RainbowSeagull: Oh my goodness I'm so sorry guys. See, my computer was attacked by viruses so I had to get my friend to fix it. That was two weeks ago. Then, I discovered the Phantom of the Opera and decided to go through some fanfiction for it. Yeah. I ended up reading at least four stories that had more than sixty chapters, like seventy stories with more than one chapter but less than sixty chapters, and more one-shots than I can count. I'm a terrible person, I know. And this chapter was written a couple paragraphs at a time in between fanfictions, so I apologize if it flows awkwardly. Also, I'm changing it so that Javert doesn't have a first time. I know that probably isn't very realistic, but considering this is gonna end up a romance, I would have to use his first name if I gave him one. And I can't write Javert as anything but Javert. Okay. Long author note is done. Back to the story.
As Javert walked to the high school the next week, two things were on his mind. One, that school shouldn't start so early. Two, he was sure that he had seen, no, he was sure that he had met that man somewhere before. It was strange, though. Javert was proud of his memory, and something like this had never happened to him before. He never forgot someone he had met, and people he had seen were of no importance to him. Things of no importance never found their way into Javert's mind. As he waited for the crossing light to turn green, he decided that he would talk to the man at lunchtime if he could find him. The light changed and told him he could walk. Javert crossed the empty street and entered the school, wishing that he didn't have to go to the band class during school.
He opened the door to the music room to the delight of the students whose parents were cruel enough to drop them off so early. They rushed inside the room while Javert dragged the doorstopper in front of the door. He saw the music students stuffing their instrument lockers with textbooks when he went inside. Wondering whether or not that was allowed, he opened the door to the office and looked over the drill for half an hour until the bell rang. He looked around. The band director was nowhere to be found. Javert opened the door and saw the orchestra setting up. Of course. Trust the band director to not tell him he didn't need to come to first period. Javert went to the computer and opened the attendance sheets. The first band class wasn't until third period. He looked at the schedule. Only about five hours to go before he actually had to be here.
Javert left the classroom. He thought about walking to the bakery to buy a cookie, but decided against it. He hadn't gotten paid yet. It would be strange if he started wandering around the school, but he didn't have much else to do. Javert let his feet take him across the school while he thought about the man from the parking lot the week before. A few minutes later, he found himself in the area of the school where the science buildings were.
Feeling out of place, Javert thought it would be best to go back to the music room and... He wasn't sure. Take a nap, maybe. As he turned around to head back to the other side of the campus, he saw the gray haired man from the parking lot.
"So he teaches Biology, then?" Javert said to himself after seeing the sign on the window. "It seems like he's new. The walls are almost completely bare. And his name... Mr. Valjean," he read with some difficulty. It seemed like Mr. Valjean had run out of all color markers except yellow. Even the writing on the whiteboard was yellow. Javert wondered whether he should go inside or not. Mr. Valjean had a class to teach, though, so he checked the room number so that he could come back later.
He wondered why he even wanted to talk to him.
At lunchtime, Javert walked over Mr. Valjean's classroom, hoping he hadn't already left. When he arrived, he looked into the window and saw him sitting at his desk and eating bread. Bread. It was fitting, somehow. Javert wasn't sure why. As he raised his hand to knock, he stopped. He didn't really have a reason for showing up. How would he introduce himself? He thought about turning back, but there were students everywhere. There was sure to be rumors if he was seen constantly hanging around Mr. Valjean's room. Rumors about what? Javert didn't know anymore. He knocked. The door opened a few moments later.
Valjean was surprised to see the man with the coat from the parking lot. He had gone to work that day, there was no reason for suspicion! Suspicion? Why should the man find him suspicious? There was a reason, Valjean was sure of it. He just didn't know what that reason was.
"Good afternoon. Is there something you want?" Valjean asked.
"It's nothing important, really," Javert said. "I just feel like I know you from somewhere, so I came here to talk to you," he said, shifting his foot back and forth. Why am I doing that? he asked himself. There was no reason to be nervous. They were two colleagues getting to know each other. That was all.
"Oh, is that so? Come in then," Valjean said, holding the door open. There's no reason for me to be worried. He's just another teacher. What do I have to be worried about, anyway?
"Thank you. My name is Javert, by the way. I was hired as marching instructor this year. For the marching band," Javert said, holding out his hand. Valjean shook his hand and introduced himself as Jean Valjean, a new Biology teacher.
Javert almost said, "I know," but stopped himself. It would have sounded stalkerish. Besides, he didn't know his name was Jean Valjean. Just Valjean. Still, it seemed so natural that his first name should be Jean that he felt like he had known it all along.
Valjean picked up his bread, but he didn't sit down again. It felt strange to be the only one sitting down. "So, you're new here too, then?" Valjean asked in an attempt to start a conversation.
"Yes. In fact, I only just moved here," Javert said. "That bakery nearby has some delicious cookies." Well that was a stupid thing to say. I'm sure he doesn't care about cookies. I should have said something about bread.
"Do they? I haven't bought any of their cookies yet. Their bread is wonderful, though," Valjean said. Oh no, that came out rude, didn't it? Now I sound like I disregard other people's opinions. I really don't though. I'm sure those cookies are amazing. Should I say that? But I already did! Just...in a much ruder way. Is ruder even a word?
"Their bread does look and smell amazing. I haven't tried any yet, though. I have a loaf at home that I mean to eat for breafast tomorrow," Javert said. Like he cares. And look, I was right. I should have said something about bread. He really doesn't care too much for cookies. "Are you enjoying your time here?" Javert asked, thinking to himself about how much that question sounded like something a worker at a hotel would say. He probably should have worded it differently. Too late now though.
"Ah... It's alright. The students are mostly behaved, but there are a few... I don't suppose you know Camille. Camille Courfeyrac. He's in his second year, and he has curly brown hair. It's terrible. Not the hair, though, his hair is rather nice. I would threaten to fail him in citizenship, but I don't think he would care," Valjean replied, noting how much he was complaining.
"Light brown hair? Yes, I think I know him, actually. It appears that he is the sophomore representative of the marching band," Javert said.
"I'm warning you, when it comes to pratical jokes, there are only a few lines that Camille won't cross. After a while, I hope I'll get used to it. I might even think they're funny. But right now, it's just giving me a bit of a headache," Valjean said. Don't say that's why I wanted to stay home. Don't say it. "How has your first week been, Mr. Javert?"
"It's been just as I should have it expected it to be," Javert sighed. "I don't know if you've ever seen a marching band off the field, Mr. Valjean. They're very different. Think of it as...how many are there? Think of it as seventy Mr. Courfeyracs."
"Surely it can't be that bad?" Valjean asked.
"Maybe I am exaggerating a little. How about this: Pretend that each part of Mr. Courfeyrac multiplied to form seventy baby Courfeyracs who are not as bad as the original Mr. Courfeyrac, but still posess many of his traits. There are a few exceptions, of course."
"Ah, well that sounds more bearable. He does have his good traits," Valjean said. The bell rang to end lunch. "Is it over already? I hope you'll come again soon, Mr. Javert," Valjean said.
"Is it alright with you? Then I will," Javert said. Should I come tomorrow? Would he think I was a stalker if I came tomorrow? Maybe I should give it a day. Or two. But no more than two. As Javert walked back to the music room, he passed by Courfeyrac, who was rubbing his nose.
"I just don't understand it, Gabriel. I felt perfectly fine yesterday and this morning. It isn't allergy season. But I just couldn't stop sneezing all thought lunch!" he complained to his friend.
"Maybe you caught a new disease? Oh no, if you did then I hope it's not contagious. What if I got it too? What if it develops into some deadly illness, and I spread it before I die? It will be all my fault!" his friend wailed. Courfeyrac patted him on the back, not thinking to remind him that he would have gotten the "disease" from him.
Meanwhile, Javert had arrived at the band room and began to introduce himself properly after the bell rang. He glared at the students who came through the door late, but the director took no notice of them. The rest of the period was spent listening to players who had either just began to learn their instrument or who hadn't touched their horn all summer. A beginners' class. There wasn't much for Javert to do, and he had an odd longing to return to the science building. But no, he couldn't interupt work.
The next morning, Javert opened the band room doors once again, but this time, a swarm of band students larger than the one from the day before pushed passed him. There was an actual band class this morning. Javert had looked to make sure before leaving. It was the advanced class, so with luck, they would sound better despite several weeks on break. He took a chair from the tallest rack, pitying the smaller band members who had to wait for taller people like him to shorten the stack, and took a seat at the back of room. He flipped through the pages of a magazine quietly, surprising many of the students who looked behind to see the tall man in a dark coat seated in the back while calmly reading a copy of a Music in Motion catalogue. Some eyed him suspiciously until he looked up and gave the band director, who had just arrived, a quick nod and returned to his reading. He continued to flip through the pages until the bell rang.
The students started to get their chairs and stands, and Javert knew better than to start his introductions then. He let them set up before he introduced himself as their new marching tech. Most of them seemed wary. Well, what were they expecting? Javert wondered. A fun-loving marching tech dressed in bright happy colors who readily looked over every mistake? Javert almost smiled at such a riddiculous thought.
The director took over the rest of the class, leaving Javert to go around a fix minor problems. Minor problems for now. When they've had a week or so to get used to playing again, he would show no mercy in pointing out every single one of their flaws.
The poor intonation hurt, but at least it wasn't as bad as yesterday. Javert fought to keep a grimace from appearing every time a note was played by the band. Patience, Javert...it's been many weeks since they've played. Patience. Time will make it better.
Javert almost sighed in relief when the bell rang to end class. That was it, he was done for the school day. Of couse, there was still after school... But he didn't want to think about that for now. He had two class periods all to himself.
He realized that he didn't know what to do with those two class periods.
Go home? No, he would only have to come back later. Wander around the campus? Unappealing. Sit in the music room while (he checked the schedule) kids banged on drums and stringed instruments were picked up by students playing for the very first time? No, thank you. So, what? It wasn't like he had made friends with any of the teachers. Any of them, except...
Formulating a believable excuse in his mind, Javert headed off towards the science building.