Strummer {Gabriel}

[Erik Stewart]

It was a typical Friday schoolday. Kids were eager to rush out the doors to their dorms or to their friends’ dorms, or some party down the street. Classrooms were vacated in seconds. When the smoke cleared only the teachers and the handful of students who were either forced to stay or remained of their own volition were left. Erik was one of them, which was strange in and of itself. He wasn’t even in Mr. James’ class, for one thing. For another, it was rare for him to show up to classes he was even a part of, especially these days, when he was on the verge of dropping out altogether.

There was always a chance that he’d get turned down. Erik didn’t know the ins and outs of school bureaucracy and it seemed pretty likely that, like all things, they would not allow much leeway unless you followed the rules to a letter. He had a certain hate for it in his gut. It was like clockwork, cold and churning. Unfeeling. Callous - it had seen too many students come and go and it could no longer care about the individual. For the longest time Erik had been stuck in a cycle of bad behavior and punishment, long detention times, and general disapproval, but all it had done was teach him to keep his head down and resent more silently than before.

But here he was anyway. He wasn’t nervous, exactly, but the less people who heard this the better. He wondered if Mr. James had heard of him. Erik didn’t know how far the teachers’ grapevine went, but not many students had put another in an ambulance.

“I know the semester’s already started,” he began. He was standing in front of him, with his hands in his pockets. “But I want t’take music.”

[Gabriel James]

Gabe would usually be out of Hammel as fast as the students on a Friday night. However, in light of recent events, he was not as enthused to go home. He didn't have plans to go out or meet up with Ki or Ev for dinner. So he was taking his time, grading a few more assignments, before he went home to spend another Friday night where his ass went on a date with his couch.

It seemed to be a good thing, too, since a student walked in some time after class left out. Gabe looked up when the boy walked in - not recognizing him as a music student, but knowing he's been around. Gabe had monitored detention a couple times, and the boy was often there. Of course, Gabriel didn't think too much of that... he'd spent plenty of time there himself in his Hammel days (that was if he didn't charm his way out). Just because the boy got detention a lot, didn't tell Gabe anything about the kid's attitude. The way he kept his head down, hands in pockets, told Gabe a little more - but Gabriel still wouldn't be able to guess much about Erik. The teachers did talk about students, and perhaps Gabe had heard some stories, but not enough to know who the boy was by looks, and likely not enough to remember.

Gabriel put his red grading pen down as the boy stated he'd like to take music. Gabe nodded slightly, raising his eyebrows some - simply finding it interesting that it would take this long for a student to come to terms with wanted to take a class. "Well, I'd certainly love to have you," Gabe said, always accepting of more students, "But that would all depend on what class you want to take or what you want to learn... and if that conflicts with your current schedule," Gabe explained.

There were multiple music classes offered throughout the day which Gabe instructed- Music Theory, Piano Skills, Guitar Skills, Vocal Music, Music Composition, and Lyric Writing and Analysis. And the periods between Gabriel often kept his doors open to students who wanted to practice or get a little extra help on their instrument of choice. He also instructed the band and choir, but they only met once a week. He couldn't possibly know what the boy wanted to be involved in, and if his academics would conflict with that. "What're you interested in taking? Play any instruments?" Gabe asked curiously. "And your name?" Gabe asked, finally realizing that he was being incredibly rude by not introducing himself, and learning who the student was. "I'm Mr. James. A lot of students just call me James and that's more than alright. Call me Gabe, Gabriel, James, "that guy", I don't care," the man said with a small laugh, realizing he was probably coming off as a complete nerd.

[Erik Stewart]

Music Theory sounded boring. Piano? Nuh uh. Guitar skills (ding ding, went the bells in his head). Vocal: yes. Lyric writing: maybe. Lyric analysis: no. He didn’t realise there were so many choices. He hadn’t been paying attention; he thought there was just music, in general. “You teach all those?” he asked.

He’d come here with guitars in mind. That should’ve made his answer obvious, but he’d only one semester left by his count and he was stuck wishing he could take two. The thought of singing in front of a classroom, or plucking the strings of a guitar in the lame hobbled way he did, made him want to retch. He wondered which one was worse. Probably the singing. And - while he didn’t think himself a master, far from it - he knew that if it came between them he needed a hell of a lot more coaching with guitars.

“I can barely play half a song on a guitar,” Erik said. “Does that count?”

Gabriel might be left hanging. Erik certainly didn’t go out of his way to make him feel more comfortable over his spiel; he didn’t laugh or even crack a smile, just looked at him a little funny, an unspoken Mr. James is just fine, thank you hanging over his head. “It’s Erik,” he replied. “Do you have t’be good at guitar t’take the class? ‘Cause I can sing, too.” He paused to amend. “A little.”

[Gabriel James]

"The only requirement for my classes is a willingness to learn," Gabe said honestly, "There are students of all levels and I adjust lessons and assignments based on individual's abilities." It was tough sometimes - creating and grading up to twelve different assignments. But Gabe believed he shouldn't be holding students with previous experience back, and shouldn't be stressing out beginners with difficult assignments. He was willing to work with anyone as long as they really wanted to learn the craft.

"Now... Guitar is third period and vocals is sixth," Gabe told Erik, taking a moment to confirm what he was saying in his head. It had been a long week and sometimes the parts of the days started blending together. "I'd love to have you... but I can't get you out of any academic classes that you already have at those times," Gabe told the student - unaware of what his schedule may be. "Training can sometimes be moved around if you ask nicely... but at this point in the semester I'm not sure how much luck you'll have."

Gabe swiveled in his chair, picking up his guitar which he had leaning up against the wall behind his desk. Lifting it over the desk, he offered it to the boy. "Show me what you got," he practically demanded, always interested in what kind of potential these kids had.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik thought. He’d ask Batista about training; he was the only one he’d consider talking to. It was hard asking favors from teachers whose classes you completely neglected. “Can’t you ask ‘em?” he said, with something of a hopeful grimace. He’d sort something out, of course. Talk to the management if he had to. Though - like Gabriel said - he wasn’t sure how much luck he had. He was hoping karma would rear its long-awaited head and boost him one last favor before he scooted on out of here.

There was nothing he could do but grasp the guitar when it was handed to him. He wasn’t planning on playing anything. “Isn’t this walk-on?” he protested, cradling the instrument to his front anyway. “I told you I only knew how t’play half a song.”

He didn’t anticipate a take-back, so Erik slung the straps over his head anyway, the weight of the guitar hanging off his shoulder. The position was not yet natural to him. He had to think about where his hands went.

“It ain’t that good,” he said, a final warning.

Erik was unpracticed to be sure. He managed to string out a succession of notes that made sense, at least, but the tune sounded strained. Too afraid of making mistakes to indulge in the emotional freedom, he inevitably fumbled. The sour note stung his ears. Erik stopped; by now his cheeks had grown pink.

[Gabriel James]

"I could try to pull some strings if they give you a hard time," Gabe offered, "But you really need to go and talk to them first." While Gabe knew he could have some pull if a trainer was just being tough on a student, he knew first hand that it was better for a student to go and try to explain to his other instructors what they wanted to do. Often trainers were happy that their students were looking for other passions, and gladly switched things around. Others were harder to sway, but Gabe had a way of... charming them. He of course wouldn't do that if it didn't have to come to it.

"And I just wanna see what you got. Half a song is plenty," Gabe promised with a little smile, studying the way the boy held himself and seemed to put himself down before he even started. He really wasn't that bad, though. Well... assuming he hadn't been playing for long. Everyone had to start somewhere, though. Gabe bet if the kid just relaxed he'd be ten times better, just by not looking like he tried so hard.

"Did you teach yourself that?" Gabe asked, not phased at all by the note that still rung a litte - clearly not fitting in with all the others. "How long have you been at it?" He gave anyone who started up playing instruments on their own boatloads of credit. While Gabe ended up teaching himself most of what he knew, he never would have found his passion if his parents hadn't forced him into violin lessons at five.

[Erik Stewart]

Well, it was only a matter of time. That was as far as Erik went; the rest of the song was a mystery to him, as far as he was concerned. He stopped and relaxed his fingers against the strings. “‘Bout a month ‘r two,” he mumbled. It had been a grueling process mostly fueled by beginner tutorials online. The hardest part was playing his first chord. Deciphering where his hand was supposed to go and when took a lot of squinting and back and forth and sour, ugly sounds before he could finally pluck out a sound that didn’t make his ears want to bleed. Gabriel was lucky for that much.

“I’ve been practicin’ on my own,” he assured him. Right here in that very same music room, while class was out and everyone had gone home. He could have gone on indefinitely like that, he supposed. But it was hard. He was forced to admit it to himself. Erik had never been the best learner and it was hard.

He hoped that having music as a curriculum wouldn’t turn it into an obligation that he hated and avoided, but he’d tangled with chords and learned to cobble them together, somehow, and it was the furthest he’d ever taken anything. Erik wanted to learn, this time. Or he thought he did.

Erik was pulling the straps over his head. “So did I get in?” he asked. “I’ll show up, I swear. I’ll do homework. Whatever you’ve got.”

[Gabriel James]

Gabriel laughed a bit when the boy asked if he 'got in'. "This wasn't an audition process, kid," Gabe admitted, accepting his guitar back, and putting it in its place. "I just wanted to see what you've got.... I couldn't keep you from taking my class even if I wanted to. Which I don't," Gabe explained, a small shake of his head as he finished his thought. Gabe could tell there was something within the student that really wanted this. The way he promised to do homework and showing up.... it told Gabe that Erik wasn't always the student who did those things. Music would be good for him... even if it turned out that he wasn't the best at it.

"If you can find time during third period... then I'd be more than happy to have you," Gabe said. "And if not.... maybe we can work something out," Gabe offered. After all, the man gave private lessons for extra spending cash. Of course, he wouldn't be charging the student. It would be a favor, of sorts. Every kid deserved the opportunity to learn if they wanted to. "If you're really serious about this, and can't convince whoever it is to let you have 3rd period... maybe I'll set aside a couple of lunch periods a week to help you out," Gabe offered. He wasn't even completely sure why he wanted to pull strings for this kid. For some reason it just felt like it was what he needed to do.

[Erik Stewart]

"Oh," Erik responded. So it wasn't a matter of talent, it was a matter of fighting school schedules. Erik wasn't confident in that. Part of him wanted to give up rather than talk to teachers about it, but another part of him argued that he'd gotten this far and he might as well see it through. He'd much rather ask Mike, though. Or...

But he still thought asking Gabriel to sacrifice his lunch periods was too much. "I'll talk t'Mike," he muttered. Though he wasn't sure when and how, it still seemed like his best bet. Maybe he can get Mike to talk to the teachers for him, since, regrettably, training did not take up third period. That seemed as good as a plan as any.

"Thanks. I'll let you know," he said. "Maybe, uh. A week."

Erik shrugged. "I see 'im on Monday next."

[Gabriel James]

Gabe watched as the boy left, wondering if he'd actually see him again. He seemed nervous, for some reason. Like what he was doing wasn't allowed, or was somehow taboo. Though it wasn't the type of nervous Gabe often found in kids who were shy and quiet. The man couldn't quite pin it, though. He'd never had a student come to him this late in the semester asking to join a class, either. Perhaps a student would come to him to ask for some extra help, or a private lesson time. But this was new.

"Stop in any time," Gabe said assuredly, trying to make it clear that Erik was more than welcome in the space. Gabe was ultimately willing to help whoever needed and wanted it. And it wasn't just because he was a teacher. Gabe liked feeling wanted and needed, and frankly he hadn't been feeling a lot of that lately. "Bring your guitar whenever, we can jam," Gabe offered, a small joking smile on his face - because he knew that the boy was pretty incapable of just letting go and letting the music happen right now. But Gabe hoped he could help fix, and release that.

[Erik Stewart]

It was only three days before Erik appeared again. He looked a little tired, eyes shadowed and some strands of hair in disarray.

He felt a little guilty. Despite wanting to learn music more than anything he’d wanted in, well, a long time, he hadn’t tried very hard to convince anyone of it. A simple ‘no’ was enough to turn him away. Some teachers he hadn’t even bothered asking. Not even Mike had been very receptive to the idea: if he was going to be done with school, he’d said, then his powers training was a priority. The only reason he’d shown up now was because he hadn’t forgotten Gabriel’s claim that he’d teach him privately, but to him it felt wrong to just come out and ask it.

“I couldn’t get out of my third period class,” he said, folding his arms.

[Gabriel James]

Gabe's eyes glanced up from a paper he was grading when the door to his office in the music room swung open and Erik walked inside. "Knocking would be nice," Gabe noted before Erik even started speaking. He put his eyes back on the paper. Generally, Gabe had an open door policy, but he still preferred a little warning to someone coming into the room. And with the kind of week he'd been having, the man's nerves were wearing a bit thin. He was definitely a bit cranky and tired, and unfortunately his students were being effected by it.

When the boy noted his inability to get out of his class and into Gabe's, the man barely reacted. He just kept grading. Frankly he wanted to finish marking up the lyrics assignment so he could just go home. "Alright," Gabe said somewhat dryly, "And what would you want me to do about that?" His words were accompanied by a bite that the man had not intended, and when he realized what he probably sounded like right now, he dropped his pen and shook his head. HE merely wanted Erik to give Gabe (and himself) other options.

Realizing his words likely came off the wrong way - like he didn't care or didn't want to help - he signed an ran a hand through his hair. Sitting back in his desk chair and tearing his eyes away from the red notes he was flooding assignments with, he looked back up at the boy with an apologetic gaze. "Sorry," he muttered, "That came out wrong... it's been a tough couple of days." He set the papers aside so he could focus a bit more on how he was coming across, and hopefully give the kid the respect and attention he deserved. "So you can't get into third period but still wanna learn I presume? Otherwise why would you be here?"

Gabe was probably coming off very different than he had the first time Erik had been in the office. But it was amazing how Gabe's emotions could change over the course of three days. He had spent all day forcing smiles and being positive in order to cater to his students, and it was exhausting. He'd let go of all that to sit down and grade and frankly he was too far in to pull himself completely together for Erik.

[Erik Stewart]

Erik paused. Okay, maybe this was his fault. He felt like he should have been prepared for this; it was weird he hadn’t considered it before. What did he want him to do about it? That was a good question. “Uh,” he said, suddenly feeling like he was navigating an obstacle course. “I…”

Why should I give up lunch period for you? Please explain your reasoning and list three examples, and it has to be better than ‘I’ll show up’. Erik was starting to feel hot. He reached up to twist some hair behind his ear, smoothing around towards the back of his neck. He was drawing a blank, like he had with most tests since elementary school. I can’t believe I just expected him to offer. ‘Nothing’ was the most obvious answer and he was itching to say it; he’d opened his mouth when he was interrupted.

“Oh,” he responded. “Well - it’s just too late, y’know. To get t’changin’ my schedule.” Erik shrugged. “That’s what they told me. Anyway, I…”

Just get it out. “It’s gonna be my last semester, an’ I just really want t’learn, y’know. If I could find a place t’teach me I would’ve gone there. I can pay you. I have a job. If you don’t wanna do lunch period I could do after class, maybe once a week, somethin’…”

[Gabriel James]

A small smile formed on the mans lips, because Erik gave him the answer he was hoping for. "Listen kid, I really didn't mean to make it seem like I was giving you a hard time," Gabe promised. "But I did want to know, is how serious you are about this." The man rolled his chair over to his computer and clicked a few things as he continued talking. "Because, you know, when you came in a few days ago I looked you up in the system to see what your schedule was... and I learned a few other things along the way," Gabe admitted, pulling up the file the school had on Erik.

"Now let's get one thing straight, you're not paying me for anything.... but I'll be damned if you skip my lessons and don't practice when I'm going out of my way to teach you," Gabe said, referring to, of course, the number of classes it seemed Erik had skipped.

Gabe looked from his computer screen to Erik. "You say this is your last semester?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. "No offense... and I'm not trying to be judgmental... I don't know you... but with the grades I have listed here, I find that a bit hard to believe," Gabe said, trying his hardest not to sound accusing or mean. He was just wondering. He wanted to know where this kids head was. Where his motivation lay, if any.

[Erik Stewart]

“I said I wouldn’t,” he snapped. He thought there’d be rules against snooping around in students’ files. It wasn’t anything Gabriel couldn’t figure out if he just asked around, sure, and even Erik would have told him he wasn’t doing so well if he’d asked. But as someone who had seen his academic record on paper before, he’d an idea of how embarrassing it looked. Definitely not something he wanted a lot of people to see.

He’d crossed his arms at some point. Erik wondered if he hadn’t guessed already, if he’d seen just how far he was from real graduation. “It is my last semester,” he said. “They said I had t’wait ’til this one’s over, so I’m droppin’ out then.”

Otherwise, he’d have already been out of here. Erik’s distrust of the teaching staff made him think they might have been lying to him - after all, tons of normal kids dropped out whenever they liked - but he still had his living arrangements to sort out, anyway.