troubled waters (FierroChase AU)

eighteen

Magnus got back down to his apartment, a broad smile on his face. He was going to have dinner with Alex, he had invited her, and she had said yes. What a pleasant surprise, even though the circumstances of his asking were not quite what he had expected. Seeing Alex like this, just out of bed, a sweet sleepy smile on her face, her hair all messed up and beautiful, wearing her pyjama leaving a lot of bare skin... That had shaken him, he had grown really anxious, and obviously Alex had remarked it. But the way she had laughed, not caring at all, being nice, open, just happy, that had made his confidence return, he had asked, cautiously, not expecting too much, but still, he had asked. And her being so glad to be asked, wanting to spend time with him, that was just great. Although, at first he was afraid that even if she accepted, which seemed nearly impossible to him, she would do this out of sheer politeness, not really caring about him, just accepting to avoid annoying him, her smile and her laughing, finally her glance at him, before she closed the door, had told him something different and made his anxiety disappear in some ways. She did want to spend time with him, and regardless of the motive she could have, he was happy about that. There was a certain honesty in her voice and in her eyes, that even his nervous and self-depreciating mind could not neglect. And this behaviour, the honest joy of being able to be with him, that had given him so much confidence, so much comfort!

However, Magnus soon realised, that the evening had scarcely even begun. And the thought of spending all this time with Alex next to him, him being the subject of her interest, her looks and words, this perspective made him feel hot and cold at the same time; he had the impression of being torn between the immense delight of having this opportunity to talk to her and the anxiety to do just about anything wrong. He could embarrass himself in such a variety of ways, that he did not even want to start enumerating them, afraid that he would not be able to stop anymore. What if he did not manage to keep a good conversation going, what if his anxiety and the general weakness of his character that he himself always perceived when thinking about Alex, what if those led to him becoming a source of boredom, annoyance, even anger. He had not forgotten the way he had upset Alex the night of their first meeting, how he had asked the wrong question in the wrong way and under the wrong circumstances, and everything had ended falling apart.

He thought about picking a variety of topics that could interest her, looking different subjects up, reading about art, desperately seeking things they had in common, things that could bind them together for that evening at least. He was well aware that it was not good to prepare for such a meeting the way he did, and he was also convinced that Alex did not regard it as anything serious, and surely did not bother preparing at all. She was all calmness, all grace, all pleasure in his view, and he could not possibly think about her having difficulties with just about anything at all. Well, he was wrong, but his certainty led to constant growth of nervousness and anxiety while the evening progressed. What should he order? He looked the menu up online to see what was offered. Had he made a mistake by proposing the restaurant himself? If it took him too long to order, she might become annoyed, but if he was too fast on the other hand, would not that raise suspicions as to how he had picked the restaurant and how he had prepared? Because besides being very well prepared for any possibility of conversation, he was also absolutely convinced that he had to be all authenticity, spontaneous and good-humoured, as well as casual and easy.

It was this combination of virtues and behaviours that he had no idea on how to accomplish, that contributed to his worries. Should he try to be funny by preparing certain jokes or quotes or anything that she could like? Or would that not, in the contrary, appear rather ridiculous, which in his opinion was the worst thing that could happen. How should he greet her, how say goodbye? What should he do with his feet, his hands, his head, his eyes during dinner and while talking? Everything that he looked up or read about this matter, said that he had to be himself, quite simply. But who was he? "How to be myself?" was a thing he actually searched for in the internet some 20 minutes before going out. And at this point, he had not even though about what to wear. When he finally understood that most people did attribute some importance to that question, he felt helpless. Finally, he decided to wear black jeans and a light blue shirt, that went together passably. And, having despaired at the use of internet guides, he tried to remember what there was to learn about that question in literature. Logically, as this was his area of expertise.

Being prepared in every other way, but still waiting for the last minutes until 7 to pass, Magnus put a chair next to his kitchen window looking out into the garden, letting his eyes unconsciously pass over grass, flowers and trees, the beautiful calm of this green oasis easing his mind and calming his thoughts. He did think about the different personalities Jane Austen wrote about 200 years ago, the way they behaved and communicated, expressing sometimes morality and manners sometimes vanity and vexation. He thought about the way Elinor Dashwood behaved, or John Darcy, but finally he thought about Fanny Price, who had finally won the heart of Edmund by not letting herself influence by external evolutions, by sticking to her own values and her morals, anxious and afraid of the others, yet opening up with a tenderness of heart, and honesty of mind so rare and so adorable to find.

Thinking about this character actually helped Magnus relax before he met Alex. He was going to be the way he was – not an entertainer, not loud, funny, and self-confident. Calm, open-hearted, thoughtful and soft in the way he talked and in the way he acted. If Alex did not like this part of him, this real, authentic behaviour, then so was it. But he was more certain than ever that he was not going to act like somebody else just to please her. Because if she did not like him for who he was, how could she like him for who he was not? With that certainty finally acquired, sure in having picked the right approach, although clueless on how the evening would go, Magnus could knock at Alex' door with that soft, shy smile, she already adored...