Chapter 1
"Just a few more minutes, I can do this..." Mathew looked at the clock and clutched his alto saxophone harder in anticipation. Just a few more minutes until he fought time itself, packing up the instrument as fast as he could, and practically running out the door. Today would be the day.
Today he would talk to Francis.
For some reason, Francis always packed up faster, left the room faster, and never payed him much attention. Mathew was used to this, and, granted, it's not like Francis was mean to him and purposely avoided him, Francis simply had his own friends he was anxious to get to. Francis had older, more interesting, certainly more musically talented than Mathew, friends.
And that's how Mathew always seemed to be left behind in the band room, everyday, for the past six months.
All he desperately wanted to do was say hello to his crush, Francis, and maybe have a conversation. He didn't know Francis as a person very well, just things that he's heard, but he'd like to get to know him.
But actually getting to that point seemed like swimming across a vast ocean, and only then, Francis would be available to talk to on the other side.
The bell rang and Mathew started immediately packing up, as he practiced at home the night before, cutting his time by many minutes. Francis was still there, causally putting his sexy, rose gold mellophone in it's case, when Mathew was finishing up. He even had time to swab his instrument thoroughly. He was ready. Mathew Williams would officially have his first conversation with the one and only Francis Bonnefoy.
Mathew stood up and was about to make his way over to where Francis was beginning to exit the large door, prepared to make a casual entrance into the frenchman's life, when...
"Yo Mattie! Wait up bro!" His obnoxious brother, Alfred, came bustling up behind, and then beside him, trombone in hand, just ready to crush Mathew's dreams (or at least in Mathew's mind).
"Hey. Just give me a sec okay?" Mathew said to Alfred, not quite able to show all of his anger and disappointment.
"Oh, ok. I'll just wait here for you, then." Alfred told him, secretly happy he would get his daily moment with the perpetually last person out of the room, the band's drum major, Arthur. If he was being honest with himself, Alfred had a crush on him.
But by the time it was all said and done, Francis was long gone, and Mathew's efforts were for nothing.
Mathew sadly turned to his brother, "Never mind, let's just go," he said.
"Oh, okay." Alfred sadly replied. He glanced back at Arthur, hoping he would notice him and maybe look back. He hoped they would lock eyes and have "that moment", the moment where they realized their minds were practically the same, though their personalities were so different. "That moment" never happened and both boys left sad that day, but with the hope that maybe later, something good would happen.
"Maybe tomorrow," both the boys said to themselves.
It was hot. Like, really hot. The sun beat down on them on the practice field and they had no choice but to keep marching, following the directions of their band director, Mr. Edelstein.
Aww, Mr. Edelstein. A true musical genius...as to why he was a high school band director, nobody knew, not even himself sometimes.
"Keep going! Feliciano, stop looking at Ludwig when twirling your flag! Perform up!" The Austrian band director yelled to the young color guard member. Mr. Edelstein was perched high on his tower, far above any of his students, with an umbrella shading him and a cold drink beside him, meanwhile, his students suffered with barely any water breaks while simultaneously listening to him give directions with his annoying, slightly nasal voice that made everyone in the band know exactly why he wasn't married to Ms. Hungary anymore.
"Okay everyone, that should be good for today. Bring it in." Seriously, the man sounded like a duck giving birth when he yelled across the field like that...he kinda looked like one too.
Mathew then dropped his arms and let the instrument hang around his neck, one of the advantages of switching to the saxophone. When he played clarinet, he felt more strain directly on his arms, but, with the sax, at least the weight of the instrument seemed more proportioned, yet it all still exhausted him. Marching band required more endurance than many people would think, more than he used to think. Sometimes he wondered why he did all of this to himself, then he saw Francis walking to where the rest of the band was assembling, and knew.
He had his perfect, wavy blonde hair back in a pony tail. He wore nice shorts and a flowing, thin, white top that showed a bit of his chest. To the world, he looked overly showy and perverted, to Mathew, he looked like a sexy beast.
They gathered outside, ready to end this rehearsal, and listened to their teacher let out annoying quacking sounds for ten minutes, until they finally translated a "you are now dismissed" out of the stupidity that was their band director's voice.
Mathew then ran. Once again, it was a race against time. He ran back to the instrument storage room and began putting his sax away and stuffing it into his cubby. He finished and then turned around.
Francis was standing there, before him, and they could finally have their long-awaited first conversation.
Alfred ran back to the band room, searching for his little brother. He simply couldn't leave Mattie alone, what kind of hero would he be? But then, he heard it.
Arthur was playing his clarinet in the band room.
What kind of hero would Alfred Frickin' Jones be (the 'rickin' being silent)? A HERO WITH A SERIOUS MAN CRUSH!
Alfred casually walked in and cutely tapped on Arthur's shoulder to get his attention, or at least that was the plan. Realistically, he started walking in and tripped over the drumsticks in the floor while about to tap Arthur on his shoulder, causing Alfred to actually hit Arthur pretty hard on his way down and for them both to fall.
"Help! Help me! Get off me, Alfred, you're heavy!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Oh, s-sorry." Alfred, the usually overly-confident, self assured boy stuttered.
After Alfred got off of Arthur, his heroic sense kicked in and he helped the smaller boy up. Arthur stared up at him with a look of speculation and anger.
"What were you doing?!" Arthur asked, annoyed.
"Um-nothing, I swear! I just walked in and I tripped!" Alfred nervously replied.
"Right." Arthur concluded, speculation still in his eyes. "I better leave now, actually," the British teenager said as he gathered his clarinet. As he walked away Alfred stared at his perfect butt and imagined him as Squidward Tentacles from SpongeBob. God, Alfred loved that show, and he loved his Squidward even more.
"Oh yeah, Arthur Kirkland-Tentacles, you will be mine one day..." He said to himself.
Mathew didn't quite know what to do at this point, a part of him never thought he'd get this far, but here he was, and there Francis was, and they were in a situation where not talking would be even more awkward than talking.
Mathew made his attempt. "Hi, Francis. I'm Mathew, in case you didn't know me."
"Oh, hello Mathew. I actually did know you, we are in band together, no? You play saxophone, right? That's such a sexy instrument. Well, I think I have to go now. It was nice talking to you, Mathew." With that, the Frenchman walked away.
'So he does know me! He even knew what instrument I play...oh but, what if it's just because we have similar parts...I mean, that is why I switched instruments in the first place. That's probably it. Oh well, we had a conversation! It actually happened! Now, how do I make it happen again...' Mathew thought to himself.
All of a sudden two people burst through the door. Mathew recognized one as Ludwig, the student teacher, immediately. The other he couldn't see so well because of Ludwig's giant body basically acting as a suction cup to the male with him. Eventually, Mathew picked out a fly-away curl and knew that the other person in the room was Feliciano, the clumsy and cute flag twirler.
'What are they doing?' Mathew wondered.
All of a sudden, he got his answer when he noticed that they were kissing passionately, their bodies hardly ever separating. Mathew stood in shock, unable to move, until a certain something jolted him awake enough to say something.
"I love marching band! You know exactly what to do with your mouth and hands! So much stamina too!" Feliciano exclaimed. Right before any clothes were ripped off or sexy-time started, Mathew cleared his throat.
"Um, sorry to interrupt, but...I'm kind-of in here also..." Mathew awkwardly said, gosh, why was he so awkward? I mean, it was a weird situation, and everyone in the room sensed that.
Before Mathew could even think to take a step outside the room a weight fell on his foot.
"OUCH!" He exclaimed. Ludwig had slammed his whole body weight on Mathew's foot so he couldn't escape, and Feliciano had slammed his own back against the door, shutting it with as much force as he could muster, and locked the door. Once the door was locked, Ludwig got up.
"Look, I'm sorry about that, but, before we let you go, you have to promise not to tell anyone about what you just saw," Ludwig told him.
"Why's that?" Mathew asked. It wasn't like a total student teacher relationship; Ludwig was just an unpaid student-teacher for the band, if he lost that job it's not like he'd actually be losing anything at all.
"WHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" A trumpet sounded right in Mathew's ear.
"Wrong answer," Feliciano said. Now, Feliciano was usually extremely sweet, but when it came to his German sausage, he became more vicious than his brother, Romano, when not on medication, speaking of which, Feliciano was almost out of that...
Ludwig then put a hand on the small Italian's shoulder to calm him. "It's okay, Feli. As long as he agrees not to tell, no need to trumpet him. Remember, that's code 604, what would be more appropriate is code 602," Ludwig reasonably and calmly explained to Feliciano.
"Wait, so we dip him in peanut butter and lick it off of him while 'Hey Jude' plays in the background?" Feli asked.
"No, Feli. That's the sexual handbook, what I'm talking about are the "guard codes" I had you also sign that contract."
"Oh right! But...can we lick peanut butter off of him to 'Hey Jude'? I feel like it would be so fun!" Feliciano returned to his normal self then, just slightly less innocent, Mathew thought.
Before Feli could even think about grabbing the stash of peanut butter a certain fat trombone player (coughs, Alfred) stored, Mathew practically yelled to be heard. "Look, I won't tell anybody about this, ok?! Just don't rub peanut butter on me! Please!"
"Okay, You may go, then." Ludwig told him, and with that, Mathew left, scared and relieved.
Alfred found Mathew walking out of the instrument storage room after a few minutes of waiting. Normally, he would ask why his brother was late, but he had been too busy for the last few minutes plotting how to get closer to the British clarinet player/conductor who stole his heart. Mathew was pale as a ghost, still, but, as he looked back on the moments of the past few minutes, he only became more intrigued about both Francis and whatever was happening between Ludwig and Feliciano.
Both brothers left with the same main thought. Like a dramatic 1930's actress they both played out the end of the drama of what had been their day with a (totally not from Gone With the Wind and almost completely out of context), "Home. I'll go home and think of some way to get him back! After all, tomorrow is another day!"
With that playing in their minds they slammed the door open, hitting their nasal band director in the face, and fabulously strutted out the doors of the school.