AN: Bit late, sorry guys!

Chapter Seven

Ryan did a double take. The headmaster teaches English? Ok then. Ryan, Frank and Ray moved further into the lecture hall, each taking a seat near the front. They were the first there, but considering the small class size- it would have been impolite to sit further back. Ryan reached into his bag and was surprised by the contents Gerard had packed. There were pens and pencils and paper which were fairly standard for any lesson. It was the two copies of Harry Potter that threw him. Surely they weren't-

"Ah! Greetings my fellow muggles! Early today I see. Good to know you and Ryro have bonded already!" Patrick strode around to the front of his desk as Ryan straightened up, Book in hand. The fact that the Ryro nickname had got round so fast hadn't surprised him. He was beginning to feel that nothing about this school could surprise him anymore.

"Hey Mr Stump!" said Frank happily. As though this conversation was perfectly normal. Ray's 'Fro was deep inside his bag. He looked up and turned apologetically to the headmaster.

"I forgot my copy. Don't kill me?" Ray winced at the end of the sentence. Patrick only laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Never mind Ray, just share with Frank. Oh- and tell me the first line of the eighth chapter of book two." The smile that had appeared on Rays face a moment before- abruptly left. He frowned and shook his head guiltily. Patrick tutted and was about to correct Ray when a lilting voice from the door spoke.

"October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle," Bill Beckett breezed into the room, gliding smoothly up to the front.

"That right Boss?" He asked Patrick, who smiled and laughed lightly.

"Well done Beckett, I still maintain the opinion you should have taken English." Ryan stopped rummaging through his bag and frowned. If Bill didn't take English, then why the hell was he in the room? He removed his head from his bag in time to see Bill disappear behind the curtains on the stage where the speaker's podium was situated.

Patrick turned round and shouted at the disappearing boy.

"Fine Beckett- You run off through that curtain to your little Drama studio! It will bring you no joy!" He turned round and breathed out. Looking at Ryan he shook his head.

"I lost my best student to the Drama department in his third year, never understood it personally." Her sniffed. "Now, as we are all here, I'll begin." Ryan looked around the room, he had been so focussed on Bill that he had missed Alex, Bob, Gerard and Mikey walking in. Bob was sitting next to him chewing a pen lazily. He turned to Ryan and smirked.

"Let the magic begin." He muttered.

It turned out that Patrick had chosen Harry Potter as the basis for their creative writing module. They were to look at the evolution of the writing quality over the seven books and investigate the claim that the longer the books, the better quality the writing. Ryan had never really taken much interest in the series and neither had Bob, as a result the lecture didn't much interest them. They spent the majority of the time passing notes rolled up inside pen lids and sliding them surreptitiously across the desks. About five minutes away from the end of the lesson a loud crash from behind the curtain stopped Patrick's rant about adjective use. Everyone looked up from their desks and a couple of people laughed nervously.

From beyond the dark blue cloth came a muffled voice.

"Is that the lower first class?" It was definitely a man's voice, older than anyone Ryan had met yet. Another teacher? Patrick chuckled darkly but remained facing away from the voice behind him.

"No Jon, this is Patrick. I'm with Upper seconds right now. Leave a message?" He tapped a toe on the wooden stage, laughter in his eyes.

"A little help?" Said the voice awkwardly. It sounded as though 'Jon' was in an element of discomfort. Gerard and Ray looked at each other, then leapt up- dragging open the heavy materiel to reveal the room behind.

It was on the same level as the lecture hall stage and therefore extended it into that of theatre dimensions. A lighting rig was bolted to the ceiling and several pieces of set littered the room. The Drama class, consisting of Brendon, Gabe, Jack, Spencer, Pete and Bill; were all seated on the wooden floor looking up. Ryan looked again at the ceiling, realising that what he had assumed was a bit of lighting- was infact Jon. Who appeared to be stuck. The English class surged forwards and all stared upwards, perplexed.

"Oh how lovely of all of you to drop in. NOW WILL SOMEONE GET ME DOWN?" Jon shouted from the ceiling. Pete laughed from below. He paused between bursts of hysterics to talk to Patrick.

"He was sorting out the lighting, rigging up some new spots and the ladder slipped," He waved his arm over to a collapsed bit of metal, which may have once been a ladder. "He just sort of, clung onto the rig and now...he can't get down."

"Oi 'Trick! Isn't the new kid doing electronics? That's almost lighting right? Get him to help!" Jon waved his one un-trapped arm in Ryan's direction. Ryan gulped. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck as all eyes turned to him.

"I'm a...more of a robotics kinda guy..." He said nervously. There was a quick profanity from above and then Spencer shot up from his seated position.

"Ok, this is ridiculous. It's not even that high up. Jon is being a complete pussy," He directed his voice up. "Jump asshole. Don't make me come up there." He raised his arms up to the ceiling, beckoning with his hands.

Gabe who was standing next to Ryan muttered almost inaudibly to Bill.

"As usual, Spencer Smith has complete control of the situation." Ryan couldn't tell how much of that was sarcasm and how much was truth. To him Spencer seemed to have Jon well convinced. Jon was now hanging onto the heavy lighting rig with one hand, swaying slightly and muttering.

"Ok, ok. I'm going to- I'm going to-aaaaaaaaarrrrghh!" He let go, falling into the arms of both Spencer and Brendon- who had jumped to his feet to help. The two boys nodded at each other, before letting Jon fall to the floor. Jon covered his hands with his eyes and attempted to ignore the red flush forming on his cheeks.

"Class dismissed" He said weakly.

"So does that often happen?" Asked Ryan as he and Spencer left the English block. Ryan had gone back through to the lecture hall to get his bag and Spencer had followed him. It had been hard to do sneakily but Ryan managed to stick a bug to the underside of his desk as he 'picked up a pencil'. Spencer had then offered to show him over to the Art block. Art being the last lesson of the day before lunch. After that Ryan had to find a place to set up all his electronics.

"More often than you'd think" Laughed Spencer as he held open the door for Ryan. "Jon has the uncanny ability to get stuck in places." He shook his head. Ryan wanted to broach the subject of the previous evening- but he didn't want to prompt more crying. He'd never been the emotional type. Instead he settled for silence as they walked. As they crunched down the path together Ryan looked at Spencer. Looked at him properly.

Spencer Smith was of average height and build. That would be what the suspect profile would say. Ryan would disagree. There was a hunched sense around Spencer as though he had seen a lot in his short life. His eyes were older than they had any reason to be, and his walk was that of a man twice his age. He was, however, undeniably striking. He was the sort of person you would listen to, who could persuade you. Ryan thought that if Spencer used the same tone of voice as he had on Jon earlier, he would probably do anything Spencer asked.

"Ryan, Ryan, RYRO." Spencer clicked his fingers in front of Ryan's face. "You awake?"

Ryan jumped. Oops. He shrugged and looked around. They were back at the music building. If his memory was at all accurate then he and Jack had walked through the art room to get to the stairs. Spencer shook his head tolerantly and pushed open the doors. Ryan scuttled inside and breathed deeply. The smell of turpentine and acrylic paint hung thickly in the air. There was no haunting music from above to distract him and no one other than himself and Spencer to disrupt the quiet stillness of the room.

Spencer inclined his head away from the stairs and walked away from Ryan, indicating he should follow. As they walked Spencer showed him pieces of art in progress and named the artists. They walked past the vivid orange tree installation that could only have been Bill's. There was a completely blood red canvas that was identified as Gerard's. A little further down there was a board covered in intricate swirling designs that were labelled 'Frank's bitchin' designs', Spencer muttered the word 'Tattoos' as they passed. Round a corner there was a wide space that contained another piano- similar to the one upstairs. This one was covered in paint. As Ryan moved closer he could see that the designs weren't random and that the paint blobs and splatters were musical notes. He didn't have to think hard before realising it was Brendon's work.

At the far end of the room was a pile of scrap metal that Spencer caressed fondly. Metalwork and Woodwork Ryan recalled. They were Spencer's speciality. Next to that space there was a section of grey wall. One blank canvas was propped up on an easel and three sketchbooks rested on the ground nearby. Spencer bent down and retrieved them, pressing them into Ryan's hands.

"These are yours; I reserved this section yesterday lunchtime. I thought you'd appreciate it." Spencer lowered his gaze. Ryan rested a hand on his shoulder and said what he thought might have been the first truly genuine thing he's said in the last two days.

"Thank you man." Spencer looked up and smiled, he seemed to thrive off helping others. Ryan sat down cross legged on the floor and looked at the canvas in front of him. What the hell was he supposed to paint?

"I don't know, whatever you want I guess." Ryan whipped his head round to see Spencer looking at him. Ryan cocked his head and Spencer winked.

"Mind meld." He said, turning back to his pile of scrap. Ryan continued to stare at the canvas and was only interrupted about five minutes later. A hand came to rest on his shoulder; Ryan spun round and locked eyes with a man he's last seen pinned to the ceiling by his own stupidity.

"Hi Ryan, Welcome to Art. My name is Jon Walker and I'm your teacher for your remaining year." He smiled and gestured around the room to the boys who were slowly filing into the room. Jon was older than Ryan, younger than Mr A and...around the same age as Patrick, Ryan decided. Taking in Jon's paint splattered shirt and scruffy beard.

"At the end of last year I asked the guys to think about what they really loved, be it art related or not. Brendon chose music- his roots in music come from the first time he played a piano as a child. Hence the piano", He grinned. "Bill has always loved the Beatles, I'm sure the line 'With tangerine trees and marmalade skies' is not lost on you. That's where the idea for his project came from.

Ryan looked around the room, it made sense- a little slice of the person coming through in their art. Very poetic. Jon crouched down and studied Ryan briefly before grabbing his hands. He turned over Ryan's palms and stretched out the fingers, looking at their length and delicacy, he smiled.

"Painting for you I think. Whilst I grab the acrylic you think about what you want to use for a subject." Jon got to his feet and strolled over to the corner where a cupboard containing tubes of paint in perfect rainbow order were stored. Ryan watched him go, watched the way Spencer followed Jon with his eyes. Interesting.

Ryan shook himself and thought about his strongest memories and influences. Music of course, self destruction, literature. Oh. It was so obvious. The image sprang to the front of his mind. Age five, in the garden with his mother- the smell thick in the air. Age fifteen, first date- clutching it in his sweaty hand as he knocked on her door.

He thanked Jon when he returned with the crate of paint and immediate reached for the red. There was no point in sketching first, he knew exactly the image he was about to paint. He let his mind wrap around the concept and dipped a brush into the puddle of crimson. The moment overtook him and his arm made a strong arc of vibrance across the canvas. Losing himself in the moment.

"Dude." Ryan almost dropped his paintbrush. Spencer was poking him with a spanner, "Dude, lessons over, time for lunch." Spencer patted Ryan on the back and looked up admiringly at the lines on the canvas- it was almost full of abstract colour and lines.

"Roses? I like it." Jon spoke from behind the two boys. He levelled up with them and placed a hand on his hip, "You'll have to tell me the thought process behind that one sometime Ryro, I look forward to that Canvas developing.." He sniffed. "In the meantime, Spence and I have some clearing up to do."

Ryan looked around the room, everyone had vacated the room save for him, Spencer and Jon. It was almost as though the lesson hadn't happened. He bent over his paint, capping the paint and smushing the paintbrush against a paper towel. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Spencer and Jon walked over to the metal heap that appeared to have changed shape slightly.

Ryan watched as Jon followed Spencer's every move. He watched as Spencer stared at the back of Jon's neck. Try as he might, he couldn't miss the moment when Spencer moved a section of metal that Jon had also lunged for. As their hands touched they didn't flinch away as he had expected, Jon's hand closed around Spencer's and they locked eyes. This wasn't a new relationship. Ryan's spy brain kicked into gear.

Jon couldn't be much older than the boys themselves, maybe did a Patrick and came straight back after a degree. In that case he could have still been at the school when Spencer was in his first year. Allow for a couple of visits in the summer to keep the relationship strong...in a place like this- it was perfectly possible. Jon was naturally friendly and no one would think anything of it, clearly well liked and Spencer was widely respected. So along as it was kept fairly quiet...then it could be done.

Ryan's brain was going a mile a minute as Spencer grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the art block several minutes later. He decided there was no way round it and as they walked back toward U2 block Ryan cleared his throat.

"So- how long have you been in love with Jon?"

Spencer stopped dead in the centre of the path before turning slowly to Ryan.

"It's that obvious huh?"

Joncer, I ship it. Now- I have a bone to pick with you. Yes. YOU. I have so many people reading this baby- and like three(?) commenters. I love those guys with my whole heart. So if you're one of those 'Ohmygawwsh I cba to reviewwww' people...spare a thought for my poor uninspired brain? Reviews give me the confidence to write more. So~ You do the math.

Apologies for the late update, Sarah's fault. She keeps texting me.