It was a shock when Sadiq had finally gotten a teaching position. Not so much because it was unusual that a hot-tempered and abrasive man like him wanted to be a teacher, but because of where it was.
Sadiq was now teaching at the boarding school that Heracles attended. Sadiq had also taken Heracles in when he was young, after Heracles' mother passed away.
The reason for this choice, he was told, was because Heracles' mother had named him as the godfather. When, Sadiq wasn't sure. He was barely a child himself when he had gotten involved with the older woman, and not even old enough to drink in some countries when she grew sick and died. She had refused to see a doctor, and eventually died "of sickness".
But it would always baffle him why he was named Heracles' legal guardian, especially since they barely got along, at best.
It was no surprise when, thanks to the hefty sum Heracles' mother had left the two, he had shipped Heracles off to boarding school as soon as he could. After all, Sadiq was barely a child himself. How could he be expected to know anything about raising a 10-year-old?
However, it had caused a permanent rift in their already strained relationship.
It wasn't as though Sadiq didn't care about the child, nor did it mean he didn't try to keep in touch with Heracles or provide a home for the boy during the holidays, but Sadiq was still in the tempers of his youth and just as reckless. At first Heracles was okay with going to his international boarding school, but as the teenage years rolled around, he became angrier and angrier, until summers were less "reuniting" and more "Heracles and Sadiq avoid one another like the plague and go party in their own separate worlds".
But hey, he guessed that would all change. At least he could see the boy. It was Heracles' last year before going to university, and he had informed Sadiq, in no uncertain terms, that he would be finding his own place to live with his share of his inheritance, and would have no more of Sadiq. Sadiq had nodded, and accepted his words without once betraying his sadness at being such a failure.
With his emotional baggage checked, Sadiq walked into the teacher's apartment that would be his, already perfectly clean and furnished with all of his stuff. All that was left to be packed away were his clothes. Paying movers to set up your house for you was a nice luxury.
Sitting at the table, he enjoyed the last time this place would be clean.
"Okay, students: some ground rules. No fighting with each other. No throwing food at one another. No threatening each other with kitchen utensils. No misuse of kitchen utensils. No talking while I am giving instructions. No arguing about the instructions I give you. I will not change my instructions to fit YOUR life. I will clearly note down when homework is due. Homework is expected on that day. I will not accept late work. No arguing about homework. Now, I'm Mr. Adnan. You will not call me by my first name, even if you know it," Sadiq barked the last point, eying Heracles.
"I know I may seem rough, but there are enough things in this kitchen that could seriously injure you if you are reckless. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask," He added, trying his hardest to look a little softer. It was his first job, and sometimes he wished he was a bit softer. But, he wasn't, and hopefully his abrasiveness wouldn't deter too many students.
But he knew kids this age, and he knew they hated asking for help.
He did a quick overview of cooking terms and procedures, trying hard not to stare at Heracles. Why, oh why did Heracles have to take cooking this year? He had remembered the bloody row it had caused when first, Heracles was told where Sadiq would be working. Then, of course, the matter of what subject. For all of Heracles' flaws, he really did love to cook. It was one of the few things the two men had in common, and one of the few truce zones in their old house.
After handing out a crossword about the cooking terms he had just explained, he asked the class to split up into pairs to work on it. Some dumbass teacher way too nice for her own good suggested that, and as silly as it sounded, Sadiq wasn't about to pass up a good idea. Besides, it gave him a few minutes to step outside and have himself a cigarette.
But not before noticing the tiny Asian boy who was sitting next to Heracles. Not before noticing the way he looked at his ward.
He felt sorry for the boy. Heracles was ultimately a caring young man who loved life and lived it to the fullest, but he also had a very powerful libido, and Sadiq had woken up more than once to the sound of Heracles cooking and some stranger's voice in conversation with his ward. Some stranger who had invariably spent the night.
After a while he just stopped introducing himself to each new stranger. They were rarely around for long.
That boy, he thought as he took the last drag, is getting way in over his head.
He knew better than anyone that you can't truly change a person, especially not a Greek. That boy looked so earnest, though. So happy to be sitting next to Heracles, and so shy. Heracles might be tamed once he grows older and settles down. His mother had tales of her former exploits, and Sadiq was just glad to have been with her after she had lived out her wild days. Heracles, no doubt, would do the same. The boy who adored him so wanted Heracles when he was too young for settling down. But who truly knew? Sadiq saw a similar adoration in Heracles' eyes, a look Heracles rarely reserved for anyone. He usually just looked sleepy. It was to his credit that he didn't doze off during Sadiq's class.
After returning to the class (not entirely sure if he should be smoking during class), he asked for the papers to be handed in.
"I don't care if it's done, I care that you talked to someone. No restaurant runs with just one chef. My classroom is no different."
They came one after another to drop the papers in the drop box. The last to toss in his paper was the small Asian boy. Heracles and the boy had been chatting, and Sadiq guessed that they had been good friends a while. The boy, rather than carelessly toss like so many of the students, handed the paper directly to Sadiq with a short bow.
"It will be a pleasure to be your student this year, Mr. Adnan." His accent was noticeable but didn't detract from his speech. Sadiq was taken off-guard by the boy even speaking to him. Most students were friendly enough, but didn't take the time to thank him.
Sadiq gave him his best attempt at a sincere smile. It looked horrible and forced and Heracles, who had stopped at the doorway to wait for the boy, looked like holding in his laughter at Sadiq's face was painful.
"Same at you," He mustered up. He was still a bit in shock from the boy's politeness, so those words were about the only he could think up.
And, god, they were awkward.
To the boy's credit, he didn't even twitch. He gave a small smile, a short bow, then rejoined Heracles.
Sadiq looked at the paper. Kiku Honda. Japanese. Common Japanese last name but it still sounds familiar somehow...
With that, it was time for another smoke break.
"Sadiq." A gruff voice, next to him, spoke. He had been grading some papers at Berwald's. He had assigned a short, one-page paper about the student's favorite cuisines and why, as well as having them fill out a form about their cooking experience so he would have a good baseline for what to teach.
"Ah, Berwald." He would have to get used to these accents. Eh, what could one expect from an international boarding school?
The two had hit it off, in their own strange sense of the word. The teachers could either choose to live in a small apartment complex reserved for the teachers, near campus, or they could choose to live in the adjacent town. Berwald Oxenstierna was one of the teachers who chose to live in the apartments. He was Sadiq's neighbor, and with both men being somewhat gruff and scary-looking, they had managed to strike up an odd friendship from the moment Sadiq moved in. While neither men were particularly friendly, Sadiq found it nice to have someone to listen without making comments on his smoking, or drinking too much (since Berwald often drank him under the table without so much as a sway out of him) or his temper. Half the time, they just sat in Berwald's tidy apartment and graded papers, making the occasional comment, and then drinking their problems away after the grading was done. Berwald wasn't one for words (Sadiq being shocked if he spoke more than five full sentences in an hour) but he also would let Sadiq rant, and rant, and rant. Truth to be told, Sadiq could tell Berwald and him were a little similar. They both just kind of enjoyed having company.
He had been teaching for a few weeks and had started to get his sea legs. He was clicking into a routine. Go to school, play nice with the students (as well as he could), grade papers with Berwald when he had papers to grade, and then drink away his troubles.
Yes, he had a problem. No, it was none of your damn business.
"You're Heracles Karpusi's legal guardian." It was not a question.
Sadiq could only nod.
"How is he?" Sadiq was taken aback a little. Heracles had a reputation for sleeping in class, especially math. He also didn't like pulling his weight in a class he wasn't interested in, leading to some of the more brazen teachers to come up to Sadiq in the break room to talk about Heracles' behavior. Berwald was the math teacher, and knowing the man, Sadiq didn't expect anything about his ward .Berwald was, in a word, Swedish. If there was one thing the Swedes were marvelously good at, it was polite disagreement.
"Um...he's...a teenager." This was not the time or place to regale Berwald about his failures as a godfather. He wasn't nearly drunk enough. He hoped the vague answer was enough, but Sadiq could tell by Berwald's piercing stare that the man understood everything that wasn't being said.
"He's been paying attention in class." This many words coming out of Berwald was unprecedented, and was answered by a simple nod from Sadiq.
"It's about time that bastard did something right..." He mumbled. Berwald's shock was well-concealed. "I mean, I was dating his rich cougar of a mom for what, a year? I mean yeah, he was a sweet kid when he was young..." It was unspoken, but Sadiq was done grading. "But, I was barely turning twenty when she died, and the kid was close to eleven. I mean, yeah, I get that I was probably the closest thing he had to a father figure..." Somewhere in that tangent, Berwald had gotten up to get some of his Swedish booze—Sadiq thought it was called "akvavit" or something like that, either way it was damn good—and come back with a whole bottle.
Sadiq praised Allah that it was a Friday and he could be properly hung over tomorrow.
He also praised Allah that he had found a decent guy like Berwald to be his sounding board when he had moments like these. Berwald didn't judge, he didn't scoff. He barely said two words together at the best of times. He just listened while Sadiq let out his pent up feelings of anger and sadness. With each new one-sided drunk heart-to-heart, Sadiq felt like he was getting closer to putting a few cracks in Berwald's walls, too.
"But," Sadiq resumed his rant, drinking far too much of the akvavit in one gulp, "I had no fucking idea what to do. The most she could do was will the kid to me and will the kid all of her money. Seriously, the kid's loaded." He took another huge gulp and put down the bottle. He was already feeling the affects of the spirits. He didn't notice Berwald take a rag and wipe up the top before pouring himself a glass. "And part of that meant I could use the money if it went to Heracles' benefit. And I did what any 20-year-old in charge of an 11-year-old with a shitton of money would do."
He could feel the affects of the liquor.
He didn't bother to mask his regret.
"I sent him away. I was basically given a human life to raise and nurture and I decided I'd rather have my youth."
Suddenly he was blinking rapidly. And taking the bottle from Berwald. The mild look of irritation on the man's face was about all he would say about it. And then he drank, and drank, and drank.
"But you know what they say, hindsight is 20/20, and it's my fault he is the way he is, but he's a good kid, Berwald. A good fuckin' kid." And now he was slurring a little. "An' I wish I coulda done right by him. But nooooope, I was self'sh."
Berwald took the bottle with an air of finality. Sadiq didn't quite relinquish it before having another huge gulp, but when he gave it back to Berwald, he had no intention of trying to get it back.
"He pisses me off, too. He'sso great in so many ways, but then he's a giant douche to everyone 'round him." He both hated and loved Heracles.
"An' now 'es stringin' along some sweet Asian kid, he's just gonna hurt him." I wish he wasn't reliving my youth, it only causes pain. Berwald understood the meaning. But that's how Berwald was. You didn't need to go on these deep, loquacious explanations. He just knew.
"Asian? You mean Kiku Honda?" Berwald's question made Sadiq jump. It also made Sadiq wonder when they ran out of that almost full bottle of akvavit.
"Yeeeah, I see th' way they look at each other." His accent was coming on strong, but that always happened when he was drunk.
"They've been together since last year. This isn't anything new."
Sadiq let that sink in for a moment. "He had a new person to fuck almost every night this summer."
Berwald looked a bit surprised, but after a moment said, "He still has that reputation."
Another moment. "I was that kid at his age. Can't deny, I'm a good lookin' fella. An' I'm not old, but I got it out of my system. His mom was the same. He'll settle one day." Or at least, he tried to tell himself.
Berwald nodded quietly and said nothing.
Sadiq wouldn't have wanted it otherwise.