White Orchid

Author's note: This fic explores the idea -- what if, instead of Shavir, Jake had shown up at Finn's party that day? The images in the gallery below are AI-generated art to set the scene. You can click on each for full view.

*Jake's POV*

Jake was the absolute worst person for this job.

Stepping down the white spiraling staircase, he hesitated at the edge of the crowd. While his influence over the city was comparable to East Village prince Finn Larsen--the host of this party--the other man belonged to an entirely different class. This scene in front of him now: he would have never imagined this in his wildest dreams.

The room itself was the size of a ballroom, with a sky-high ceiling and splendid chandeliers that cast a glittery shine onto the ageless, elegant crowd of gowns and suits. A fifty-foot gourmet buffet ran along the walls, packed with sizzling champagne glasses and beautiful concoctions in Oriental platters and dome-covered dishes. The most eye-catching elements were the white orchid displays: a tower of orchid blossoms on each table, giant orchid plants growing in beautifully painted Asian vases, and wall-length orchid ink paintings. The fragrance was dizzying, and slightly sickening.

David has informed him of this event this morning, after one of his morning tantrums.

"And remember to show up at the Larsen kid's house tonight at eight," David had said, dismissively. "You can go now."

"Who? Larsen?" Jake had echoed. "House?"

"Yeah, Finn Larsen. Big name in the architect world right now. Won the largest number of environmental awards and design prizes in one year. His shading-and-cooling system is one of the few that still keeps plants alive. This is one of his biggest annual events so someone from CSR's gotta make an appearance."

"But why me? You know I don't do well in--"

"Just because. They're all busy. Just make an appearance and go talk to the Larsen kid. You're the same age, anyway. Please go now and get some work done."

And, so, Jake was stuck in a crowd he had never and could never mix well with. He sipped at a glass of champagne for courage and wandered aimlessly, greeting the few faces that looked vaguely familiar. He didn't even try to make conversation. He kept thinking of the newest wars raging in the Middle East--the desolate, ravaged footage that had filled his Spine all day, and even more devastating, the faces of those in the hospitals, pressed up against each other in the hope for some scanty medicine. The grime and the pain... how could he smile and chatter lightly with these glittering people here, so pristine and preserved in their luxury that they seemed...not human?

Feeling suffocated suddenly, he downed another glass of champagne and slid past the glass doors into the darkness outside.

*Finn's POV*

The night air was musty. When he breathed in, he thought he could feel it slide down his throat and gather on his lungs, in thick, sticky layers. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the bottle of Emovia, its glass container shiny with the light from the house behind him.

His father had warned him specifically today to stay in control of himself. He'd given him a whole list--this chairman, that director, this governmental department--all the people to meet and flatter. Finn had played with his Japanese fan, looking with boredom out at the window.

"I don't need that," he said, flicking the fan close and pointing at the shelf where he kept his rewards.

His father hadn't even looked at him, just navigating his Spine behind his heavy oak desk, while Finn stood there waiting to leave.

"You should know better than this," his father said, finally. "Those awards--what are they for? Mere flowers on some roofs across the city. You have no ambition, Finn. Look at my art--all the structures that make the seawall of Manhattan beautiful, and the tower distinguishing the East River Park. That's not a roof flower, Finn. That's an entire territory, all the power of the city residing within my space. What are you doing? Environmental awards? A load of nonsense. Spend your life on what matters, Finn."

Finn stayed quiet, watching the East River glitter with the hot sunlight outside their window.

"Now I'm tired again," Finn's father said, as a dismissal. "You better use tonight wisely."

*Tonight*, Finn thought, as the party behind him started playing a classic waltz, the clatter of silverware quieting to listen. *How many more tonights would there be*? Still holding onto the Emovia, Finn stepped down from the balcony to his sprawling roof garden. The musty air had finally condensed into moisture by now, the night sky darkening above and sending down a light drizzle. Finn relished its coolness against his skin, walking past the bamboos and and yucca blossoms into the quiet pool space he'd designed separately. At the top of the stairs, he paused.

There was a man there already, looking at a hibiscus blossom cupped in his hand. He was stripped to his dress shirt, revealing a tall but thin frame. The rain fell in misty sheets of drizzle now, enough to flatten the fabric against the skin. The man's suit jacket lay crumpled across his arm. Finn stepped closer, drawn to the open vulnerability in the man's face at that moment, his thin fingers holding the blossom as carefully as one holds a fine gold bracelet.

But before Finn could gaze longer, the man looked at him, suddenly, sensing his presence. Their eyes interlocked.

*Jake's POV*

"Hey," Jake squeaked, startled by a sudden presence in the space. And it was quite a presence: tall, with an effortlessly well-built body and ice blue eyes beneath a gold fringe of hair. Even at this distance, even in the night, he could see those eyes. The man remained at the top of the stairs for a moment, his silhouette framed by the pale pink bougainvillea blossoms and the faraway sparkle of the party.

"Hey," the main said, finally, taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie as he stepped into the pool space. He walked past Jake, settling onto one of the glazed wooden benches instead, with practiced familiarity. His gaze roamed over Jake. "Why are you out here?"

"Because," Jake said, his half-hearted explanations dying away in the seriousness of the man's tone. "Because the orchids inside depress me. I mean--look at the hibiscus here."

"What about it?"

"It's so...alive."

"But the orchids are so perfectly designed. They are immortalized. These hibiscus--they will shrivel in no time."

"It doesn't matter," Jake said, as the man came closer. "They're alive right now, in this moment. They are fighting to live."

The man reached for the blossom as well, and their skin brushed. A droplet of rain slid from Jake's finger onto the man's stronger, broader hand.

*Finn's POV*

Fighting to live, huh.

Finn dropped his hand to cup the Emovia bottle he'd put away in his pocket. Well, maybe he didn't want one tonight. The man's dark eyes were looking at him curiously--serious and warm. Looking at him just as he was. The man's skin was translucent and tired--Finn could see that now in the lightening sky--but his eyes were alive.

On impulse, Finn took the man's hand away from the flower and shook it. "It's nice to meet you. I am Finn Larsen."

He waited, still holding the hand and waiting for a reaction. The man's eyes faltered, looked away, and then came back, smiling.

"Hello, Finn. I'm Jake, Jake Alvaro."

Finn waited for something more, but nothing came. As if in response, the first colors of the pre-sunrise glow suddenly splattered across the sky. The clouds had parted by now, leaking with the too-bright hues of red and orange. The droplets on the leaves became clearer and the wet wood took on a soft light. Framed against the sky, the edges of Jake's hair turned golden.