Work Text:
— - - - - — - - - - — - - - - - - — — - — - - — - - - — — — — - — - — - — —
It was a lovely day and the new year nine players were out on the football pitch preparing for their upcoming game. Balthazar wandered outside, guitar in hand. He blinked his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight that he had been missing in the music room. The footballers were playing some sort of passing game, running up and down the pitch but Balthazar didn’t pay much attention to them. He put one foot his sheet music and draped his arm easily over the top of the guitar.
Balthazar was absorbed in the new instrument, the chord positions that were so different from ukulele he didn’t notice the footballers had stopped running around. He was singing Taylor Swift, and it was in the wrong key because he forgot the capo at home. The bridge was a bit too high for his voice and switching between the F chord and the A minor chord was wearing out his hand. Suddenly, his mind was torn from his pinky finger placement as peals of laughter from the players interrupted the sound of his muted string.
The team was circled around a tall lanky boy with a mop of hair, who seemed to be the social leader of the group. His voice carried across the pitch to Balthazar.
“If my dog howled like that we’d put him in the doghouse."
“--and tie his leash so his guitar is just out of reach!” Yelled Robbie, whom Balthazar recognized from his English class.
“Metaphor! I can do jokes too.” Claudio added and the players laughed even louder.
Then, a boy with a mohawk ran over to the group. His face was contorted, though it was difficult to tell if that color red was from the long practice or because his teammates were bullying the lonely guitar player.
"Shut up guys! That’s not cool.” Balthazar looked up from the ground, to spot the footballer that was defending him.
"What? We were just having some fun. Come on, Pedro!” Pedro, with the mohawk, a cool footballer was standing up for a skinny little guitar player he’d never met before. The bullies still outnumbered Pedro, and the sense of utter failure and defeat filled Balthazar's body, tears rising quickly to his eyes.
“Really? You suck at football, Ben. No stop laughing, I mean it. If your dog played fetch the way you dribbled that ball today he definitely be in the doghouse.”
Pedro ran his hands through his hair, his teammates had gotten really quiet. His hands were shaking, and he stepped away from his teammates. He turned to look for the guitarist who had been leaning up against the building, but he was gone.
— - — - — — — — - - - - — - - — - — - - — - — — - - — - — - - - — - - — - — — — — — - - — - — -
A couple months later, two burly rugby players decided to play catch with Balthazar’s ukulele in the hallway. He wailed and pounded on their chests but it just made them laugh harder. Hidden away in an empty practice room, Balthazar inspected his instrument. It had been in a hard case, so there wasn't any damage that he could see, but Balthazar picked it up.
As he idly plucked the strings he replayed the scene in his head. There was so much laughter and the longer the boys continued the smaller he felt. Eventually the bell rung and the stout guy tossed him his ukulele. There he was, in the middle of the hallway, deflated, frustrated and he ran to his one safe place. His hideout was a small practice room on the first floor, no one would worry about him missing class, and no one would check in here while Balthazar gathered his spirits. Yet, here was a soft knock on the door and Pedro’s head appeared, backlit with the fluorescent lights of the hallway.
“Hey"
"Um…hi."
"Are you” Pedro looked at the opened case on the ground, “and your instrument, alright?” Balthazar nodded, and continued to stare at his ukulele. Pedro walked into the practice room and sat in a chair facing Balthazar.
“I’m Pedro by the way."
“I know.” Balthazar said a bit too quickly, and Pedro chuckled. “I mean, I’m Balthazar.”
There was a long pause, “Were you playing a song before I came in?"
“No. Not really, I was just messing about."
“Well it sounded really nice… if that was you just messing around, then you must be really good when you’re properly playing.”
Balthazar looked up, Pedro was leaning towards him, his eyes soft and caring. Pedro decided that an arm touch was an appropriate reassurance, even though he really wanted to reach over and hug the boy who looked so small in his oversized sweater.
“Um…since we’ve already skipped class, do you want to stay and hear what I’ve been working on?"
“Yes!” Pedro replied quickly and excitedly and Balthazar had his turn to chuckle at his new found friend. “I mean, I’d really like that.” And Balthazar played and played, and smiled, and talked about music and felt a normal size again.
“Hey, just wondering if I could walk you to class? You know, be like your brute squad.” Pedro joked, “to protect The Might Balthazar!"
Balthazar smiled, plucked at some notes, nodded at his new friend, wondered if he should start writing a new song.
- - - — — — - - — — - — - - - - - — — — - - — - - — — — — — - - - — - — — — —
Pedro was sitting on Balthazar’s bed after having recorded three takes of Sigh Not So, and was now making sure the black and white filter was just right. They hadn’t talked a lot recently with all of the drama that had been going on, and Pedro still was worried about John. It felt right to return to the way it was before, Pedro behind the camera and Balthazar sitting on his bed playing guitar.
"Hey Balthy...” Pedro croaked.
“Yeah? Is there something wrong with the video?"
“No, um, I have to tell you something. But I don’t really know how to say it, but I think you’re the best person to talk to right now.” Balthazar looked at Pedro intently, hoping Pedro wasn’t trying to apologize yet again. “And I know this isn’t the right time to be thinking about this, and it feels so selfish, I mean with all the stuff going on, and being worried about Hero and John…” Pedro trailed off.
Balthazar tilted his head and sang softly, “into, hey nonny nonny."
Pedro stared and him, shook his head, ran his hands through his hair. Then, with shaking hands tried to fix his ruffled 'do.
“Look, I…I think I'm bisexual. No, not think. I am bi."
“I’m glad you told me. And it’s not selfish.” Balthazar hopped onto the bed beside him, and bumped shoulders playfully. “If it helps, I’ll be there fo you whenever you want to tell everyone else. Though I might suggest waiting until John’s come home and Beatrice has lessened her grudge.” Pedro looked solemn but nodded.
After seeing a message appear on the laptop screen, Balthazar tucked his knees under him in excitement.
“Oh it’s finished! Let’s look at the comments!"
Pedro switched to YouTube and scrolling swiftly their eyes were drawn to the third comment from the top.
"Nice try, but Mumford and Sons is a 1000x better. A worthless imitation."
“Ugh.” Pedro exhaled loudly and kept scrolling until they hit the second negative comment.
"I’m so done with all this half-assed acoustic bullshit, I need some Fife and the Drums to wash out my ears RIGHT NOW!"
Balthazar shrank down, the excitement had drained from his eyes and he had tucked his hands into his sweaters sleeves, hoping to be engulfed.
“Don’t listen to them. Look at all the nice comments!"
“But they just blend together, they all say the same thing. Those…they hurt."
Pedro turned to look him in the eye, “But I’ve always loved your music. Isn’t that enough?"
Balthazar narrowed the distance between them and kissed Pedro. Pedro kissed him back, returning the passion of Balthazar’s long hidden crush with the fervor of his new found feelings.
When they broke apart, hearts beating faster and foreheads pressed together, Balthazar smiled, “It’s more than enough."
- - - - - — - — — — - — — — — - — - — - — — — - — — — — - — - — - — —
20,000 people were on their feet and cheering for him as he walked on stage. It was Balthazar's first concert of his American tour, and suddenly all those numbers adding up on YouTube became real life people screaming, clapping, and singing along to his songs. It felt like a dream.
That dream was brought back to reality when someone from the front row screamed “I love you Balthazar!” Balthazar smirked to himself and looked to the wings, where Pedro gave him a thumbs up. He started playing the next song, and a cheer rose from the crowd.
Before he played his last song, Balthazar did as his agent told him. He let the audience die down so he could say some words without being cheered over.
“I’ve got one more song for you!” Cheers, “you’ve been such a lovely crowd and I’m having a great time here in the US!” More cheers.
“But, I right now, need to take the time to thank someone real special.” Balthazar swung his guitar onto his back in a practiced move. “I’m sure you’ve seen him on YouTube, yeah you guessed it, the one I wrote An Ode for…” Continuous cheering. “Seriously though, Pedro, I love the dork. The first hipster."
Balthazar played the opening riff to Say Not So, and on the strum, said his closing words his American fans:
"Because he loved my music when no one else did."