I'm bored beyond all compare. I hope you like the story in its pure insanity. It is after all inspired by a certain show. . . I'll warn you now. The characters will be a tad different . . .

DISCLAIMER: I do not own APH.

Arthur looked through his locker, reluctantly trying to find what he needed for his next class. Every single day was a living hell for him as most of the school was hell-bent on making him miserable beyond all compare. Everyday, he had to endure the mocking of his schoolmates. It was terrible, absolutely terrible. The popular kids spent a lot of time throwing him in the dumpsters and throwing the nearest object at him.

This isn't fair! No one else in this bloody school is being tormented. Why do I have to endure this?!

He was wrong, absolutely wrong. There were several other people at his school who, just like him, had just written themselves off.

Violin in hand, the green-eyed blonde set off for his music class. It seemed to be the only class that let him express what he felt and actually get rewarded for doing so. After all, he was an exceptional violinist/guitarist. Music was his way of venting without the use of words. When he played an instrument, no one could deny that he was, in fact, a prodigy. His fingers seemed to dance on the string of the beautiful instrument he held, producing a sound that seemed to come down from heaven.

"We'll be doing something a little bit different today. It will give you the chance to discover other talents you have. We'll be doing Broadway. Each and every one of you will get up on that stage and sing one song. I don't care if you can't sing or are too nervous, this is what music class is for. You need to LEARN something." said the music teacher, much to the dismay of everyone in class.

Arthur was just about to say something to try and get out of it, but the obnoxious American quarterback or the school decided to interrupt.

"Look, teach, I'm not about to get up there and embarrass myself singing dorky show tunes!"

"Like I said, you don't have a choice. If you don't do this, you'll fail this class and as you know you must maintain a C+ average or better than that to stay in the football team. No one wants that now. Right, Mr. Jones? You are after all the quarterback and, correct me if I'm wrong because I don't know much about football, that is the most important role in the entire team, is it not?"

"I hate you."

"Whether you hate me or not, you're going to get on that stage and sing. And since you're being so rude, you're going first."

Grudgingly, Alfred ascended the stairs to the main stage.

"What now? It's not like I know any show tunes?"

"Fine then. Don't sing a show tune. Just sing this." The teacher handed him sheet music to a song that was familiar to him. There was only one problem. If he admitted it, everyone in school would think him a dork.

"Only hope? Are you serious? Isn't that song sung by a chick or something. . ."

"The original was sung by Switchfoot. Even if a girl sang it, you have no choice. You're singing it."

"Well, how am I supposed to sing when there isn't any music?!"

"Arthur will accompany you with his violin and Ro-"

"What?!"

"I'm sorry Arthur, do have a problem?"

"Forgive me, sir. It's just that I don't . . . never mind"

Why the bloody hell do I have to help out that blasted American! He's always so obnoxious!

Three other students ascended the steps to the stage to accompany Alfred with their instruments. The other students in class swore they saw smoke coming out of the fuming Brit's ears as the Frenchman carrying a guitar tried to comfort him and just ended up getting smacked in the head. The Austrian in front of the two now fighting blondes just hurried on ahead so as not to get up in fight.

"Kirkland! Bonnefoy! Quit bickering and get up that stage and play!"

Neither of them objected and just continued to climb the steps. . .

When they were all set to play, the teacher gave the signal and the music began. The sound the instruments produced was absolutely splendid. It seemed to remove all the tension that had previously surrounded everyone, except Arthur. He hated that the music he was playing was going to be ruined by the intolerable American's voice.

Damn! That obnoxious American is about to sing. . . He's going to ruin this whole thing! I bet he can't even –

Arthur stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks when he heard a voice sing. It sounded as an angel came down from heaven decided to save him from the agony of hearing the insufferable American sing. A shot of pleasure enveloped Arthur and made him want to play better. It was then that he realized that the voice came from the American he thought his ears were being saved from. He looked at the audience. All of them had an expression of shock and amazement written all over their faces.

That blasted American can actually sing . . . damn.

"Well, well, well. It sounds like we've had a talented singer all this time without realizing it. It seems like the three of you now have new competition for best in class. . ."

The class continued, everyone got up on stage and sang their hearts out. Even the usually shy, stuttering Canadian did. He knocked the ballad right out of the park with talent to match that of the American much to the surprise of everyone in class. The Frenchman did an amazing job even if singing was not his forte. No one was all that surprised though. He was already one of the best in class. By the time he finished every girl in class was all over him, again, that was expected. Roderich, as usual, played the piano. The only thing different was that he sung.

It was almost time for the class to end, and there was only one student who hadn't gotten up on stage to sing yet. That student was Arthur. He was nervous, he had to admit it. He never really had any formal training in the area causing him to be paranoid. He couldn't stand losing to the insufferable American. He just couldn't. As a result, he decided he would do everything he could just to make sure that his performance would become legendary. He even borrowed Francis' guitar because he didn't bring his.

He got up on stage once more and began to play. . . Until that moment, everyone thought he was just violinist/ guitarist. Non thought he could sing, not even he himself.

"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard or a moment that's held in your arms. And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway. You don't know me. And I'll never be what you want me to be."

The words and notes came out of his mouth and it was just magical. Everyone felt so light and happy hearing the voice of the Brit they never knew could sing. . . Even those that normally hated him seemed to love him at that moment.

"And what do you think you'd understand? I'm boy, no, I'm a man. You can't take me and throw me away. And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here."

He can sing. He can really, really sing. I underestimated him . . . That was all the American thought.

"And I want a moment to be real. Want to touch things I don't feel. Wanna hold on and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change? They're the ones that stay the same.
They don't know me 'cause I'm not here."

"He is good, non?"

"Yeah, I guess he is . . ." said the American (who was still in pure awe) in reply to the Frenchman.

By the time Arthur finished singing, everyone was standing up and applauding his remarkable performance. All the girls in class were throwing themselves at him, much to the disappointment of the Frenchman and the Prussian.

"It looks like you have competition!" said the Spaniard in a tone so mocking that the Frenchman would've hit him had they not been friends.

"Shut up, Antonio! That annoying Brit maybe good, but I am frigin' AWESOME! Do you hear me I am AWESOME!"

See, I told you! It's insane!