A/N: I'm sorry for starting yet another multi-chap fic while I haven't near finished the others, but IZ TOO TEMPTINGG
Enjoy!
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"OH. MY. GOD. JUST CLOSE YOUR FUCKING MOUTHS ALREADY SO WE CAN FUCKING BEGIN!"
A earsplitting, overly loud scream pierced through the incessant babbling of the high school band. The poor souls closest to the person who was shouting his face off nearly died of a heart attack, feeling their hearing deteriorate at a frighteningly fast pace.
Silence.
The band members paused for a second, glancing at the fuming Student Aid, before continuing their conversations and waving their instruments around precariously as before, the woodwinds in the first row bracing themselves for another bout of screeching.
It never came.
Instead, the band actually silenced little by little, by itself. Lovino, the teen who was screaming before, gaped, openmouthed, as the sea of heads turned to the door that was unceremoniously flung open.
"Hej there, all! I'm Mathias Køhler, the coolest kid you'll ever kno-"
A wild-haired blonde kid introduced himself, toting a shining brass trumpet and a wide grin, before being shoved into the wall.
"Sorry about him. We're the transfer students, from the Scandinavian Academy in Europe. I'm Lukas," a shorter blonde, with dull eyes, a cross hairpin, and an oboe balanced on a thumb spoke, grinding the loudmouth's head into the plaster.
"Mmph-" was the reply from the guy that had a mouthful of wall.
"I'm Tino Väinämöinen! Nice to meet you all!" an even shorter blonde spoke up, wide violet eyes peering out from behind a huge tuba, which he seemed to carry with no problem.
"'M B'rw'ld."
A hulking teen with glasses and a hard frown mumbled, clutching a tiny flute. A few people in the audience couldn't help but titter nervously at the irony. Berwald glared at them. They shut up immediately.
(Lovino felt kind of offended that this random dude could just breeze in and quiet everyone while he was here breaking his lungs and pulling out all of his hair and being ignored. Maybe he would take some lessons from the Swede.)
"I'm Emil. Leave me alone and I won't snap your head off. Thank you."
A pale, nearly white-haired teen with clothing that belonged a century ago strolled in, twirling a pair of drumsticks.
Silence.
Lovino stormed up to them, still pretty pissed off.
"Play your Chromatic scales and sightread this sheet of music-"
He shoved four different instrument parts of an Etude at the respective instrument owners.
"-so I can assign your chairs to you. And you, 90s kid, we need someone on snare."
Emil huffed, striding over to the snare drum and trying a roll, nodding slightly at the sound.
"Hm. You, wall eating bastard, go first."
Mathias beamed, leaping to his feet and pressing his trumpet to his lips.
His Chromatic scale was flawless, the notes piercing through the air on the way up, and floating listlessly on the way down. The last note hung in the air.
"Thank you, everyone!" he bowed, and backed off.
Lukas went next, and the the whole thing sounded absolutely beautiful, Lovino noted, so unlike the duck-sounding of the current oboes.
Then it was Tino, with a brilliant performance, filling the tuba up to the brim (with more power than their head tuba player, who was a huge monster of a kid) and letting the sound resonate freely.
Finally it was Berwald, who played splendidly, his fingers dancing across the keys of the flute, his frowning expression perfect for the instrument.*
There was barely a pause after Berwald's last note when the four started the etude in unison, the demanding voice of the trumpet rising up above the harmony, before the flute and oboe parts took over. The three parts passed the melody back and forth, while the tuba and the timpani (Emil had taken over the large drum to get to show off) supported the whole thing.
The band all listened in awe, mouths wide and heads bobbing to the near professional level playing- and this was them sight reading a piece they never played before!
As the final chord hung in the air, the whole room exploded in enthusiastic applause, which Mathias bowed proudly to.
Lovino could only squeak out a, "F-first chair, all of you!", he was so shocked, and the Scandinavians minus Emil made their way to their respective sections, the band scooting over one seat to give them room.
The Italian Student Aid disappeared into the office, demanding an audience with the actual band director.
As soon as the door to the office was slammed shut, the students surrounding the new additions to the band immediately started firing questions at the teenage males, some of the girls even hanging off of their bodies.
Mathias shot back rapid-fire answers, flirted with the girls, and got to know the second chair trumpet and the last chair trombone players, Alfred and Gilbert, at the same time.
Lukas exchanged glances with Berwald, who sat right in front of him, pushed away swooning girls, and conversed politely with the first chair bassoon player, a rambunctious teen whose name was Vladimir.
Tino chattered excitedly with anything within earshot, smiled adorably at the girls, and had an interesting conversation about pickles with the first chair euphonium player, Eduard.
Berwald sat there, stony faced, once in a while glancing back at Lukas, and trying not to scare the first chair clarinet player, a pleasant Germanic girl named Lilli.
Emil ignored everything and just did a series of rolls on the snare.
When Lovino finally came out of the office, followed by the band teacher, a laid-back Italian man that seemed to be related to him, he was undoubtedly pissed off when everyone was louder than ever.
A quick shush from the elder to the band, however, quieted everyone quite easily.
"Now that everyone is settled, let us begin!"
And the band hall filled with music.
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"Oh my goodness, did you see the little shit's face?!"
Mathias exclaimed, mouth stuffed with Danish Butter Cookies, his arms waving in wide, expressive circles to better convey his point. Tino giggled, munching on his salmiakki pieces while Emil stole a few.
Band had passed by pretty quickly, and the next few periods after that had nothing significant to retell. They were in the school cafeteria, eating food that was brought from home, all fondly mocking the Student Aid.
"He had the nerve to call me wall eating bastard!"
"My clothes are totally fashionable! They aren't from the goddamned 90s!"
"I could tell he was laughing at how small I am!"
"He look'd m'd 't me fer bein' t'll 'n sc'ry."
"He called my oboe a not-duck. My oboe is so much more!"
The table of five burst into a fit of giggles, surprising the others around them.
"I can't wait to screw him over the whole year." Mathias rubbed his hands, an evil grin on his face.
"For once, I agree with you." Lukas put in.
"To pissing him off!" Tino screeched.
"To pissing him off!" they all echoed.
This was going to be an exciting year.
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*Flautists (yes that is actually the professional term) play their instrument with a frown, to better direct the air to the hole. That's why flautists always look solemn, and why the flute fits Berwald.
Berwald-Sweden
Mathias-Denmark
Lukas-Norway
Tino-Finland
Emil-Iceland
Lovino-S. Italy/Romano
Alfred-America/USA
Gilbert-Prussia
Vladimir-Romania
Eduard-Estonia
Lilli-Liechtenstein
Band Director-Ancient Rome
So... Yeah. Haha. Like it? Hate it?
Reviews would be appreciated.
I'll post the grade levels and instruments and whatnot next chapter.
Also, this also has other classes and stuff besides band, but it won't be featured, only mentioned.
Tak and Best Wishes,
Wannabe-Danish-Cookie
