Three days later, Quinn tried to go back to his life as an heir. He did splendid job as usual, but none the better. He would stare at the meeting room window for too long, making the Board of Directors call for his attention once or twice.
“…my son’s wedding…” He heard one of the directors say.
The word got his attention, evoking a hurtful memory from days before. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re invited to my son’s wedding, sir.” The director repeated.
Quinn curtly denied the invitation, saying he’s still injured, saying he’s still preoccupied, and saying he’s not ready to face a lot of people. Actually, he hardly said anything. He’s stuttering awkwardly.
Later that day, he shut himself to his room much to Jean’s concern. On and on, she was prattling about Hannah Chen in prison, Harold still on the loose, and the communist group getting bigger and bigger. She let him go when Quinn’s eyes keep wandering to the window, his eyebrows crumpling every so often.
Quinn didn’t know when he got out of his ship house, and how the guards let him go (he was under strict protection since the kidnapping), but he found himself in front of Franco’s cheap Upper East Side apartment as he thinks about his condition.
He knocked, and the first person to open the door was surprisingly Harold Chen.
“H - Harold Chen?” How he is placed in Franco’s house, and how he is alive, were his first questions in mind, but the man inside the apartment shouted.
“His name is Percy San Diego. Please call him that.” That was Franco, his vision looking at his general direction but actually misplaced on the lamp table near the door. He’s also sporting a walker near the bar counter where he sits.
The man in front of him, however, looks skittish. He’s trembling while he looks back at Quinn, which would almost make him think this has never been Harold Chen in the first place. He hated the man to the bones, but not entirely when he had revoked the character, the life, and the name that he had. Could he ever forgive the guy after all he had done to his family?
“Hello, Percy.” Quinn said neutrally.
Deep inside, Quinn also want to be forgiven, but he’s not forcing anyone to.
He stepped inside the room and Harold (– No. Percy,) bolted towards Franco’s closet.
“No hate in this house, Captain. You don’t want to take away my assistant, do you? It’s hard doing everything alone nowadays.” Franco had said, trying to reach for his walker that is inching away as he unsuccessfully grasp it.
Quinn walked slowly towards the bar chair, staring at the blind man who is struggling to do the simplest thing. This is his fault, his entire fault. He’s guilty, but what can a ‘sorry’ do? He’s not here to apologize, he doesn’t even know why he’s here. He just leaned down to capture the rolling walker and guided Franco’s hand towards the handle. Upon realizing he’s holding Franco’s hand, Quinn retracted and set himself beside the man.
“Since Percy is not coming out anytime soon, will you please make me coffee.”
Quinn nodded, but he bit himself to it knowing Franco could not see. “Yes, the commoner coffee? How do I make it?”
“Just pour two tablespoons of the powder to a mug then pour some water on it.”
Quinn puzzled. “That’s it?”
“Yep. Welcome to commoner world.”
Quinn chuckled, but then he stopped himself. He feels like he has no right to feel this domestic closeness with the person he destroyed, and so he shuts up and quietly followed Franco’s instructions.
He produced a mug from the kitchen and put it in the bar area (which are in just one area). The former ship captain places himself in the adjacent chair and observes how Franco just stares on nothingness, not even caring about the coffee.
YOU ARE READING
Tensions and Attentions
Humor[Completed, new upload] [Book 2 of Bro of my Life] In the High Society Upper East Side of New York, tensions happen. Quinn is a pompous, bratty, and genius capitalist, while Franco is a simple political advisor/activist who just wants to punch his f...
