Heart Stickers and Cherry Blossoms Part One
Title: Heart Stickers and Cherry Blossoms (We Must Be in an Anime)
Author: butterflyslinky
Characters: Linkara, Film Brain, Harvey Finevoice, Oancitizen, Luke, Marzgurl, Margaret (sort of)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 9290
Warning(s): A few swear words, one very innocent make-out scene, one car accident (no one is injured)
Summary: The best way to get a boyfriend is to fall down the stairs and then walk past the cherry trees. It also helps if he plays the violin.
Note: Special thanks to pompoko for betaing.
“Stop! STOP!”
The orchestra stopped playing as Mr. Finevoice slammed his baton on the podium. “What the heck was that?” he demanded, looking at the first violins.
The violinists shifted apprehensively, trying to figure out the best way to explain why they had screwed up the line for the twelfth time that day. Finally, the first chair raised his hand.
“Yes, Linkara?”
“I believe it was the opening to ‘Take on Me’ played by ten people who haven’t practiced this week, sir,” Linkara said, causing the rest of the first violins to glare at him.
“I agree,” Mr. Finevoice said. “And I believe the agreement was that we would play a pop song if you all worked hard at it. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Linkara said with a slight smirk. He knew he wouldn’t be getting in trouble for this. After all, he was first chair for a reason.
“So,” Mr. Finevoice said. “Either all of you put in more work, or we cut this number and go back to the classics.” He raised his baton. “From the beginning, please!”
They started again, this time a bit better, though there were still plenty of audible mistakes. Linkara sighed inwardly. It had taken all of his schmoozing and favoritism to get them to play this number, and now they weren’t even trying. Idiots.
The bell rang as they finally made it to the end of the song. Mr. Finevoice yelled after them, “Extra practice tonight! Or I cut the song and none of you will get recommendations for scholarships!”
Linkara looked alarmed, but Mr. Finevoice only raised his eyebrows. “For anyone,” he concluded.
*
“Mr. Buck, would you care to explain this essay?”
Film Brain barely managed not to groan. His teachers never seemed to understand his essays, leading him to spend valuable time after school explaining exactly what he was trying to say. It didn’t help that his essays were often littered with satire that no one besides him ever seemed to think was clever.
“I was explaining why Holden Caulfield is a proto-hipster and it’s his fault we have to suffer through things like Rent,” Film Brain said. “You know, with the pretentious whining and his privileged existence that leaves no room for complaints? He’s just the same as every other dissatisfied upper-middle class white kid who thinks they know better than anyone else.”
Mr. Oan sighed. “Mr. Buck, I understand where you’re coming from, but this essay is fueled too much by emotion and pop culture when it should be fueled by the text itself. I shouldn’t have to ask you to summarize the essay, it should be apparent from the start what you’re trying to say.”
“But doesn’t classic literature fuel pop culture?” Film Brain argued. “Isn’t that a relevant part of the work, what it leads to?”
“That was not the prompt you were asked to write about,” Mr. Oan said. “I would normally accept that, except that your writing is far too unfocused and takes more from those sources than the book. Hence the ‘C’ grade.”
Film Brain sighed. “Can I write it again?” he asked despondently.
“You know I don’t like accepting rewrites,” Mr. Oan said. “However, I will allow you to do so this once, due Monday morning.”
“Fine,” Film Brain said. He took the paper and left the room, intending to go home and rewrite the essay all weekend. It was going to take that long, anyway.
He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice where he was walking until he missed the first step going down the stairs, which of course meant that he toppled straight down the rest of the staircase, dropped his bag and spilled all of his books and papers, and landed rather painfully on his back at the feet of a tall, looming figure carrying a violin case. Once Film Brain had caught his breath and realized that he could still see, he realized that it was a guy. A very good looking guy.
Fantastic.
The boy with the violin was rather surprised to suddenly have a clumsy blond at his feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Film Brain gasped, sitting up and making sure he hadn’t broken anything. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
The other boy knelt down and started to gather Film Brain’s books and papers. “That was quite a fall,” he said in concern. “Do you want to see the nurse or anything?”
“I think she’s gone home,” Film Brain said, grabbing the rest of his things. “But I’m okay. Really.” He stood up and finished putting everything back in his bag. “Thank you.”
The boy picked up his violin and smiled. “My name is Linkara,” he said, offering his hand.
“Film Brain,” he mumbled, wondering why he had to make such a fool of himself in front of such a handsome guy. He glanced down shyly. “So…you in the orchestra?” he asked lamely.
“Yeah,” Linkara said. “First chair violin, four years Honors and All-State.” He looked rather proud of himself.
“Cool,” Film Brain said. He didn’t have any sort of accomplishment to talk about, so he settled for smiling slightly.
Linkara smiled back. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked.
Film Brain blushed. “No,” he said. “I’m on an exchange from England.”
“How do you like it?”
He shrugged. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s very different…and the teachers don’t understand what I’m saying half the time.”
Linkara chuckled. “They’re like that with everyone,” he said reassuringly. “They don’t think the same way we do. They’re caught in their own little world where everything is neat and ordered and makes sense and is just the way it’s always been. So when we come in with new ideas and different thinking, they don’t know what to do with it so they just call us stupid and try to make us into them.”
“That…makes sense,” Film Brain admitted. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
“Sure it does,” Linkara said. “If you understand it, you can fight it.”
“How?”
“Say what they want to hear and then laugh at them behind their backs,” Linkara answered. “That’s what we always do.”
“Thanks,” Film Brain said. “I’ll try that.” He turned to leave. “See you.”
“See you.”
*
Linkara played furiously, trying to clear his mind and focus on the music in front of him, but his thoughts kept wandering back to the small boy he had talked to that afternoon. It was already hard enough to get the audition music right without distractions, but for some reason, that boy had made an impression on him.
Which was just stupid. They had talked for maybe five minutes, which was barely long enough to learn each other’s names. There was absolutely no reason for Linkara to be thinking about Film Brain during his precious hour of violin practice.
And yet, the more he tried to focus, the more he kept thinking about golden hair and wide blue eyes and papers and books flying everywhere and yeah, okay, the kid had left more of an impression than Linkara would have liked to admit. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like there weren’t other blond-haired, blue-eyed guys at school. In fact, come to think on it, Linkara recalled seeing Film Brain around school, usually with a group of sophomores who seemed to spend all of their time studying. True, they had never spoken before, but that shouldn’t have made so much of a difference.
Linkara groaned and stopped playing the audition piece. It was the hardest one, and he certainly couldn’t play it with his mind elsewhere. After a moment of silence, he picked up his violin again and started playing the intro to “Take on Me.” If nothing else, he could be the best in rehearsal tomorrow.
That was better, lighter, faster notes at first, with the long notes of the chorus to help him calm down a bit. After the first verse, he already felt more at ease.
So he had met a cute guy. And said cute guy happened to be a bit of a klutz. That only made him more adorable. And who was to say they couldn’t be friends? That would be good, right? Being friends with an adorable, studious little sophomore from England?
Take on me…
Take on me!
Take me on…
Take on me!
Yes. This was going to be just fine.
*
It should not have been a surprise to Film Brain that he ran into Linkara after school again on Monday. After all, they probably both walked this way every day and just hadn’t had a reason to notice each other. But today they did. Linkara smiled and waved at Film Brain, who felt he had no choice but to fall into step beside him.
“How are you?” Linkara asked. “I mean…no lasting injuries, are there?”
“Just one hell of a bruise,” Film Brain admitted. “Mostly on my ego.”
Linkara laughed. “Well, that will heal,” he said as they left the school building and started walking home. “Unless your teachers said something stupid again today.”
Film Brain shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll have to wait to find out,” he said.
They continued walking in silence for a while, which gave Film Brain plenty of time to wonder when the city had planted so many cherry trees. He hadn’t noticed before, but there seemed to be an awful lot of petals everywhere.
Linkara finally broke the silence. “So…what made you come here, of all places?” he asked. “I mean, the Midwest…kind of boring.”
Film Brain shrugged. “I dunno. It just sounded nice. And it’s not like I’m going to be here too much longer…I go back to England in the fall.”
“Oh.” Linkara sounded mildly disappointed. “That’s…not very long from now.”
“It’s six months,” Film Brain said. “And I’m lucky I get to stay for the summer.”
“Yeah,” Linkara said. “I guess I have no room to talk…I’ll be leaving as well…”
“Yeah, but you’ll come back,” Film Brain said. “You live here.”
“Not if I can help it,” Linkara confided. “I’d rather be traveling with a big, important orchestra than be stuck in this town forever.”
Film Brain looked around, at the neat little houses and the cherry petals falling around them, at the blue sky and green grass. “I don’t know,” he said. “This town is pretty nice. I like it, anyway.”
Linkara snorted. “That’s because you didn’t grow up here. People always say what a pretty little town we have, but everyone who grew up here swears they’ll get out one day.”
“Do they?”
He shrugged. “Some do,” he said. “But most of us go to the state college, graduate in four years with a very limited skill set, then we wind up back here with a pointless job and a plain but kind hearted wife and by the time we’re thirty, we’ve realized we can’t fight it anymore, so we go around saying what a pretty town it is.”
Film Brain couldn’t help but smile. “They say the same about my town,” he admitted. “But really…there’s nothing bad about either one. We just all want something different because we’re young and we can’t be satisfied with where we are.”
“Probably,” Linkara sighed. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Sure it does,” Film Brain said. “If you understand it, you can fight it.”
Linkara laughed. “Touché,” he said. “But this isn’t like just making fun of teachers. You actually have to work to get away from here.”
Film Brain smiled. “I’m sure you can do it,” he said. “If you want it that badly.”
Linkara looked down at his violin. “I think I can do it,” he said. “If I can get this music scholarship, I’m off to Boston and I’m never looking back.”
“You’ll miss it,” Film Brain said. “Just a little bit.”
“Not enough,” Linkara said.
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