[OPEN] Music Class, stay on beat !

[Jared Daniels]

Jared liked music. But he didn't like music class. Sure, it was one of it he classes he hated least in the long, dull day, but it was still a class. Which meant a teacher, and some sort of embarrassment awaiting his arrival. As the other students rushed to their next class, a few lagging behind, Jared found himself standing outside the classroom door until the bell rang. Taking in a deep breath, he turned the handle, and the door swung open. A few faces turned to see his, and he shielded himself by holding his music folder to his face. But, still, some eyes lingered on the shape of an acoustic guitar strapped to his back, carefully bond in a leather (cushioned) case.

As he reached a seat in the very back of the room, hopefully he could avoid anymore eyes back there, the papers in his folders slipped out. And before he could react the were in a swarm at his feet. Clutching the blue, now thin, music folder in disbelief, Jared closed his eyes. This was unbelievable. His papers really didn't just spill all other the ground, did they? He bit his lip to keep from running out of the room right then. Showing up late, carrying a guitar, and then spilling out all his personal music on the floor. He could feel eyes bearing into his back, and he slowly bent down to gather the papers up. His cheeks a growing shade of red, as he reached for a paper that lied under someone's shoe.

Nobody got up to help him, which was a bit of a relief because he didn't want to deal with someone touching his precious music. However, some seemed quite intent to stare. As if a thin, shy boy picking up papers was interesting to watch. Most of all, where was the teacher? Why wasn't he calling the attention to the students yet? It wasn't like Jared to just wish his teacher to suddenly show up. But for once, in a long time, he really wished the music teacher would show up and tell everyone to get to reading music or start reading and taking notes on the music theory. When ever they did that, he wanted to scream. Music was supposed to be fun, right? It came from the soul, and - of course - people had to try to rationalize it. It wasn't something that could be seen, but heard and played.

Adding another half sheet of music notes, and eraser smudges, Jared looked to see about half was left. He would have to spend one of his free periods sorting through the papers because it would bother him otherwise. He was almost through when he heard a sniffled laugh. Glancing up, he spotted a student touching his precious music. The boy snickered at the lyrics, which weren't through yet, but somehow found them amusing. How could he laugh? Without thinking, Jared stood up and snatched the paper from the boy's hands so fast that it ripped in half. This seemed to amuse him more as he waved the half torn paper his Jared's red face. "Give it back," he said firmly, but his voice was little than a whisper of fury.

[Takeshi Akiyama]

Takeshi couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to get lost on his first day here and, worse, that the teacher wouldn't even let him correct his mistake. He was completely unprepared for this class, as he was supposed to be in the next room over, where he would be perfecting his brush stroke and--hopefully, one day--creating masterpieces. But he had to get lost. Now he was stuck in the back of a class he didn't have a clue about, watching as people occasionally turned around to stare at him or snicker. It only made the red flushing his cheeks flash brighter, and the hand holding the back of his head pressed flat against his skull, rubbing back and forth as if it could soothe away the embarrassment and the lump all at once.

Soon enough they got something new to stare at, as the bell rang and the door opened, letting in another dark-haired student. Takeshi couldn't help but watch him as he walked to the back of the class, turning away quickly when the stranger came to sit in the desk next to his. He rubbed harder at the back of his head, wincing slightly as he heard the sound of paper falling. He glanced over again and bit his lip as he watched the older boy picking up his papers, wanting to slide out of his seat and help, but he'd been stared at enough for one day--even though the day had barely started--and no one else seemed to be moving.

Well, no. He watched one boy bend down and scoop up a handful of papers, then begin snickering to himself. Takeshi's brow furrowed, his eyes flickering to the older boy who was still occupied with picking up his things. Surely he wouldn't like someone laughing at his papers, right? Takeshi knew if someone laughed at his stories he'd probably chuck a fit. He clutched the notebook tighter at the thought, his throat working as he tried to say something, but the events unfolded before he could, and he slumped down in his seat, flinching as the paper was torn. "Not good, not good, not good..." Why were people so mean? They all reminded him of Ichirou. And no one was helping, not even the teacher.

Well, Takeshi wouldn't be like his brother. Scraping together what little courage he had, he slumped down further, lashing out with a foot at the back of the rotten boy's chair. "G-give it back to him." His voice was as loud as he could make it, though he cursed that he'd stuttered. The rasp was apparent and it put a scowl on his face, which he aimed at the perpetrator, his hand falling away from his head to land with a thud on his desk.

For emphasis. Not because all the blood rushing from his face was making his head throb.