Melvin Sneedley had never been thought of as a "creative" kid, despite being known as "that nerdy kid who invents things" by the rest of his classmates and teachers. Apparently, inventing things didn't count as "art". It didn't mean he didn't enjoy art. In fact, he somewhat appreciated it, even reading the comics created by George and Harold. Though he barely understood most of the jokes written by George, it was a different story for Harold's illustrations. At first dismissing them as nothing more than childish slop he was too grown-up for, he found himself growing to admire the talent and effort put into them as the drawings slowly started improving. The anatomy and linework got better and cleaner, and the colouring went from hastily scribbled (in order to push out a new issue of whichever character the boys had fixated on that week), to carefully inked between the lines with markers, leaving no white gaps in sight.

Of course, he'd never let the two boys know he had taken an interest in their comics (particularly the artwork), instead opting to read them whenever he felt there was nobody around to judge him, mostly in his room after school. That was exactly where he was headed as soon as he'd finished up the last of his extra homework (which he'd stay after school to do in an empty classroom, occasionally peeking under the desk at the cover of the latest issue of Captain Underpants that he'd managed to snag earlier), until he heard something coming from across the hall. Melvin quickly buried the comic deep into the back of his schoolbag. Someone else was still there. He listened. It appeared to be coming from the music room. He discarded his pencil with an annoyed sigh and got up from his desk before making his way across the hall to where those horrible sounds were coming from. Closer now, he started to make out the sounds as some people messing around with the instruments that had been gathering dust for years, in particular the sounds of someone attempting to play the piano. Key word being "attempting".

The door to the recently re-opened music room had a window, but the thick layer of dust it had accumulated over the years it had been locked shut made it difficult for Melvin to make out the figures darting about inside at a first glance. There were two of them, probably fourth-graders the same as he was, and they were darting around the room, messing around with the various instruments and laughing like hyenas at the noises they were making. Well, at least one of them was trying out seemingly every instrument. The other appeared to be sitting at the old piano, trying to figure out the notes, only stopping to giggles at the antics of their crazy friend. Melvin soon recognised the giggles as coming from Harold, meaning that the other kid in the room was probably George, Harold's partner in crime (at least, that's how he'd describe the two of them together).

He thought about going in there and telling them to shut up (because unlike some people he was trying to do his homework in peace, like they should be doing after school), but he decided he'd rather live with the cacophony they were causing than them finding him and figuring out that he read their comics. He slowly slunk back to his desk in defeat and continued his work, gritting his teeth in frustration. He waited until he heard them leaving the school grounds about an hour later (they sprinted down the hallway, as usual disobeying the many ''no running' signs that were plastered everywhere) before he, too, made an effort to leave school for the day.

The next week, it was the same story. George and Harold took to the music room the second the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. And then between them they would play ALL of the instruments in the room (at times sounding like they were attempting to play them all at once) for an hour or so before heading home afterwards. This would become a weekly routine for them, much to the annoyance of Melvin. Instead of engaging with the troublemakers (dealing of them for six hours of the day was bad enough as it is), he opted for bringing in earplugs and wearing them during his after-school homework sessions. They weren't the most comfortable things in the world, but anything was better than putting up with George and Harold for an extra hour every week.

A few weeks later, as Melvin had gotten accustomed to his new homework routine, it all changed. To the surprise of everyone, Harold had shown up at school George-less. Apparently George was off sick or something. Melvin scoffed. He wouldn't dream of skipping school just because he was sick. He was the type of kid who, unless he dropped down dead right at that very second, would not miss school due to something as trivial as a cold. He smirked in Harold's direction. The blonde was moping at his desk, clearly upset that his best friend wasn't there with him to joke around in whatever classes they had that day. Melvin breathed a huge sigh of relief. Today was going to be a doozy.

The bell rang at the end of an uneventful school day (thanks to half of the class' comedic duo being absent), and the kids all grabbed their stuff and left the classroom as fast as they could, because anywhere was better than school (unless of course, your name happened to be Melvin Sneedley). He took a relaxed breath as he pulled out his extra worksheets. He figured he wouldn't need the earplugs, as he assumed Harold would have bolted out of school the minute it ended so he could visit his sick friend. The first few minutes of Melvin working on his homework were the most peaceful few minutes the kid had experienced since George and Harold had discovered the art of pranking. That was how he liked it, just him and his work in complete silence. He could already taste the extra credit.

About ten minutes in, as per previous weeks, he once again picked up a sound coming from the music room, but this time it was different. Yes, it was the familiar sound of the keys of the old piano being pressed, but it was like the person playing the notes was genuinely trying to learn how to play a coherent tune. Aside from the odd wrong note and the slam of discordant keys whenever the player obviously felt that they had screwed up, whoever this mystery pianist was was actually sounding pretty good.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he once again abandoned his work to go and see exactly who was playing the piano. Aside from the few teachers who stayed behind after the school day to grade papers and host extra-curricular activities, he couldn't think of anyone else (besides himself) who would willingly stay in school after the day was done.

The door to the music room had slowly but surely began to lose it's coating of dust in those previous few weeks, due to being in constant use once again. This time, Melvin was actually able to clearly see into the room. There, sitting at the piano, trying his best to play a simple melody was none other than Harold Hutchins. The bespectacled fourth-grader let out a quick gasp before ducking out of sight and comprehending the scene he had just witnessed.

Harold playing the piano? He had no idea Harold even had the attention span to learn the piano, but no, there he was, gently pressing the keys in order to play a short but sweet little tune. Melvin let his breath catch up with him before slowly resuming his position of staring through the glass window of the door. He could see Harold's determined face as he tried over and over again to get his song just right. Melvin caught his reflection in the glass pane as he was staring at the other boy. His usually pale cheeks were gaining a little bit of colour, and he got a weird sort-of feeling in his chest. He quickly dismissed any thoughts he had in that moment and dashed back into the classroom across the hall, vowing that no matter what he would bring his earplugs in and not let some silly music distract him from the more important things he was supposed to be doing.

Unfortunately the next week, he 'accidentally' left them at home, meaning he once again had to be subjected to the mayhem of the music room after school. George had returned to school that week, but fortunately he had ditched his assault of the instruments in favour of brainstorming new comic ideas, so Melvin could hear the beautiful sounds of Harold's piano playing. Scratch that. They weren't beautiful. He kept telling himself that he only listened to his piano playing because it was impossible to block out the sound of it, it certainly wasn't because he enjoyed it. He'd already decided to never go near the music room after school again, but for some reason he found himself returning again. And again. The same time every week, just to hear the (mostly) delicate sounds of the piano that stood in the old music room. Was he more drawn to the melodies, or the boy playing them?

With every passing visit, that line slowly became more blurred until eventually it ceased to even exist at all. Harold really was improving each time he played, and for some reason even in class Melvin couldn't help but direct his gaze towards him when he thought no-one else was looking. It's as if the blonde had unintentionally put some sort of spell on him, causing him to gradually notice (and eventually admire) his many quirks, both physical or otherwise.

The way he'd stash coloured pencils in the curls of the absolute mess of golden hair he had. Or how when the light hit them just right, you could see that his eyes were in fact two different colours, one green and one blue, resembling the colours of the globe that sat across the class from them at the teacher's desk. How his face would light up whenever you brought up marine biology, and how he would always end up shifting the conversation towards being about dolphins. What the rest of the class failed to notice, was that just as one face sparked with joy when marine life got brought up, so did another. A freckled face, usually covered up by a book and a mildly unamused expression would light up in almost the exact same way as his vastly more popular classmate's did.

A warm feeling tickled Melvin's cheeks once again, dusting them a soft shade of pink as he recalled the smile of the boy who had somehow stolen his heart… wait, no! He didn't have a crush on Harold Hutchins of all people, did he? One of the boys who was responsible for countless pranks directed at himself and most of the school faculty, and a constant target of his tattling? That would honestly be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him, possibly even more so than the possibility of being found reading Captain Underpants comics, and yet there he was, blushing like an idiot over him and possibly missing out on some extra credit, just to stand in the doorway of the music room listening to him repeat the same set of notes over and over again on the piano.

George was usually blocking the way to Harold, lying down and furiously scribbling what Melvin presumed to be new ideas for their latest issue, but the ginger didn't mind. After all, it wasn't as if Melvin wanted to be closer to the piano.

Although, when George decided to move his usual spot, Melvin couldn't help but notice that if he wanted to he could enter unseen. Despite their excessive use of the room, they never turned on any lights but one, possibly to not attract the principal's attention, and he was a rather small fellow to begin with.

Without realizing it, he took a step inside, just barely across the threshold. Just like expected, the darkness engulfed him and the two remained unbothered, too busy in their heads as always. Harold was still covered in more shadows than Melvin liked, but now he was only half hidden.

As his fingers danced across the keys he softly hummed along to the tune, so quietly you would miss it if not actively searching. His singing was soft and melodic, a sharp contrast from his loud and bombastic voice Melvin was used to. It was fragile and delicate, almost as much as glass. The melody itself was upbeat and gorgeous in its own way (which fit Harold in that aspect, he mused).

Heaven knew that he had the attention span of a goldfish, yet he hadn't taken his eyes off his hands, focusing on it more than he'd ever focused for a test. It felt almost wrong, for the boy to not glance around the room and fiddle with whatever he had on him constantly. Furthermore, his smile was small and gentle, nothing like his infuriating smirk he wore when setting a prank or successfully annoying Melvin.

Before, Melvin would believe it didn't fit on such a person, but recently he observed the same expression when talking about what he liked, sketching, or seeing a friend. Unnoteworthy, but certainly there once you looked for it (in fact, that seemed to be true with a lot of his quirks.)

He hadn't noticed, but he slowly inched his way closer to the piano, now only a few yards away. Snapping out of his trance, he tightened his hold on the books now against his chest, turning around to leave. His homework wasn't going to do itself, and he wouldn't dream of letting some stupid music drag his GPA down.

He tip-toed away, cringing when a book slipped out of his grasp and clattered to the floor.

Frozen like a deer in headlights, he didn't even get to turn around before his fears were confirmed.

"Hey."