The Runaway Bride

CHAPTER 3: Detention

The very moment André stepped into the foyer of his dorm room, several clothes flew across the air, hitting him square on the face. The people who were passing by the hallway caught sight of what happened and were eager to see what was about to go down.

Something very unpleasant, most probably.

“What the f**k?” André cursed and peeled the clothes off of him, throwing them across the room towards where Noah was standing with his face hard with conviction. “What on bloody hell is wrong with you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?” He waved a hand over to André’s bed and frowned. “Do you see what kind of filth you sleep on? I’m not sure what sort of pig you are, but I suggest you take those flea-infested rags you call your clothes elsewhere.”

André grimaced at the words. “Oh, shut up, will you? No one asked you for your opinion, you royal dickhead.”

“Royal dickhead?” Noah was both offended and appalled upon hearing the word ‘royal’ even after only spending nearly half a week away from the care of his equerry who would no doubt prevent things like these.

The first time he had slipped out of the watchful eyes of his mother’s subjects, he felt relieved and at the same time scared. Every single time he sees someone make an eye contact with him, he felt like getting caught.

But when he actually heard the words, it felt different. Tamer.

“Yeah. What else do you call someone who has a British equerry—”

“He’s not British, and listen here, you filthy little bastard. If you don’t clean up your mess, I’m gonna have to resort to cleaning it up myself.”

André just crossed his arms, waiting for Noah to complete whatever it is he’s about to say, and furrowed his eyebrows.

“And when I do, I’ll make sure to clean it up with your face.”

“Go to hell.”

“If that’s what it takes to get me away from you, I would very much love to,” Noah said through gritted teeth and ran his eyes around the room that has managed to look even more filthy than it used to. “Clean this up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” André stubbornly replied and plopped down on the bean bag that was directly in front of the flat screen TV.

“Are you kidding me?”

“You aren’t laughing, are you?”

Noah was now seething, his face flushed at André’s cheeky attitude. He unfurled the top button of his shirt and ran a hand through his otherwise perfectly styled hair before crossing the room, pulling André up by his collar. His knuckles were almost white and is shaking from rage as he stared straight at André’s stoic expression — a mistake he wouldn’t have normally let slip.

But with their faces this close, Noah wasn’t sure if the reason he was still red was because of fury anymore. The correct response would’ve been to peel himself away from the devil incarnate before he regretted coming closer.

But maybe there’s something in him or there was just something seriously wrong with Noah.

Either way, he knows he likes getting this close once he got a whiff of his scent — a flavorful spice that was in deep contrast with the sweet and musky fragrance that had engulfed him just this morning when André got off the shower.

It was like the smell of arrogance topped with an immense belief of his self-importance. He looked like the kind of guy Noah Hargreaves loves to hate.

But it would seem that he was impossible to resist as well. It looks like he’s in for a toxic year.

“What’s going on here?” the familiar sound of the Student Council president’s frazzled voice pulsed through the quiet space of the room. When none of the boys answered David’s question, he took a step closer to them and repeated himself. “What’s going on here?”

“Don’t you have eyes?” André snapped, his cold menacing orbs now leaving Noah’s. “Sod off now, will you?”

“Don’t talk to me that way, Carmichael.”

“Look, if you’re not here to stab me in the gut, quit wasting my time and get the hell out of here.”

David chuckled at his words and took out his pen, writing down something on the thick sheet of paper he used to hand to students who are bound for detention. “You just earned yourself a visit to the Headmaster’s office. I’m pretty sure he would love to know that his favorite little troublemaker has once again broken his record.”

Stumbling into the foyer of the Headmaster’s office after David had given them both a friendly ‘nudge’, André clenched his jaw and winced. “Jesus Christ.”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of Jesus Christ visiting me?” the Headmaster, a tall balding man with a bright expression plastered on his face, said and waved them over, closing the book that he was reading and tucking it neatly back inside the topmost drawer.

Everywhere the three looked, not a single thing was out of place — almost as if someone with severe OCD had managed to get his hands into the office of the completely ‘normal’ Headmaster.

Of course, André wasn’t buying the bullshit. He had spent most of his days inside this very office to be well aware why it stayed the same through the years with not a single thing crooked.

He would often push a thing out of its rightful spot just to mess with the Headmaster’s head. He doesn’t like it when other people touch his things, let alone misplace it.

But with André almost always seen in his office, not a day would pass where his Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder won’t catch up to him.

André’s as messy as anyone can get.

“I saw them fighting … again,” David reported and settled himself beside the Headmaster, the tips of his lips twitching up into what seems like a satisfied smirk.

André shot him a nasty look. “I didn’t touch a single hair on his immaculately big head.”

“And do you suppose we should wait until you bash his head in with the door of your locker?”

Noah’s eyebrows immediately furrowed upon hearing the words. David’s statement was oddly specific, almost as if it had actually happened already.

“Oh, please. This asswipe’s head is way too big for my locker to work—”

“Profanity,” the Headmaster said, cutting him off, and smiled at André in a way that was more meaningful than friendly.

“Davis is exaggerating.”

“The name is David, alright? Get that through your thick skull,” David said with finality and gritted his teeth — the exact way Noah felt when his moronic roommate had done the same thing to him just hours before.

It blows his mind how it’s only been one day into the school year and he’s already in so much trouble.

The Headmaster, who was listening silently at their banter, just nodded his head at the two and sat up straighter, his smile once again broadening. “You know what I think, Davis— er, David,” he smiled, noticing how quickly he caught his attention, “I think we should punish them. What do you think would be suitable?”

“Expulsion,” David replied with not a second’s hesitation, and André chuckled mirthlessly.

“Don’t make it too obvious that you’re intimidated by me.”

David snorted, and Noah winced, thinking to himself that that must’ve been painful.

“And why would I be intimidated?”

André shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re scared.”

“Scared?” he drawled, dragging out the vowels. “Fear isn’t in my vocabulary, Carmichael.”

“Sure,” André mocked and crossed his arms. “You don’t know the meaning of the word ‘fear,’ but then again, you don’t know the meaning of most words either, so ... ” He shrugged. “ ... beats me.”

David snorted again, even louder this time, and Noah feared his nose would fly off. He was about to say a pithy comeback when the Headmaster cleared his throat, silencing him.

“Don’t you think an expulsion would be too harsh for our new student, David?” he asked, turning his swivel chair around to face him.

“Then just give him detention. But I personally think that André has to go.”

“But then … he’s equally just as responsible as the other. It would be a tad unfair if they were handled differently.”

David opened his mouth, silently groping for words to counter the Headmaster before he just decided to let André slip once more — just like he always does.

“Then, if you don’t have anything more to say” — the Headmaster turned back towards André and Noah, his smile coming back again — “you both will have two weeks worth of detention starting tomorrow. You would also be cleaning the school toilets this weekend and—” He held up one hand, stopping André from interrupting him. “—if you ever fight during the period of your punishment, your sentence will just grow even longer. Questions?”

André was about to open his mouth — probably to say something that would get them even longer punishments — but Noah nudged him in the ribs, urging André to glare at the side of his face like Noah just nailed Jesus Christ to a cross.

“Is there anything you want to say, Mr. Carmichael?”

Noah shot him a piercing look, his entire body tense as he watched the ticking time bomb that is André make up his extremely chaotic mind.

“No,” André finally said and it took Noah every inch of self-restraint he has not to sigh in relief.

“Very well.”