Que sera, sera...

"You shouldn't eat that. My mom says it clogs up your poop and you can die from it."

I couldn't see his face too well because of the glowering sun—including the fact he was hanging upside down the playground's monkey bars—but I did work out a general figure. He was a petit-framed boy, adorned with the most beautiful, curled, sable locks, and the loveliest sienna-brown skin, looking neither too mixed in heritage nor too ethnic.

"Oh Pu-leeeeeaaaaaase!" I sassily riposted, shoving a generous sand pile into my mouth. "My mommy says it helps build a ra-sis-tanse to germs!" He didn't share the same sentiments with me, via a disgusted remark.

He passed the message through an expression, obviously unseeable, but somehow, visibly grotesque at the notion I dared to do such a felony to my own body, that I physically felt his body crawl from top to bottom at my blatant, willing bodily harm. Which only sparked humor in some ill-bred part of my brain. A great deal, at that. I kept cackling robustly at his temperament; some of the earth vigorously falling out my mouth at what seemed like a playful, light-hearted interaction, then suddenly...

"Eurk!" I grasped my stomach in pain.

Speeding over to save my dare-devilish ass, he rushed from the jungle gym and headed for the sandbox as fast as his little legs could take him. "Ruby! Ruby, are you okay?" He tilted my face to meet the sun, shrouding his stricken—yet catastrophically handsome—features; speaking strictly from the little I could see amongst the sun's violent rays.

Stupid sun!

"Ruby! Ruby, answer me! Say something! Wake up!"

There was pain writhing the youth in his face... especially from his bewitching crimson red eyes? I've never met anyone with such an enigmatic characteristic. And I never saw anyone express such contagious pain—watching him suffer from my whimsical actions started to eat at my being like a sentence punishable by heartache.

"RUBY-FREAKING-ROSE!"

Huh?

"Huk!" I let out a spasm once again. But this time, it happened to occur in real life.

"Are... you okay, hun?" Rouge, the wielder of the roaring voice that woke me up, retreated behind the stacks of assorted files towering in front of her face. Yet sure enough, knowing her, it wasn't far-fetched guessing she assumed an expression riddled with disgust, worry, dubiousness, or straight up reproach.

"Mmm-hmm" I shake my head, no, embodying a bobblehead to full perfection, then get out of my desk in a race for the nearest washroom.

* * *

Printers can be heard printing. Staplers, stapling. Papers, rustling, and telephones, tirelessly ringing off the hook. This is the workplace of Ruby Rose and her university friends; a jungle known as office headquarters belonging to the renowned Marquis Cooperation, where unlucky staff have it in for them at this time of day.

"Of all times to feel unwell! I hope she knows we have a deadline to beat!" Rouge mouthed off, setting down the mountain of files she held while trying to rouse Ruby earlier. "We did tell her the work here would be hectic before she applied, so if this is what she meant by, 'I'm prepared for anything', I'm afraid she isn't!"

Upon hearing such harsh criticism, Gideon, a mocha-toned, strapping, handsome male, jumped in on Ruby's behalf. "C'mon Rouge, she's only been here a mere month; cut her some slack," which Rouge took personally; silently watching the strange specimen she called a boyfriend, travel the room in paced, predictable movements—first from his desk to the printer, and from the printer to the copier. Then the copier, circling back to his desk again before she aloud:

"How cute."

"What's cute?" he queried.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're smitten."

"Who? Me?" pausing from his work, he held one finger to himself for clarity; her response, a dismissive groan, sashaying from Ruby's workstation back to hers; her extreme curves highlighting the domineering, feminine dominance she held in the situation—a very Rouge-like trademark applicable to any state of affairs.

Rouge Auclair had always been a free-spirited female who, despite her least favorable traits, could hypnotize unsuspecting prey with her bedazzling first impressions, a luscious hourglass figure, and plentiful unshakeable opinions. So as far as she was concerned, her boyfriend was no exception to her bounty of enticing charms. "Since you have the intense desire to be Jesus-Loving-Christ-Almighty, her work's on her desk," she continued, the statement giving tension leeway to poison the equable air of the room. "I'm sure you won't mind helping her out."

"Tsk," Half amused, and half disheartened at the prospect, Gideon rubbed his nose funny. "Are you jealous?"

"Not again..."

"What again? She's started this, Arian." The friend who refused to be thrown into the lion's den—the lions being Gideon and Rouge, of course—sighed, rolling himself and his copious documents away from Gideon's workstation—his much-preferred location of the room for its amazing onlook of the city—and over to Blaze's, uninvited.

"Hey," He waved as if nothing were amiss, getting right back to work.

She blushes at his odd, yet cute, gesture, unbothered by his intrusion. For her, it was a chance to steal perverted glances at his snowy-white hair, which was tied back in a long ponytail, exposing the tantalizing sight of his creamy skin. His baltic amber eyes did just as much damage as well. "Hi," was what she was going to respond with before Rouge took the liberty of robbing her of a reply.

"Wow! So you actually noticed something about your REAL girlfriend for once! I'm astonished!"

Drawing unnecessary attention to the pettiest disagreements for a sea of onlookers to bavard about; this was a defining factor the notorious "wagered couple" was renowned for in every corner, department, and place of company gossip. The most inconceivable part that at first kept people on their feet, was how bountiful bets pertaining to the much-anticipated breakup event of the toxic couple, as their nickname implies, never seemed to happen.

"Next trivia! Enlighten me, can you even remember my birthday, hun?" She mocked the aloofness he displayed, in her humble opinion, by edging on a saucy, endearing nickname to the sentence.

"Rouge, I'm simply supporting a friend of ours' and you're suddenly reeking of jealousy? How low can you get!"

Her eyes transformed into saucers at his convicting words. "How dumb can you get to start lying to yourself? Why is it when you're not giving me a lecture, you're always so nice and chummy to other girls, even boys mind you, yet never me!? I swear, sometimes it's like I don't even know you." Making stark, brief exhales in, still, complete disbelief that he had effortlessly reduced her to a whiny child deprived of affection, she ended the spiel hoping to stab him with what she believed was justified, bitter guilt.

"Are you even hearing yourself right now! When have I not been anything but nice to you?"

"You don't wanna go there, hun," she gave another palpable blow, roaring even louder than before, "or else we'll be here forever and that's a promise!"

"ELENA!"

"Y-yes?" A lightly-freckled, fair-skinned beauty flinched at the call; her sensitive ears perking up and out and her golden-brown eyes widened beyond normality at the abrasive use of her name.

Gideon's eyes narrow in on her. Seriousness and anticipation clouding his vision. "When have I ever NOT been nice to Rouge?!"

"Yeah, hun! WHEN HAS HE?" another feisty pair joined in.

"Umm... I... well maybe, uh..."

Manager Vladimir, the head of the software engineering department, interceded with a smack on both misfits' heads. "Shut your damn traps, you OFFICE-COUPLE-HEADED-FOR-DIVORCE!" A heavy one at that because it was with a heavy pole taken from a used blueprint paper roll.

Clearing his throat, he makes an announcement:

"LISTEN UP! WE'VE JUST GOT WORD THAT THE PRESIDENT IS COMING IN LAST MINUTE TODAY AND HE'S IN THE PARKING LOT FOR THAT MATTER!"

Everyone began a panicked frenzy of each their own.

"SO, IF YOU HAVEN'T SHOWERED IN YEARS, YOU HAVE 3 SECONDS TO DO SO! IF YOUR WORKSTATION LOOKS LIKE A RACOON RAVAGED THROUGH IT, FIX IT! IF YOU'RE A LOST CAUSE AND CAN'T BE FAST ENOUGH TO DO ANY OF THE THINGS LISTED, KEEP YOURSELVES OUT OF HIS SIGHT IF YOU DON'T WANNA KISS YOUR BELOVED JOBS GOODBYE TODAY! GO! GO! GO!"

"Just great." Rouge rolled her eyes dramatically, pissed, before rushing off to do save her job like everyone else. Although she wasn't the type of person to come to mind when associated with the term "messy", food was her greatest weakness. And if she were being honest, which she rarely ever was, there was probably a piece of dumpling lying around somewhere in her desk, unbeknown to her.

"I'll help you," Arian offered Blaze.

"Thanks," she blushed subtly, taken aback—yet again.

* * *

My stomach hurts so much! It must be the coffee I've been sipping so frequently like water. I really need to lay off that thing or else I may as well breathe it, sleep it, and die with it.

"What are you doing looking like that!? Go wash your greasy hair or you just might get fired today!" A random staff member runs past me with a disapproving glare, which for the first couple of days at work, wasn't a bother, but despite being used to it, I hate that they go out of their way to attack me all the time with every chance they get! I came to work to work and make money, not to sit still, look pretty. Plus, It's not like I'm infected by some contagious disease, so what's the big deal if my hair is a little greasy, dark circles, worsening, and sweater fuss, multiplying?

Well... okay.

So I may be that bad... and a walking target for unfavorable judgment... but, big deal!

"GO AND CLEAN UP, DIRTY ROSE!" Another rude one hollered past me.

"YOU CAN GO FUCK OFF, LITTLE SHIT!" A smile accompanied the response.

Man, does it feel good!

But seriously though, why is everyone acting like they had just seen the devil himself? Maybe it's my churning stomach because it's really threatening to go for round 2.

Not good. I need the bathroom again!

With everything I held dear in mind, I turned around, rushing down the hall with the washroom in sight, when all of a sudden, a tall, lean figure comes out from the corner of my eye, disrupting my intended path. But slowing down was not an option at the rate I was speeding, and opening my mouth to warn him sure as hell not either or else, out it'll go! All I could do was cry from within me, hopelessly.

GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

What kind of haughty person is this that they can't clear off my path? Can't they see I'm in distress!

"President Marquis! What a lovely surprise—" I heard manager Vladimir holler.

WHAT!?

I couldn't see much of anything, but other than his voice, I could hear a mountain of footsteps accompanying him, made only by a large number of people. He was definitely followed by staff from behind. Were they really all going to see me embarrass myself? Am I really going to get fired today?

All this was happening within a fraction of a second which only made my stomach get more agitated with every passing moment.

Oh, what does it matter... Que sera, sera... What will be, will be.