used to show those kids that someone like you is on their side? That someone like you sees them and mourns with them?  

Alex didn't answer, and AJ didn't say anything else. For a few minutes, all Alex heard was the soft sound of Matthew's guitar flowing through the walls. He was still playing that same song. Alex rolled onto his side and scooted closer to the wall as if that could get him any closer to the music than he already was. Maybe it was in his head, but it seemed like it got louder. He was almost sure he could feel the chords vibrating along his slowly cooling skin. 

"Why are you so invested," Alex mumbled as the drowsiness from the drug started to kick in, "in whether or not I go anyways?" 

Because I know you're going to feel like shite if you don't, AJ answered right away. And I for one would rather not be stuck with a more miserable than usual you.  

"You're not the most pleasant bloke to be stuck with either." 

Tell you what, then. Go and I'll leave you alone for a whole month.  

"A month?" 

Hm. You're right that's unrealistic. A week, then.  

Alex sighed and curled up against the wall, resisting the urge to continue negotiating with himself. 

He probably wouldn't be able to get better than a week anyway.