Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ VIVA ❯ First day Blues in Bb Major ( Chapter 1 )

2: First day Blues in Bb major

Quatre groaned loudly into the small pillow, tilting his head slightly to the side to stare at the alarm clock. Funny, he could have sworn the clock only said 5:30am, and he was certain he had set it for 6. Add to that the fact last thing he knew his alarm clock did not sound like a trumpet, and it certainly didn't play a blues version of the last post, and Quatre finally remembered he was not at Julliard any more. And he already knew exactly what to get Mitchell Standish for Christmas, six months away or not.

"Shove a mute right up his…" Quatre mumbles as he climbed out of bed, grabbed a uniform and a towel from his bags where they still sat, unpacked, on his floor, and all but crawled toward the showers.

Once under the hot water, Quatre stared at his little blue toes and realised he couldn't feel them.

"Wondered why I didn't think the floor was cold…" he muttered darkly, rubbing the soap harshly over his pale skin.

"Ah, the wonders of frozen toes!"

Quatre dropped the soap and looked up through his wet bangs. He could have sworn….yes, he would swear that was a girl looking down at him over the shower stall wall. A girl with long blonde hair and the weirdest eyebrows Quatre had ever seen.

"You…You're a girl!"

"Oh, you noticed?" She had the most feral, terrifying smirk Quatre had ever seen. "Unisex bathrooms, blondie baby! Face it, eighty percent of true artists are gay anyway. I notice you, for example, aren't blushing."

And she disappeared over the shower wall. Quatre stare at the spot her head had been for several minutes before he finally yanked the taps to the `off' position and began drying himself hurriedly, tossing on his clothes.

She was dry and dressed when he emerged from his stall, brush in hand, hair thrown over one shoulder as she ran it through. Quatre wondered if she was a massochist…

"I'm Quatre. Quatre Rabarba Winner." He wasn't too sure he wanted to hold out his hand, but he did it anyway. After all, just because she had rudely interrupted his shower did not give him any excuse to rude back.

"Dorothy Catalonia," she replied enthusiastically, shaking his hand in a death grip that left his bones aching. Qautre idly wondered if he would be able to play his violin today.

"I'm a Cellist. You?"

"Violin…"

"Oh, you're that boy! Well, what do you think?"

"About what?" And what the hell did she mean by `that boy'? Glaring for all he was worth, all Quatre got in return was a girlish giggle, and it still sounded nasty!

"About our school, silly! Does it meet Julliard's standards? Oh, I know our rooms are smaller, but it just makes t that much cosier when you invite people over." And with that she kissed him on the cheek and swept out the door, not even waiting for his response.

"Totally insane," Quatre hissed at the place she had been standing, before picking up his pajamas and towel and stalking back to his room. If he was lucky, he would be early to breakfast and get it hot, but by the looks of things he wasn't the only way who heeded the rather rude awakening.

The music dormitories cafeteria was rather crowded. In fact, Quatre almost thought there were more people there than were actually able to fit in the amount of rooms. He grabbed a tray and walked along as the numerous cooks piled what he assumed was meant to pass as bacon and eggs, and was that really toast? He whole while his eyes trailed over the many heads, looking for a free seat. He found one, on the very far side of the room, as far away as the heaters as it was possible to get. There were only six people at that table, and everyone else seemed determined to ignore them. Quatre didn't care, he wanted a seat!

At least, he didn't care until he got close enough to see one of them was none other than Dorothy Catalonia. He was about to turn tail and run when she looked to the side, as if she had an in built radar that sensed when he was near, and her strong soprano voice belted out over the entire cafeteria.

"Blondie Boy! Come join us, pull up a chair, seat that sweet little arse down here so we can all get a better look at you." And the next thing he knew, Quatre was sitting between Dorothy and another pretty young woman with longish chestnut hair, every eye on the table on him. He swallowed dryly and thought he finally understood why Standish insisted on playing the last post.

When it became apparent Quatre was not going to sat anything the Cellist opened her rather large mouth and spoke for him, much to Quatre's dismay.

"Violin major, arabian if my guess is right and a fine little compact body under that awful uniform, even if I don't swing that way!"

Quatre gaped at him, flushing a dark red that had Dorothy cackling madly and the small dark haired girl across the table begging for Dorothy to explain just how she knew what Quatre's body looked like under that uniform when, as she so bluntly put it, she didn't swing that way.

Quatre blocked out he conversation, wondering if it was possible to sink through the floor. He took the time to look at the others at the table, who were obviously well acquainted with Dorothy. There was the girl with the dark hair. Her name was Hilde, and she seemed just as loud and obnoxious as Dorothy, just not as scary. Then there was the other girl, on his left. She was sweet enough, until he felt her hand innocently find its way to the inside of his thigh. His reaction to that had all three girls giggling and he discovered her name was Relena.

Then there were then three boys. He had no clue who they were and it must have been incredibly obvious, because Hilde eventually poked the tallest on in the side and got some kind of sound out of him.

"Trowa Barton, Composition and flute." Quatre beamed, wondering if that had been his composition he had been playing all yesterday. Quatre was already in love with the small melody.

"Chang Wufei, I'm a World Music and Gothic drama. I'm just got transferred to the drama block and would still be soundly asleep if some idiot hadn't thrown rocks at my window all morning."

There was a satisfied grunt from the third boy and Quatre giggled. Well, after listening to Standish he felt like throwing rocks too, just not at Chang Wufei's window…he looked dangerous, like Dorothy, and like the mysterious boy who was yet to introduce himself.

"Heero Yuy, jazz guitar."

Quatre beamed. It had been them he had been mimicking! He just wasn't about to tell them that. After all, if Heero was throwing rocks at windows because he didn't like Standish's new version of the last post, what could he do to a poor violinist who simply couldn't keep his fingers off his instrument?

"Oh, this is going to be fun!" Dorothy clapped her hands and hugged Relena in a way Qautre thought was a little more than friendly before she bounded off to harass another new face. Quatre sighed and wondered if they made lids for shower stalls.

*

Heero swung the guitar case over his shoulder and hurried from his room, meeting Trowa on the way past. They walked in silence, but Heero could hear Trowa's brain ticking over, just like he'd heard it all through breakfast. He didn't, however, say anything. Trowa had a way of getting him back whenever he `said' anything.

The entire college was meeting in the auditorium for assembly. Heero pushed his way through the throng of newbies gawking at the large entertainment area and found a seat near the back, to the left hand side. The place was filling up fast and the Professors could be seen beside the massive stage while Dermail, the Dean of the College, was smack bang in the centre of the stage, a microphone in hand, lecherous eyes running over all the faces.

Heero hated the Dean. There was something so very wrong about the man. He made Heero want to pull a gun and shoot, no questions asked. He just seemed the molesting type and several rumours of that kind were always ripe throughout the college. Luckily, Dermail was an ex-ballet dancer and paid very little attention to the musicians. Even less attention to the non-classical majors. That was just fine with Heero.

"I bet there are rumours by lunch," Trowa whispered in his ear as his eyes swept over the crowd. Heero didn't even need to bet on what, or rather who, he was looking for.

"I bet end of second period."

"Second?" Trowa raised a brow questioningly.

"Second," Heero affirmed. "Give the new students a chance to get the staffing straight in their heads.

The microphone squealed in protest when Dermail flisked his finger against the tip to see if it was turned on. A technician scowled nearby, muttering about the amount of times he lectured people on how to care for a microphone and how that was certainly not on the very simple list.

"Tervetuloa!"

Oh dear, here we go…Heero listened impatiently as Dermail welcomed all the students with an overly long speech, first in Finnish, then in English. Heero could have sworn it was the same speech from the beginning of last semester, and the semester before that…He endured the boredom by practicing his strumming with the back of his fingernail against the leg of his jeans, the soft flicking soothing.

At last the Dean finished and Treize quickly gave the school notices before they were dismissed and sent to their classes.

"Lunch, composition studio?" Trowa asked as they met a fork in the road between their classrooms.

"Hn," Heero agreed, hurrying off toward the lecture theatre.

Heero was forced to endure two hours of 1920's jazz…He didn't really mind the style, but it was so…structured…hardly any improvisation because they were all so caught up in their big bands. Extremely annoying in his opinion, and there were hardly any guitars! The 1970's on the other hand…Heero couldn't wait to leave the lecture just so he could get to his one hour Fusion class.

The time to move came soon enough and Heero was first from the theatre, feet leading him through all too familiar halls while his fingers drummed on his thighs, playing silent solos for the eyes alone. Not that anyone was actually watching.

He was just passing one of the smaller concert spaces when something barrelled through the heavy grey door and hit him…hard. Heero growled, spun in mid air and landed hard on the heels of his hands. The pain was completely ignored as he reached back and gently swept his guitar off his back, taking a quick look inside to ensure nothing was damaged. Satisfied his pride and joy was indeed fine, Heero turned the full extent of his anger on the something that had sent him flying.

And realised it was a someone. A girl by the looks of it, ignoring him completely with a muttered apology before they hurried on out the door, a stream of muttered profanity on her heels. Heero almost caught hold of the long chestnut braid but it slipped through his fingers and the girl was gone. Growling low in the back of his throat, Heero stormed off to his Fusion class.

When lunch finally arrived Heero was still fuming about the stupid girl who had nearly scratched his precious guitar as he stormed into the music dorm's cafeteria. Wufei was already grabbing their lunches, black eyes glistening as he listened to Heero's muttering.

"Love is in the air," Wufei smirked, handing Heero a sandwich and stuffing the rest in the satchel he had slung over one shoulder. It looked heavy and several books were poking out the top.

"Thought it was in the bag," Heero retaliated, leaving Wufei gaping at him.

"Was that a joke Heero Yuy?" Wufei asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hn." They walked the rest of the way to the auditorium in silence, collecting Relena on their way past the rhythm rooms. After that, there really wasn't any need to talk…Relena did enough for all three of them, cursing Zechs, the drum lecturer, for giving them ten charts to complete on their first day. She was getting rather creative at swearing…Heero thought it was Dorothy's influence.

Trowa was already on the stage, fiddling with several large amps at the back of the stage. Dorothy was `giving him advice' on how they should be set up. Relena squealed in delight when they were close enough to catch sight of the new drum kit, almost sending Dorothy's cello flying in her haste to seat herself behind it. Heero didn't waste any time, shoving half his sandwich in his mouth and taking his guitar out of its case.

Trowa unpacked his flute, hooking up a complex looking system of mics to the head corking so it would be heard over the din they intended to make. Catching the drift, the cello emerged in Dorothy's hands and she started setting up her own little set of mics and amps.

Hilde came flying through the door a few minutes later, bass guitar already half out of its case as she hopped on stage. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Where have you been?" Wufei asked, as if it were a huge injustice that she were even a minute late. Of course, the wicked glint in his onyx eyes told them all he knew exactly where she had been. She just smiled and stuck her tongue out at him.

"What are we going to do for the concert mid-semester?" Relena looked from Wufei to Trowa and back but the two just shrugged.

"We haven't talked about it yet…" Trowa said softly, telling them all in his own way that he had been with the circus again all summer and had not had time to write to Wufei to discuss their plans.

"It has to be better than last time!" Heero stated coldly. Not that last time had been bad, that was just the point. It had been great, and he was curious to see how his two friends would top it. Musical Pantomime was kind of hard to beat.

"Let's play…anything…" Relena mumbled and sticks appeared in her hands, as if by magic, and she started belting out a syncopated 5/4 rhythm. Heero gaped at her, knowing full well how much she hated 5/4…she was a 4/4 pop lover if ever he saw one, and decided it had something to do with her ten charts worth of homework. Not complaining, he started playing the circle of fifths, centering around Bb. After one round through the bass came in, loud and booming, so Heero stamped his foot on the small distortion pedal and let loose. There was nothing quite like a distorted martin acoustic.

The Cello came into the frequencies between guitar and bass, a mixture of classical and popular themes based around the Aeolian mode Heero seemed to be sticking to, and then there was a flute, filling the high register, threaded through a phaser to make it sound like some wild space shuttle was landing right there on stage.

They were so engrossed in the sound they never noticed the back door open, the small slender figure standing nervously between Trowa and Heero, grabbing a small amp and hooking up his own gear while his ears listened, wrapping his mind around the musical theme they were creating.

When they reached the end of whatever `section' they had invented Heero heard a small intake of breath that was completely unfamiliar, but paid no attention to it until he was halfway into the next bar. That was when it struck. In complete counterpoint to the melody he himself was playing came another, wilder and more frivolous but haunting in it's intensity and full of such emotion Heero couldn't stop his eyes from flying open to stare at the small Blonde boy. His fingers never faltered as his mind stumbled, staring at the serene face closed off from the world as it made its music, fingers flying down the tiny frets, sliding, plucking, screeching, roaring…

Relena started bashing in an all too familiar way and they started to wind down. The Cello and flute dropped out first, then the guitar and bass until the drums ended at the exact same moment as…the violin.

"Blondie!" Dorothy threw herself at the small boy, planting what Heero considered to be a disgustingly sloppy kiss on his cheek. "That, was the most incredible thing I have ever heard!"

Heero couldn't disagree there. He fit in their group perfectly. After a round of secret silent nods and affirmations, Wufei stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Welcome to the electric orchestra."

Heero watched in amusement as Quatre's jaw dropped.

"That's you on that CD? Oh, I should have known!" Hilde was laughing, Relena giggled, hell even Trowa was smiling. Their Musical Pantomime at the end of last semester really had reached all corners of the colonies. But it hadn't gone far enough. All members of the electric orchestra had one goal, and one goal only; to be the best. And to be the best, you had to reach every inch of space…and every inch of Earth.

Stamping his foot on the chorus pedal, Heero broke into the piece Trowa had reluctantly agreed to call Musical Pantomime and the rest of the group took up the challenge. Heero kept his gaze locked on Quatre, watched as the eyes slid shut, the hips began to sway and the fingers began to play. Musical Pantomime was going to blown out of the water.

*

As first days go, it probably wasn't as bad as it seemed, but when it happens to you its never quite as funny. Duo Maxwell was having one of those first days people scream about. He had woken early to the sound of a trumpet dying on the other side of the campus, only his too keen hearing able to pick out the sound from the myriad other sounds creeping through the walls. He had stumbled out of his bed stiff and sore from having slept on his shoulder strangely and found the bathroom only to discover there was not hot water in the dance dorms until after 6am. Knwoing he would never be able to get ready for the day in under fifteen minutes, Duo had forced himself to shower under the ice cold water and quickly gone about drying his hair as best he could and braiding it. It was still damp when he went down to the cafeteria, which was still perfectly empty, where he grabbed an juice and some bread, because everyone knew no one in the dance dorms was ever awake before 6:30 and they didn't bother cooking until 7.

Hungry, cold and still tired as hell without a sign of coffee in the entire school, Duo grabbed his coat and stumbled out into the cold, timetable in hand, determined to at least get a feel for the school. He at least managed to do that, old habits refusing to die as his mind mapped things that others would never have noticed, like the small cellar door with the broken lock out by the gym or the janitor's closet that had the key to its lock sitting right there on top of the door ledge.

When he at last returned to the dorm feeling a little better than he had it was only to have some dancer slam the door straight into him as the hurried off to the auditorium, early so they would get a seat. Scowling and rubbing his numb nose, Duo raced to his room, grabbed the small bag he had packed for class and followed the crowds to the auditorium, only to find there were no seats and he had to stand, in the doorway, as a wind buffer for all the other students.

The Dean of the school then proceeded to yak away at them all in a language Duo sure as hell didn't understand, before repeating the entire thing in English, which again was not exactly the kind of English Duo was likely to understand. When at last they were dismissed, the first people from the auditorium pushed him out of the way, knocking him back on the slick ice covering the path, where he promptly fell and landed strangely on his wrist. Cursing and assessing the slight damage, Duo pushed himself up and rushed off the back way to the dance halls, reasoning it would be very unlikely for anyone to knock him over when there was no one else about. He, thankfully, reached his class in one piece.

Classes went alright, except Duo was behind a year from the rest of the second years and while he made up for technicality with raw talent he still had a lot of work to do, and Professor Noin suddenly seemed to turn into a dragon until he got every step right.

When he left the two hour of dance for his hour singing tutorial, he almost smashed some poor guy's guitar, and by the look on the guy's face he should have been killed for it. Luckily he got away in time to reach his class on time and made it back for his ten minute lunch appointment with Noin.

So he found himself sitting alone at lunch, sore and with a soggy sandwich because Noin had kept him in a little late to get one particular thing perfect and he was stuck with the dregs of the food. Giving up on the sandwich halfway though, Duo had slowly made his way to his next class, actually happy it was the history of the ballet. Another practical class might have been the end of him.

After three hours of watching hot men in tights Duo was feeling a little better. Dinner was in two hours, and it was recreation time, so he decided to head back to the dance halls, where he grabbed a room, stuck in a CD and started to dance, not what they wanted him to, but how he felt. It was not the most graceful dance he had ever performed.

When the music finally ended and he no longer felt like putting on yet another CD, having already gone through five, Duo glared at his watch and realised he had missed dinner by two hours. And he was starving.

Trudging back to the dorms, he slipped into the cafeteria and grabbed a cup of hot chocolate, only to have the bottom of the paper cup give and dump it all over his shoes. It was a with a very heavy sigh that Duo crept up the stairs to his room only to collapse on his bed in complete exhaustion, his black thoughts mimicked by the grumbling of his stomach.

It was definitely a flat day.