The moment the bell rings, Vincent's out of his seat. Confidence crackles through him in little lightning arcs---the spark, the high, the lambent flame. Energy buzzes at his fingertips, because even though his introduction had been a disaster, he's sure he'd somehow pulled it off. The class seems to like him, after all. Even if his father doesn't.

He turns to the boy next to him---Simon. It's such a pretty name, one that seems ordinary until he starts repeating it in his head. It suits this boy, this boy with his quiet, quiet beauty, this beautiful boy who seems plain until Vincent starts looking closer. "Hey," he greets, and he swears something in Simon's dark eyes changes, sadness flickering in them like a wind-swept bonfire.

He notices the bob of Simon's throat, the way his chest rises and falls before he opens his mouth. "Hi---"

"Simon, could you stay back for a minute?" Otis' voice cuts through the invisible tension stretched between them, slicing the air like a knife. Vincent can't help flinching slightly, and guilt instantly fills his heart at the involuntary movement. Almost as if noticing his expression, his father sighs. "Vincent, you too."

As the rest of the class begins to file out, Vincent doesn't miss how Simon pauses, before dipping his head in a respectful bow and heading to the teacher's table. Because he's not sure what to do, Vincent follows. He's tempted to swing himself up onto the teacher's table again, but he doesn't want to piss Otis off any more than he already has. "Yes, Professor Kelle?" Simon says. He keeps that melancholic gaze fixed on the floor, and Vincent wonders what had happened to make him so sad, to put weights on those fragile shoulders.

"It's about the drama club," Otis starts, and Vincent notes down the way Simon's mouth twists at that.

"Professor, I..." For a moment, Simon lifts his face, and the murkiness in his ebony gaze clears. For a moment, Vincent sees the universe in his eyes, bright as day. For just a moment, he sees a boy with wings clipped by heavyset tragedy. Then Simon drops his head again, and the light is gone. "Professor, you know I---I can't."

Icarus falls, dragging the mimicry of his crestfallen feathers through sun and sea in a glorious blaze, and there is nothing left but the memory of fire and ash.

Otis lets out a whistle of air through his nose. "I know. Your mother." He grabs his duffle bag and starts rifling through it, finally yanking out a thin sheet of paper and placing it in Simon's limp hand. Vincent can't resist standing on his tiptoes to peek over Simon's unfairly high shoulder. It's a simple leaflet with equally simple illustrations. DRAMA TRYOUTS, the capitalised headline screams. "Just...we're having auditions for the club because we'll be having a play soon, and I know how much you like that stuff."

"I---"

"Why not just do it?" Vincent cuts in, almost giggling at the way Simon jumps. He musters his prettiest, most persuasive grin. "After all, you only live once, right?" And if Otis says you like this kind of stuff, you must really do, because he wouldn't notice anything I like even if I hit him in the face with it. But that doesn't matter. Not right now, anyway.

"It'll distract me from my studies," Simon mutters, so quietly Vincent almost doesn't hear it.

Oh. Okay. New tactic. Vincent laces his hands in front of him demurely, lowering his eyelids enough to stare up at the boy in front of him through long, dark lashes. He mentally celebrates the way Simon's jaw goes slack, the way his eyes widen. "How about we audition together?" he cooes. "It'll be a great help to me. At least I'll have a friend there with me. You'll have a friend with you, too. You know, moral support!"

Simon visibly jerks backwards at that. "F-f-friend?" he stammers.

"Yeah." Vincent shoots him an innocent smile. "I'm always up for making new friends, and you seem like a great person already!" Also, you're cute as fuck. That helps, too.

"I..." Simon swallows, the prominent bob of his thin throat evident against his ghostly skin. His fingers close around the edge of the leaflet. "I'll...I'll think about it. Thank you, Professor Kelle."

Professor Kelle leans back in his seat. "No problem, Simon. I'm glad you're considering it, at least." A pause, then, "I need a favour from you, actually. Could you please help Vincent settle in? Although he seems to be doing just fine in the social aspect, he might need help in the actual educational part, and you're an excellent student. Besides, you two have very similar schedules."

Holy shit. So that's why my schedule was weirdly full. All is forgiven, Otis. You're a great wingman, Vincent thinks. And while he's pretty sure he can manage by himself---after all, he's no slouch academically---he'll leap at any chance to spend time with this softly angular boy. Because there are a million cobwebs in Simon's gloomy eyes, and Vincent wants nothing more than to brush them away.

Simon seems at a loss for words, and for a second, Vincent's almost worried he might not be quite so delighted to spend time with him, but when something sparkles in his onyx pupils, Vincent's relieved to realise that he feels the same way. "I'll be glad to."

"Great. Thanks, Simon. You can go now," Otis says. And this time, when Simon turns around, Vincent doesn't hesitate. He just follows.

The silence doesn't stay for long before Vincent's opening his mouth again. Briefly, he wonders if it's the wrong thing to do---Simon doesn't seem like the type to enjoy conversation---but he really doesn't know any other way. For Vincent, it's always been talk, talk, talk---and as his mother says, he's good with the moody ones. Even if she had been talking about animals.

"So what's the deal with you and theatre?" Vincent enquires, because yes, curiosity had killed the cat, but satisfaction had brought it back, and a tiny chip into the mournful mantle hanging over Simon's head would definitely satisfy Vincent.

Simon stiffens---hesitates, his frown deepening so much that Vincent begins to regret asking, but his thin lips soon part in a reply. "Mom doesn't like it when I participate in extracurriculars, because apparently grades are the only thing needed for a good future."

"That's bullshit," Vincent declares before he can stop himself. He instantly regrets the words once they're out of his mouth---what if he can't stand swearing? What if he thinks I'm too crude, or rude, or---

To his surprise, Simon's mouth curls upwards, just the tiniest bit. It's not a big smile, but it's there, and it makes Vincent's heart flutter. The slip of amusement dancing in Simon's expression makes his beauty louder, and he's so pretty like this, so unconventionally lovely that it takes Vincent's breath away. "Yeah. Fucking bullshit," he agrees.

Vincent bursts into laughter. "Precisely." And when the tiny grin lacing the corners of Simon's mouth widens slightly, Vincent feels like he's won first prize.

Suddenly, Simon stops in his tracks. His smile wipes itself off his face instantly, as if it had never been there. Confused, Vincent halts too, just in time to see Simon raise a weary hand to his forehead. "Fuck," Simon mutters through clenched teeth, the heel of his palm pressed tightly against his head.

"What's wrong?" Vincent questions. The hair on his exposed arms prickles with concern, goosebumps dotting themselves all over his bare skin. He's only just noticing how empty the corridor is now, the lockers devoid of the hustle and bustle his old school had.

He supposes it'll be busier between classes. It's then that he realises they're late for their next class.

"I forgot which way English was, and now I'm going to be late," Simon forces out, teeth still gritted. "I don't---I never do that." His fingers tug at the sleeve of his azure jacket nervously. "What am I going to tell Mom? What if they call her and---"

"Just say you were showing the new kid around and he wandered off and got lost and you had to find him," Vincent interjects. He winks. "I am rather flighty, after all." And they're not going to call your mum just because you were five minutes late for a lesson, but I'm not going to rub it in.

Simon pauses, dipping his head down to squint at him inquisitively. "What class do you have now?"

"I've got English too!" Thanks, Otis. Vincent had memorised his schedule in the morning, treating every letter like a note on his music sheets. And he's glad that he'd done it, especially since Otis seems to have made sure that he shares as many classes as possible with this softly gorgeous boy and his quiet melancholy.

Simon sucks in a deep breath---through his mouth, not his nose, and Vincent's relieved for the change. There is nothing in Simon that reminds him of Trixie, and maybe he can feel a little less guilty if he falls---or rather, when he falls, because here, locked in the despondency of Simon's universe, the crash seems inevitable. "Okay," Simon says, a little puff of air sweeping the bangs kissing his eyelids upwards. "Okay." And Vincent can't tell whether he's talking to him anymore, but the statement is comforting all the same.

There are a thousand things Vincent wants to say. He wants to comment on the way Simon's mouth had pursed up in a thin frown when he'd pronounced Adrianne Hruška's name wrong, on how he's mentioned his mum at least twice already in relation to academics, on the cheerless glimmer staining every inch of his face black and blue.

But when Simon drops his head lower, the shivers wracking his body vibrating over Vincent's skin like bruises on velvet, Vincent keeps his lips sealed, and he falls like the stars.

(´▽｀)ノ♪

"Oh my gosh!"

The scream reverberates through the hallway. Vincent's sure his heart's leapt out of his chest. His books, miraculously, are still in his hands. Is someone getting murdered? Am I doing something wrong? What's going on?

He swivels around, one hand raised in surrender. "I was just looking for my locker, I swear---"

Vincent stops. There is no serial killer there---as far as he knows, anyway. Instead, a petite girl and a skinny guy stand in the middle of the corridor. A blotchy orange tan splatters the girl's skin, surprisingly silky dark hair pulled into a shoulder braid. Above a gaping mouth, intense cat eyes stare at him in awe. The boy looks far more disinterested, raking a casual hand through aggressively-spiked teal locks.

"It's...you!" the girl squeals.

What the fuck? "Do I know you?" Vincent questions.

Before he can react, the girl's bounding over to him with the energy of a hyperactive squirrel. The guy---probably her boyfriend, judging by the expression on his face---trudges after her, a barely-audible groan escaping his lips. "I'm Mae, and this is my boyfriend, Lee!" the girl proclaims. "You're that British piano prodigy, aren't you? I'm your biggest fan!"

"Um...?" is all Vincent can say. Great way to sound like a bloody wanker, Vincent. Say hi. You have fans now. Apparently. "Hi?"

"Hi!" Mae grabs his hand, enthusiastically shaking it. Her palm is warm and slightly sweaty. Vincent resists the urge to wipe his hand off when she lets go. "I keep your Pepteen magazine interview framed up in my room!"

Oh. Vincent remembers that interview. He remembers the first time, when he'd had gaps in his front teeth and his feet had been too short to even reach the ground. He remembers bursting into tears when the interviewer had asked him about completing all eight grades before he himself had even turned eleven. And he remembers how, seven years later, when he'd made somewhat of a name for himself in the amateur piano industry, they'd invited him back.

"Thank you?" Real smooth, idiot. More sincerity. Don't act like a deer in headlights even though this is something totally new to you because you have never been recognised outside of London before.

"Sorry about her," Lee whispers, resting a hand on his girlfriend's vibrating shoulder. "Mae, come on. He looks pretty freaked out. Let's go. Don't pester the poor guy anymore."

"I was one of the first subscribers on your Youtube channel!" Mae gushes. Yeah, the Youtube channel I haven't uploaded on in half a year. "I especially loved that song you composed---Flower Dance or something---you play better than anyone I've ever heard!"

Vincent quickly composes himself, taking a quick breath and mustering his best grin. He makes sure his dimples pop out and that his voice doesn't shake when he talks. "Thank you for your support," he says warmly. "I really appreciate it. And thank you. I wouldn't say I'm the best, but---"

"You are!" Mae trills, so loud Vincent notices Lee wince. "You're so cool. And you're even better-looking in real life than you are in your videos! What are you doing here? Actually, never mind why you're here! You're here! You're actually here!"

Sorry, Lee, Vincent thinks, casting a glance at the teal-haired boy, who is now staring at his sneakers with gloom painted all over his face. "It's nice to meet you, Mae, but---"

"He said it's nice to meet me!" Mae squeals. She grabs her boyfriend and shakes him excitedly. Lee looks like he wants to sink into the floor. "Did you hear that, Lee? Vincent Kelle said it's nice to meet me!"

Maybe I can pretend I have a stomachache.

Before Vincent can contemplate faking explosive diarrhea, a hand lands on his back. He turns, only to be met with the gigantic form of a boy nearly a foot taller than him, muscles lining his chest and puffing up large, brawny arms. Tousled dark hair drips over a perfectly-tanned forehead, he's wearing a blue sports jacket, and all Vincent can think is, Wow, he's cute.

"Hey, Mae. Hey, Lee," the boy greets cheerfully. He's got a great smile. It makes his eyes crinkle up at the corners in the nicest way. Vincent's always been a sucker for a good smile. "Thanks for keeping him busy for me, but I've got to show him around now. I promised."

And although he's never seen this boy in his life, Vincent knows he's the ticket out of this situation, so he plasters on his brightest grin. "It was nice meeting you guys, but I have to go now. School tour, you know?"

"I can show you around," Mae wisps, starry-eyed.

Vincent shoots Lee an apologetic glance. "I appreciate the offer, but I think we've got it handled." When Mae looks dubious, he attempts a wink. "Don't worry, we can always talk later." Over my dead body. If this is what having fans is like, I'd rather stay unknown forever.

"Exactly," Lee cuts in. He grabs his girlfriend's arm and starts walking away, practically dragging her behind him. "Come on, Mae. Let's go."

"He said we can talk later," Vincent hears Mae breathe as Lee finally manages to wrangle her around the corner. Something bubbles in his chest---laughter, at how absolutely ridiculous the situation spread in front of him is. And he knows he shouldn't let it out, but the boy next to him has an amused twinkle in his bright blue eyes and a smile made of bottled sunshine, so he does, giggling until his sides hurt.

"Thanks," Vincent manages to get out.

"No problem." His saviour's grin touches his eyes, making Vincent beam too. "Mae's a lovely person, but she does get pretty overwhelming sometimes, so I thought I'd step in."

"I appreciate it. Really."

"Don't sweat it." There's a lopsided, boyish charm to the way he stands, the way he moves, the way he smiles, and Vincent instantly feels more relaxed. This boy radiates comfort, a welcome change from Simon's hovering melancholy. "So, a celebrity, huh?"

Vincent chuckles. "Hardly."

"Can I get your autograph? Perhaps a personal tune?"

"Stooop," Vincent whines playfully, not a hint of malice in his tone.

The boy puts up his giant hands in surrender. "Sorry, Mr Celebrity. Don't sic your bodyguards on me." Then he laughs, a hearty sound that echoes from somewhere deep in his chest. "I'm Tom."

"Vincent."

"I heard."

"Thanks for rescuing me. I was considering faking diarrhea."

This only serves to make Tom laugh harder. "Good thing I intervened, then. So, you're new?"

"Yeah. Started today. Dropped into America last week. Not literally, because that would have been messy."

Tom's chuckle reverberates through the whole corridor. He's got a nice laugh, too---big and warm and bold, just like him. It suits his large frame and the way his smile reaches his eyes. "Good thing. How are you doing? Settling in well? Made some friends?"

"Yeah!" Vincent feels himself perk up at that. It seems almost ironic, considering the gloomy disposition of the boy he's about to speak of---but he can't help the way the mere thought of Simon floods his stomach with butterflies. "His name's Simon. He's really cool!"

There's a million responses Vincent had expected, but not one of them involves all the colour draining from Tom's tanned face. His jubilant jollity is gone, and all that remains is a frightened ghost, pale as a sheet. "S-Simon?" he says, and Vincent doesn't miss the way his tongue trips over the word. "You mean...Simon Huang?"

Vincent frowns. "I don't know his surname, but probably---"

"I have to go," Tom interrupts. He tries for a smile, but it's shaky, false. It ends before it even touches his ears and practically droops off his chin. "It was nice meeting you, Vincent. I'm sorry."

Before Vincent can call out or stop him, Tom's gone. He's shockingly fast for such a big guy, and the way he disappears from the hallway at lightning speed makes Vincent hesitate. Confusion spins a black widow's web in the recesses of his mind, connecting a million dots that don't quite make sense.

He reaches out for an answer, for a firefly guide through the abyss of his future, but all his fingers touch is air, and he slips through the clouds.

if you can't tell already, this book is going to move slowly. very slowly. i'm aiming for around 50 chapters, which is more than double the usual amount of chapters i have. this is because Simon and Vincent straightup r e f u s e to move faster and i literally cannot do anything about that because these boys are the ones running the show. so yes. prepare for slow, prepare for boring, prepare for like 30 chapters of mutual pining because it's showbiz, baby!

sorry for the extreme crappiness of this chapter! i was busy for like, half a week because your guy is turned 16 on Monday and spent like three days replying to birthday wishes (yes, i am VERY popular. no one is surprised 😎). and then i got fully vaccinated on Thursday and somehow managed to assert dominance over my side effects until they went away because i wanted to actually do schist. (probably not a good idea. my headache may be gone and my arm may feel okay because of sheer willpower but my heart rate is over 110. whoops.)

and sorry for not posting last week, i was super busy and really not doing all that great mentally, and i just couldn't string anything together. so i just didn't. sorry T_T

THAT ASIDE DOES ANYONE WATCH GP999 BECAUSE XIAO TING AND RUI QI WERE ROBBED 😭 MF MSNAKE WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU---LIKE XIAO TING SHOULD HAVE BEEN 1ST BUT INSTEAD SHE GOT 9TH??? AND RUI QI DIDN'T EVEN END UP IN THE DEBUT LINEUP??? WTF IS THIS??? And it's a 'global group' but you have 1 Chinese, 2 Japanese, and SIX KOREANS??? i'm glad Bahiyyih debuted cause she was one of my picks but like,,,nO OFFENSE to Chaehyun or Bahiyyih but neither of them are really center material. Xiao Ting was robbed and we all know it. Rui Qi was also robbed. like those two have INSANE performance skills only to be treated like this??? wtf (I don't know much about Yurina but she was robbed too)

okay gp999 rant over let's get on to how my life is a freaking wattpad novel

you know those cliché Wattpad stories where everyone is in love with that one girl/guy? YEAH IT'S HAPPENING TO ME FOR SOME REASON---like i know my 'straight' BFF has/had (not sure) a crush on me, my friend/platonic wife hinted at having a crush on me the other day, one of my online friends said she couldn't stop thinking about a pickup line i said to her the other day, AND my ex-boyfriend's texts are becoming quite sus (and my friends also exposed him for some questionable stuff he said loool)

I KNOW I FLIRT WITH EVERYONE BUT WHY IS EVERYONE FALLING FOR ME LIKE I'M LEGIT NOT EVEN ATTRACTIVE (no like, seriously, i'm not a very good-looking person. if i was good-looking, i wouldn't be such a good talker. when i was younger, everyone used to say i was ugly.) AND LIKE I KNOW I HAVE A GREAT PERSONALITY BUT STILL??? like these people all know i have a boyfriend and yet they're still simping over me like what kind of wattpad novel do i live in---i'm getting all the girls AND all the guys and i'm not even trying---

ANYGAYS

don't forget to point out any mistakes you see because gUESS WHO DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO EDIT AGAIN (yes, this beech) i am so sorry

let me know your thoughts on this chapter! i didn't like it, but i'm hoping my chapters after this will get better because i'll actually have tIME to wRITE so like---yay but seriously let me know what y'alls think anywayyy

as usual, don't forget to vote and comment because i am an attention whore <3 love y'alls mwah see you next saturdayyy

xoxo, Alex