Rehearsal time was usually a torture in itself. Long, endless hours of repeating the same few bars because some idiotic horn just couldn't get it right. But Roy loved the powerful pieces composed for orchestra, and would never give up on his job to pursuit a career as a soloist, albeit it would provide him with more money and freedom. Both from conductors and rehearsals.
Today, though, they were going to start late again because some complete moron had decided to switch everyone's scores with somebody else's. And so, the stage was in a complete ruckus, what with musicians that ran to each other asking: "do you have my scores?". Roy, himself, had been lucky enough to have Fuery handing him his, claiming to have found them in his own folder. So, Roy could lean back in his seat in the first row, taking in the sight. He had time to reflect on the fact that whoever was responsible for this must have acted right after yesterday's rehearsal, as all musicians usually brought their own scores home with them. The culprit must be swift, then, and easy to overlook, too. But who…?
Before a clear thought could form in Roy's mind, they were all set and about to start. Roy tuned his violin rapidly and got up to give the note to the others. When he did so, he realised that two seats were empty.
"Where are the Elrics?" he asked, not entirely surprised and more than a bit annoyed. In the three years of his acquaintances with them, not once they had been on time; whether that be for severe lack of organizing skills or just to piss everyone off, Roy couldn't say. If it were for Ed, he would have bet on the latter without a second thought, but considering his younger brother's seeming awareness of other human beings…
A sharp clang, followed by several other metallic noises and a string of colourful curses, interrupted Roy's flow of thoughts.
"Dammit, Al! Of all the places, did you have to drop it on my foot?"
"I'm sorry, Brother, I didn't mean to!"
Roy turned his head toward the entrance of the room to look at the source of the racket. Two blond boys entered the room at once, one holding a set of cymbals with his right hand and a folder with his left, the other with a cello case on his back that was almost as long as his torso, and hugely wider. The cellist was also limping a little.
"Thanks for showing up at last, boys", said Bradley, the conductor, who had just made his way to stand next to Roy, "We were starting to worry about your whereabouts" he added with a cheesy smile.
The brothers didn't comment further and made their way silently to their seats, although Alphonse acknowledged the conductor and the first violin with a slight bow and a sheepish smile. They settled their instruments swiftly and nodded to Roy to signal that they were ready. Roy raised his bow once more, taking in the sight of the whole orchestra hanging on his every word – well, on his every note, that is.
When everybody was finally tuned, Roy sat back and turned his scores to the right page, the national hymn that was to be played compulsory at the start of every concert. They were a military country, after all. Roy distantly wondered why on Earth would they need to practice the damn piece again, since it was likely the only piece they did know well out of all the concert program. Wouldn't it be better if they just skipped to more important stuff? But of course, the conductor's word is law in an orchestra, as the kids say, and Roy's role in it, albeit important, was not unreplaceable, nor it gave him any faculty of objection. Naturally, if his complaints only concerned the best order of rehearsal, now, it wouldn't be that bad.
At Bradley's sharp request for silence, for which the man only needed to raise his wand, Roy shook his head free from those thoughts and concentrated solely on the music.
During the break, at last conquered after some difficult moments in which they couldn't seem to get the rondo right, Roy let his gaze wander at his left, towards the percussion section. There, there was little Alphonse Elric, still on the skinny side of the spectrum, who looked even thinner when confronted to his immediate neighbour, Alex Armstrong. They shared the percussions, the bulky man being more focused on drums and the younger Elric on literally everything metallic.
"And so, everybody went mad looking for their scores!" Alex was laughing soundly, the boom of his potent voice reverberating on the walls. He was obviously briefing his young companion, who was looking up to him with a kind, however a bit awkward, smile, about the last shenanigans.
"Oh, that must have caused some real mess", agreed Al, "I wonder who would do something like that".
"Indeed, my young friend, a real mess nonetheless. Speaking of which, are your scores alright?" How could someone so imposing manage to sound so concerned about some papers was beyond Roy's comprehension.
"Yes, they are", answered Al. "I guess Brother and I went away before someone could swap ours".
The percussionists' conversation went on, but Roy decided to stop listening and got up, crossing the pit until he stood in front of his least favourite cellist. Oh, he needed some release from all the stress he had been piling up, and he would get it right now.
"Tell me something, Fullmetal" he addressed the blond kid.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't – Call – Me – Fullmetal" the youngster articulated without detaching his gaze from the strings of his bow, admittedly a bit mangy. He was tearing down the ruined strings, but the action was thinning the bow even more.
"Ow, come on", Roy whined melodramatically, bringing a hand to clutch his chest. "I only wish for you to remember your origins. I would never dare to call you names". He made sure to add some moaning just to make his speech even more irritating to his friend's ears. The smirk on his face, though, ruined his studiously constructed, concerned look a little, but he couldn't help it. It was hard enough to restrain from laughing as it was.
Ed huffed from his nostril the breath he had obviously been holding to keep control of himself. "Whatever. What do you want, Flame?" he conceded, finally looking at Roy right in his eyes with those wolfish, yellow orbs of his.
Roy deliberatively decided to ignore the infamous nickname by which he had been teased since that day when he had stroked his violin so hard to generate sparks, accidentally setting the stage on fire. They could continue this game until nightfall, but Roy had been saving up this one for a while, now, and he had decided to finally use it since Ed's arrival today. He pointed at the blond's instrument and declaimed, loud enough to be heard by most of the crew: "Did you actually indented on buying a cello or were you looking for a contrabass your size? Because if that's the case, they have fooled you". He let his statement sink in, admiring how Ed's face contorted with rage while confusion gave in to realisation.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORTER THAN A DEMISEMIQUAVER, YOU BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU!?" he raised his bow, aiming for Roy's head. Roy was ready and ducked on time, saving his laboriously styled hair from the kid's wrath. He went back to his seat, leaving it to the others to calm down the feral child.
With his mood lightened up, and chuckling to himself, he slumped on his chair, next to his best friend.
"You should tone down the teasing a bit, Roy-boy, or you'll be murdered in your bed sooner, rather than later".
"Oh, Hughes", patronised Roy "what you don't see is that he has to manage to climb on the bed, first".
The bespectacled violinist laughed soundly. "Don't let him hear you, or he'll deaf us all with his screeches!"
After their cackle ended, there was a moment of comfortable silence when they regained their breath. Then, Maes reached in in his front pocket and Roy's eyes went wide, while his body paralysed with fear and cold shivers run down his back.
"By the way, did I show you the last pictures of Elysia?"
Survival instinct kicked in and Roy diverted his attention to his instrument, rehearsing a piece of the allegro by himself, taking great care in hitting his neighbour with every movement. Hughes still had the photos in front of him, but the melody was effective in blocking the most part of the blabbering about the most beautiful, smart, sweetest cupcake of a daughter a father could ever ask for. Roy kept on increasing the volume and the rhythm until it almost reached a prestissimo con fuoco.
A hand from behind shook his right shoulder.
"Stop that", said Riza authoritatively, "you are making sparks, again".
Roy stopped at once and, truth be told, there was the faint smell of something burnt coming from his violin. He turned to face his fellow violinist and offered her an apologetic expression. However, she didn't let go of her serious expression and reprimanded him with a sharp look. They really didn't need words to understand each other. Her arms crossed under her breasts, she pointed her chin at the upcoming conductor.
"Bradley is back, we are going to restart soon". He nodded in agreement. "So stop acting like children, you both".
Roy and Maes looked at each other furtively, twin grins on their mouths, and simultaneously raised their bows as Bradley's wand shot up.
Here I present you my first attempt at a multichapter fic.
I designed this AU after going to a concert where I swear there was a violinist who looked exactly like Hughes. I tried to check if it had been already done before and couldn't find anything, but if you know of similar stories please let me know, as I'd like to make sure not to produce the exact same thing.
This will probably be 10 chapters or so long. The plot is already set and I've got the majority of the chapters already planned in detail, so I hope to be able to update every other week, but one can never know. University is being hectic.
I hope that you enjoyed, if so (or even if not) let me know what you think.
Thanks for reading thus far!