"Have you heard the news? They closed down the school in Southside, so all of them are going to attend our school now." Betty wasn't certain what to think about it, leaning next to Kevin against the lockers while he got his books out. "All those beatniks and greasers. They must think all of us are wet rags and squares."
And maybe they wouldn't be entirely wrong. She bit her lower lip as she looked down the hallway and then her eyes widened. "Oh my."
She felt as if her mother would chastise her for even looking their way. Walking down the hallway in leather jackets. One of the boys had longer hair and he didn't look white. None of them did, really. The girls wore make-up, very obvious make-up, and they looked amazing. They all looked dangerous in an exciting way. "Oh gosh," she said further, reaching for Kevin's hand for support.
Meanwhile, Joaquin came to stand near them in the hallway, since there were too many people gathering around them to easily keep going. He raised his eyebrows and blew out some air, glancing briefly at Toni before deciding to be the one to ask. "Anyone here know who the class president is? Supposed to show us around or something."
"I heard, the principal told me this morning." He had known something was up in Southside from his dad working so late and all but he hadn't realised how bad it was until this morning, at 7am, when he was briefed on his day ahead. He didn't mind the extra work, it was a nice distraction in some ways and it gave him more distance from Betty. Not that he didn't love Betty, he did, he was really in love and she was so swell but sometimes a man needed space.
He looked over the leather jacket clad students and gulped slightly, looking at Betty before squeezing her hand and letting go. This was going to be rough but he was determined to approach it as best he could - with an upbeat attitude.
"Hi! That would be me, actually. I'm Kevin Keller, class president and a representative for our school." Kevin introduced with a wide smile, approaching Joaquin and trying to keep all of that fear rammed down as he went to hold out his hand and then realised, awkwardly, that people were watching. Not the southside kids, of course they were, no, the students in the hall.
Kevin looked back and forth but stuck to his guns and held out a hand for Joaquin. "It's nice to meet you."
"Yeah, it's swell." Kevin Keller. Keller. Were they actually having them shown around by the sheriff's son? That felt excessive. Joaquin took the boy's hand, mildly thrown off when there were actual gasps as a reaction. Bit dramatic, as far as schools went. All right then. "Joaquin DeSantos."
There was some muttering, which felt a bit redundant. Surely people could already see that he wasn't like them. Whatever. He let go of Kevin Keller's astonishingly soft hands and gestured behind himself to introduce the gang. "That's Toni Topaz, Sweet Pea and Fangs Fogarty."
"Hi," Betty said, wanting to support Kevin and daring to step up next to him, smiling. "Welcome to Riverdale High."
"Yeah, feels really welcoming. Thanks." Joaquin gave a nod and looked around. "You don't have to show us anything. I'm sure we can figure it out."
Jughead had watched the video with a thoughtful expression, occasionally jotting down notes. That did beat the sniggering and elbowing most of his peers were doing. What else was new? They had laughed at every video so far this week. Jughead felt it was interesting how they decided to shoot it, yet he also had some other thoughts. So, when they were asked for comments, he raised his hand.
"At least Ralph was a decent homosexual. He took Jimmy to some nice places." Jughead shrugged. "I never get taken anywhere."
"Your depraved commentary is not necessary here, Mr Jones."
"Why not? I'm a boy living alone, seems like I'd be a prime target. If there is as much danger as you keep telling us, I want to make sure I find a Ralph instead of any of those murderous homosexuals."
This was definitely one of the most mortifying experiences of his life. He was slumped in his seat, feeling such overwhelming guilt and misery, while everyone else was having a right laugh. He wondered if Joaquin was upset by it too. If anyone else was. If there was more of them than he thought. Probably not.
Archie raised his hand and then asked, with a smile: "How do we know if it's a Ralph or a murderous one? I don't want Jughead getting murdered by a homosexual."
Kevin put his head in his hands. Oh God. Was he a Ralph?
Julian raised his hand and when gestured to, decided to contribute to this. "I do. I think it's a fitting end for Jugs."
"I think it's probably a question of class. It's like getting a ride from a swell guy like my man Archie or some other ginger slime bucket," Jughead said it with a smile that he directed at Archie, feeling quite smug about how Archie had joined in with his mockery. Even if he suspected that Archie might be entirely sincere. "Anyway, if I do end up like that, I hope I get a good headline at least."
Joaquin was saying nothing, naturally, but he couldn't help looking at Kevin, his heart hurting for him. He wanted to protect him from feeling this way.
"I'll be honest, I think at the point where I get shown those pornographic pictures it depends mostly on just how nice his car is." Jughead felt that was reasonable. "That's why girls put up with Julian. At least Ralph had class."
"Just give me the essay, you can put the food on the table," Jughead instructed, sitting by his typewriter and indicating what he called the table. It kind of was a table, if maybe due a good tidy and a bit of a clean. He looked at Kevin and wondered how he had kept something like that hidden. That was the only interesting thing he had ever found out about Kevin Keller. On the other hand, he supposed a secret like that explained why he tried to be as unobtrusive and inconspicuous as possible.
A homosexual. It didn't really alarm Jughead, he doubted he was in any danger with Kevin. "You could just go outside, if you wanted."
He wasn't sure what protocol dictated here. "I know why you came here."
"Because of my tendency to end sentences with prepositions?" Kevin asked, not sure why Jughead looked at him like that but Kevin tried to work out what he was pitching at here. He set his paper down and then looked behind him at the door, leading out towards Fox Woods. Did Jughead just want him to stand outside all day? It was September so it wasn't too cold but it was a bit nippy.
"I can certainly wait outside, if it's better for you." Kevin suggested, hands in his pockets, that usual polite and accommodating smile. It was true, being unobtrusive and forgettable in some ways was a super power for him. It helped him avoid any suspicion.
Did Kevin really not know? If he was playing at being oblivious, he was a much better liar than Jughead would have given him credit for. Also, why would he keep that act up if he presumably just wanted to go outside for the chance to meet with Joaquin.
Had he gotten it wrong or was Kevin just obtuse? Jughead frowned and tried to figure out how to say this without saying anything that couldn't be taken back. "I'm just saying, you might run into someone from school if you stepped outside."
Was that still too subtle? "DeSantos sounded as if he might be close by. Around 3 p.m., since he knows where my train car is."
"Is that my paper?" Kevin took a deep breath as he came in, avoiding Jugheads eyes as he came close to him and looked at the papers instead. He reached for them and saw a myriad of corrections, input and margin notes. This was going to be fun to rewrite tonight.
"Thanks, I really appreciate this."
And he didn't just mean the paper. He meant all of this. A place, a space, somewhere he could see Joaquin. And if Joaquin thought Jughead was on the level, he probably was. He could always trust Joaquin.
"Uh-huh," Jughead said, his eyes not leaving the comic page he was reading as he finished off the burger Kevin had brought him. He was chewing, partially swallowing, but that didn't keep him from talking. "You overuse adverbs, big time. Really makes you lose impact."
He leaned back and looked at Kevin, shrugging. "But it could be worse. Archie's papers make no sense, so."
"I know, I proofread them before. It's impossible without him there to decode it." Kevin laughed a little as he grabbed his bag and put his papers back into it, feeling anxious in a way he wasn't sure how to deal with. "I'll fix it all tonight, looks like a whole project. I'll have to cancel on Betty."
Oh God, he was cheating on Betty. And Jughead knew. This was a nightmare!
"You're not gonna... talk to anyone about this, are you? The-- everything." If that made sense.
"You are late, preppy," Joaquin commented from where he was leaning against the train car, wondering whether Kevin had even brought an essay or any other piece of him as a cover or if he could just talk to him without him having to check in with Jughead first.
Either way, he supposed he could wait a bit longer. He had already waited for one useless half an hour anyway. Which he assumed Kevin had a good explanation for or he was going to pout at him something fierce.
"I'm so sorry." Kevin jogged down the hill a little after peeking into Jughead's train car. He'd just dropped a milkshake off on the nearest surface as a thank you, like he always did, before hurrying down to Joaquin. He was late. Very late. He knew and he felt awful but he couldn't help it. "My dad wouldn't let me leave. He, uh, he's real angry at me. I blew it with Betty."
Betty had dumped him Friday and he hadn't really told anyone. It was too much to handle and he had no idea what to do. Her mom had called his dad, they were talking for an hour on the phone. And then, while he mowed the lawn, his dad had been in his room. Kevin looked utterly dejected, leaning against a tree and staring at the ground. "I'm in big trouble. He knows. I know he knows."
Joaquin was smiling, had been smiling ever since Kevin told him that he had blown it with Betty. Then he realised that this was not the reaction Kevin needed from him, so he calmed himself down and walked toward Kevin. He put a hand on the tree next to where Kevin leaned his head and looked at him, his voice soft. "I'm sorry."
Not about the end of Betty and Kevin but he was sorry about how much Kevin was hurting. "He doesn't know for sure, your dad. He can't."
He knew Kevin had been careful enough. "Maybe he'll get over his suspicion."
Gym class was tedious. Hartley wasn't exactly a slouch. He actually enjoyed exercising from time to time, it helped him focus and he also liked being in shape. However, much like just about anything else in his life, he enjoyed doing it by himself.
The gym teacher had no idea what to do with him. There had been a few times the man had stood right in front of him and yelled and Hartley had simply pretended not to know what he wanted from him. He had known but he sure wasn't going to do it for that idiot. He'd rather be thought of as deaf and dumb.
Which meant that he now had leeway to pretty much ignore gym class. He sat on one of the benches on the side and read a book on music theory, dressed in gym shorts and shirt and thoroughly uninterested in what was going on. His classmates ignored him and he ignored them. It was for the best that way.
Fangs wasn't overly interested in going to Stonewall prep. He didn't want a scholarship, he couldn't even spell scholarship. He didn't want to change his hair or his clothes, plus he wanted to stay with Joaquin and Sweet Pea. This was all a tactic. Playing hardball. Toni had helped him set it up.
He was showing off his skills to the coach, a scout, who had shown interest once he'd heard about him. If he could make himself a viable candidate for this team then there was no way that Riverdale High wouldn't poach him.
Especially since he was enrolled there and not here.
It was fun to play basketball properly and while he was way better than anyone else here, the constant elbows, slurs and lack of passing was making it a bit dull. After getting one last basket in, Fangs walked over to the bleachers to take a break. The coach gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Turned out that when you were good at something, it made white guys not afraid to smile and be nice. Weird.
"Oh man, I am so sweaty." Fangs informed the guy sitting near him, using his hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "You sick today or something?" Why wasn't this guy on the court? He frowned and then tilted his head to the side. Music-- something. Theorye? He didn't know. But he did like music. "Oh cool, do you like music? What do you play? I'm a guitar guy, sometimes drums."
No, Hartley had never been here before. It was not exactly in his neighbourhood. However, one of the hidden benefits of being an antisocial genius and former child prodigy was that he had really never gone out anywhere and therefore his parents had no pre-existing framework of rules for handling that he was going out somewhere.
He didn't ask, either. He simply told them and said goodbye, then left. They might have yelled something after him - he'd never know.
So here he was, just around 7 pm, sitting on a table by the wall and wondering whether Fangs would actually perform here. He took a sip of his coke and he was reading a book again, this time one on physics, ignoring everything else but glancing at the stage every now and then.
Fangs had let some beatnik go on before him as he had to tune his guitar and get a better sound from it. While he was doing that, some weird slam poetry was going on. Fangs didn't understand it so he assumed that meant it was probably smart or whatever. By the time the poetry reading was done, Fangs are practically bouncing to get on.
Walking onto the stage, he heard his friends cheer and Toni whistle loudly. He scanned the crowd and then saw Hartley had actually come. He smiled at him.
"Hello, ladies and gentleman. You know the drill. Dance if you wanna, listen if you care and have a good time."
He started off with something upbeat so everyone could dance, some Jackie Wilson, just to get everyone warmed up before he played a few of his favourites like Buddy Holly and Little Richard.
And finally, he looked over at Hartley and strummed playfully as he hopped off the stage and started to move towards him. "And this last one goes out to a special cat that came all the way to see me. He's deaf so I gotta play a bit different, you feel me? So let me just get on down there."
There was some whispering but Fangs got off stage and approached Hartley. He placed his foot right by Hartley's so he could feel the beat as he tapped it out simple before he started to play. "Ooh, well I got a girl with a record machine. When it comes to rockin' she's the queen."
He kept singing, tapping his foot and trying to get as much bass as he could from his guitar, playing lower notes. "So I'll walk one, two flight, three flight, four. Five, six, seven flight, eight flight, more. Up on the twelfth I'm startin' to drag. Fifteenth floor I'm a-ready to sag. Get to the top, I'm too tired to rock."
With a grin, he started to riff a little. "Can you sing with your hands?" He could talk with them apparently.
Fangs was difficult. Not an easy problem to solve and then move on from. Hartley had had crushes before. They had been on various kinds of boys and he had solved the situation in various ways. Often he had simply spent some time analysing the boy in question and that had been sufficient to get over it. There was always something repulsive.
Sometimes the way they repulsed him had ended up having the opposite effect. Turned out that anger passionate desire were closer together - for him - than was likely healthy. In those cases, it had taken some kind of physical release. Whether that ended in a fight or whether they actually went beyond that into touches that would then lead to threats of what would happen should he tell. As if he'd not be more embarrassed by that than anyone.
Then there were the cute boys. Just a few of those. And those he had to cut out because they led him to something within himself that he wasn't comfortable with. Those boys that were bashful and innocent and that had no idea just what Hartley could do to them.
He'd not have thought that Fangs would be a boy like that. Rough kid from a rough background. Yet he was. Yet he was everything Hartley knew better than to ever dream of.
So he had a few strategies for how to handle it, all under the general premise of it having to end soon. Soon, but not quite yet.
Which was why they were sitting in the music room at Stonewall prep, so he could explain how to read music to Fangs. They were seated by the piano, that way he could play the notes as they went along, and Fangs had his guitar. Of course. He always seemed to have it with him.
"Generally, major keys are good for excitement. Joy. When you feel gay." He smiled briefly as he played a few of them, then he moved on. "Minor keys express longing, sadness. Those feelings."
The notes were confusing and he was trying to make the sound and put a note to it but his brain was having trouble connecting them. He was really hoping it'd all set in soon or Hartley might start thinking he was a total idiot. He plucked E minor and then E major on his guitar, trying to listen and hear how it was different.
"Yeah, you tend to use more minor for sadder notes. My father used to mostly stick around minor when he was playing those old Latin love songs. They were kind of a bummer." Lots of missing home and girls called Maria. Even so, he had always loved to watch how his dad's hand moved up and down the frets, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Fangs laughed to himself a little though, looking at Hartley playfully. "So when you're here with me, we're major key and when I leave you all lonesome, you'll be minor." Cause who didn't miss him when he was gone?
"We gotta talk." Fangs told Joaquin as soon as he stepped outside into their garden/court/patch of grass with a hoop. Toni was out, Sweet Pea was asleep and Joaquin had only just got home so he wasn't wasting any time. He peeked inside, checked that Sweet Pea was asleep and then closed the door before Joaquin could head back in.
"I got a problem and I think only you will get it." And maybe Joaquin could shed some light on all of this cause he was so, so confused.
"...what's the haps?" Joaquin was slightly wary, as problems that Fangs had could come all the way out of left field and he was not sure whether he was ready for that right now. He had just had to listen to Kevin go on about whatever student council issues there were for way too long, his head was buzzing from that. However, he was trying to be a good friend and Fangs tended to need all the help he could get.
There were crushes. He was used to those. Then there were those times he really hated a boy but somehow ended up exchanging intimacies in spite of that. And now, somehow, there was this. There was him in the Dark Room again, watching Fangs perform. He could not hear a thing, which was maybe a blessing, because that also meant he could not hear the girls that, from the look of them, kept squealing.
All he could hear was his heartbeat while his mind supplied images and thoughts he was trying not to engage with. Fangs and him alone. Fangs talking about love and smiling with that spark in his eyes.
He noticed movement beside him and turned his head, seeing Kevin Keller sit down. The sheriff's son, he knew that. And he had his theories beyond that, based on some things Fangs had said. For now he waved his hand in greeting. It was pretty polite, for him.
Fangs had insisted, very adamantly insisted, that he speak to Hartley and Kevin was still not sure why. He wasn't sure if it was the clothing similarities, the music interest or that Fangs just really wanted someone to sit with his deaf friend - he had no clue. He supposed he was a friendly enough guy so if anyone did it, it would be him.
He sat down at the table and watched Fangs perform something in Spanish. His Spanish was not the best, he kept making some embarrassing mistakes with Joaquin so he didn't even try to pretend he understood it.
Waiting for Hartley to look at him again, because he knew Hartley had to see him talk, he decided to go with the one topic he was sure about. "Fangs is real good, right?"
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And maybe they wouldn't be entirely wrong. She bit her lower lip as she looked down the hallway and then her eyes widened. "Oh my."
She felt as if her mother would chastise her for even looking their way. Walking down the hallway in leather jackets. One of the boys had longer hair and he didn't look white. None of them did, really. The girls wore make-up, very obvious make-up, and they looked amazing. They all looked dangerous in an exciting way. "Oh gosh," she said further, reaching for Kevin's hand for support.
Meanwhile, Joaquin came to stand near them in the hallway, since there were too many people gathering around them to easily keep going. He raised his eyebrows and blew out some air, glancing briefly at Toni before deciding to be the one to ask. "Anyone here know who the class president is? Supposed to show us around or something."
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He looked over the leather jacket clad students and gulped slightly, looking at Betty before squeezing her hand and letting go. This was going to be rough but he was determined to approach it as best he could - with an upbeat attitude.
"Hi! That would be me, actually. I'm Kevin Keller, class president and a representative for our school." Kevin introduced with a wide smile, approaching Joaquin and trying to keep all of that fear rammed down as he went to hold out his hand and then realised, awkwardly, that people were watching. Not the southside kids, of course they were, no, the students in the hall.
Kevin looked back and forth but stuck to his guns and held out a hand for Joaquin. "It's nice to meet you."
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There was some muttering, which felt a bit redundant. Surely people could already see that he wasn't like them. Whatever. He let go of Kevin Keller's astonishingly soft hands and gestured behind himself to introduce the gang. "That's Toni Topaz, Sweet Pea and Fangs Fogarty."
"Hi," Betty said, wanting to support Kevin and daring to step up next to him, smiling. "Welcome to Riverdale High."
"Yeah, feels really welcoming. Thanks." Joaquin gave a nod and looked around. "You don't have to show us anything. I'm sure we can figure it out."
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"At least Ralph was a decent homosexual. He took Jimmy to some nice places." Jughead shrugged. "I never get taken anywhere."
"Your depraved commentary is not necessary here, Mr Jones."
"Why not? I'm a boy living alone, seems like I'd be a prime target. If there is as much danger as you keep telling us, I want to make sure I find a Ralph instead of any of those murderous homosexuals."
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Archie raised his hand and then asked, with a smile: "How do we know if it's a Ralph or a murderous one? I don't want Jughead getting murdered by a homosexual."
Kevin put his head in his hands. Oh God. Was he a Ralph?
Julian raised his hand and when gestured to, decided to contribute to this. "I do. I think it's a fitting end for Jugs."
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Joaquin was saying nothing, naturally, but he couldn't help looking at Kevin, his heart hurting for him. He wanted to protect him from feeling this way.
"I'll be honest, I think at the point where I get shown those pornographic pictures it depends mostly on just how nice his car is." Jughead felt that was reasonable. "That's why girls put up with Julian. At least Ralph had class."
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A homosexual. It didn't really alarm Jughead, he doubted he was in any danger with Kevin. "You could just go outside, if you wanted."
He wasn't sure what protocol dictated here. "I know why you came here."
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"I can certainly wait outside, if it's better for you." Kevin suggested, hands in his pockets, that usual polite and accommodating smile. It was true, being unobtrusive and forgettable in some ways was a super power for him. It helped him avoid any suspicion.
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Had he gotten it wrong or was Kevin just obtuse? Jughead frowned and tried to figure out how to say this without saying anything that couldn't be taken back. "I'm just saying, you might run into someone from school if you stepped outside."
Was that still too subtle? "DeSantos sounded as if he might be close by. Around 3 p.m., since he knows where my train car is."
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"Thanks, I really appreciate this."
And he didn't just mean the paper. He meant all of this. A place, a space, somewhere he could see Joaquin. And if Joaquin thought Jughead was on the level, he probably was. He could always trust Joaquin.
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He leaned back and looked at Kevin, shrugging. "But it could be worse. Archie's papers make no sense, so."
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Oh God, he was cheating on Betty. And Jughead knew. This was a nightmare!
"You're not gonna... talk to anyone about this, are you? The-- everything." If that made sense.
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Either way, he supposed he could wait a bit longer. He had already waited for one useless half an hour anyway. Which he assumed Kevin had a good explanation for or he was going to pout at him something fierce.
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Betty had dumped him Friday and he hadn't really told anyone. It was too much to handle and he had no idea what to do. Her mom had called his dad, they were talking for an hour on the phone. And then, while he mowed the lawn, his dad had been in his room. Kevin looked utterly dejected, leaning against a tree and staring at the ground. "I'm in big trouble. He knows. I know he knows."
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Not about the end of Betty and Kevin but he was sorry about how much Kevin was hurting. "He doesn't know for sure, your dad. He can't."
He knew Kevin had been careful enough. "Maybe he'll get over his suspicion."
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The gym teacher had no idea what to do with him. There had been a few times the man had stood right in front of him and yelled and Hartley had simply pretended not to know what he wanted from him. He had known but he sure wasn't going to do it for that idiot. He'd rather be thought of as deaf and dumb.
Which meant that he now had leeway to pretty much ignore gym class. He sat on one of the benches on the side and read a book on music theory, dressed in gym shorts and shirt and thoroughly uninterested in what was going on. His classmates ignored him and he ignored them. It was for the best that way.
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He was showing off his skills to the coach, a scout, who had shown interest once he'd heard about him. If he could make himself a viable candidate for this team then there was no way that Riverdale High wouldn't poach him.
Especially since he was enrolled there and not here.
It was fun to play basketball properly and while he was way better than anyone else here, the constant elbows, slurs and lack of passing was making it a bit dull. After getting one last basket in, Fangs walked over to the bleachers to take a break. The coach gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Turned out that when you were good at something, it made white guys not afraid to smile and be nice. Weird.
"Oh man, I am so sweaty." Fangs informed the guy sitting near him, using his hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "You sick today or something?" Why wasn't this guy on the court? He frowned and then tilted his head to the side. Music-- something. Theorye? He didn't know. But he did like music. "Oh cool, do you like music? What do you play? I'm a guitar guy, sometimes drums."
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He didn't ask, either. He simply told them and said goodbye, then left. They might have yelled something after him - he'd never know.
So here he was, just around 7 pm, sitting on a table by the wall and wondering whether Fangs would actually perform here. He took a sip of his coke and he was reading a book again, this time one on physics, ignoring everything else but glancing at the stage every now and then.
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Walking onto the stage, he heard his friends cheer and Toni whistle loudly. He scanned the crowd and then saw Hartley had actually come. He smiled at him.
"Hello, ladies and gentleman. You know the drill. Dance if you wanna, listen if you care and have a good time."
He started off with something upbeat so everyone could dance, some Jackie Wilson, just to get everyone warmed up before he played a few of his favourites like Buddy Holly and Little Richard.
And finally, he looked over at Hartley and strummed playfully as he hopped off the stage and started to move towards him. "And this last one goes out to a special cat that came all the way to see me. He's deaf so I gotta play a bit different, you feel me? So let me just get on down there."
There was some whispering but Fangs got off stage and approached Hartley. He placed his foot right by Hartley's so he could feel the beat as he tapped it out simple before he started to play. "Ooh, well I got a girl with a record machine. When it comes to rockin' she's the queen."
He kept singing, tapping his foot and trying to get as much bass as he could from his guitar, playing lower notes. "So I'll walk one, two flight, three flight, four. Five, six, seven flight, eight flight, more. Up on the twelfth I'm startin' to drag. Fifteenth floor I'm a-ready to sag. Get to the top, I'm too tired to rock."
With a grin, he started to riff a little. "Can you sing with your hands?" He could talk with them apparently.
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Sometimes the way they repulsed him had ended up having the opposite effect. Turned out that anger passionate desire were closer together - for him - than was likely healthy. In those cases, it had taken some kind of physical release. Whether that ended in a fight or whether they actually went beyond that into touches that would then lead to threats of what would happen should he tell. As if he'd not be more embarrassed by that than anyone.
Then there were the cute boys. Just a few of those. And those he had to cut out because they led him to something within himself that he wasn't comfortable with. Those boys that were bashful and innocent and that had no idea just what Hartley could do to them.
He'd not have thought that Fangs would be a boy like that. Rough kid from a rough background. Yet he was. Yet he was everything Hartley knew better than to ever dream of.
So he had a few strategies for how to handle it, all under the general premise of it having to end soon. Soon, but not quite yet.
Which was why they were sitting in the music room at Stonewall prep, so he could explain how to read music to Fangs. They were seated by the piano, that way he could play the notes as they went along, and Fangs had his guitar. Of course. He always seemed to have it with him.
"Generally, major keys are good for excitement. Joy. When you feel gay." He smiled briefly as he played a few of them, then he moved on. "Minor keys express longing, sadness. Those feelings."
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"Yeah, you tend to use more minor for sadder notes. My father used to mostly stick around minor when he was playing those old Latin love songs. They were kind of a bummer." Lots of missing home and girls called Maria. Even so, he had always loved to watch how his dad's hand moved up and down the frets, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Fangs laughed to himself a little though, looking at Hartley playfully. "So when you're here with me, we're major key and when I leave you all lonesome, you'll be minor." Cause who didn't miss him when he was gone?
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"I got a problem and I think only you will get it." And maybe Joaquin could shed some light on all of this cause he was so, so confused.
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So here he was, ready to listen.
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All he could hear was his heartbeat while his mind supplied images and thoughts he was trying not to engage with. Fangs and him alone. Fangs talking about love and smiling with that spark in his eyes.
He noticed movement beside him and turned his head, seeing Kevin Keller sit down. The sheriff's son, he knew that. And he had his theories beyond that, based on some things Fangs had said. For now he waved his hand in greeting. It was pretty polite, for him.
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He sat down at the table and watched Fangs perform something in Spanish. His Spanish was not the best, he kept making some embarrassing mistakes with Joaquin so he didn't even try to pretend he understood it.
Waiting for Hartley to look at him again, because he knew Hartley had to see him talk, he decided to go with the one topic he was sure about. "Fangs is real good, right?"
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