troubled waters (FierroChase AU)

thirteen

Alex was furious. What had she been thinking? First working so hard to tear that anti-social wall in front of Magnus down, then ruining it all anyway. None of your business. How was she supposed to make any friends like that? She was sitting in the bus to get downtown, listening to her playlist, no surprises there. She knew every single song by heart, they were just flooding her mind with emotion and beauty, but she did not have to concentrate, they were literally flooding, flowing, without the need or the possibility to process. What she did need to process, was that evening with Magnus. Staring out the window, observing the same house fronts passing by, some normal, now and then decorated with a tiny special detail catching her eye, cars and bikes passing faster than the bus, holding, driving, holding, driving. Thinking.

As audibly and visually everything just rolled past, leaving her with an odd numbness towards the exterior, her senses like shut down, not reacting to any attraction, her inside was wild and alive and stormy. Her eyes didn't give away what she was thinking, neither did her posture, the way she was sitting, looking out, indifferent, tired perhaps, bored. It was a posture seen everyday on streets, in the buses and the metro, it was an allure so common to the modern world, it could have easily become a symbol, a pseudonym for its lifestyle, were not different aspects highlighted by the pop cultural mainstream. It was indifference, numbness, lack of emotion, lack of sense. That was how Alex looked like, it certainly was not how she felt. From time to time, there was Magnus' face appearing in her memories, the way he had talked, laughed anxiously, smiled to her upon listening and nodding, upon understanding. She cursed herself, how dumb she had been to treat him this way!

What was he thinking now? What was he doing? None of your business. Why? How could he possibly know what had happened in her life? How art had become her solace and French her language of freedom, how she had convinced her father to let her do these courses with private teachers, cultural education, even an underworld leader needs contacts to the establishment, to the high society, culture. He had accepted, and these hours had become so important to her. Her teachers were open, intelligent, even more, they actually liked her. What happy hours, drawing architectural sketches, talking about Monet, reading Camus, la Peste, l'Etranger, analysing, understanding! How joyful and deep and meaningful it had been when they were talking about the revolt of man, about the freedom of the individual, about tolerance and liberation, how confident she had felt going out of the courses, longing for the next time. It had become important in her free time as well, reading in the evenings, drawing whenever she found some time to spare, always careful not to be found.

However, sooner or later, Loki had to find out how his heir was wasting his time. The courses were cancelled, the books forbidden; more than anything had this been the cause for her leaving. She wanted to discover, to learn, to live. To be herself, and yes, to love. There was too much past, too much pain and anger, too much background in her decision to share it so openly, so freely. And yet, if she did not share, if she did not open up, how could she ever become herself, accept the way she was and live? If she was not able to talk about her past, how could she have a future? And did not everyone have their secrets, their dark sides, their painful memories, these defining moments and events in life, never forgotten, existential both in meaning and in threat? She must let her fear go, and talk to live, she decided. In the end, it was not only about her, it was also about Magnus. It was about being honest, and open, and nice to a boy that surely had made his own experiences, who obviously longed for sympathy.

She got off the bus at South Station, walking into the city, looking at shops and restaurants and bars, amazed and happy. So much to do, so much to see. And yet, though her perception had increased again, the process of thought continued. She would have to apologize to Magnus, she would have to meet again, maybe somewhere out, maybe under the pretext to find some nice places to eat nearby down in Jamaica Plain. He surely knew one place or another. And they could be talking freely, perhaps she could make up for what she had done. In the end, that is what she realized, she did want to get to know this Magnus better. She was hoping she had not inflicted lasting damage to their relationship. He was like a mystery she wanted to uncover, because, after all, she was far from understanding who he was. What made him live and love the things he did, what motivated him and kept him going, what did he think and how? Who was he? There were so many aspects about him and his link to life she was interested in, how could she ever understand?

She had made her decision, she was going to ask him, apologize, talk. She hoped that he would want to. His anxiety was something she did not understand, something that made her afraid, because she feared it was her fault, and yet, it was also something interesting, something about him that made him worth exploring. It was with these thoughts thought that she finally began doing what she had come for. Shopping. And god, were there many boutiques, second-hand-shops, little vintage stores, etc. she did not even know where to begin. It was frightening, and it was awesome. Because here, she could live out her creativity and her style; she would not have to care about what anyone might think about the way she dressed. Well, anyone except Magnus, maybe.