Chapter Text
2, The formal apology.
…
Hob’s mini-series of misfortune don’t stop at coming to his supposed class to find the room empty. On the way through the campus, he’s trying to memorise as many buildings and signs as possible, hence his lack of attention to where he actually puts his foot, and Hob steps on something really slippery that results in him falling into the campus’ fountain. His only saving grace is there’s nobody else around to witness his clumsy ass.
Johanna Constantine bursts out laughing when she sees Hob with his hair still damp and his clothes wrinkled in weird places. He doesn’t even have enough energy left to growl at her angrily. Instead, he sounds like a wet dog that is whining when he grumbles, “You still have the audacity to laugh at me after giving me such a circuitous direction?”
“Sorry, sorry, that’s my fault,” she replies, sounding more nonchalant than apologetic. “But I can’t be blamed for your current state. I didn’t push you in the fountain, did I?”
“How could you know…?” Hob eyes her with wariness, and she doubles over to laugh again.
“Oh gosh, there are at least three fountains on this campus, and I know you haven’t figured out the sports area with the swimming pool yet.”
“I could also get wet after stepping into a WC.” He reasons.
“Are you really dumb enough to get your clothes ruined that way?” She shrugs.
“… Fair point,” Hob lets out a dejected sigh. “Look, I missed my class this morning, kind of made an ass out of myself in front of a whole other class, fell into a fountain, and now I’m so starving that I can eat a horse. Can we find something for lunch first before we actually talk?”
“Sure,” Johanna gives him a sympathetic smile. Her kindness doesn’t last for more than two seconds before she flashes him another mischievous grin, “But you have to tell me how you mistook someone else’s class as yours and taught it for almost a whole hour!”
“… You sound like you already knew how it went,” he points a finger at her accusingly as they walk toward the canteen.
“Words travel fast,” she rolls her eyes, then chuckles at him. “Good news, those students are rather fond of you.”
“And now how do you know about that?” If Hob’s voice goes a pitch higher for dramatic purposes, neither of them mentions it.
“Again, words travel fast,” Johanna winks at him with a secretive smile. “Even though it seems like it’s not your biggest concern though, since they aren’t your students anyway. What do you think about Morpheus?”
“Who’s Morpheus?” Hob eloquently replies.
“The guy whose class you taught this morning,” Johanna laughs as she shoves him lightly. “C’mon, I know you have a thing for the Dark-and-Mysterious type.”
“Oh. You mean Professor Aeturnus?” Hob fumbles with the hem of his shirt, and suddenly feels self-conscious about how warm his cheeks are as memories of the morning class surface. “He was… not very pleased that I took his class and even questioned his credentials,” he grimaces, holding up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Not on purpose, I swear! The guy just seems too young to have already finished his Ph.D.! I didn’t mean to challenge him, you have to believe me.”
“Easy there,” Johanna makes a motion that clearly means ‘stop’ with her right hand. “If anything, the one who remarks that you’re ‘a likable professor’ is actually Morpheus himself.”
Wait.
What.
Hob feels a sense of déjà vu. “He what?” He chokes out, dumbfounded.
“He compliments you,” the woman shrugs. “Which is understandable, you’re one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met,” she pauses for a second, watching his reaction carefully. “Why do you sound like you find it hard to believe?”
“He said I’m likable after I made an ass out of myself in front of his class?” Hob shakes his head in disbelief, voice exasperated.
“To be fair, you don’t make an ass out of yourself very often,” Johanna remarks. “Wish I was there to witness that moment of history.”
“Please don’t make it sound like a great source of entertainment for you,” Hob almost begs her. His stomach gurgles once they set foot in the canteen. For such a big campus as Cheval Blanc, this huge canteen seems fitting.
“It actually is,” the woman chuckles, her eyes quickly scanning the menu for today. “I’m quite hungry, too. Which food would you like?”
“Spaghetti sounds good,” Hob glances at the picture of a noodle dish and immediately makes his decision.
“You’re a simple man, aren’t you?” Johanna casually comments, then she suddenly grabs his arm and drags him along to a counter. “Come, they have delicious chicken parmesan over there!”
“Wait! I want to get my spaghetti first!”
After ten minutes, they both settle on chicken parmesan. Johanna also gets a medium bowl of salad, filling it with mostly tomato slices and cucumbers. “I’m not a fan of spinach,” she explains as she picks those green leaves out of her bowl and puts them on his plate. Hob shrugs at that and agrees to eat those for her. He’s not a picky eater, after all.
“Mmm, this is good,” he digs in the hot chicken first and makes a compliment between bites. “If everything else also has this level of quality, then my decision to transfer here can solely be reasoned by the canteen’s food.”
“I’ll give you five more minutes to enjoy your food before I make you spill the full story,” Johanna says with a mild level of threat in her tone, even though her voice still sounds playful and amiable. Hob knows that she isn’t joking.
“Fine, if you insist.”
…
After lunch and a long conversation with Johanna, Hob finally has some free time before the afternoon class to check out his own office, which means he needs to find his way to the History department’s building. He makes Johanna walk him there this time to make sure she doesn’t give him wacky directions one more time.
“How come you had not one but three interviews with the department and still do not know its location inside the campus?” She waves one finger at him when they’re in front of the designated building, her tone is rather amused.
“Because all the interviews happened outside of the campus?” Hob shrugs at her. “And they offered to move my things into the office for me if I sent them via express delivery, so I haven’t had the chance to come in before having my first class either.”
“Alright then,” Johanna mumbles a bit begrudgingly when she can’t find a hole in his logic this time to poke fun at him. She checks her wristwatch and lets out a curse, “Shit. I’ve got to go. Have a class in ten minutes. See you around, Hob.”
“Thanks,” He smiles at her earnestly.
.
Hob’s office is located on the second floor of the History department’s building – which they also share with the Geography department. He didn’t send many things for the school beforehand, so his office distinctively lacks decorations. Actually, the room is clean and spotless to the point that it’s almost lifeless because two boxes of Hob’s stuff are placed neatly on the table, still unopened. There is also some stationery the school staff prepared for him on a corner of the table, and Hob smiles as he takes the paper knife to cut open the boxes’ seals. He still has about one hour before his class, which should be enough for him to decorate this room.
Most of the boxes’ contents are books and notes that Hob has been keeping since he started his professional teaching career. He places them on the vacant bookshelf, briefly considering whether just this one is enough for all of his collection before he realises there’s another bookcase on the other side of the room. A few pictures of his family and some close friends whom Hob treasures more than anything else in this world are packed along, too, and Hob puts two of those on his desk, and all of the others on the bookshelf.
He is sorting through some old notes when a knock on his door interrupts his train of thoughts. He goes to open it and stammers when he sees Morpheus’ face. “Oh— good afternoon?”
“You’re not sure it’s afternoon now?” The pale guy chuckles at him, and Hob internally smacks himself for making the simple greeting sound like a question. “Still worry about this morning’s incident, Professor Gadling?”
Hob wants to smack himself physically now, not just mentally anymore. “I’m sorry.”
“You already said that,” Professor Aeturnus – or Morpheus, Hob muses inside his head – shrugs nonchalantly. “Apology accepted. By the way, you forgot your vest in E1-03 this morning.”
It’s until now that Hob notices the familiar piece of clothing in the other’s arm. He gingerly takes it, praying that his face doesn’t betray him and turns into a tomato out of embarrassment. He would rather die than admit to anyone that he was too busy admiring the other’s chiseled facial structure that he totally didn’t pay attention to anything else from his neck down.
“Yes, it’s mine,” Hob lets out a soft sigh. “Thank you so much for returning it to me.”
“You left in quite a hurry,” the other notes. His voice doesn’t have the deadpan quality this morning anymore, and the mellifluous flow makes Hob want to melt into a puddle listening to that sound. “The students were concerned about you.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Hob repeats, scratching his reddened left ear. “I didn’t mean to worry them.”
“I know,” Professor Aeturnus nods his head understandingly. Hob wants to address him as Morpheus, but he feels like he hasn’t earned the privilege yet. “How was your actual class?”
“Erm, they probably went home after waiting for too long,” Hob looks away, avoiding the other’s gaze. Blue blue blue eyes make his heart do a double jump from his chest to his throat then plummet to his stomach, and he doesn’t want to let the other know that those eyes of his have that effect on him. “I already sent a mass apology email, and I’m working on figuring out a suitable time to reschedule it,” he explains, his voice slurs a bit as he talks too quickly. “Thank you for asking.”
“It’s nothing.”
Hob makes the mistake of looking up and staring into those electric blue eyes, and his heart now dancing the Lambada in his chest. Traitorous little thing. “And, erm, one more thing. I’m sorry that I mistook you for a student. It’s just… you look so young, it’s hard to believe you’re an actual professor.”
“Funnily enough, you’re not the first one who made that mistake, and probably won’t be the last,” Professor Aeturnus dryly says. “Your reaction isn’t the worst one, though, so don’t sweat it.”
For one second, Hob has a strong suspicion that he knows who is the one with the worst reaction toward the fact that Aeturnus is a professor and not a student. Constantine’s laughter distantly echoes in his mind, and he shakes his head to chase that thought away. “You have your own driver?”
“My chauffeur, Matthew,” the young man nods his head. “He has a personal business meeting today with my butler, Lucienne, so they left the house early in the morning. I don’t know how to drive, and the subway is quite confusing.”
“I see. Neither of us would purposely be late for a class, right?” Hob gives him an awkward smile as his brain is still trying to process the information. A driver and a butler, not to mention they have their own business to take care of. Ah shit, this guy is loaded, isn’t he? “Wait. You don’t know how to drive? How are you gonna get back home?”
“Uber,” the other shrugs casually. “I still have a class this afternoon, though, and some office hours afterwards. Won’t want to try figuring out the subway in the evening.”
Hob stops himself before a warning of how dangerous it is for an attractive guy to call an Uber that late can leave his mouth. He says in lieu, “If you don’t mind, perhaps I can give you a ride home?”
The black-haired man eyes him warily. “I stay quite late. I don’t want to bother you.”
“Cool, I have a late class, and I still need to organise my office, too.”
The other professor doesn’t seem convinced, “You don’t know where I live. What if we live on two opposite sides of the city?”
“This city isn’t that big,” Hob says. He’s lying, this city is an asphalt jungle. Hopefully the guy with a personal chauffeur and doesn’t know the subway won’t figure out that he’s lying then. “I don’t mind driving a few extra miles to appreciate the scenes.”
“There’s hardly anything to appreciate,” Professor Aeturnus mumbles. “Thank you for the offer, but—”
“I insist,” Hob interrupts him, a little bit desperate for a yes from this guy. “Consider it as a formal apology for my behaviour this morning, then. Besides, if I’m lucky enough, maybe I can convince you to give me a tour around the city.”
“Are you aware that you’re asking someone who doesn’t know the subway in his own city to be your tour guide?” The young man arches one eyebrow, seeming amused. “Your offer is quite tempting, though.”
Hob winks at him. Am I flirting? Is this too obvious or straightforward? “All you need to do is say yes. Or a nod should suffice, too.”
“You’re making it hard to decline,” the other chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you at 7 in your office, then.”
Flirting or not, Hob doesn’t care anymore. He beams at the guy, “Sure, I’ll wait for you.”
“See you around, Professor Gadling.”
“You can just call me Hob.”
Hob decides to push his luck this time, so he calls out when the other puts one hand on the doorknob as he’s about to leave. The black-haired man stops, looking at Hob with a contemplating gaze. After a few seconds, he softly nods. “Alright, Hob. You can call me Morpheus, too.”
Achievement: Privilege unlocked – calling each other by first names. Hob grins cheerfully, “See you later, Morpheus.”
…
..
.
Fin.