Gabriel slept until 9:00 am and was pleasantly surprised to find he had woken up with no trace of a luxe, bespoke hangover. He felt fantastic. He washed up, threw on some brunch-y clothes and met Alex in the hall to go downstairs for the pre-wedding brunch. Alex looked a little worse for the wear, Gabriel noticed. Perhaps the elderflowers had been less kind to him?
Since the grooms would be spending the day getting ready for their evening wedding, all of the guests had several hours to explore the resort. Since the guests would be scattered, it was not a prime shmoozing opportunity, so Gabriel and Alex decided to do a little exploring of their own. They took a long walk along one of the less taxing trails surrounding the resort and talked about their favorites and least favorites.
They saw eye to eye on many things but were diametrically opposed on black licorice (Gabriel was strongly pro, Alex was strongly con) and favorite dinosaurs (Plesiosaurs for Gabriel because he liked their Nessie energy, a horrified look from Alex because they were marine reptiles and not dinosaurs). Gabriel decided that agitating Alex with sloppy taxonomy was one of life’s simple pleasures. He made sure to point out the “Canadian” goose swimming in a nearby pond and worked hard to find a way to refer to a bison as a buffalo. Alex shot him a knowing look.
When they had their fill of nature and debating, they hopped into the hotel bar for a drink and a snack and talked more. Gabriel tried to pry a few details about high school out of him, figuring that the high school experience was a fairly important layer in the core sample of any human being. What was it like growing up with The Face, he wondered? He had to have been insanely popular. “Were you the quarterback of your high school football team? Did you date the head cheerleader? Did you do keg stands? Did you do donuts in the parking lot in your American muscle car? Were you homecoming royalty?” Gabriel probed.
Alex gave him an exasperated look. “Gabriel, please. I was none of those things. My parents were not interested in pushing me into an athletic career, they were interested in future professions where an undamaged brain would come in handy. So no football for me and minimal drinking from kegs. I did swim in high school and even for a while in college until I got too busy. But the cheerleaders were not exactly crowding around the pool, I promise you, and I didn't even go to homecoming after my sophomore year."
Gabriel privately thought that if the cheerleaders didn’t have enough sense to show up to see Alex Anderson in skin tight swim trunks, it was their loss.
Alex continued, “I had friends and got dates for dances when I was younger, but mostly I was kind of introverted and nerdy and I did my own thing. And then when things started to get bad with Anastasia, that was even more true. She was seven years older than me, but we had always been close. When she stopped coming around and everyone was worried about her, it was hard on me. When she died, I made up my mind to go to med school, and from that point on, I was totally focused on that goal. It kept me going.”
Gabriel reached out and took his hand. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to dredge up anything sad-- I understand about dragging yourself toward a goal. Believe me. I did the same.”
With his thumb, Alex briefly held the fingers that Gabriel had wrapped around his hand and looked him in the eye. “I know you understand, and I know you did the same thing. You’re amazing. Anastasia would have loved you, by the way. Please don’t apologize– it makes me a little sad to talk about Anastasia, but it makes me even sadder not to. I think we all feel that way. Thus the Foundation.”
Gabriel felt a knot in his throat. His eyes welled in sympathy. He squeezed Alex’s hand and then released it, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I still feel like I should make amends for calling you a quarterback. I’m going to show you this one time, and then we will never speak of it again.” He flipped through his photo archives until he found the picture he was looking for, opened it, and then handed the phone to Alex.
Alex studied the picture and then pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “How old are you in this picture?”
“Fifteen or Sixteen. Sophomore year.” Gabriel sighed, resigned to the mockery that was about to slam into him like the drop in a My Chemical Romance song.
A pained sound escaped Alex’s nose. “Why do you look like you got dragged backwards through a Hot Topic?” he asked in a high-pitched voice.
“Because I basically lived at Hot Topic? There’s not that much to do in St. Pete. It’s like 90% retirees.”
Alex stopped trying not to laugh. He laughed until he was barking and tears were rolling down his cheeks. “Your lip was pierced?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes up until he was staring at the ceiling. “Uh, I wanted people to think it was. But my parents wouldn’t let me poke holes in my face on the theory, the correct theory, that I might not want to remain a goth kid forever. All of the piercings you see there are of the trompe l’oeil variety, shall we say? I almost inhaled half of a magnetic septum ring once. Very dangerous stuff. I lived on the edge. The horizontally striped bangs were real, though.”
“Gabriel was an emo kid! This is priceless!” Alex leaned back in his chair and started busily tapping on the phone screen.
Gabriel tried to snatch his phone back, but Alex had surprisingly quick reflexes for a tall guy, and dodged him. Gabriel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Are you going through my pictures? That is poor etiquette, especially for an Anderson! I hope you get the worst hives ever!”
“I would never!” protested Alex. “I’m just sending a copy of this picture to myself. I want to have a poster made of it. Or a t-shirt. Possibly a billboard for your birthday. That kind of thing.”
“Wow, Alex. Just wow,” said Gabriel with mock outrage. He noticed that Alex didn’t look sad anymore, though, so the humiliation was worth it.
Alex handed his phone back after he finished sending the picture, and Gabriel checked the time. An hour and a half until the ceremony. Time to go up and get changed. Already. Not for the first time, he remarked that time moved strangely around Alex. There never seemed to be enough of it.
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