College AU

This is a College Alternate Universe where Marcos and Paris are childhood friends and met Alex in Uni. With little spoilers about the future chapters.

~

"What are you still doing here?"

Alex paused, turning slightly as her best friend walked to her, hands on her hip. Alia Hopper was a gorgeous female with long dark hair and pale skin, red ruby lips and a body she never had to work to keep, or so she said, no one asked because they were too busy being mesmerized by her face.

Currently, she had on a black thin strap crop top, high waist white leather skirt and jacket, with sunshades perched atop her head, her face in a soft pout.

Yes, she dressed like this to school everyday, for no reason, even though she was a painter and a model on the sidelines, here in the institution.

"They gave an assignment," Alex stated, her eyes turning back to the empty music sheets in front of her. Her hair, as always, were in huge braids, her violin rested on her thighs with her head perched on top.

"I was there though," Alia moved in closer, she also joined the course too, for some inane reason. "But he gave us a week. I don't know why you're so bothered about it right now—"

"We're to make a song that he would like," Alex cut in, her annoyance evident. "Can you imagine that? What ever could that old dragon scaled, lizard tailed, slit eyed fox like?"

Fuck, she was barely hanging onto the male's class, even though she was still in the top five, her grades almost perfect, but she had a thing for not being anything less than perfect so there was that.

"Um, well, he's always been one for romance—"

Alex scoffed. "I call bull."

"So you can write a romantic song instead?" Alia asked, hopefully.

"Oh," Alex was nodding now. "You're right. One of two lovers separated by the challenges they suffer."

Alia blinked, completely surprised that she had agreed but decided to play along. "A-And what happens next?"

"They die of course, what else?"

"T-Thats not what I meant."

"You meant a good ending? How am I supposed to write that?" Alex asked, now turning around fully. "I have never been in a relationship. I have never been loved the way I deserved either and I clearly, don't know anything about happiness, so what else did you fucking mean?"

Alia stared, her body suddenly feeling cold before Alex let out a small hiss and turned back to the sheets. "Fuck, my head. I need my pills,"

In truth, she wasn't always like this. Alex had her good sides and Alia was a witness to that. Whenever she forgot to eat, Alex was always there to remind her, and whenever she felt too down, Alex was always ready to cheer up, even though it meant doing the things she didn't want.

It was just... Alex didn't seem to want any other friends, and though Alia knew it was because of her family, she knew she was also part to blame.

Some months ago, Alia had kissed Alex, she was drunk, that was it really, and Alex... Alex had let her, and then when Alia wasn't drunk, she still kissed the female who always responded.

Then a week ago, Alia suddenly announced she had a boyfriend when they were having their alone time and it seemed like she just... Snapped.

She did feel bad for using her like that, but she liked her, she just— She just wasn't ready to out herself yet. And Alex swore she understood, her walls had suddenly grown a thousand feet higher than Alia remembered them to be.

"Hey, Lia?"

The female looked at Alex, her face morphed into an apologetic one. "Sorry, it's just— He expects us to make a song from nowhere. Just because this is our Major doesn't mean we're all future Elton Johns." Then she stood, returning her violin back into it's case. "I think I'd just go home and take a shower—"

"What about you get inspiration?"

Alex paused, turning back now. "What?"

"L-Like Park Jin always tells me that I'm his inspiration..." Alex felt her eyes narrow at the name. "Because he's a sculptor! You know, because I'm a model and—"

"Get on with it." She cut in, dryly.

"What if you find someone that makes you get inspiration? I'm not saying you have to fall in love with them! You could just— You could just—"

Alex tilted her head, face surprised. "So you want me writing a song for you?"

"No. No, that's not what I'm saying—"

"I did suggest it. Heartbreak. You said no dying. And I won't write a song about you if you don't die in the end,"

Alia sighed. "Alexandra,"

"Kidding," She was, a little. With a smile on her face, she walked to the female and held her chin, causing Alia to look into her face. "It's alright. I'd be fine. Just worry about yourself, hmm?"

After those words, she walked out of the Music hall with her case in her hand, the smile disappearing as it got replaced with her usual bland look, heading down to the Cafeteria though she froze mid walk, realizing one thing.

She left her black card there in a hurry to get away from Alia.

Fuck.

Alex cursed, hurrying back through the hallway as her stomach rumbled with every step before freezing by an open door, her eyes staring at it before walking into the place.

It was a ballet room. She had been here during her orientation but she had never really cared enough to think twice of coming back into but now...

In it was a male in a black loose T shirt, the wrist tied tightly with the rest of the sleeves around his hand, a red and black waist corset connected to red suspenders and black footless tights.

She couldn't see his face but fuck, she didn't need to. His brown hair stayed full, wavy around his head, his body swaying to the music playing from the speaker, the tone of each move sensual, soft, graceful.

He moved with a sort of elegance, the sun pouring over his head like a golden halo, his aesthetic like a fairy prince, seducing her into dancing with him forever.

And she would have, if the music didn't stop.

He paused, pants leaving his body as he relaxed, looking like he was exhausted though immediately she clapped and he turned around to look at her, a guarded look was on his face.

"Swan Lake, by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky," Alex stated, a smile on her face as she folded her hands, her eyes studying his face and though she looked completely normal, she was breathless by his beauty.

He had a soft innocent look, with caramel brown eyes, his nose small, like a button, his lips pouty and pink lips that looked like he constantly licked them, and though it was the first time she was seeing him, she knew who he was.

Marcos Gomez, the Belle of the Ballet Department and also, their most beautiful member. Many people wished to speak with him, but he seemed to avoid everyone like a plague, talking only to a friend of his, an Ace Danvers, a marvellous artist and another male that she didn't want to think about.

"You're more breathtaking than they say you are," She said now, walking to him though he immediately took a step back, something that had her pausing, studying his reaction.

He was staring at her like he wished to hide somewhere, his chest rising and falling like he had done a marathon. "Do I— Do I know you?"

Alex didn't answer. Instead, she slowly began to circle him, her eyes taking in his features once again before stopping at his back and breaking into a grin. "You have a nice ass,"

He turned immediately to look at her, his hand clenching his chest and a shocked look on his face as he stuttered, "T-Thats sexual harassment!"

Alex tilted her head, hand behind her back. "Is it? I suppose, it's a little verbal, nothing sexual there. You do have a nice ass."

"I think—"

Then she took a step forward. "And you have pretty legs,"

He looked like he was about to explode now, his face turning red with every second. "Why are you coming—?"

"And you have glorious hair," She had taken another step again. "And a lovely voice."

"I-If you take one more step further, I'd— I'd report you to the—"

She was in front of him now, their faces only inches apart as she said softly, "And your eyes... I've never seen anything like them."

Marcos was suddenly frozen, his breath stopping as she held his chin, her touch making a slight tremor break out his skin as she whispered, "They— They seem so... Clean. It holds no malice, or hate," Like the ones I'm accustomed to seeing. "Staring at them makes me feel... Warm,"

At her silence, he broke out of his trance and said, "I will report you to the authorities."

"For what?"

"For— For breach of personal space.

"Hmm, the first time I try making friends, I'm harshly rebutted," She said, though she moved away, hearing him let out an exhale. "Though I suggest you report me. I'd never learn my lesson and your very dear personal space would be breached very often."

He stared at her. God, why was his heart beating so fast? And why was she staring at him like he was one of the Wonders of the World? "W-What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be my Muse for a project of mine, just for a while," She sad, with a shrug. "I don't feel anything but with you, I— I feel calm. Serene. Does that make sense?"

He only stared, speechless.

"What? Can't say anything?"

"I— What if I don't want to?"

"Oh, I won't force you," She stated. "But I think, for your own sake, you'd want to be my Muse."

"Why would I ever—?"

"I know what you crave." His eyes widened at the sudden change in her tone. From a playful, carefree one to that of coldness. Indifference. "You crave to be invincible, unseen, but your beauty makes that hard for you and why is that? You have a secret that you hide and you're not comfortable with others knowing. You care of what they would said if they found out. Am I right?"

"How—"

"Your eyes," She replied, circling him again though this time he was turning around with her. "I won't ask what it is. Your secret, but I can make you comfortable in your own skin, if you want that. Someone like you... You can't hide forever. You're too perfect for that. One day, you'd have to shine."

"How can you make that possible?"

Alex paused, an amused look on her face as she replied, "Why will I tell you my secret when you haven't accepted being my Muse?"

"Why will I accept to something I'm not sure of? You could be ly—"

"Lying is the one thing I can't do," She cut in, Marcos wincing at the snap in her voice, before she sighed, rubbing her temple. "Fuck, my head," Then looked at him. "Think of it, hmm? And tell me when you make your decision."

"How can I—?"

"What did I tell you? I'd be with you for as much as possible from now, or for a week, till you cave." Then she smiled brightly at him. "Till then, Babyboy."

~

"She told you that?"

Paris watched his friend nod, and though he had on his thick wool oversized sweater, his cheeks were still red. Though he doubted it was the cold, the idiot had been smiling ever since he started his ridiculous story which was getting harder to believe by the second.

Females never spoke to Marcos. They were completely intimidated by his beauty, and some just thought he was... Gay, because of how he acted so they just stayed away.

The fact someone had, a girl, and complimented his butt, and other things, and seemed so calm around him, wasn't adding up.

Plus, that girl being Alexandra Parker?

Nah, shit really wasn't adding up.

They were both in the same Major and they constantly... Butted heads together or it was more like, two talented geniuses always trying to rip the head of the other with their instruments when they got the chance, though Alex always seemed so placid about it, pissing him off as she never even reacted to him.

Plus, she was a hermit. The fact she was suddenly being sociable was too weird.

"Did you say Muse?" Paris asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Y-Yeah," Marcos let out a small sigh. He looked tinier now, like he was about to curl himself into a ball. "She said it was for a project. In a week?"

"Master Gardener's project," He hissed out. "Why the fuck would she need you?"

A small disappointed look crossed the male's face but he answered anyway. "She said I make her feel—" His cheeks were reddening again. "Calm? Serene?"

"Her exact words?"

He nodded.

What the fuck?

He had been trying for months to get her attention but she always ignored him. Always. Still, Marcos always got his way, without even meaning to do it and Paris knew it wasn't his friends fault he had that effect on people.

Sighing, he said, "I don't blame her. You're— You're... pretty."

Immediately, the male smiled and if he had been a dog, his tail would be thumping loudly on the chair, his ears twitching. The thought had a smile coming his face though he quickly got rid of it, snapping, "Fuck, why do you gotta be so bright? I can't see shit."

Marcos laughed now, sticking his tongue out. "Mean," Then he paused, the happy look going away. "W-What do you think I should though, Paris?"

Ever since they were younger, Marcos had always looked up to Paris as his big brother, considering how he always got rid of anyone who bothered Marcos, it was the fact that it made him feel like a god. You know, saviour complex at the age of six?, And he didn't mind.

He loved..., Don't ever tell him, the male, very much, but due to certain things, he couldn't be around him as much as he would like which meant less time to feel like a Saviour. And less time to get blinded by his pretty face.

"Should I speak with her?" Paris asked, "Tell her to back off?"

Marcos whimpered his reply. "B-Back off?"

"Isn't that what you want?"

"I— I don't know," He was looking at the table, his sleeve covered hand in his face. "She makes me feel... Different."

Paris narrowed his eyes at him. "Today was your first time meeting."

Marcos was quick to defend. "She's the first person to ever compliment me."

"Everyone compliments you."

"N-Not my ass though."

"Jesus Christ,"

"And if she can make me feel comfortable—"

"You're afraid of people because you have a little space and you also fear that people would find out you are the most feminine male that walked planet without calling you out for it," Paris cut in. "How can she fix that?"

The happy look on his face began to die out. "I— I don't know,"

Paris stared at him for a few minutes before standing, cursing. "Why do you always have to be so cute? Look, what about this? I talk to her. Tell her not to mess with you. To treat you with care like you deserve. Cause you've already made your choice and it starts with a Y,"

He brightened up again. "Really?"

Paris nodded. "Hmm,"

In a flash, the male was out of his seat and on him, his arms wrapped around his body. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—"

Paris quickly shoved him away, a look of disgust fleeting across his face as he snarled, "Don't touch me that way. I could report you for breach of personal space,"

And the bastard giggled.

"What is it? You only giggle when something tickles your fancy,"

"It's just— I told her I'd report her too, and if you report me, then both of us will be in trouble."

"What age are you really? Twelve?" Then Paris shook his head, taking out his phone, his eyes slitting at the name of the missed call on it. "Whatever, later,"

Walking away, he called the number, frowning when he was far away and out of people's sights. "Boss?"

The voice that replied was silky, male but seductive all at once. "You say boss like I'm not your godfather,"

"Godfathers don't tend to force their godsons to kill people, do they?"

"Force? Darling, godchild, I never force you. You just have a hard time admitting that you like killing people, but it's alright. Denial is fine."

Alexander Parker. His Boss and possibly the only male that tended to push him to his limits no matter what. Paris Holmes was an art prodigy in this school, but he barely had time for friends or studies when he kept being roped with work that interfered with his schedule.

"I'm still in school, if there's anything—"

"Oh," The male seemed to laugh. "Did you see my darling bunny?"

Marcos. Paris' frown deepened. "He's not your darling anything "

"Sad. I enjoy playing with his cheeks. He's so adorable," Then he let out a dramatic sigh. "Anyway, there is no problem just calling because I'm a good person. By the way, have you found my stepdaughter yet?"

Paris rolled his eyes, trying to keep his tone polite. "Ever thought about telling me her name to make the search easier instead?"

"Nothing ever comes for easy, dear boy. Plus, I truly do want you both to marry and have babies, and if it looks like an arranged marriage, which I plan, she'd break my balls."

"I don't care for children but the last part is something of interest."

"Cruel,"

"Look if there's something—" Paris suddenly paused, his eyes staring up at their school's building, spotting a dark skinned female wearing a blue loose T shirt with the first three buttons down, her hair in a pixie cut, a violin on her shoulder as she played.

Alexandra Parker.

"Am I permitted to be excused, sir?"

"Yes. Oh, and don't forget, by this week's end, I need you going over and getting that stupid man talking, or take off his head or something,"

A head without a body can't talk, old man. But he didn't say that, instead he replied with a nod. "Alright, Sir."

As soon as he ended the call, he headed straight to the building, reaching the Music hall before he froze at the door, hearing a soothing, sad melody playing out of it.

Slowly, he entered the hall now. The glass walls showed her reflection, her eyes closed, and her face twisted into pure torment. Pain.

The tone had started slow, torturous but now it was growing in climax, entering a more fast pace, a state of high fear, anxiety before she suddenly stopped, her chest rising and falling as she tried recollecting back her breath before opening her eyes, her face marred in a frown as she stared at his reflection. "What the fuck is it, Holmes?"

Usually, it was always like this between them, but somehow, he couldn't stop from thinking, I bet if it was him, you wouldn't sound so condescending. "You spoke to Marcos today."

"Oh," She visibly relaxed, turning around to stare at him. "Your little boyfriend,"

"He's not my—" He let out a sigh, there was no point arguing. She would only get him so riled up, he'd forget why he actually was here. "What exactly do you want from him?"

"What did he tell you?"

"What he told me doesn't matter."

Alex nodded, standing now, a small laugh leaving her lips as she folded her hands, saying, "This must work for you. Acting all high and mighty, like you have a stick up your ass," Then her tone dropped, the words coming out like a growl of a Tigress ready to rip him apart to pieces as she snapped, "But you will accord me with respect, Holmes."

And for a man like him, that killed for a living, it frightened him because he knew only one person that could sound that way, but he didn't show his fear, instead, he snickered, "And what I'm fuck's name did you do that earns my respect?"

"I am the highest grade student, for one."

His jaw clenched.

"And I know for a male like you," She smiled. "It must hurt your alpha ego, that a female bested you."

"You didn't best me. I have— Work,"

"Could have fooled me with your daddy boy's attitude,"

At those words, his green eyes flared like emerald stones as he snapped, "You don't know fuck about me."

"Oh?" She walked to him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, stopping in front of him with her hands on her hips as she said, "Then prove me wrong, Holmes. Let's make a bet,"

"Bet?"

"We should both make Marcos our Muse. Inspiration. The one whose song gets appreciated by Master Gardener, would have to be the others slave, till the semester is over."

"Why does he have to be my Muse?"

"Because you feel something for him. A certain protectiveness, perhaps? If not, you wouldn't be here, unless of course, you had your own reasons for being here?"

He did have his own reason. This was the longest Alex had ever given him her attention, or been this close. It was doing something to his brain. "And what if I refuse?"

She chuckled now. "You never had to agree in the first place, but think of it," Then leaned to his ears, whispering like a genie about to grant his darkest desire. "You, winning, and having me as your slave for three months, crawling after you, doing whatever you want."

Paris knew what she was doing. Baiting him. And fuck, it was working. "You obviously won't let him win,"

Alex moved away, her dark eyes circling with something close to excitement as she said, "Then make it worth it, little prince,"

Paris still had his frown on, his eyes staring down to look at her, before pausing at the crescent tattoo around her collarbone, an eyebrow of his raising. "Where did you get that?"

"A tattoo shop," She replied curtly then nudged her head towards the sun ring on his finger. "And where did you get that ring?"

"My godfather gave it to me." He replied in the same tone she did.

"Hmm," Was all she said before asking, "So deal?"

"Deal."

~

Author's note: He didn't win.