The Drum Captain
ch 1

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[A/N]: Finally I'm writing a band FIC, as in FICTIONAL, without references! *dances* I feel so...accomplished....thank you Kat.

Rating: R for suggestive situations, eventually swearing, and dark themes
Warnings: yaoi, suicidal thoughts, band madness

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The practice room hallway were dark. It was about four thirty in the afternoon, and band practice was to start at five. DJ was slightly worried about losing track of time, but he was a bit too distracted to think about band right now. He and Michelle had found their way into an empty practice room, and the lights were out. They could hardly see, but that didn't really matter at the time

Michelle pushed DJ against the wall, her kiss blinding DJ from all around him. He tried to push her away, for now was not the time to be doing this, but his body would not respond to his mind's command.

"Michelle...I don't think now is..." DJ struggled to get the words out around Michelle's kiss. "We have...we have band practice...in like fifteen minutes..." Michelle silenced him by covering his mouth completely, and reaching her hand up his shirt. She released his mouth for a moment.

"We've got time."

Just as DJ was feeling persuaded, he heard the sound of a door creaking and the light flipped on. Two bass clarinetists walked in the practice room. "We've got about ten minutes til practice starts," a rather Asian-looking girl said, with a Japanese accent. "We've got time to...WHAT THE HELL?!" she blurted out, eyes opened wide. DJ smacked his forehead.

"Atsuko, I was kind of in the middle of something-" DJ started.

"-I am so reporting you to Mr. G if you are not out of here in 5...4..." Atsuko began counting down, an evil look on her face. DJ and Michelle immediately ran out of the practice room, DJ flattening his hair. He sighed, feeling rather stupid.

"Damn it, I knew that was a bad idea, Michelle," DJ said, reattaching his mouthpiece to the rest of his trumpet. "You've gotta get out there quick...I don't see any snares left in here."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going..." she muttered, heading to the other side of the band hall to get her snare drum. Michelle marched centre three, which means she stood in the centre of the snare line of 9, right next to the drum captain. She hated the drum captain. Every girl in the band was obsessed with him. His 'tall, dark, and handsome' look sent every female within range falling head-over-heels in love with him. Michelle personally felt that she was the only exception to this supposed law of physics, and marching next to this Damian did not help matters.

DJ played some scales on his walk from the band hall to the practice field. They practiced on the furthest parking lot from the band hall, which everyone thought was a stupid idea, but then, the school board really didn't care for the Oakland Creek Marching Band. They had never made it to state, and the last time they went to Nationals, they made 33rd place. The band themselves had hardly any pride left at all, which was very unusual for a marching band these days.

Mr. Garcia, the head band director, was already on the podium, overlooking the parking lot. About half the band was there, and that was a lot of people. Oakland Creek High School was an enormous 5A school with nearly 400 people enrolled in the band program. Only 320 of these marched in competition, and the remaining 80 were on prop crew, pit crew, or were miscellaneous helpers that were not required to come to practice.

"Set the block for fundamentals!" boomed Mr. G's voice over the speakers, which had just been set up on the front and back of the field in four places. DJ stood in his set on the far right, for he was a section leader, and the rest of the line was to line up with him. He turned to watch the battery warm up, on the other side of the lot.

The battery drumline was always warming up five or ten minutes before the band was ready for fundamentals, or a breakdown of how to march. The battery instructors considered technique on the drum itself more important than marching fundamentals, and thus, the battery always skipped this. Michelle silently laughed at the band every day, seeing them suffer through that, while she played the same drumline exercises she did every day. DJ made eye contact from across the field and they smiled at each other, if only for a second. DJ then noticed the drum captain.

He wore a white wifebeater that stood out obviously against his tan, almost hispanic-looking skin colour. Although DJ was looking at him from a distance, he felt Damian's eyes burn right through his own, seemingly scarring his soul. DJ suddenly felt cold, and spun around the face forward again.

'That was really friggin' creepy,' he thought to himself. 'I think I'll never look at him again.' He sighed and shrugged it off, putting his trumpet to his lips and warming up by himself, joining the other random horn notes from around him. Practice was to start in less than a minute. DJ tried to concentrate on hitting that high C, but Damian's eyes continued flashing into his mind. Those eyes...those dark brown eyes. Something about Damian had struck DJ right in the heart. He couldn't get his mind off that icy stare...

DJ blasted the high C as loud and long as he could, the trumpet screaming words that only DJ himself could understand.

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[A/N]: Well, first chapter. I do intend to continue this...

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