Chapter Text
Then
Aleksander: We could go to a park somewhere. Just you and me.
Alina: I would love to, but I can’t right now. Finals :(
Aleksander: Sorry I forgot. I hope I am not distracting you.
Alina: Noooo. I am on my coffee break. Plus, I need an extra distraction to shake of the buzz from this coffee.
Alina: It’s so strong it tastes like bleeeeh. But I need it.
Aleksander: You don’t need to take it strong
Alina: Oh, believe me, I do. I’ve been buzzing nonstop since my first drink but it gets the work done
Aleksander: Alina…
Aleksander: How many of those have you had?
Alina: …
Alina: Dunno
Alina: 2 or 5… or 6
Alina: Mugs
Aleksander: Saints
Aleksander: Alina, I forbid you from taking one more sip.
Alina: No. This is good coffee. Seriously, if you’ve had it, you’ll understand.
Aleksander: No
Alina: Yes. I’m bringing you this brew and I swear you’ll like it.
The doorway to the conservatory administrative office lay open. From inside, quiet murmurings and the dragging of boxes can be heard. Alina stood on the other side of the door, taking quick, calming breaths before pushing her head forward to peek towards the door.
“Uhm, good morning?”
All at once, the people inside the room stopped to look at her.
“Is Professor Morozova in here?”
One of the interns, Wylan, a quiet little thing with a lilting voice, called out towards the back of the room. Alina felt nervous as she heard his footsteps nearing. In her hands, a glass mason jar threatening to slip from her sweaty palms. I shouldn’t be here. Too late now. She thought as his broad form began to appear.
“Alina, what brings you here?” He asks neutrally as if his eyes could mask their delight over seeing her.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She motioned behind the door. He follows.
“I came to give you this,” she said as she handed him the jar, “…as promised. It’s not like the fancy imported coffee you always have, but it’s quite good.”
“You’re trying to kill me.” He teased—with a boyish lopsided smile that Alina had never seen before. He looked so beautiful, like a cherub, and Alina swore she could die by that smile. She can only smile in return.
“Can you come with me for a moment? I need to show you something.”
He turned to lead her to a path around the conservatory. The whole place was strewn with exotic plants and insects from all around the world being cared for by Morozova and his team—endangered and threatened species all thriving in this place under his supervision. Alina, amused, could only wonder what it must be like to be cared for by Aleksander Morozova. I am jealous of plants and bugs. I must be going crazy.
They stopped shortly in front of a freshly disturbed patch of soil. Alina, waiting, looked at him with her eyebrows raised.
“It’s not done yet.” He chuckled.
“Well, what is it?”
He took an unrecognizable seedling from a cart and handed it to her.
She looked at it incredulously.
“They’re blue irises.” He stated, staring as her bemused face turned into awe.
Her favorite flowers.
“They usually have trouble growing in these regions because of the weather, but this greenhouse has 24/7 supervision to make sure conditions are controlled so these plants survive. We haven’t finished planting all the seedlings, but once they are in bloom, I’ll call on you, and you can visit whenever you want.”
Immediately, she cradled the seedling like her young. Her eyes were going moist, gazing down, refusing to let him see through her.
“Are you alright?” He asked when he noticed she hadn’t said anything or looked at him.
Sniffing, she answered, “Yes. Aleksander, they are beautiful.” She gazed at him through water-misted eyes and smiled.
“Indeed, they are.” He said, eyes trained on her.
“Thank you.” She tiptoed to give him a kiss on the cheek.
In all of Aleksander’s life, he never thought someone’s earnestness would enrapture him. Yet here was this 22-year-old doe-eyed girl and all her churlish honesty. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a stronger purpose. He felt this urge to bottle up all that is good to bring to her, just so he could see her eyes widen in wonder and her smile.
“Now I’m embarrassed for that coffee. I don’t think anything could ever measure up to this.” She joked.
As fucked up as it is for a man of his position to be around his student in this way, he began to stop caring. Anyways, he hasn’t done anything deplorable yet. As far as he knew, no one in history had ever gotten hurt over a little flirtation and a bed of flowers.
“I have to go back to the dorms to study. Thank you for showing me these.”
“Let me drive you, Alina.”
“Okay.”
Now
The sun is shining brightly overhead, and cool winds have started to dissipate just in time for the humid summer air to blow over the season.
Alina and her friends had taken this moment to picnic by the fields underneath the sun. They lay sprawled atop a checkered blanket while blasting over their speaker their favorite singer and her catastrophic lamentations straight from the tortured poet’s department.
“DAMN RIGHT YOU ARE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE,” Jesper exclaimed as the song ended, earning a laugh from their group.
“I am going to MUR-DERR the man who made her write that,” Nina bereaved excessively.
Genya raised her head from Jesper’s lap to counter, “You wouldn’t need to. It’s embarrassing enough to be called someone’s ‘loss of my life’. I’d hate to be that guy, whoever he is.”
“I wonder who is the guy?”
And with that, Inej had started a long-winded conversation on theories supported by tabloid articles. Her friends, the self-proclaimed sleuths, went to get their hands busy ‘researching’ aka stalking and mouths spouting never-ending what ifs.
Alina had missed moments like these. The wild laughter and ease that came with their friendship. She had felt stuck these last few months in her self-made isolation. Never going out of her room, rejecting invites, attending her classes late, or sometimes never attending at all. But something blew over April and, once again, she felt a little like herself. At Genya’s behest, they got her to dress up nice, step out of her room, and into this picturesque picnic set-up.
The group continued on their chatter when a lithe form slowly crept towards their little party. It was Wylan carrying a bunch of blue lively blooms in his delicate hands.
“Hi!” He greeted them.
“Uhm hi…” Jesper responded, unsure. “Are those pretty flowers for me? Because I am flattered, but I happen to be unavailable at the moment. But the gesture is still very much appreciated.”
The rest of the group laughed at Jesper. Alina kept quiet—head down, and downcast, unable to look at Wylan and the flowers.
They were her irises. Hers? She never had a real claim to any of them. There was only a vague promise.
“No. I am so sorry,” Wylan gushed, “they are for Alina.”
Alina gulped down whatever resentment threatened to bubble up. Slowly, she looked at Wylan with a mustered smile, hoping it came across sweetly to not alert her friends.
“Gosh, Wylan, they are lovely. Thank you but I also happen to be unavailable at the moment.” She joked.
“Well, you always liked them and you haven’t been around the conservatory much. I thought you might like to see them in bloom.”
Wylan handed the irises to Alina, his eyes hopeful and sincere.
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“Would you like to join us?” Inej offered. “We have freshly baked pastries courtesy of our Nina and tea or coffee, whichever you prefer, and Taylor Swift.”
Wylan apologized and refused her offer, explaining he had some urgent tasks he had to go back to.
“Dr. Morozova…” he trailed off, eyes immediately going wary and searching Alina’s face for any indication of recognition? Pain?
Alina merely fixed her eyes on her biscuit while the rest shifted uneasily.
After her friends’ efforts to diffuse the sudden tension, Wylan excused himself and left. Their merriment went on while Aline slowly faded into herself and her thoughts.
Unbeknownst to them, their little picnic was being observed from a distance by the man himself, Dr. Morozova. There in his office on the conservatory’s second floor, he watched the exchange happen—eyes trained, trying to read Alina from afar. He watched her discomfort, feeling a pang of guilt.
She seemed happier, he thought. Until she saw Wylan and his irises.
When Wylan left, Alexander drew back, sitting down at his desk and back into the stack of papers he had yet to attend to. Back to his life and his projects, no more 22-year-old distractions.
He reached for his pen from across his desk, recklessly knocking over a vase. Quickly, he swooped his papers from the spilled liquid slowly spreading on his table. He sighed, got a broom and began cleaning up the blue irises and broken porcelain from the floor.