Sit Down for a Chat

    A man had sat himself down across from Pom, but he hardly paid any attention, not even looking up from the journal. It was a public cafe after all, and claiming a space all for himself was barely possible. The most he could do was hope the man would get up and go elsewhere, or maybe speak up to break the awkwardness between them. The latter was the least desirable of the two, but anything to make things more comfortable, right? So he just ignored the man as much as possible, continuing to flip through the journal..
    What made the task harder was the man making direct eye contact. That was creepy! What could he possibly want from a simple person like Pom? Eventually he caved and glanced up at him, giving a friendly but unfamiliar smile. Now that he got a better look at the other, it was obvious that the man wanted to set himself apart from Earthlings one way or another. He was dressed darkly with piercing red eyes and an imposing aura, and Pom almost felt like he knew him from somewhere.. But this man’s appearance proved that he wouldn’t know him from anywhere normal, and Pom started to worry that he’d gotten himself into more trouble somehow. Maybe he’d messed up in transporting someone’s top secret goods, or maybe he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time; but he didn’t remember anyone similar to the man across from him now. Whatever the case, Pom steeled himself to try and talk himself out of the situation if needed.
    Pom buried himself back into the pages, trying to make himself look busy. Still, he was trying to ward the other man away with the silent treatment. Finishing up his inspection of one page, he tenderly moved on to the next one. And that’s where he knew the man from. Right in Rhuba’s journal, there he was —

    “..The Maestro.” 
    The words escaped from Pom like a gasp as he fully looked at the other man now. Was their meeting just some coincidence? But the way the Maestro was looking at Pom - like there was something funny about him - it hardly felt coincidental. No, he must’ve sought him out for one reason or another; and that was troubling. If he knew anything about the Maestro, it was that he was powerful. More powerful than Rhuba, and powerful enough to put stars in the Saiyan’s eyes as he spoke about him. And far too powerful for Pom to handle. 
    He gingerly closed the journal and placed it down on the other side of his food, avoiding any crumbs or condensation. His nervousness might have been obvious to the other, but he kept up cool appearances as best as he could. “..Do you, uh, need something from me?” Pom asked, looking at the Maestro but not quite meeting his gaze. Whether the stare down was an intimidation tactic or this man’s way of being friendly, Pom felt small and cornered. 
    He was in trouble.

    The Maestro knew his name, as if things couldn’t get any worse. Pom sighed, adjusting himself in his seat uncomfortably. There was no avoiding this, and there was no placating him. Whatever Rhuba had said to this Maestro, it had gotten Pom into trouble. And for that, maybe he’d go home to scold him, or.. he didn’t know what he’d do. There was a lurking fear at the back of his mind - he wasn’t even sure if he’d make it out of this alive. But the Maestro was at least allowing Pom the chance to talk. Whether or not he’d take the chance and be nice was a different question.
    He turned his head, directing his gaze elsewhere to cool his nerves. “Well? What have you heard already?” Pom asked, “I don’t have much to say. Much less to you.”
    There was an edge to his tone; he was obviously keeping himself guarded. At the same time, he was more or less feeling out how far he could go before angering the Maestro. “I don’t know what Rhuba said to you, but whatever you think’s going on between us, it’s not.” Pom was glad that Rhuba seemed to at least omit most things - but his relief meant nothing now that the Maestro was here to force it out of him.
    It was like he was getting interrogated for being too close to Rhuba. Maybe this Orchestra thing the Saiyan had mentioned was a bigger issue than he thought. Maybe he wasn’t really supposed to know anything.

    “..And if it’s about your Orchestra stuff, he hasn’t told me anything about it.” Pom looked back to the Maestro, propping his head up with a hand. “So whatever you guys have going on, I’ve got nothing to do with it. And I don’t plan on stepping in, either.” He covered all the possible bases ahead of time, hoping to make their interaction quick and easy. But if the Maestro would try to squeeze even more info out of him, Pom would be out of luck. 

    Too far. 
    There was a creeping chill up Pom’s spine, as if he were anticipating something. And he could see a vague flash of anger on the Maestro’s face before an immense pressure slammed him into the table. Pom’s hands flew out to brace his fall, but they failed him. He hissed in pain, staring up at the other man from his place, pinned on the table. A hand rested on the journal now, as if to guard it, despite the Maestro not even paying mind to it. Rhuba had said too much, and so had he.
    As the pressure rose from Pom, he slowly lifted himself back up. He huffed, recollecting himself, combing a hand through his hair. “Sure.” Was all he responded to the Maestro’s warning with, now returning his gaze in spite of the extreme intimidation. He could ignore the pain of a bent ear, and he could ignore the embarrassment of causing a scene in front of other people; but now his main concern was saving his and Rhuba’s asses. He’d misspoken, and now he was paying for it. But it didn’t matter.

    Pom scoffed at the Maestro’s comment on the muffin before going on to answer him. It was something in between mockery and genuinely finding it funny; that’s where Rhuba’s dramatic comment came from. “Fine, I’ll talk.” He tipped his face up, almost to prove that he wasn’t giving in to the pressure - despite his heart beating out of his chest. “I met him when I first came to Earth a few months ago. I needed a job, so he hired me into his company. That’s what the nature of our relationship is. Coworkers, and maybe friends if you’d push it that far.” Pom’s tone was cold, setting distance between himself and Rhuba. But he was lying, of course - and was pretty good at it. He tapped his finger on the journal’s cover, “Oh, yes, and his journal. To be honest? I snuck it from under his nose.” He waved a hand flippantly, as if it were no big deal. “I wanted to figure out what the hell goes on in that spiky head of his. He didn’t exactly tell me anything about your Orchestra, like I said. And again, I don’t plan on getting involved with any of it. Orchestral music’s a bore anyway.”
    And sold. He sat back in his seat.
    “And why you should keep me alive? Well, I dunno what you’d get out of killing me. Not sure if it's the best thing to do around here, anyway.” Pom shrugged. “I’d prefer to keep my life, to be real. Anything else you need from me? I’ve gotta get this thing home before he realizes it’s missing.”

    But it didn’t work. The Maestro stood silent for what felt like forever, and there was a sudden shift in the mood. Pom was frozen in place as the other man stared him down, but this was no metaphor - no, he couldn’t move at all no matter how hard he tried. There was a sinking feeling, like the ground was swallowing him whole. And his hand moved despite himself, darting straight for a fork and aiming it as his own face. He was playing around far too flippantly, he realized; and he stared from the fork to the Maestro, his horror now obvious.
    He couldn’t call for help, especially not when it came to the Maestro. Would Rhuba choose him over Pom? Would Rhuba get himself killed for Pom’s sake? He couldn’t stomach the thought. Taking a breath, he’d close his eyes. He’d yield. “Okay. Fine. I’ll.. tell you. The truth this time.” He spoke slowly, ignoring the impending attack at his own hands. “I-.. we.. we’re.. friends. We are friends, but-“ A greater pause now. Would he really admit something so embarrassing to the Maestro of all people? If it meant keeping himself and Rhuba safe.. “He.. likes me. And, I guess, I like him too. He’s.. cute. Really cute.” His eyes were still squeezed shut, his face becoming bluer. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the Maestro, but now it was more out of embarrassment than fear. “L-like I said, whatever he’s told you might be blown out of proportion. Uh, you know, he likes to tell stories..” 
    The once brazen Pom was now resorted to a fumbling mess, looking around as if to distract himself from his emotions pouring out of his mouth. He sighed. “I just.. wanted to look at his journal. He draws pretty much everything he sees in there, so I borrowed it. He only mentioned the organization in passing- but that part about me not getting involved is true. I want nothing to do with it. I don’t even know what you guys do, he never told me. Only his codename, and the organization’s name. That’s all.” How strange it was that when he wasn’t talking about his emotions, he could properly get his sentences out! “And.. I don’t know what you mean by me ‘leading him astray from his path of power,’ or whatever. G-genuinely, I don’t. I don’t.. think he would say that. Did he?” Pom looked up to the Maestro, giving him a question of his own.
    Rhuba was just as active in his training as he was before he’d met Pom. Sure, they were hanging out often and maybe he was slacking a little - but Rhuba was always keen on his training, if nothing else. His eyebrows were knitted in confusion, and almost hurt, as the idea of Rhuba implying Pom had messed up his routine.. obviously had some sting to it. 

    “..If you killed me, I’m not sure he’d want to, uh, keep working with you. Unless you hid it or something, I don’t know.. Ugh.” Pom closed his eyes again, looking tense. “I wanted to step up for once and protect him. And it might’ve been really stupid of me.” If he were able to move, he would’ve shook his head. He gave a wry chuckle, feeling silly for trying to make an effort. But, oh, at least Rhuba would’ve thought him to be heroic. “Whatever you do to me, just leave him out of it. There’s not much reason to punish him for my meddling, you know. Just get it over with already. I’m waiting for it.” 

    And finally, he’d done enough. Pom slumped against the table, dropping the fork and letting it clatter loudly against it. He sighed deeply in relief, resting his head on the table for a few moments and allowing himself to calm down.
    When the Maestro spoke of them with such.. flowery words, though, Pom jerked up and shook his head, eyes wide. That was way too much! “‘L-lovebirds!’ ‘Beloved!’ No, no, nothing like that-“ He sputtered, face flushed again with embarrassment. “Not.. yet. Ugh! You’re making it sound like we’re married!” He sighed, head in hands. “Not even official..” Maybe it would’ve been better to keep the secret and just die on the spot. 
    Recollecting himself, he took a long sip of his drink. The soul sucking sweetness didn’t even matter now, it was more comforting to focus on than coming to terms with the fact that he admitted that he liked (it’s much more than liking, isn’t it?) Rhuba. He was just glad the Maestro didn’t ask for details, really, teehee-ing and gossiping like a schoolgirl - that would make things infinitely worse. “..I, uh, think I’ll pass on your Orchestra stuff. I’ll just look the other way. I’m not trying to be that involved in his business. Besides.. it’s not my problem.” Pom said after a little while, taking the journal and placing it into his lap. 
    “I.. guess I’m to blame for his slacking.” Pom gave an awkward, breathy laugh, stirring the drink with his straw. “Sorry. You shouldn’t punish him for that either. He’s been my, uh, Earth tour guide this whole time. Pretty much attached at the hip..” That just made it worse! Why did he say that? “No. Uh, but if you took him away for a while for training or whatever, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” Not mad, but upset! Rhuba had spent enough time away from him. But that was another thing he couldn’t say to the Maestro. 

    As soon as he was excused, Pom stood up, clenching onto the journal. As nice as it was to talk to the Maestro when he wasn’t being threatening, (not very), it would be even nicer to be away from him. He scooped up his half eaten muffin and drink in his other hand, pushing in the chair behind him with his hip. “Thanks for not killing me,” He half-joked, testing the waters with the Maestro again. If he would be a constant in Rhuba’s, and by extension, Pom’s lives, he’d have to get friendly.. which he wasn’t looking forward to. That glare gave him the chills. “I’ll, uh, see you later. Maybe.” He gave him a friendly smile.
    And then he turned and pushed out of the cafe. Pom’s smile dropped almost as soon as he was no longer facing the Maestro - ugh, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to do about this. Should he warn Rhuba of the incoming talk he’d have? Or was this meeting something he should keep under wraps? He wasn’t sure. He’d have all the time to think about it on the way back home.. or at least enough time to finish his drink. (It sucks.)