The Runaway Bride

CHAPTER 4: Guy on a White Horse

Noah couldn’t believe that within the first week of staying at this school, he already found himself facing the grim realization that he would be hauled up inside a cramped room restacking dusty boxes filled with books for the next two weeks.

He felt like throwing a huge tantrum — something that would probably stir everyone’s interest to his general direction, but he held it in, only glowering at the huge clock over by the other side of Professor North’s wall.

The Headmaster had instructed them both to go straight to their professor’s office directly after their classes. But it’s well over seven, and Noah has still yet to see either of the two.

When André finally arrived at the office after what seemed like years, Noah was already scowling disapprovingly at him as he sat by the teacher’s desk. André settled down on the chair opposite him casually, not even looking a tad apologetic which only fueled further Noah’s constantly growing dislike towards him.

“What’s with the look on your face, Nolan—”

“It’s Noah.”

“Yeah, that. Are you angry I got you into trouble?” André hissed tauntingly, noticing the grim look on his face. “Why’s it bothering you all of a sudden, huh? I heard you’re used to being in all sorts of trouble all the time back at your … kingdom.”

Noah wanted to act like he wasn’t surprised at all, when in fact, he definitely was.

Not a lot of people from other parts of the world knew about him or his family’s power despite being a part of the short list of monarchs that exists and still continues to rule today.

But if you come to think of it, if you know what to look for, you’d definitely find him.

“Done your little research on me, aye?” Noah replied, finally locking eyes with him. A fleeting shadow of an emotion passed through his dark-colored eyes but he regained his composure almost instantly.

“I make it my job to know all about my enemies, Hargreaves,” André sneered.

Noah c****d his head to the side, crossing his arms. “I’m touched, Carmichael,” he said in the same sneering tone, mimicking the way he had addressed him.

He seems a bit amused by the name and had allowed himself a smug expression before snorting. “You can say anything you want, Hargreaves, but I’ll make sure that after I’m done with you, you’d eat up that cocky attitude.”

Noah just sat there staring at him. After a few seconds of complete silence, he laughed. “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

“Hmm.” He nodded, now barely interested and wandered his eyes at the giant clock over to the other end of the room. “It’s already past seven, where the hell’s that old toad?”

Noah’s eyebrows creased. “What an annoying git,” he whispered under his breath and averted his gaze, suddenly growing interest on the small paperweight on top of the desk.

André slowly turned his head to look at him dead in the eye, his eyes narrowed. “No one asked you for your description.”

“Am I talking to you?”

“You are now.”

He snarled and rolled his eyes.

“Keep rolling your eyes,” André quipped, “you might find your brain back there.”

Noah was now close to bursting when he stared back at him, his body tense as though ready to attack. “Keep talking, André, and who knows, you might find yourself in trouble one of these days.”

“Ooh, scary.” He cackled but stopped once he noticed the way he looked at him.

Noah drew himself up to his full six feet, towering over André’s five feet eight inches, and leaned in, his hands firmly gripping the sides of his chair.

“No one wants a talker, André. You don’t know who you’re up against. I am far more dangerous than you think. So if I were you, I’d watch it,” he spoke in such rage, his teeth gritted, and inched closer. When he saw André backing up a little, he smirked. “Tease me. I dare you,” he said, whispering the last three words as his eyes shined malevolently.

When he didn’t answer, Noah sat back down on his chair, a victorious smile taunting André into punching the lights out of his smug face. But he only leaned in casually, curling his lips into a smile.

He chuckled. “You’re useless on top of the ground; you ought to be under it, inspiring the cabbages.”

His smile instantly vanished from his pallid face and he sat bolt upright. “That’s not what I meant!”

Wiping the smirk off of his face was more fun than André had ever wished for. He just laughed at his offended face and did a double take when he saw him stand again, his hands held up in defeat.

“Woah. Okay, fine. I’ll stop.”

“You better.”

“Well, having fun, aren’t we?” the familiar cold voice of Professor North rang out from across the room and they turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding his wooden cane.

The old man walked towards them, his body heavily leaning towards the cane on his right hand, and eyed the two carefully.

“Good evening, Professor,” Noah greeted and sat back down. Professor North nodded to him and then turned to André.

When he just stood there, staring at the professor’s face, he glanced at Noah in confusion. He just gave him a contemptuous look and averted his gaze.

What a stuck-up snob, André thought.

“Forgetting your manners, are we?” Professor North said, turning away from him.

“Uh, good evening, Professor,” he greeted, unsure, and saw him nod.

The old man pushed open a drawer and fished out a ring with dozens of keys dangling in it. He then motioned for them to follow him towards the school’s stockroom where they were supposed to serve out their sentences.

Dust and cobwebs filled the room and the acrid smell of musty papers wafted in the air, choking them. Noah sneezed and André chuckled. He shot him a nasty look and was about to shove him away when the old man turned suddenly and pointed at the boxes at the side of the door with his cane.

“The equipment you need are all in there. There are bottles of water, too, in case you get thirsty. Clean the whole room. I’m warning you, if you don’t do it properly, I’d be fine with staying here for the entire night. I want the bottles away, the boxes restacked, and the room tidy. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on it,” Professor North said, his voice sounding inanimate. He walked past André and closed the door harshly, leaving the dust to dance in the air.

“This is an asthmatic’s worst nightmare,” André murmured, scanning the place with a look.

Noah shoved him to the side and started by opening the glass windows that looked out onto the football field just below where they are. The cold breeze was nice, but with the way everything in the room just looked straight up like it were several centuries old, Noah was now willing to abandon being a prince just to get the chance to strangle André.

He turned to André who was now opening the boxes filled with brooms and mops. Grabbing a spray cleaner and a brush, Noah then started cleaning the window that almost appeared to be tinted after years of dust had managed to accumulate itself on the glass.

“So … ” André’s drawling voice rang, his face contorted in a frown as he sweeps the cobwebs away. “I heard you really are a prince. Didn’t know you’re a royalty as well as a bloody git.”

Noah can hear the amusement in his voice, talking as if he couldn’t believe someone like him, who was attending a school quite too far away from home, has an equerry who was far more classy than he could ever be, and has a family who rarely mentions him at all, can ever be of royal blood.

Of course, he’s a natural rebel. Not letting the Queen Regnant and the King Consort have their way with him was his own little way of saying his dad’s a bloody arse. But truth be told, he somehow enjoyed going against them that much. It made him feel in control for once — partially why none of the royal family wanted to draw the public’s attention to him.

“So sue me,” he retorted, dismissing him with a look.

After an hour, they’ve finally managed to rid the room with cobwebs and dust but the books and all the rubbish are still on the floor, piled against one side. Noah had a dark look on his face, his hands limply hanging at his sides, his eyes tired.

Across from him, André was rearranging books according to what year they belong in, his head nodding softly to the beat of the music that was blasting in his airpods.

Noah just frowned and was about to walk away when he noticed a box on top of the shelf André was at that was filled with heaps of hard bound books. It was precariously positioned at the top and with just the slightest movement — André’s movement — the box would fall off.

He just stood there, waiting for that pleasant moment to happen, but when the box actually moved, threatening to fall over, Noah found himself rushing towards it, his arm outstretched.

He had managed to stop the box from falling off, but now his body was too close to André’s — way too close that he could smell his perfume from where he’s standing.

That damned scent.

“The f**k are you doing?” André said once he had noticed Noah standing there in an apparent daze as though frozen. “Move.”

He scoffed at this, an eyebrow raised, and he looked at the box that he was stopping not to fall off then back to André’s annoyed face.

“Are you sure about that?”

André was still looking down at a book he apparently found amusing and nodded, not even giving Noah a spare glance.

Noah stood aside, letting the books fall off, but to his great surprise, André had managed to step out of the way just in time. “If I needed a guy on a white horse, I would’ve gone to the circus.”

“A thank you would’ve been enough.”

“Oh, please. We both know you wished for the box to fall off.”