June 12...
Ah, everyone probably knows by now.
Guess who this is about? Sure. It's the local rich kid, Aizen.
June 12 was unmemorable, except for the cold rigid evening, spent solely by him in the renowned city hotel, one a lot of tourists come to settle in.
Aizen was firmly settled, far into the curves of his sofa as he played on his phone, because of course, he, ah, his dad, booked for him the presidential suite. The clock was showing 17:50 when he finally received a phone call from an unknown number. He furrows his brow as he answers, admittedly thinking it was one of Yusol's burner ones.
"Hm?"
He hums into the microphone, sinking deeper into the fluffy material beneath him. These hotels sure do like to make everything comfortable, and he's definitely not complaining..
But he does have a job to do.. probably..
Ugh, What is it this time? Another invite to a company meeting? A date with- Ah. Whatever.
"6 PM sharp. Be prepared. Address - Jl. Habibesde."
The person- now obviously Yusol, with that bossy undertone, responded. The blue-haired teen heard some strong wind blowing behind the older voice. Sounds like the soon to be student prez was on a rooftop.
"Shit, you're working?"
Aizen shot straight up, grabbing one of his coats as he ran out of the building.
"Pretend to be me."
Again, or, for the first time mentioning it, Yusol's work persona was an absolute dick to deal with. Like, what, who are you to be called "-"? Aizen doesn't know shit, dawg.
"Hmph, 'kay, Shut up."
________
Standing at the door of the address given, the rich teen couldn't help but let out another curse. He's unprepared, very much, very obviously. The time had undeniably passed 6 PM, but Jl. Habibesde is TWO. HOURS. AWAY.
Why the hell does Yusol, eh, "-" always make him go so far...
Still, he was brazen enough to barge in because he passed by a coffee shop that was closing in 30 minutes. Aizen's obviously going to hurry.
His hand was hurting from the large, heavy duty duffel he was carrying. Screw this, preparation sucks ass.
"You're '-', right?"
The person inside the building asks right as he enters. Aizen let out a startled grunt, yet he nodded, hands firm inside his pocket.
He's just glad this was the outskirts of the city, there's not going to be anything happening to the townsfolk because of him-
But the questioner, ah, interviewer? Immediately rushed to attack Aizen.
"Oh, come on..!"
He was literally doing his inner dialogue, can't this fucker wait?
However, considering Yusol, or, whatever, "-" told him to be prepared, Aizen can't help but grin.
The blue-haired swiftly pulls out the items inside his duffel bag.
What was his preparation?
Of course.
His baby.
"Mein Bazooka."
Placing the fucking rocket launcher on his shoulder, Aizen wipes his bottom lip as the attacker stops in place. His fingers ready to pull the trigger.
"Would've brought Penezuela (Panzer) if she weren't so~ heavy."
The blue-haired pouts, before pointing the weapon at the attacker- did he ever say his name?
Maybe it was stupid to bring high grade weapons to a silly little trip to the best hotel in the world, but Aizen's Aizen. And Aizen's rich.
He shrugs once more as he walks outside the now incredibly destroyed building, stuffing the rocket launcher back inside his duffel bag. His hair had been slightly burnt and ashes have imprinted on him, but the coffee shop ain't waiting for him to clean up.
"Yo. Target KIA."
He sends a voicenote to the red-haired's personal number as he walks off, impatiently waiting to get his lips on the warmest latte in the world.
____
Considering his much less reasonable personality, Aizen adapted to the teacher far easier than the student prez.
It's just- It's.. How is this Arel guy so unaware?
There's a fucking Post-it on his back, and the black-haired substitute really doesn't realise? It's hard to keep someone's dignity, ya know?
Aizen does give half a mind to high-five the blonde that did it, since they both already somewhat dislike this newbie. Or maybe Yusol does too, who knows.
The feeling intensified when the older broke out of his hold so easily.
Wasn't Arel a sobbing fool just a bit ago..
Whatever.
The blue-haired rich teen stares at Arel, even when all of his attention is focused on his.. hihihi.. his girlfriend.
What's that look on that oldie's face? Why's he staring?
Aizen looks down, and notices that Arel was staring at his fat pocket. Guess his disciple knows how loaded he is, huh?
–
Once he finishes his informative spiel, Aizen pats Arel's back, before taking the Post-it off the older's back.
"You gotta be careful, my lovely disciple. You've got some people on your ass."
Aizen smiles, not in the friendly, charming way the blue-haired thought he was giving, because holy shit, that's ugly.
"That's ugly."
Fuck. Did the oldie have to say that?
"If you need anything, you can.. find me.. I guess.."
Aizen's self-esteem may have been SLIGHTLY, just slightly, attacked by the older's words.
What a loser.