Kiss The Sky [Part Four]
The following day started uneventful. Trowa taught his hour-long class in the morning as he usually did and I sat up front taking my daily Trowa-induced nap. Sure, it was rude but I didn't think a lot of people could stand his boring lectures at eight in the morning. It was just too cruel to have to absorb so much information when your mind was still in dreamland. He didn't mind me sleeping though nor did he mind half the class who was snoring so loud it was drowning out his deep and steady voice. He was used to it I guess.
With closed eyes and the steady rhythm of Trowa's voice in the background, I thought about the night before and how pissed off Trowa's assistant was on the phone. Lingering on the back on my mind was the fact that sweet-looking Quatre was not somebody to mess with. He wasn't one to be pushed around and I wondered just how Trowa was going to handle the situation that day. It was either he was going to apologize for being rude or he was going to act indifferent. I had my bet on the latter.
I was hoping that the two wouldn't turn out to hate each other because then my plan would have failed and I would have to deal with their regular stand-offs. It was just a simple misunderstanding but different scenarios went through my head. As much as I wanted to be optimistic, ugly thoughts came flowing in. I just couldn't picture Trowa being pleasant. That was the problem.
I snapped out of the thought and opened my eyes when I heard the unrelenting sound of someone's phone going off. The person didn't even think to turn the blasted thing off. It was as if it was being done on purpose and Trowa looked none too happy. He had an evil glint on his eye that spelled disaster. Much to my surprise, he simply gathered his things and left the room. There was no 'class dismissed' or 'I'm letting you out early'. He had a few minutes left but he looked more concerned over something else to mind that fact. The students were relieved and I was puzzled. I followed him through the halls, up the elevator and into his office.
"What was that about?" I asked, watching him turn on his computer.
"I have no desire to teach children."
That answered my question. I made no move to start up a conversation because he was most likely concerned about something else, something I was concerned about as well.
There were a few moments of silence before I heard someone coming toward Trowa's office. I found it odd since no one bothered to visit him.
"But he deserved it."
"Says who?"
"A whole class of 350."
"You know, I don't think I'd like to hire someone who cannot behave himself like an adult in tasks that demand concentration and consideration. While I do check for competence in my employees, I also make sure that they're mature enough to handle the job. What do you say? Is an apology in order?"
"I guess I was being a jerk."
I looked at the doorway just in time to see Quatre with someone, probably the same person who wouldn't turn off his bothersome phone earlier. The student was twice Quatre's size but he seemed like a child next to him. Quatre was dressed up and boy was he really dressed up. I didn't know how much his suit cost or from what type of leather his shoes were made out of but he was the looker. He had me salivating all over my shirt.
"Excuse me. Trowa?"
The student looked at Quatre as if he were asking for his death. Nobody called Trowa by his first name. It was a sin in itself. It was either Dr. Barton or Prof. Barton and nothing else.
"Yes?" Trowa answered without looking back.
Quatre's companion seemed relieved more than anything else.
"Umm, professor, I just wanted to apologize for the interrupting your lecture earlier," the student said, wringing his hands together.
"Apology accepted."
The student was so relieved that he said his thanks, greeted Quatre and then left as quickly as he could. It was Quatre's turn next. Trowa still wasn't looking up but I noticed that he wasn't concentrating on what he was doing either. He was simply acting as if he were busy. I waited to see what would happen.
"Do you need anything, Quatre?"
Quatre came closer to Trowa's desk and left two envelopes next to his desk. Trowa's first reaction was to look at him in question. It was only then that Trowa noticed what he was missing from refusing to look at him in the first place. I'm sure he noticed what I noticed earlier.
"These are?" he asked, picking up the envelopes and refusing to look away from Quatre.
"Letters of apology. That is, unless you'd prefer a public apology."
I didn't think he would go through with it. Trowa didn't think that either from the look on his face. Quatre looked really serious about it. I think he meant it.
"Look, I'm really sorry for last night. The first letter is for being a nuisance on the first day I worked with you and the second letter is for being unable to control my temper last night. I didn't mean to be childish so I hope you'll forgive me for acting like one."
Trowa didn't know what to say. I think his witty and cruel comebacks were becoming extinct around Quatre. His mouth was open, signaling that he was surprised. Quatre looked too sincere to turn away. There was no other choice but to give in.
"Ok."
One word and Quatre was smiling.
"Thanks. I'll see you at 3 o'clock then?"
"Three o'clock?" Trowa asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I work for you, remember?"
"Oh, right."
"Bye."
Quatre stepped out of the room and proceeded to the elevators. Let's just say Trowa was thinking about something else when Quatre mentioned something about 3 o'clock. Trowa stood up and looked around for something, anything to serve as an excuse to run after him. When he found nothing he just hit his monitor once before running toward the elevators. He barely made it in time. The doors were beginning to close. A block with his arm and he was right in front of Quatre's face.
"Where are you going?" he asked, not knowing why but hoping it was enough to stall Quatre's departure.
"To work," Quatre answered, surprised.
"To work?"
"Yeah. I work in the mornings."
"So why…?"
"I'm a part-time student."
"The student that apologized earlier, does he work for you?"
"Yes."
"Is that why…?"
"Yep."
Trowa didn't know what else to say but he didn't want to let go of his foot that was keeping the elevator doors open.
"I don't think the people who're waiting for the elevator will be pleased when they find out you're jamming the door," Quatre said.
"But," Trowa said, still stalling.
"My board members are going to slaughter me if I don't get there on time. See you later, Trowa," he whispered close to his ear and then gave Trowa a weak push, just enough to move him away from the elevator sensors.
Trowa watched as the door closed, paying close attention to Quatre's pleasant face as he left. All my ideas were so wrong. I never imagined the scenario in my head. Maybe I wasn't giving them enough credit.
I was still thinking about that scene when I saw Trowa come right back in the office. He sat down and picked up one of the envelopes still on his desk. He opened it and unfolded the letter to read its contents. I looked over him to find that Quatre had indeed written a formal apology. Everything was structured, from the day's date to every single line in the paragraph. He wasn't kidding when he said he was going to make one.
When Trowa was done reading, he put it down and noticed a slip of paper fall to the ground. He picked it up and then looked at its contents. I didn't pay attention to it, waiting for him to open the next letter when I heard something so foreign to my ears I thought I was going crazy. Trowa was laughing. I sure didn't know why but he was laughing and he looked very amused.
"Back massage?" he said, thoroughly entertained by the slip of paper.
I wanted to see what exactly was on it so I looked over his shoulder and tried to read what was on it despite Trowa's uncontrolled shaking. Unlike the formality of the letter, the paper was colorful and the words looked like they were scribbled with crayons. I looked at it closely.
"1 Free back massage," it said. "By Quatre R. Winner, C.E.O."
*****
In the afternoon, I left Trowa to his own devices although I decided to continue watching him, just to make sure that everything was going smoothly. Minutes before the hour, he kept on checking his watch, hopeful that Quatre was going to come in soon. He looked eager and I was glad that he found some other activity just as rewarding as his research.
At exactly three, Quatre came staggering in. He was trying to catch his breath while holding on to the doorknob for support. It looked like he was in a hurry to get there.
"Am I late?" he asked and then put his things down on one of the desks.
He was no longer wearing the suit he had on earlier but he was still dressed like a professional. He retrieved his pencil from inside his bag, ready to face whatever Trowa had for him to do that day.
"You're not late," Trowa answered.
He handed Quatre the newest data they had and went back to his computer. It didn't look promising at all. They were going to go at a quiet pace again. I was sure that it was going to get very boring soon.
But alas, I was wrong again. Only after being around each other for ten minutes, another quarrel broke out. I couldn't say I knew it was coming because I really didn't. It was a little too tranquil for that.
It started with Quatre asking for help with the analysis handed to him when Trowa assisted with his usual way of doing it. He explained the process in detail while adding his usual derogatory remarks, adding an 'ignorant novice' comment at the end. Quatre didn't look too happy about it. It looked like he was easy to tick off ever since he came in. Trowa should have taken note of that before giving his usual talk.
"Why don't you just say it outright. You don't think I could handle this because you think I'm a child."
"I never said that."
"Sure, you never say it right to my face but you sure tell everyone else that I'm a twelve year old incapable of this… this thing!"
"With outbursts like that, you sure do act like you're twelve. Now stop your whining and get back to work. There are several things to accomplish and I will not tolerate any more of your immaturity."
And so began argument number two. This time, I decided to side with Trowa. After all, Quatre's apparent outburst was a little odd. It didn't seem like the type that could have been provoked by Trowa's behavior. I realized then that Trowa wasn't the only one with the problem. I guess antisocial Trowa finally met his match in the irritable Quatre. Don't provoke either of them, that's the only advice I could give.