"......." talking italics thinking *.....* action <<...>> sounds ////~.....~//// flashback
In the Kronos band room, the tension rose like the volume from those blasting trumpets. It had been over an hour and they have been playing nonstop. Piece after piece not once pausing for correction or stopping for air. Once the piece ended, the intense boy at the front of the room simply turned his pages, spoke the name of the next piece clearly, and ordered instuments up. No comments. Nothing.
"How long does he want us to play like this?"
"Does he even know what he's doing?"
"I can hardly breathe anymore."
"My jaw hurts."
"Silence. We will begin on four. One. Two. Three...."
And the playing continued. Time moved at an agonizingly slow pace for the students wanting to go home. Their throats were dry, their heads spinning from lack of oxygen, and patience waning as the clock ticked on. At the end of two and a half hours, Mr. Winner finally ordered instuments down. He'd exhausted all the pieces they have ever played and even ones that they were hoping to play.
From the student's point of view, everyone was just relieved to get a time out. Most just slouched in their chairs while others rested their heads on the music stands. At the front, Mr. Winner had one hand on his hip and the other hanging over the stand. He looked around the room inspecting everyone and listening in on their conversations. Of course, nobody noticed. That is...until he finally spoke.
"You all suck."
That got everyone's attention.
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"Yeah! Who do you think you are?"
"We're the best of the class!"
"Yeah!"
"You suck you slave driver!"
"Yeah!"
Despite the small riot that was starting in the room, Quatre took it like a grain of salt. Cool as a cucumber, he let the insults fly all the while keeping eye contact with the class. Some of the bolder students threatened to quit and leave but an intense stare stopped them in their tracks before they could even pack up. He continued standing at the front, calmly regarding his class. Fairly soon, the students realized that their empty threats were getting them nowhere and that their loud shouts were pale in comparison to the intimidation from those icy blue eyes.
"Are we finished?"
Most of the class turned to Mr. Kitz but he seemed pretty content in his large comfy chair behind the teacher's desk. With no other choice, everyone looked towards their last hope.
Trowa: "With all due respect Quatre, I think you're out of line."
"Yeah. Who's the man!"
Quatre: "Hn." *closes eyes* "Mr. Barton you are to refer to me as Mr. or Professor Winner. This is your last warning." *glares at class* "That goes for the rest of you. Seeing as this is our first day together I will let your blatent disrespect slide. Make no mistake. You will not be tolerated at our next meeting. Is that clear?"
<<shuffle>> <<cough>>
Quatre: "Good. As for my earlier comment, I'm sure you were all surprised to hear such a....unsupportive declaration if you will."
Trowa: (mutter) "Unsupportive is an understatement."
Quatre: "Silence! It is my philosophy that false support will get you nowhere. Like you all so powerfully declared, you are suppose to be the top of the class. One would assume that it means that the lot of you can actually play. I appologize for making an ass out of you and me and from now on will presume that you are a bunch of incompetent idiots. First off, flutes. Who is your lead?"
Trowa: *raises hand* "I am."
Quatre: *crosses arms* "Well well Mr. Barton. What a surprise. Your abilities were so amazingly poor I had never though. Keyboard." *turns to boy* "Give me an F."
<<ping>>
Trowa: "......."
Quatre: "......."
Trowa: "So what?"
Quatre: "Mr. Barton. Has it ever occured to you that your flute is out of tune, and that it is your duty to adjust it so that the people you are suppose to be leading, have something to tune with?"
Trowa: "Well I...."
Quatre: "Next time make sure you are impecable before you speak on behalf of the class. You wouldn't want to make a fool of yourself now would you?"
Trowa: "........."
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"That arrogant little delinquant!"
The usual five all gathered at Wufei and Meiran's place for a casual dinner. Tonight they were having beef and preserved egg congee with chow mein. Heero, Duo, Wufei were loudly playing a tournament of Tekken (on PS of course) when Trowa burst through the door with smoke practically shooting out his nostrals.
Meiran: "Woah there cowboy. Don't you go knocking my house down just because you're upset."
Duo: "Meiran. A little sympathy please."
Meiran: "Yeah well, I don't see you getting your ass off the couch to get him a drink of water."
Duo: "Well I'm still playing...hey hey hey....!"
<<Ahh-ahh.. The winner is, Paul Phoenix.>>
Wufei: "Ha-ha!"
Heero: "There. Now you're free." *grabs controler* "Scat."
Duo: *smacks H* "Don't tell me to scat you..you..thing.."
So while Wufei and Heero continued their tournament, Meiran and Duo took to consoling the still fuming Trowa in the kitchen. Duo poured some nice po lai tea, while Meiran continued to cook at the stove.
Duo: *puts down tea* "So. What's bugging ya big guy?" *pats T's shoulder*
Trowa: "Oh shut up." *grabs tea cup*
Meiran: "Temper temper."
Trowa: *Indignant look* "Oh you were not there. Not only did he make us play for...what.. ever? He actually told us, TOLD US that we sucked. What kind of teacher tells their students that they suck!?"
Meiran: "I do. When I'm teaching kung fu." *wink*
Trowa: *narrows eyes at M* "Then, he decides to go around the class, picking on everyone. EVERYONE! You suck at this. You got another ten years before you can reach that note. You are got all your positioning wrong. Who does he think he is?"
Duo: "........" *looks at M*
Meiran: *shrugs* "......." *goes back to chopping*
Trowa: "And there's more too. Oh yes. Because Mr. Winner is too busy to teach twice a week, he is going to cancel the Thursday class, and extend the Tuesday practice to three hours. Three! Who the hell does three!?"
Wufei: "We do." *grabs chopstick* "How's everything coming?"
Meiran: *smacks W's hand* "No stealing food. Out you go." *shoes W off*
Duo: *rolls eyes* "Anyways. You were saying?"
Trowa: "I mean, I've never met anyone so...so...shrewd! It's perpostrous. It's...fraud. Yes. It's fraud I tell you."
Meiran: "How is it fraud?" *fires up wok*
Trowa: "Because he.....cause....well I don't know it just feels like it alright!?"
Duo: "Yeah. Hey. Whatever you say buddy."
Meiran: "Yeah. You're the man. And.....we...believe you. Right?"
Duo: "oh yeah. Of course."
Slowly Trowa lowered his head to the table trying to drown out their half-hearted support. A big sigh escaped his lips and he let his body go lax.
Urgh!!! I don't know why I feel .....tricked! I just do. There's no reason for it. Maybe I was just....expecting too much or....surprised out of my wits. Or...hell who am I kidding. There's only one reason why I feel cheated.
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"I'm home."
"Hey honey how was your day?"
After taking off his shoes and hanging up his coat, he wondered to the living room where his sister was. Catherine sat with a bowl of popcorn in her hands wearing a big fluffy bathrobe. Trowa frowned. Her curly hair was on the verge of friz, and she even had cotten balls between her toes.
Trowa: "If only Van could see you now." *flops on couch*
Catherine: "You expect me to look beautiful 24/7? Everyone needs a break you know. Let their hair down." *passes popcorn bowl over*
Trowa: "Your hair is going everywhere but down."
Catherine: "Honey, do you want me to pour this over your head?"
Trowa: "Yeah sure knock yourself out." *turns to tv* "What are you watching?"
Catherine: "Gone With the Wind. Want to watch with me?"
Trowa: "I'd sooner have my knees drained. Goodnight."
Catherine: "You're missing some good stuff."
Tiredly, Trowa made his way upstairs. He wanted for all the world to just plop on the bed and sleep the night away. However, the day had been long and he was a little sweaty thus he decided to take a nice warm shower first. On some level it did help to calm and ease his nerves but then it also gave him ample time to think. Not a good thing.
I need to get my mind off it.
Still toweling his hair dry, he sat down at the computer and connected.
Oh yay. More spam. Lovely. Delete. .......Hm....let's see what Vier has to say this time.
<<click click>>
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To: Trowa Barton
From: Lucifer
Subject: See you around
Listen. I've got to dissappear for a while. Some personal stuff. You can still write to me, I just won't be replying. Sorry bud.
Later,
Vier
ps. Stay away from you know who.
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To: Lucifer
From: Trowa Barton
Subject: No problem
Hey it's alright. Feel free to vent to me if you need it. I'm sure I need it but I think I did enough of that over at Wufei's. Anyways. Don't worry about it. I will stay away. No reason for me to try so hard anyways. I was wrong.
Later,
T.B.
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"Did you hear. The band got a new conductor!"
"Oh my god are you serious? Kitz has been teaching for years!"
"You guys will never guess who the new teacher is!"
"It's him! That boy everyone is talking about."
"No way!"
Gossip galore. Outside the school, inside the school. It was everywhere. And nobody could stop it. Sitting by the window, the boys and girl watched as the chickens spread the news.
Duo: "haaaaa." *leans out window* "This school is turning into a hen house."
Heero: "What do you expect. We're a quiet little school with minimal events."
Duo: "Was that a stab in my direction Yuy?"
Heero: "We haven't had a spirit assembly for a month."
Meiran: *gasp* "He's right you know."
Duo: "Oh so now you're blaming me?"
Wufei: "You are the SAC prez."
Duo: "puh. It's a group effort. I can't do everything you know. Eh Trowa. Isn't your band suppose to perform for the school? Cause we've got nothing."
Trowa: *glares at D* "......." *goes back to reading*
Duo: "What did I do?"
Meiran: *pats D's back* "You said the 'B' word. It's a big no no."
Duo: "Gosh. Didn't know he was so petty."
Trowa: *slams book on desk* "I am NOT petty! I am just.."
<<thhhhhrup>>
The wrong person always has to slide the wrong door open at the wrong time. Again, in his usual black, some shiny material this time, and carrying his bike helmet, Quatre stepped into the room. He took a look around and found 5 pairs of eyes staring at him. He locked gazes for a while, then turned on his heels and left.
Now 4 pairs of eyes turned to Trowa.
"Don't look at me. It's not like you guys had nothing to do with it."
The others could only look at each other and shake their heads.
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"He hasn't been in class for the entire week."
"You think he's going to show?"
"He better show or I've been practicing for nothing."
Ever since he walked out of the class, Quatre had not returned or even set foot on school property. While other factors may have been at work, Trowa felt guilty. Extremely guilty. Everyday when the bell rung in the morning, his mind would reply that scene where he and the rest of the gang gave the 'new kid' the dirtiest look they could muster. Sure he had skipped for an entire week before but who could blame him with all the rumours flying around. It's hard enough for someone to fit in, let alone when everyone flinches away from you like an epidemic.
Miraculously, Professor Winner did show up for band practice and dressed in actual formal wear. The moment he stepped into the room there were gasps then awed silence. The boy was gorgeous dressed in a black suit with matching black shirt. The only splash of colour on him was the baby blue tie that contrasted wonderfully in the dark backdrop. The same thing went through almost everyone's head.
Sometimes, the clothes do make the man.
The attitude, that is a different story. Still keeping that same blunt spunk from before, he calmly told off everyone who didn't perform up to par. Which was....practically everyone. On the brighter side, he did give ample compliments to those he felt had improved since their last session. By the end of the class, the students had to admit. Mr. Winner was tuff, but fair.
"Alright. Good class people. You're all dismissed. Don't forget to practice at least one hour at home every night."
Not yet use to the rigorous practice sessions, the exhausted players packed up and filed out as quickly as they can.
I have to talk to him. At least appologize. The guilt is killing me.
Waving goodbye to the people walking past him, Trowa waited by the teacher's desk while Mr. Winner answered the questions a few of the students had. It amazed him how the others were able to accept this new teacher so quickly. A week ago he couldn't even imagine this scene taking place. And now, watching these people ask Quatre questions, and seeing him reply in a very professional manor, he couldn't help but think that his earlier reaction was blown completely out of proportion.
After a good ten minutes of explanation, all the questions were answered and the two were finally left alone. Quatre had looked very surprised when he turned to find Trowa leaning against his desk, but that expression was quickly covered by the serious mask of a professional.
Quatre: "How may I help you Mr. Barton."
Trowa: "Actually, I just ....wanted to appologize."
Quatre: *crosses arms* "Really. For what?"
Trowa: "For giving you the evil eye earlier." *walks over* "Look. I'm really sorry. I ....was in a foul mood and you just happened to walk in. You don't have to skip because of me."
Quatre: "Hn." *closes conductor score* "What makes you think that I'm skipping because of you?"
Trowa: "I...."
Quatre: "You sir. Tend to overestimate yourself. Not eveything revolves around you."
Trowa: "........"
Quatre: "Now. Unless you have a musical question you'd like to ask me, I'd like to lock up and leave."
Having received no response, Quatre brushed past him and hurriedly gathered his books. Throwing them into his (black of course) backpack, he fished out his keys and held the door open.
"If you don't mind, Mr. Barton."
Likewise, Trowa grabbed his things and stuffed them in his backpack. But just before stepping out into the halls, he stopped; effectively blocking the doorway.
Quatre: *huffs* "...Mr. Barton..."
Trowa: "If in fact, I did have nothing to do with your.....lack of attendance, why are you avoiding me?"
Quatre: "I am not avoiding you now move." *pushes door close*
Trowa: *slams door open* "Then look me in the eyes when you are talking to me."
Quatre: *leans on door* "Mr. Barton. Whatever....crack it is that you're sniffing. I suggest that you stop taking it because you, are acting way out of line."
Trowa: "I'm out of line?"
Quatre: "Yes you are." *pushes door, finally closes it* "What authority do you have over me? I.I...I don't even have a reason to speak to your beyond educational terms." *locks door*
Trowa: "The minute you say 'dismissed' you are no longer the professor and I am no longer your student. And for heaven's sake stop calling me Mr. Barton!"
Quatre: *sigh* "Look .....Trowa. You and I....we're from different worlds. We...can't even be friends. Let's just leave it at that okay? You and I..we have nothing to do with each other. That's it. The end...... Good bye Mr. Barton."
With that, he helted his bag onto his shoulder and left without once glancing back.
In the streets past midnight when everyone's asleep, a loud buzzing filled the air. Like a swarm of bees, round disks of white light flittered in the air. They left long streaks as they passed at over 200 km/hr. Loud engines blared as their drivers reved them up. The lot of them headed up the moutain at the edge of the city. It was a racing hotspot with all it's twists and hairpin turns. Tonight seemed to be a big night as over a hundred motorcycles raced to the top. It was useless for police officers to try and stop them. It would take too many tickets and too many jail cells. Besides, sometimes even they went up there to enjoy the show.
Near the top of the moutain, was a flat area dedicated to parking. It had vending machines and bathrooms on the side since it was still quite a long walk to the actually peak. This area was of course, the common meeting ground for racing. And tonight, about 5 groups had gathered, Diabolos being one of them.
"Hey Angel. What's the matter? You look tired."
Over in the far corner sat about 15 members of Diabolos. Apple had just arrived on his bike, only to spot their leader laying with his feet up on a fence. Balanced meticulously but laying nonetheless.
Quatre: "I am tired. You try teaching a bunch of highschooler's to play Pachelbel's Canon."
Apple: "Well, here's something to wake you up." *tosses can of coffee* "Good old Mr. Brown."
Quatre: "Thanks. Eh how did that report of yours go?"
Apple: *smiles* "I got an 85%. Awwwwww." *highfives* "oh yeah! Where else can you find a biker gang with brains!?"
Kryse: "Say it any louder Apple. They might just hear you."
Quatre: "Kryse! What are you doing here? What about your ethics report?"
Apple: "Yeah. We don't accept idiots into this gang you know. You're a spawn. You should know that." *wiggles eyebrows*
Kryse: "Don't worry about it. I'm done. Edited twice. It's all good." *claps hands* "So....? Who's up tonight?"
Quatre: "Oh that would be Silver, Jade, and Red."
Apple: "Oh the colours are going at it huh?"
Kryse: "Strange coincidence ain't it?"
Quatre: "Ain't is not a word."
Kryse: "Yeah yeah. Grammer police. Heh. You never told us how things are going at Kronos other than teaching."
Quatre: "Same ol. The dogs need training. The rest are just idiots."
Apple: "I see. How are you fitting in? Any new friends you like to introduce us to?"
Quatre: "Nope. Not at all."
Kryse: "No candidates for spawn huh?"
Quatre: "..........I just don't want to darken anyone's future if you know what I mean. Not everything we do is peachy keen."
"Hey Angel! Someone wants to play!"
Quatre: "Play how!?"
"Down hill! Two thousand!"
Apple: *eyes glitter* "Angel's up? Oooh!"
Quatre: "heh." *winks* "Let's rock."
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"On Five. Four. Three. Two. One. GO!!!"
Red Honda vs. Blue Honda. Two equal bikes meaning it's all the driver (and alterations). One wouldn't believe the noise as they raced down the track. At speeds of over 200 km/hr down a twisted moutain track, both pushed hard at the line. All one could see was the streak of light as they passed. Both were head to head at first but after a couple of hair pins, the red started taking the lead. The blue wouldn't let up and kept pressing up the red trying to get the best line. But try as he may, he couldn't get into position. Inside, outside and back in again. The red took the best line and he intended to stay there. The two rounded the corners and the stop clocks clicked.
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"...18, 19, 2000 dollars."
"Thank ya thank ya. We'll see you boys around huh?"
"Hey. I lost. What can I say. He won fair and square. You're fast Angel. But I'll be back."
"Anytime Pedro. Any time."
At almost 4 am in the morning, the races ended and the dozens upon dozens of bikes rode down the moutain. Only Diabolos stayed behind to make plans for the rest of the night.
Apple: "So what are we going to do now?"
Kryse: "I'm going to bed. I have to make a presentation tomorrow. Anyone else leaving?"
Silver: "Right here."
Jade: "Me too, I'm beat."
Quatre: "Alright bye guys. Good luck on your report Kryse."
Kryse: "You got it."
Apple: "So what are we gonna do?"
Red: "Clubbing? Twilight Zone?"
Quatre: "Sounds good to me."
Red: "Great race by the way Angel."
Quatre: "You know it. Everybody to the Twilight Zone!" *puts key's into ignition*
Red: "hm? Hey Angel. Didn't know you were into that kind of stuff."
Quatre: *rolls bike around* "What stuff?"
Red: "You know. Charms and stuff. Like that feather on your keys."
Quatre: "I'm a witch. Didn't you know?" *wiggles eye brows*
Apple: *swings bike around* "He's had that thing for as long as I remember."
Quatre: "................"
Apple: "Where'd you get it anyways?" *nods at feather*
Quatre: ".......well...."
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////~
Two little boys, both dressed in miniature tuxedos stood in a hallway. One had blonde hair, the other brown. The little boy with brown hair held out a feather in one hand, while the other tightly held a shiny silver flute.
"This is for you."
"What's that?"
"It's an Angel feather. An old fortune teller lady gave it to me a long time ago and said it would bring me good fortune. It's very precious to me."
"Then why are you giving it to me?"
"Because you helped me when I needed it. And....because you don't look very happy."
"You can see that? You're the first person to notice."
"Really? Well here. I hope it brings you happiness."
"But I have nothing to give you in return....."
"Smile."
"What?"
"Smile. If we see each other again, smile for me. I'm sure it will look great." ~////
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Quatre: *smiles ruefully* "....It's too long ago. I can't remember." *revs up engine* "Anyways. Let's hit the Zone!!"
With a great roar, Diabolos road off with only the echo of their engines left behind.
