Similar to the behavior demonstrated by tom cats, both musically gifted and otherwise, he wrote, Romeo and Juliet were not lovestruck, they were luststruck, and...It when on like this for a while, droning on and on, but not droning like a history teacher or a drone, no, it was a melodic and powerful droning. When he was finally finished, the silent teen carefully pushed his chair back and proceeded to the front of the class, where he carefully placed his three pages worth of scribble on the worn oak desk. Lysander did everything carefully. He returned quietly to the back of the room, lowering himself into the seat next to his red-haired friend, who was gripping his pencil as if it had wronged him. Lysander didn't concern himself with it. Castiel did everything angrily.
The frazzled teacher sorted through the papers on his desk, pen in hand, circling this and crossing out that. He saved Lysander's for last, knowing it would be a difficult one. Lysander didn't concern himself with this, he simply stared at the clock and hummed and contemplated life. Castiel shot him a dirty look. He ignored it. A huge sigh brought his attention to the front of the class.
"Lysander, could you...can you just come here please?" Mr. Faraize rubbed the bridge of his pale nose while flapping at Lysander with some papers with his other hand, gesturing for him to come to the front of the room.
"Is there a problem, sir? Did I write too much? I know you said half a page, but-". He was cut off.
"Lysander, I asked you to write a short narrative telling us about yourself and what you did this summer. This," he waved the offending pages at him, "is about Shakespeare and cats and whether or not our country's economic downfall is due to the overpricing of iced coffee drinks!" Lysander glanced at the floor and blushed.
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I'll re-write it."