Notes: IMPORTANT - I'm changing the perspective to 3rd person! Super late update, but better late than never?
He didn't know how long he stayed numb for. It felt like years, lifetimes. How many people had he locked out? His father set him up with probably thousands of therapists, but they didn't help. No meds or therapy or drugs could save Uryu from the huge, gaping hole left. He didn't want to think of the stupid fucking night that took everything away, his everything. How long had it been anyways? A year? Uryu believed it had to be a year by now.
He didn't even care that the shooter was rotting in prison. The guy could have walked free and Uryu wouldn't have batted an eye. Uryu knew it wouldn't bring him back.
Sometimes when Orihime would bring him weird little candies, or when Chad would leave books or little knickknacks that were significant in his home country, he'd let on small smile, but it was never real, and it only made an appearance to comfort the other.
School numbed Uryu. It was dreadfully linear and offered a perfect distraction, and it made him blissfully numb to his mourning.
But when his dad forcefully signed him up for a band class the summer before his sophomore year? That made him care a little.
"Why is there a band class on my schedule," he deadpanned at his father's back, not really offering it as a question. His father's figure didn't even shift from the office chair. Papers were spread almost haphazardly around the desk, but Uryu was sure it was organized in some fashion, knowing his father.
"Because I put there," he deadpanned right back. Uryu gritted his teeth.
"I can't afford another extracurricular if I want to get into a good college."
That earned him a glance through the reflection of the monitor. "You're short on one extracurricular."
"What if I didn't want band then?"
"Tough shit." was his only answer and Uryu knew the conversation was over.
He stomped back to his room, refraining from slamming the door for the sake of the frames decorating his walls. A few dark band posters were framed and hung up - much to Uryu's father's chagrin - as well as a few pictures of him and his late mother.
His room always felt dark and empty. The posters and the pictures were the only things decorating the walls and his desk remained boring and colorless, as well his bookshelf. The only thing adorning the shelves were the few books Chad had gotten him and textbooks he used for school.
He flung himself onto his bed, willing any more tears from his eyes. He wasn't even sure if he could make tears anymore. He didn't want to go into a class where he didn't know anything. He didn't even enjoy music that much. He much preferred lyrical music, anyways.
He closed his eyes and he could see a blurry outline of a pale face behind his eyelids. He couldn't even make out the individual features of his face anymore. He'd thrown any pictures of - couldn't even think his name - him in a box and put it in the darkest, dustiest corner of the attic.
He wished he couldn't think of him.
. . .
School started and Uryu wished it wouldn't. He'd still get the shitty pity glances at everyone who knew what happened to him. They'd all just remind him of that stupid night and he wished he couldn't-
Whatever.
He plopped down in his seat of his first class: Precalc. It was easy, straightforward and a perfect distraction for his upcoming third block. His incredibly boring teacher droned on from a horribly dull powerpoint and a speech that he probably stole from Khan Academy. He liked having an advanced class; it meant there were no introductions on the first days, no stupid worksheets to get to know one another. Just work.
His second block went just as monotonously as his first, AP Chemistry apparently just as easygoing. But then the bell rang for the end of second block, and Uryu begrudgingly forced himself to drag his way to the band hall.
After almost completely passing the hidden doorway near the cafeteria, he cautiously entered the unfamiliar room. A few familiar heads bobbed around the room, but otherwise, there was no distinct crowd.
He made his way up to where he saw the teacher. The grey podium was surrounded by several tall music stands, several sheets of... everything draped across all of them. A drumstick adorned one of the stands, and the surprisingly tall teacher stood perched on a rotating chair that rose above the chairs in front of him.
Said teacher looked at Uryu with imploring eyes, "You're the new one on my attendance list, right?" Uryu was thankful for the lack of turning heads in the room. Many of the students were busy chatting with themselves as the tardy bell rang, and some darted back into the hallways to retrieve music stands from the clanky carts.
Uryu nodded, slightly nervous at the foreign atmosphere of the classroom. He expected a few people for every instrument, but there was at least 5 students for every instrument, some even more. Was there even supposed to be classes that were this large?
"I'm Mr. Kyoraku. It's nice to see new faces here, what instrument do you play?" A lazy smile appeared on his face and his eyebrows lifted expectedly and Uryu found himself frozen. He played no instruments. Jesus, what had his dad signed him up for?
"No... instruments?" he squeaked with a piched face. The the teacher frowned a bit, his bushy eyebrows pulling a bit into the middle of his forehead.
"Alright. Well, then I suppose we can just teach you one? Do you have any musical experience?" Uryu shook his head, shrugging. Mr. Kyoraku sighed and pointed at a short head in the swarm of instruments and students.
"Go find Rukia. She plays clarinet but she knows about all the instrument inventories. Ask her to find an instrument and a-" he paused, looking for a word. "a mentor."
Uryu nodded, his numb feelings replacing his anxious ones. A fiesty girl blocked his vision, her clothes consisting mainly of torn cloth and lace. "New kid?" she asked and Uryu nodded. "Let's see if we kind find something that works," she said, her face remaining neutral as she turned on heel to go into a cramped looking closet.
The only word Uryu could describe the closet smell was... musty. Like a mix of dust, old papers, aged brass, and that sweaty-teenager-in-high-school smell. All the shelves looked worn with the paint chipping off and dents covering most of the surfaces. The petite girl led him to the back of the room, where the instruments appeared the largest, and two tall cabinets that nearly reached the cieling were placed. There almost seemed to be grooves in the floor from walking upon them so much. Uryu doubted the integrity of this room.
"So did I hear you say you didn't play any instruments?" the girl- Rukia - asked in a monotone, almost. Uryu swallowed, fiddling with his jagged fingernails.
"Yeah. Sorry," he said simply. He felt like she deserved more of an explanation but he just wasn't doing that right then. Rukia looked a little puzzled, but just tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear, shrugging.
"I guess you get to pick an instrument then. We've got a bunch of instruments that were given to the school that we let students borrow." She waved a hand towards the tall shelves on the wall opposite of the large cabinets. "Though," she continued, "it'd be pretty cool if you chose a lower brass instrument. There aren't many people there this year."
Uryu squinted at the various dark cases on the wall as he tried to recall his elementary schooling on music. He remembered them mentioning brass as a general group, so he assumed tubas had to be one of the lower brass instuments, but there obviously had to be more than that. He scrubbed his face with one hand and looked at Rukia. "What are all the instruments in that section that are available for borrowing?"
She looked up, frowning as she thought. "Tubas, baritones, trombones and kind of bari saxophones?" She raised an eyebrow. "They're low and the play like the same parts, but they're still like, a woodwind technically."
Uryu probably looked pretty stupid at that moment as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. He put his head in his hand and thought. He definitely didn't want to be a tuba. They were way too clunky and probably looked stupid. He was taking too long to think and he could really only remember the name of one of them at that point so he just- "Trombone?" he blurted, his voice cracking during the word.
Rukia's eyes seemed to sparkle at Uryu's choice and it sounded like she giggled as she pulled a few long cases from the middle shelf of the end of the rows. She layed them down in a row and opened them up one by one. "I'm just trying to see which one would work the best, or what looks the best," she explained as she took the third case off the shelf.
Uryu heard the heavy door to the classroom shut closed with a loud and heavy thunk and Uryu jumped in surprise. He heard Rukia chuckle and she quickly defended, "It's fine, happens to the best of us. They're just probably starting, that's all."
Uryu decided at that moment that he was truly hating this class already, and he just wanted it to be over. This girl was fucking weird, the teacher looked leery and Uryu was sure he spotted at least 5 people wearing nerdy music shirts and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to take this shit all semester. Gods, save him.
Notes: Hello! I'm just writing this based on my band class and my version of depression (I suppose). If anything seems incorrect or inaccurate, please let me know! Please also let me know if you liked it!