Chapter Text
Grian was smart. At least he liked to think so.
His teachers constantly praised to his parents about how good of a student he was. He got A’s as much as he could, with the small exception of one or two B’s thanks to his busy band schedule taking up some homework time, plus some participation scores that he missed for various band things.
Right. He was in band. He played flute in both concert and marching band, and was the student vice president of the band program.
Which isn’t all that monumental, all he could do was yell “Hey band,” and they would listen without too much protest. Really he had more work, but that was the only part that mattered. He had the first band council meeting of the new semester at lunch, next period, which he slightly dreaded.
Yet, he would much rather be there instead of staring out the window of his stupid required half credit health class. Even if the meetings were all business, anything was more stimulating than this. Since it was required for all juniors, it was one of those classes with the most unhinged popular kids he rather not interact with. He was also lucky, no, cursed, to not have any friends in classes like these.
Even someone he knew in the slightest would make him tons happier. Just someone to talk to. Maybe he still had a chance to switch periods, it was only the first week of the new semester after all. Councilors still did class changes, right?
The bell rings familiarly, the same noise Grian heard since elementary school. He’s still zoned out, thinking about how to escape through the window, maybe run to one of the fast food places across the street, get himself some early lunch to beat the horrible lines at said fast food places that accumulate during lunch period since the non-driving freshman and sophomores hang out there during lunch.
Of course if he went there during lunch he could also skip the band council meeting with a decent excuse blaming the long lines, maybe a little scolding from his band director, but otherwise–
A bag hitting the floor next to him takes him out of his thoughts, followed by a chair shuffle on the old carpet.
Maybe it’s someone he knows. Maybe this class won’t suck after all.
He looks over, and sees a guy smiling a little too brightly at him. He had brown shoulder length hair half pulled up, green eyes, a varsity jacket with blue jeans, and that smile was still blinding Grian's eyes. He was forced to look down at the table.
While doing so, he caught a glimpse of one of the cheap rubber bracelets the football team gave out at the games. “GoodTimes #14” was in blue lettering on the white background of the bracelet.
“It’s my lucky number.” A voice splits the silence, it’s the guy’s voice, clearly noticing him staring at his bracelet. Grian did just lock eyes with him then immediately look away, that may have been a little rude.
“Why’s that?” Grian asked looking back at him trying to make up for his past action he was probably overthinking. The guy just beams even more over the fact that he’s actually talking with him.
“Well, it’s two touchdowns. Two is always better than one. And when I went to sign up for the team, there were 14 people in front of me in line…” He was a little too excited for a quarter til’ 11 in the morning. Grian just smiled and nodded along with the nicest most interested expression he could manage. This guy sure did talk a lot. A little too much. With lots of energy. Grian could feel the headache surfacing in his skull.
“I’m Scar, by the way.” The guy’s, apparently Scar’s, voice cut through the silence again. Grian hadn’t even realized he was zoning out. He found that a little surprising with the fact he was normally decently patient since he dealt with the trumpets.
Right, he should talk like a human. “Grian.” He replied eventually, giving a small greeting nod. Scar smiles and puts out his hand for a handshake. God, Grian shouldn’t have pushed further a second ago. Now he’s going to think he's a friend.
Grian reluctantly puts his hand out as well, and receives a firm handshake from him. His hand was larger than his, not by too much, but it was sturdy, calloused, the handshake feeling practiced in a way. “I think I and you are going to be great friends, Grian.” Scar must never stop smiling.
Grian on the other hand gives a half attempt of a smile and lets go of his hand. “Do you mean you and I?” Grian can’t help but say. “I and you” and saying “bestest” or ‘greaterest” were his only grammar pet peeves he couldn’t help but correct.
“Thats what I said, didn’t I?” Scar questioned, tilting his head. Grian just deadpanned at his never ending smirk. “Yeah, sorry.” Grian apologized, not sounding that sorry. He couldn’t care. Now that he was thinking of it, he did recognize the name Scar Goodtimes, guessing that was his full name.
He read it on the football poster in the hall that he stared at out of boredom sometimes, the same name appearing on the student council poster next to it as well. He didn’t remember what position he played nor what role he was a part of in the student council, he never read that much into it since he didn’t know the man. Not like he knows positions nor what the roles are in student council otherwise.
Grian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed looking at the teacher at the front. A sigh left his lips. The board read “Find someone you don’t know to sit by!” in overly neat handwriting. Well, Scar did do that. He probably had no idea who Grian was. Grian was a little bothered over the fact that he would willingly sit next to him. He had to have friends in this class. Or at least other football players that he surely knew. Why did he choose to sit next to him?
Of course it was a football player sitting next to Grian. He probably just wanted to sit next to him just to constantly annoy him, and the moment Scar finds out Grian is in band, he would not let Grian hear the end of it. All the football kids were like that. Annoying, rude, arrogant. Not once did Scar ask Grian about his day, his favorite number, or anything like that. Of course he did zone out…
That’s not what matters. It’s the thought that counts, and the thought wasn’t even there.
—
“Scar, slow down your eating please. You’re gonna get sick” Scar raises his head up from his lunch tray and beams the moment he sees his good friend Cleo settle across from him on the circular table he and Bdubs were sat at.
She must’ve come from art since there was a little bit of paint stuck to their cheek. They set down a bag of some fast food in front of them, some of her bright orange curls bouncing as she does. “That smells good!” Scar smiles as he tries to decipher what logo is on the wrinkled bag.
“I call dibs on a fry!” Bdubs shouts a little too excitedly, lunging from his position left of Scar and over the table to dig through Cleo’s bag. Cleo shouts something as she attempts to push him off. Scar can’t help but giggle at the scene.
“One big happy family, hm?” A voice interrupts Scar’s thoughts behind him, making him jump. He turns to see his teammate standing behind him. “Goodness, Impulse! Way to give a man a heart attack!” Scar puts down his sad excuse of a burger and clutches at his heart dramatically.
Impulse chuckles a bit and pats his shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re getting a heart attack at this age.” Impulse teased. Scar just smiles, recalling some random information from one of his recent doctors appointments. “Hey, perfectly healthy people can still get heart attacks.” He bounces back before picking up one of his own sad soggy fries from his tray and throwing it into his mouth.
Another voice calls for Impulse, and he nods in their direction before turning back to Scar. “Anyways, not only here to give you a heart attack, Tango, Etho and I–”
“Etho?!” Bdubs interrupts Impulse with a mouthful of stolen fries. Apparently since Scar looked away, Bdubs managed to be victorious with his endeavor with Cleo, who is currently rolling their eyes, likely to the mention of Etho. Impulse simply smiles at the interaction.
“Yes, Etho. All three of us have a band concert tonight. It's free. I get it’s last minute, and on the first day back from break, but I thought you would like to know.” He finishes with no interruption this time.
Scar tried to go to things his friends performed at, since so many people came to his games and felt the need to return the favour. Plus, the student council was advised to attend events like those. Not that he complained much, he enjoyed supporting his friends. Scar quickly pulls his phone out of his back pocket, looking at his calendar. He did have some homework, but eh, what's not to lose?
“I, for one, would love to go, Impulse. Thank you for the invite.” Bdubs added triumphantly, bearing his toothy smile towards Impulse. “I can as well!” Scar matches Bdubs smile and turns to meet Impulse's gaze as well. Cleo, who seemed to be checking her phone’s calendar, sighs softly before pocketing their phone. “I’m very sorry, I got something tonight.” Cleo admits. “That’s alright. Again, I know it’s a very last minute warning.” Impulse nods appreciatively in Cleo’s direction. Bdubs says something about how “mom is always busy,” but Scar was too occupied in his own thoughts to hear.
Something pops into Scars mind, he remembered his new friend from the class period before. Grian, was it? He had a large black music folder leaning on his backpack. He noticed it in the middle of class. He was going to ask about it, but Grian walked off quickly after the bell rang.
Impulse was saying his goodbyes to the group, asking Bdubs if he needed a ride to practice tomorrow. “Wait, Imp, do you know a Grian in your band?” Scar asked, trying to get an answer before he left. “Uh, yeah. He’s a flutist. First chair. I don’t think he’s section leader but he’s pretty good. I’ve played a bit of phas with him too, and he’s good at that. Why?” Scar just shrugged. “I was just curious. I have a class with him.”
Scar doesn’t know what a first chair nor a section leader is, but they sounded important. From his first impressions with Grian, he seemed like an important man.
“I think he’s in the marching band too. I remember Gem and Pearl talking with him when I brought them food at one of the rehearsals once.” Cleo chimed in, fork in hand poking at her food.
“I gotta head out. Skizz wants help with a drill, but I’ll see y’all tonight.” Impulse waves at the group, sprinting across the cafeteria to meet said friend at the doors.
“You know Grian?” Scar asks Cleo as he re-adjusts himself back to face them in his seat. Cleo nods and matches his gaze. “Not well. He seems nice. He was making the guardies laugh when I got introduced to him, so that's always good.” Bdubs looks over at Scar and smirks. It’s the smirk Scar knows very well when he’s about to be harassed with crush questions. It’s happened many times before. Enough times to be predictable.
“Does someone have a new crush?” Yep, there it is. Scar laughs quietly and shoves Bdubs’ shoulder lightly. “No. For the last time, I’m allowed to make friends, Bdubs!”
Cleo just shakes their head and looks back down to their food. The two boys banter a bit longer with the occasional chime in from Cleo, something they are both very used to.
Scar doesn’t sit with them a lot anymore, he changes who he sits with frequently, but when he does sit with them it’s always nice. It’s like what Impulse says, one big happy family.
–
“GRIAN.” Pearl’s voice, joined by a rather out-of-tuned squeak from her oboe, calls from behind Grian, though it doesn’t scare him since he heard her footsteps. Grian turns around from his opened locker and smiles.
“Hey Pearl! Are you ready?” He asked, turning back to his locker to attach the head joint of his flute to the body carefully, making sure to line up the keys correctly. Pearl lets out a defeated sigh behind him. “Why does that never work?” Grian attaches the foot joint to his flute and turns around to face Pearl again. “You’d think someone in guard would have lighter footsteps.” He teased, putting his flute to his lips to get some air through his instrument. Quietly, of course. He was surprised their band director didn’t yell at Pearl for squawking so loudly.
“Oh please. Like you would be any more graceful.” She teased back, leaning her weight on one of her legs. “I think he would do great in guard.” Gemini comes up from behind Pearl and wraps her arms around her. A quiet, yet excited “Hi Gem!” escapes Pearl. Grian smiles and gives a simple wave as a greeting.
Gem doesn’t play anything in band, but she’s the captain of the guard with Pearl. They were so close that Gem just always followed Pearl around and vice versa. It wasn’t a surprise to see her around. Gem was wearing some lightwash blue jeans with embroidered flowers that seemed new. They caught Grians eye, along with her sweater of a mountain and some sheep. Her hair was tied in a simple bun, with some small curls falling out.
“Gem, are those new?” Grian asked, gesturing down to her pants with a nod. Gem let go of Pearl and smiled. “Mhm! Well, not really. They were my dads, but I did this wash thing to lighten them then I embroidered the flowers on it. It took forever, but these are definitely going to be worn to the ends of the Earth.”
Gem has always had a knack for crafting, art and guard were her things, and they both suited her quite well. She had lots of friends in both activities. Honestly too many friends, it was a little creepy how many people she knew by name.
“You aren’t looking to shabby yourself, Grian.” Grian had to look down to remember what he was wearing. Just regular old concert black.
Though, because it was a few concerts in and it was a little more casual, he only wore black dress pants and a black dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up halfway and one more button than usual undone, no necktie or bow choking him either. He did take out his contacts and replaced them with his glasses, since they were more reliable with reading music.
He felt like it wasn’t monumental, nothing to receive a compliment over. Pearl was wearing something similar to him too, yet he got the compliment from Gem. “Thanks. I didn’t try, so that's saying something I suppose.” He joked, going back to mindlessly fiddling with his keys as the girls talked to him about the concert.
Mumbo soon approached the group en route to his locker next to Grians. “Hey Mumbo, you’re a little late for once.” Pearl greeted him, sounding a bit surprised. Mumbo lets out a sigh. “Yes, I’m aware. I was pulling into the parking lot when someone decided to call me and ask me for a ride.” Mumbo turns around from his locker and eyes the blonde man approaching them.
“Hey, thank you for being a good section leader.” Jimmy calls out as he leans on Grian’s now closed locker, his trumpet already in hand. “Jim, I could’ve given you a ride instead of bothering Mumbo.” Grian offered. He tries not to sound too accusatory, yet he takes it that way anyways. “I would’ve asked but I checked your location and you were already at the school!”
“I was too! I sacrificed a good parking spot for you.” Mumbo chimed in. “Yeah, but you weren’t in the school.” Jimmy and Mumbo bicker for another moment, and Gem and Pearl have their own conversation as well.
This happened a lot. Grian didn’t really mind since at the end of the day he was just glad his friends were all friends with each other. Grian could just go annoy someone else for entertainment.
Grian watched as the band doors opened from the percussion room, Impulse emerging sticks tucked in his arm with Tango following up behind. He had his tenor sax hanging from his neck strap, talking with Impulse. There was a third guy that came from behind the two that Grian didn’t recognize immediately, he was tall, he had brown shoulder length hair, green eyes and a blinding smile…
Wait. Grian knew that blinding smile. It was his classmate from health. He took in a sharp breath and turned to face his locker again, opening it quickly to try and hide behind the door of it. He didn’t want to deal with whatever his name was. Scar? That’s it. He would probably just annoy the hell out of him for the fun of it.
Of course when he opened his locker, he forgot Pearl was near it until a sharp hiss came from her direction. “Grian, watch your doors!” Pearl shook her wrist to try and ease the pain. Grian felt bad immediately, but couldn’t help but snicker a bit.
“Sorry. I forgot you were there. Is your hand hurt?” He tried to reach out to get a closer look but Pearl flinched back. She had a matching smile. “Yes! Horrible pain! My heart hurts too, I know you did that on purpose!” Pearl dramatized, clutching her heart in mock offense. “We all know you are perfectly fine, Pearl.” Gem, of all people, chimed in. Grian’s smile grew as Gem joined his ranks. He almost forgot about Scar for a moment.
Right. Scar. Grian looked up to scan the room for any sign of Scar. He had to go on his tip toes to look over the tall woman that was Pearl, who was walking over to talk with another friend along with Gem.
Grian tried his best to scan the band room, but it was a little more full with people than it was since he first came. It didn’t help that there were a lot of heels and boots making people taller than normal. From what he could see, Scar likely just came in then immediately got kicked.
“Grian, right?” A voice from the side of Grian cuts his thoughts off, it makes him jump. Grian turns over to Scar, clutching his heart with the hand not holding his flute in an attempt to slow its fast pace.
“Oh goodness! I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.I do that alot.” Scar apologized, a small guilty smile on his face. Of course he’s smiling, he’s making fun of him. “It’s fine.” Grian responds, not sounding too excited. “I saw your music…folder…thing…” He nodded towards the black folder in Grian’s locker. Grian mentally cursed himself for bringing that to his health class earlier and not hiding it.
“I wasn’t totally sure what you played, but I see now!” He was smiling way too happily for this late at night. Grian just nodded and smiled along. Whatever would get him away faster. His friends weren’t paying attention to the two's interaction, so he couldn’t ask for help.
The air was thin and awkward for a moment, like neither of them knew what to say. “Yeah, I play the flute. Since 5th grade.” Grain continued. He felt bad he was being so one sided. “Really? 5th grade? That’s a while, you must be good!” He was talking extremely excitedly. Grian couldn’t help but feel he was being sarcastic, poking fun at him. He wanted to shrink in on himself. “Yeah, I guess.” Grian looked down at his flute and watched his hands fidget with the keys some more.
“You don’t sound very confident.”
“What?”
“You doubt yourself, Mr. Flutist.”
Grian was simply a little shocked at the whole ordeal, and could not tell if he was poking fun at him or not. “I… I guess I do.” His brow furrowed as he brought his gaze back up to the taller man. “You haven’t even heard me play before.” Scar just shrugged. “Well you’re in the advanced band, and you tell me that you’ve been playing since 5th grade, and Impulse said you were first chair. Those have to mean something.”
Grian was a little embarrassed from all the compliments he was getting from this guy he met today, and a little angry that Impulse had revealed that fact about him. It took him a second to remember that Impulse was in both football and percussion and was probably friends with Mr. Friends-with-everyone Scar.
“Yeah, I suppose. Maybe don’t jump to conclusions just yet if you haven’t heard me.” It came out a little meaner than intended, but he was still frankly flustered from all this complimenting. Grian didn’t quite know how to respond to all of this, and still couldn’t tell if it was genuine.
“Well, I’m excited to hear you tonight. I gotta get to my seat, but I wish you good luck!” Scar waved with a smile and sped walked out of the band room. Grian couldn’t help but be thankful, though it was a little odd that the interaction ended so quickly. Maybe he finally took the hint. It scared him that he could also be planning something. That was going to be fun to think about on stage.
“Who was that, Grian?” Mumbo asked, finally free from his own situation with Grian’s cousin. “I met him today. I’m not quite sure.” Grian’s eyes stay on the door he just left out of for a second longer, trying to process what happened. “He seems excited to be your friend.” Jimmy chimes in, as Jimmy does. Though he seemed to be teasing Grian more than anything.
Grian just sighs and rolls his eyes at him. “If you say so.” Grian sighs and turns to his locker to grab his music binder before closing it and clicking its lock in place. “You don’t sound excited to be his friend.” Mumbo pointed out, fiddling with his own valves on his trumpet. “Yeah, well, as soon as he stops mocking me constantly, maybe.” He sighed, probably for the hundredth time today, ninety nine of those sighs were probably caused by good ol’ Scar Goodtimes.
Mumbo and Jimmy share very different looks between each other, Jimmy’s mischievous and Mumbo’s worried, but Grian could care less.
He had a concert to play, and soon enough a solo to push through. Their band director was telling the band it was time to enter stage, so on stage he went.