Author's Note: You guys are killing me with your reviews, it's hilarious. Alfred is indeed a rude little shit and I'm glad you're all reacting accordingly to it. Means I'm doing my job right xD I enjoy my snarky Alfred (he and I are more alike than I'd like to admit), but God. Arthur has his work cut out for him.
As the days wore on – and despite Alfred's attempts to do the exact opposite – he started noticing some things about Arthur Kirkland.
First, Arthur was terrible with people. Not that Alfred was some expert on human socialization, but Arthur's interactions with Alfred's parents were downright laughable. His mom dropped him off everyday, always making sure to pop in and at least say hello to Arthur before leaving again. Sometimes his dad would come along for the ride, though those times were few and far between, thank God.
All the blatant schmoozing got on Alfred's nerves, and after a week or so of therapy, he'd had enough of staying quiet. "You know, if you told them to fuck off, I bet they'd leave you alone." He'd said tonelessly as he watched his parents walk away. They meant well, but God, were they annoying.
Arthur had looked at him in surprise, any awkwardness left over from his interactions with Alfred's parents melting away. It was the first time they'd talked about anything aside from building up the muscle in Alfred's arm. "That would hardly be appropriate."
Alfred shrugged. "Works when I do it."
Second, Arthur had some shit going on in his personal life. Not that Alfred cared, but he'd sometimes notice how Arthur's cell phone would vibrate multiple times throughout their sessions, and if Arthur continued to ignore the calls, one of his coworkers would interrupt them and tell Arthur that he had a phone call.
Alfred's supposed soul mate would leave the foul-tempered teen in the care of another employee for a few brief moments before returning, seemingly more exhausted and stressed than he'd been beforehand. The more often it happened, the more aware Alfred became of the situation, and while he was curious, he refused to say anything. Asking questions might make him seem interested, and Alfred was anything but. He just had a very healthy sense of curiosity.
Lastly, Arthur was smart. Like, the kind of intelligence that Alfred tended to stay away from, if only because it was ten times harder for him to talk his way out of a situation.
Arthur knew exactly how to handle Alfred's moods, could diffuse a situation before the boy's anger could grow or even direct Alfred's attention somewhere else with an ease only attained by practice. Sometimes Alfred wasn't even aware of what had occurred until much later, and it was more than a little disconcerting.
Alfred sighed, trying nearly everything to forget about the sharp pain in his shoulder muscles as he continued with Arthur's dumb fucking exercises. The teen was convinced that the older man picked the simplest, most boring exercises just to piss Alfred off. Perhaps he deserved it for being such a piss-ant, but weren't professionals supposed to deal with bratty teenagers in ways that didn't involve punishment?
"Keep circling your arm, Alfred." Arthur said suddenly, though he wasn't even looking at him when Alfred glanced his way. The trainer was alternating glances between his clipboard and his cell phone as he'd been doing the entire hour.
Alfred scowled, fidgeting in his chair momentarily before straightening out his back and continuing the motions. It was simple, really. All he had to do was extend his right arm and move it in a minute circular motion. It was boring as all sin. "I'm gonna totally question the professional here. How, exactly, is doing this over and over supposed to help?"
"You tore a few of your glenohumeral ligaments while you were playing football with your brother. Not to mention you kept playing even when you were uncomfortable. I'm surprised you didn't completely displace your glenohumeral joint altogether." Arthur said without looking up. "At this point in your recovery process, anything too strenuous could aggravate the ligaments again. We'll be able to move on to more complicated exercises in a week or two."
As if Alfred was retaining any of that medical bull-crap. He'd heard it all multiple times before, and he'd yet to make sense of any of it. All he knew was that he partially blamed Arthur for the random injury. It must have been some cosmic interference to push the two of them together. Alfred refused to believe he was retarded enough to throw out his shoulder just by passing a football back and forth.
"You mean I'll be able to move on to more complicated exercises." Alfred replied. "I'm the one doin' all the work here, you know."
"Yes, you remind me constantly." Arthur said with a slight sigh, shooting Alfred a sidelong glance. "Must you always be so confrontational?"
"Must you always point it out? Excuse me for running my mouth when I'm uncomfortable."
Arthur blinked a few times, quirking one massive eyebrow in interest. "Are you uncomfortable right now?"
"Well, obviously." Alfred huffed. Not having much of a filter really was going to bite him in the ass someday. He wasn't one to deny the pros of candor, but sometimes telling the truth was a bit problematic. At least no one could call him a two-faced asshole. "I've been doing this same exercise off and on for half an hour. I'd like to see you do this and not get uncomfortable."
Somehow Alfred had the feeling that wasn't the answer Arthur had expected (maybe wanted?), but neither of them had the chance to say anything else after that.
They were just milling about the main recreation area today – where the majority of people who saw him walk out on Arthur that first day had been, Alfred realized – so when the phone rang at the front desk, the receptionist didn't have to get up to go looking for Arthur.
"Arthur!" She called out, and Arthur glanced forlornly at the ceiling. "You have a phone call."
"Bloody brilliant." Arthur grumbled with a slight sigh, setting his clipboard down on the chair next to Alfred's. "Keep doing your exercise. We will… You will move on when I get back."
"Take your time!" Alfred called after Arthur's retreating form, and once he was certain the older man was preoccupied, the teen allowed his arm to drop back to his side. "Ugh, this is bullshit."
Alfred had gotten somewhat used to spending his afternoons here, but for some reason, today was just downright unbearable. Bored didn't even begin to describe Alfred's overall mood. All he wanted to do was go home, call Kiku and Elizabeta, and crank up the PS3.
Come to think of it… he hadn't actually told them that he'd met his supposed soul mate, had he? Alfred winced at the realization, didn't want to think about what Lizzie might do to him if she found out he waited nearly a week to say something. They both knew that he didn't believe in the accuracy of the watches, but the two of them would make a big deal out of it if they – as his best friends – were among the last to know.
He still wanted to pretend it never happened, but the chances of that happening were slim to none. He was surprised his bigmouth of a mother hadn't called everyone in town already.
Glancing toward the front desk only to find that Arthur was still talking on the phone – now with his back turned, though Alfred could tell from his posture that he was either annoyed or completely pissed off – Alfred turned his attention to the clipboard Arthur was always looking at.
There was nothing interesting printed on the top sheet of paper. It was mostly blank aside from the details involving his injury. Alfred noticed a number at the top of the page, printed in what was probably Arthur's handwriting: 1227.
What the heck did that mean?
"Change of plans, Alfred." Alfred jumped at the sound of Arthur's voice. He hadn't even heard the trainer approaching. "Something's come up, so one of my colleagues is going to finish your session in my stead."
"What, you late for a hot date or something?"
"Funny." Arthur said flatly, reclaiming his clipboard. "I don't recall telling you to stop."
"That's 'cause you didn't." Alfred replied. "Who's your replacement? Is it that chick with the nice rack?"
"Her name is Sofia, and no. Her brother Ivan works here. She visits from time to time."
"Don't have to be specially trained to tell a high school kid to move his arm in a circle."
"Goodbye, Alfred." Arthur said pointedly before turning to walk away again.
Alfred scowled at his retreating form. Having to feign interest in boobs was an all time low. What more would he have to do before Arthur finally snapped?