Chapter Text
Jesus loved teaching. He really did. Being able to pass on knowledge and instil good values in others brought him so much joy and satisfaction. He knew that these kids were going to go out into the world and do good things.
But he really didn’t like how loud they were.
“Class, please!” he called.
The chattering huddle of twelve year olds either ignored him, or simply didn’t hear him.
He sighed, and clapped his hands in a simple pattern. Not even a second later, twenty pairs of hands echoed the pattern back at him.
“Thank you! We are about to enter the concert hall. Now, who can remind me of the rules?”
A hand flew up. “No talking!”
Another. “No eating or drinking!”
“Go to the bathroom before, after, or during the break in the middle, and we have to let you, Mrs Didymus or Miss Junia know!”
“Only get out of our seats if there’s an emergency!”
“Don’t clap until all the other people start clapping!”
He nodded at each one. “Good! We are all in the third row, everyone please get into your pairs, and Miss Junia will lead us to the seats. I’ll be in the middle, and Mrs Didymus will be at the end. Now, let’s go enjoy some music, alright?”
With twenty students and two other teachers settled into the plush red seats, Jesus could somewhat relax. School excursions were always stressful, but hopefully he could somewhat switch off for the next hour.
Mary had told him of the orchestra’s upcoming performance, and suggested he enquire about the possibility of an excursion. He was apprehensive. Classical music had never really been his thing, but when Mary explained that the performance was all music from films, Jesus had to agree it was a good idea, especially since they were studying one of the movies that would be showcased.
It had taken a lot of self-restraint for Jesus to not cheer when the class voted upon Star Wars. Not only could he relate it to different parts of the curriculum, but as a child, he’d loved watching the movie on a battered old VHS player with his Dad and brothers. He hadn’t seen it in years, not since before his Dad passed, and watching that film with twenty kids over the last week had been bittersweet. Certainly hearing that main theme in a few minutes would be as well.
The lights dimmed, and Jesus and his fellow teachers shushed their students and applauded politely. The musicians entered and took their places, all formal black clothing and shiny instruments.
As the first major chord of the opening titles of Star Wars washed over him, Jesus could think of nothing but memories from his childhood, as he furiously blinked back tears. Thank goodness the stage was the only thing illuminated. He could imagine the field day his students would have if they ever saw their kind-yet-stern Mr Christ crying over a piece of music.
———
The first half of the performance flew by all too quickly, as for once, Jesus found himself lost in the music. After the final notes of the main theme from Back To The Future wafted across the hall, and the audience had finished clapping, the house lights brightened. The musicians stood to exit the stage, and in the second row of the orchestra, a pair of bright brown eyes met Jesus’ blue ones, for the most fleeting of seconds, before the owner of them became lost in a sea of black clothing and polished metal.
But Jesus still stared into the distance, the image of those eyes planted firmly in his mind, until he was interrupted by a young voice. “Mr Christ, we’re going out to the foyer, you need to get up!”
He blinked. “Oh, sorry, Paul. Yes, let’s go.”
The boy, Paul, trailed after him with his friend Alex. “Mr Christ, how long is the inter… intermash…”
“Intermission?” Jesus suggested.
“Yeah!”
“Twenty minutes. So you’ve got some time for a snack.”
Jesus glanced around, counting each and every head, sighing in relief when he could see twenty small children in their quite frankly, hideous grey uniforms.
He pulled the paper program out of his pocket, scanning it. The second half would be another hour, and to his delight, would open with a piece of music he knew and liked. It had been one of his Dad's favourites, too. He flicked through the pages, hoping for some indication as to who had those hypnotising eyes. It felt like he’d known them all his life. Unfortunately, there was only a list of the musicians, and he hadn’t even noticed what instrument they played.
He’d have to wait and find out, he supposed.
———
Twenty minutes later, they’d all filtered back into the hall, and to Jesus’ disappointment, the musicians had already taken their seats. Every single one of them had their eyes trained on the music before them, were flexing their fingers, or were blowing warm air into their instruments.
“Hey, Mr Christ, how come they’re playing their instruments but they’re not making any sound?” Alex whispered.
“It keeps their instruments warm so they don’t sound funny,” Jesus replied. “Now, shh, they’ll start soon.”
The conductor entered, and the musicians all stood, as the audience applauded yet again. Jesus didn't quite understand why they all clapped so often, especially when nothing was actually happening, but he did so anyway. The conductor raised his baton, and all the entire orchestra followed with their instruments. A flash of silver caught Jesus’ attention in the second row, and he found the person he’d been thinking about.
Those brown eyes were fixed upon the conductor, surrounded by a halo of chestnut coloured curls. The flautist’s fingers were elegantly poised upon an immaculately polished instrument, and as the baton moved, he began to play, almost completely unaccompanied. The soft lilt of Princess Leia’s Theme filled the room, and Jesus was completely entranced.
Jesus couldn’t look away. The flautist’s eyes stayed firmly between the sheet music before him and the movement of the baton. The pale fingers moved up and down at astonishing speeds as he pressed the keys with incredible precision. Pink lips fluttered slightly as he blew across the mouthpiece of the flute. Brows scrunched adorably when posed with a challenging section, and cheeks tinted the slightest pink when he held a long note or phrase.
Jesus did not take his eyes off the musician for the rest of the concert, ears straining to hear any trace of his instrument. There was just something about him.
The last of the applause faded, and the musicians began to filter offstage. Jesus caught one final second of eye contact with the flautist, and he could swear he was on the receiving end of the tiniest bob of curly hair and the faintest trace of a smile.
———
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking since arriving home. There was still a pile of assignments to be marked, yet Jesus sat at the kitchen table, a nearly-empty glass of wine and his laptop as his only companions. The mouse hovered tentatively over the big black button, the words ‘complete purchase’ staring out at him from the screen.
A season pass wasn’t cheap at all.
But it was money going towards the arts, something he firmly believed needed whatever support it could get.
And besides, it was a ten minute bus ride to the concert hall. It would give him something interesting to do on the weekends and in his downtime.
He finished the rest of his wine, and clicked the button, before pulling up Mary’s contact in his phone.
Jesus: Great suggestion with the concert! The kids loved it. I did too. Still down for coffee tomorrow?
Mary texted back within seconds.
Mary: I’m glad you had a good time, hopefully the kids behaved! Always down to catch up, pity I’ve only got an hour, but I’ll see you tomorrow at 11! x
Jesus smiled at his phone, then brought up the page titled ‘Meet The Musicians’. After a few moments scrolling through the black and white photos, those familiar curls and bright eyes appeared, accompanied by the text he very much wanted to know.
Principal Flute: Judas Iscariot