Nine's coffin-like slumber was abruptly brought to a halt when the ear-splitting noise of the alarm shattered the silence. He groaned into his pillow, reaching out to smack the damn thing quiet. With his right arm. Nine rolled his shoulder uncomfortably, still not used to his shiny new appendage. He could flex his- were they even technically his?- fingers without conscious thought, but he wasn't able to feel anything he was touching. It brought him a certain nostalgic sadness that would never leave him no matter what anyone said in an effort to try to comfort him. Lexa couldn't have done better; for the most part, it was in proportion with his other arm and carried the same amount of strength (give or take). But the tall Garde still missed his real arm. Obviously.
Fuck it. Nine blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before leaping out of his bed, heading straight for his early morning run. Another day, another busy schedule. Before he knew it, Nine was perched on the edge of the catwalk overlooking the indoor training gymnasium, waiting for his students to arrive. Last time he sat in the same spot, John visited him for the first time in a year. When Nine saw his face (he wasn't a fan of the stubble that had creeped up onto his friend's chin), he didn't know whether to sock him in the face or hug him. He ended up doing the latter, although he would have been more than happy to do both.
They exchanged a few friendly words, in order to catch up. Nothing meaningful. Nine found it difficult to focus on the topics of conversation because he couldn't help losing himself gazing at John. He was real and he was finally here. To see him.
Four left faster than he came.
Nine was a little upset at how rapidly he had disappeared without a word, but he held on to the image of John's smile as he carried on through the next few days. Besides; he didn't have to wait long before he was back.
About a week later, Nine turned a corner to find John standing with a strained but determined expression. He looked like a lost puppy that had returned after a long time wandering.
I came back for you.
John's fists were at his sides, his knuckles white. Nine could tell he was holding himself back from running away again. Somehow, Nine knew exactly what to say. He wanted it as badly as John did.
I'd hoped you would.
They kissed, briefly but emotionally. Less words were spoken than any other interaction they'd had before. John departed once again, but this time with a promise to return.
That was two months ago.
Now, as Nine stared pensively at the doorway, he thought about how much of a fool he was. To think that Number Four, the kindest, most powerful, and most stubborn Garde would be interested in a relationship with Number Nine. The least-mature Garde with the loudest, cockiest mouth that had gotten Number Eight killed.
Nine's depressing thoughts were disrupted as the first of his students began piling in, dragging their feet and chatting absent-mindlessly. He caught the eyes of a few of them, and they cleared their throats and walked with a little more vigor.
Once everyone had piled in Nine stepped off the catwalk and landed gracefully on the gym floor, facing his class.
He clapped his hands to get the attention of the room. "All right! Hope you guys had a good night's rest and some time to stretch your minds and bodies because today is going to be harder than yesterday."
Some stifled groans sounded around the room. Nine was reminded of him and Sandor; when Sandor used to push him and he would roll his eyes until he learned to shut up and do as he was told. It paid off.
"Same routine, guys, except I'll be adding a couple more obstacles," Nine added with a smirk. "You're in for a couple surprises today. I'm still expecting the most out of everyone. No wussing out, got it?"
