lost and arts

[mwestbelle]

LOSTOMG. MOAR TOMORROW WHEN I CAN MAKE ACTUAL SENSE OF IT WITHOUT CAPSLOCKKKKING!!!!

*ahem*

In other news...

Clandestine Academy for the Arts
PG-13 for now, various pairings, 3688 words


Frank is a modern dancer, but he doesn’t hold with all the beauty-and-rebirth-and-swaying-daisies type of bullshit most of his classmates go in for. When he was little, he was in ballet, tap, and jazz because he just couldn’t get enough. The ballet instructor at school regularly bemoans Frank’s decision to go modern because he’s “such a unique talent,” but Frank just doesn’t have the patience and control for the smooth and formal lines of ballet; he’s all energy, all contortion and movement. When Frank dances, it’s intense. He was one of the youngest students to ever get regular solo pieces, not on the basis of talent (although he has plenty of that) but for the safety of the other dancers. Frank’s been known to throw choreography out the window on stage, throwing in backbends and flips and insane twirls that would endanger greater performers than his fellow modern dance students, a generally low-key and emotionally delicate lot (with the obvious exception of Frank himself.) The dance department considers Frank a godsend because, in addition to the appeal of a car crash (which of his partners will he take out first?) and stunning talent, he’s also tiny, totally likeable, and really really hot; attendance for modern dance performances has sky-rocketed since Frank started attending CA, and even kids from the local public school have been known to show up. He’s got lots of friends and even some fans, and he gets along with pretty much everyone except Gerard Way.

Bob and Ray are in ballet. Even though CA is an arts school, there’s still some people who might be inclined to laugh at them but no one does, since Ray could break you with his thighs, and Bob could just break you, period. Bob gets cast as a villain in a lot of pieces, since he’s big and has a beard (and a lip ring! He’s so hardcore!) and can lift anyone in the entire department (except maybe Ray, but he’s never tried so the world may never know), and he’s really a very good dancer. He has strong lines and a definite stage presence in addition to technical skill. He was a late addition to the dance performances; he started out in the choreography classes and never intended to actually dance on stage. But when their Mercutio had to be unexpectedly removed from the production two weeks before opening, Bob filled in (he’d been doing his semester as assistant choreographer so he’d practically created the part, he had the technical training and physical presence, and Ray Toro had pouted at him until he agreed). After that, he would have had to fight his way through half the dance instructors (who tended to be lithe, but scrappy) to get back to his nice, quiet backstage workshop, so he just figured it was easier to switch to ballet with emphasis in choreography. Honestly, it had nothing to do with the thrill he got actually doing it instead of watching from the wings, or that now he got to hang out with Ray pretty much all day, every day. Nothing at all.

People don’t expect Ray to be a ballet dancer. Actually, people don’t really expect him to be anything, they just see The Kid with The Hair. But that’s cool, he doesn’t mind, because he gets to see their mouths drop when he slips out of jeans and a well-worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt and becomes a dancer. For shows, he usually slicks his hair down and back into a ponytail at the base of his neck, but during class and rehearsals he tends to just whip it into an insane topknot that bobs and waves with every move. He looks kind of like one of those fiber optic lamps, with different strands flying everywhere, but he manages to distract from that (no mean feat) with intense focus and passion for dance. His grand jeté was unparalleled, and damn, those thighs. He loved doing shows (he was Oberon last year, and let his hair free, it was awesome) but unlike most of his fellow dancers, he actually prefers class to performances. He just loves drilling his basics, working on his technique and just dancing without worrying about an audience.

The dance kids do tend to hang out a lot, even across styles, since they share rehearsal spaces and extra studio time, but at the end of the day, they usually stick to their own kind. The exception to the rule is Frank, who, given the choice of stretching with any of the dance kids, will find some way to sit on Bob’s head. Ray thinks it’s hilarious, and Bob pretends to be gets annoyed, and tries to punch Frank, which is a lot like trying to punch a balloon--it’s always just out of reach, and even when you do make contact, it just bounces back at you twice as fast. So the three of them usually end up stretching together, and if they’re in the practice space together, it’s a given that at least once, Bob will be interrupted in whatever he’s working on by a little whirling dervish scrambling up his back.

The only person at CA who can even contend with Frank for energy is Brendon. He’s a thespian (and yes, he does giggle incessantly every time he says it) but he’s never satisfied with one thing, so he’s also packed in as many music and dance classes as he can (not writing or art, because the one time he showed Ryan something he wrote, Ryan told him that it’s not literature if no one is drowning in self-hatred and Brendon decided he wasn’t really interested in literature after all, and stick figures are somewhere outside of his skill level with a pen). He earned Frank’s eternal affection when, flopping down exhausted and sweating backstage during the spring showcase after his piece (described as an “exploration of the freedom and ethereal nature of the human soul”) he whispered, breathless, “Can I tell you a secret? My dance? It was about “A Whole New World.”” Frank approved, and the two have been giggling and vibrating off the walls together ever since.

Brendon loves theatre class, slipping into new personas and the exaggerated expressions are just too much fun. But, really, he takes theatre very, very seriously, more seriously than anyone would imagine him capable of. When he first started in class, the teacher was worried about his focus, but after class after class of goofing around and making terrible jokes, he turned up on stage with all his lines memorized and eager to learn. He’s always eager, and anything he lacks in finesse he makes up for in pure puppyish enthusiasm and dedication that leaves him stalking the stage, muttering lines under his breath long after the rest of the cast has gone home. After several panicked calls from Mrs. Urie that result in the discovery of Brendon fast asleep in the wings, the strict order is sent out to both faculty and student directors that Brendon is under no circumstances, no matter how much his lip quivers or how big his eyes get, to be allowed to stay after rehearsal has ended. He pouts a lot, but stops getting locked inside the theatre, which is nice. His clothes kept getting ruined with black residue from the stage floor, which annoyed his mother but, more importantly, was taken as a personal offense by Ryan.

Even though he’s a freshman, Ryan is in the advanced fiction writing course “on the strength of his portfolio.” He spends most of his time wearing fingerless gloves and being pretentious, but underneath he’s really, really worried that he doesn’t deserve to be here. It just seems too easy. He had always wanted more, wanted to reach for something greater, but he never dreamed of trying to actually do something about it. But when Spencer decided to go, he just couldn’t be left behind. So he followed, and he finds that he really fits in here. There are a lot of guys who like to talk about man’s inhumanity to man and make obscure references and give each other serious looks over ironically thick glasses. Of course, there are also guys like Brendon who just wrap themselves around you and don’t let go, but Ryan doesn’t really mind that either. Not as much as he pretends to, at least. But more important than his social life is his writing. He loves the workshop classes he gets to take, gets to write more graphically, erotically, more everything than he ever could have at a public school. (Or would have been brave enough to, more accurately.) The best part hands down, though, is Pete Wentz.

Pete is a grad student, theoretically. He hasn’t actually started the “applying for programs” thing yet (or even the “deciding what the hell he wants to do with his life” thing). The official school records list him as an intern, though he considers himself as more of a mentor to the impressionable young minds of the CA. Mostly, he draws on himself in Sharpie and monopolizes poetry nights with his stream-of-consciousness free verse. But then there are a couple kids though he takes a real interest in (Not like that, although, yeah actually, sometimes like that, because CA has a totally improbable concentration of hot underage asses. Seriously, there are better looking students than any other school he’s visited. A study should be done.) Ryan is one of those kids. Pete’s just all around impressed by him; he really wants to help him succeed--it certainly doesn’t hurt that Ryan treats Pete like he invented words. The two of them usually eat lunch together, trying not to drop bits of lettuce on their novels, or just chatting about music, girls, boys, and the world. At least, they do until Pete spots Patrick.

Patrick isn’t sure how much he likes CA. Oh, the music program is beyond excellent, and it’s great to meet people who love it just as much as he does, but…he kind of wanted to go to the public school. Most of the kids here say “public school” with the same tone one says “goat-raping pedophiles” but as much as Patrick loves music, he’s not sure about this whole “arts” thing. He thinks it might have been more logical to go to public school, have a normal teenage experience, and then have a solid platform to go on to whatever he wants. But then his piano teacher pressed a CA booklet into his hands (“I don’t want to lose you, of course,” she said, “But you’re so beyond this, I can’t hold you back.”) and his mother was already obsessed with being “supportive.” So here he is. It’s nice, of course, and the kids are great--he’s in guitar and piano with Brendon--and though he’s no Gerard Way, he’s entirely too shy for that, people usually nod when they’re introduced and say “Oh yeah, Patrick” even if they can’t quite remember where they’ve heard his name. He’s content, with one exception. Pete Wentz, who Brendon tells him is a fiction-writing intern and older and has words flowing through him like blood onto the former immaculacy of the white linoleum on the kitchen floor and a total genius (Patrick thinks this description was pretty heavily influenced by Ryan) and damn hot. Brendon didn’t tell him the last part, he figured it out on his own. After asking around a little, Patrick also finds out that Pete’s dad is on the board of trustees, and that’s the generally accepted explanation for his presence, since he doesn’t really do a lot besides draw bats on his arm during workshops and argue that the lack of capital letters is really a metaphor for the lack of distinction between minutia and life-changing thoughts whenever someone criticizes his poetry or his hair. What Patrick can’t find out is why Pete Wentz is stalking him.

One day Brendon was dragging him over to sit with Ryan and Pete (“Don’t make me go by myself, Patrick! What if he’s allergic to my cologne and has a coughing fit? What if he thinks my sandwich smells gross and tells me to throw it away or move but I can’t throw it away because it’s egg salad, and that’s my favorite, and Mom says I need a full lunch to keep my energy up? What if I accidentally imply that fingerless gloves are illogical because your fingers are the part that gets coldest and are most likely to fall off? What then, Patrick, what then?“ And Patrick didn’t mention that he spent so much time fluttering around Ryan they would probably have figure it out by now if he was allergic to Brendon’s cologne…and that Brendon didn’t actually wear cologne anyway, or that whatever Mrs. Urie said, Brendon was the one person Patrick would name who did not need help with energy (after Frank Iero), or…well, the last one was actually a valid argument--he didn’t mention any of that, because he was a good friend) and Ryan was waving a (fingerlessly gloved) hand at him with “Yeah, this is Patrick, he plays instruments. Or something.” and the next--the next, Pete Wentz was everywhere. In the hallways, outside his classes, practically on top of him and smiling. It’s always “hey Patrick, I like your hat” or “hey Patrick, you know what they say about saving drums” or “hey Patrick, I want lick you all over” and he just doesn’t understand what all this ridiculousness is about. He tries to ignore him, but after about a week, he’s being stalked by Ryan Ross too who, thankfully, does not make terrible innuendo or try to pet his sideburns, but instead glares and makes vaguely threatening motions with his scarf (he’s either trying to tell Patrick he’s going to strangle him with it and no one will ever find the body and no one will ever look for him with a sharp pun about “killer fashion“ implied, or he’s suddenly being accosted by invisible clouds of gnats that he needs to shoo at five-minute intervals which Patrick doubts because, though he sometimes resembles a hobo, Ryan always smells very nice.)

While Patrick’s life is very exciting, Spencer’s is pretty monotonous. He’s a design student, and he spends all his time poring over fashion magazines and making sketches which, yeah, sounds good on paper but there’s also the sewing and bleeding parts and there’s only so many pairs of leggings you can look at before wanting to sew your own eyes shut. Spencer passed that point two weeks into the beginning of the semester, and sometimes he thinks he was an idiot to ever think that he could do this. But there are other times when he’s spent three weeks on a dress and it’s just gorgeous and it’s all worth it. Besides, it’s not like he can ever get bored, since he’s in a class with Bill Beckett, who sings until someone makes him shut up and sometimes clacks around the workroom in heels (which is totally unfair, because it’s not like he needs the boost). Spencer gets along reasonably well with Bill, considering that Spencer is anal retentive and a bitch and Bill is a “motherfucking free spirit, girls” and a bitch. Sometimes Spencer thinks he’s just going to take a pair of shears to Bill’s temple one day, but then he remembers that Bill is friends with Jon and stops.

Jon is a photography student, and he usually brings his lunch and hangs out in the workroom, sitting on the edge of Bill’s table, eating a sandwich and laughing. Even though it’s not really part of his studies (he’s specializing in nature shots--animals, landscapes, people outside), as a favor to Bill, he comes in and takes pictures of Bill’s designs for his portfolio. And because he’s too sweet and awesome to be real, he takes them for anyone else who asks. Spencer never has. It’s not that he’s shy, it’s just, he doesn’t want to blend in. He doesn’t want Jon to think of him as “one of the guys in Bill’s class,” he wants Jon to remember him, which is girly and stupid, but it works. Because every time he’s finishing a piece, Jon comes and leans his forearms on the table, kicking up one leg, then the other, and says “Why, Spencer Smith, that is just pretty as a picture. Wouldn’t it be pretty as one of my pictures?” And Spencer smiles. (Ryan tried to write a brief essay about Spencer’s smile once, but he gave up because he thinks in terms of whores and filth and Spencer’s smile is starshine and baby penguins.) (Brendon did a dance piece based on Spencer’s smile, to much greater success. Of course, he told his teacher that it was about “the single ineffable moment when a flower becomes a blossom.)

Bill has other friends who like to visit too, and they make Spencer less happy. There’s Gabe, who’s in visual media and is really creepy. When he’s not dancing around their workroom with brief pauses for licking Bill, he lurks in doorways and scares underclassman. Spencer kind of doubts that Gabe ever actually goes to class, except Jon mentioned that he was in a lighting and composition class with him once, and he just kept asking the teacher questions about what kind of lights he would recommend to get good shots in a basement and how dark bruises have to be to show up well on camera. It wouldn’t bother Spencer too much, since he doesn’t actually have any classes with Gabe, nor is he likely to, but now that Gabe recognizes him, he keeps popping up. Ryan, interestingly, is completely unthreatened by Gabe. After a basic-assault, he just turned with long arms still looped around his ribcage and said, in his amused voice (which can be kind of hard to separate from his bored voice or his angry voice, but Spencer picks up on these things)“Spence, that weird guy just asked me if I wanted to accept his cobra, do you think I should go to guidance?” Gabe leaned in and muttered something in Spanish against Ryan’s neck, squeezed him tight, and wandered off. Apparently they’re friends now, or something, Spencer has no idea and doesn’t want to. He is kind of worried that Ryan’s going to get abducted and tortured or something, because much as he loves the guy, Ryan isn’t a fantastic judge of people (c’mon, he picked Pete Wentz to be his idol.)

There’s also Travis, who Spencer likes much better, because he’s really mellow and usually just kind of leans against the wall and talks in a low, mumbly voice to Bill with a couple expansive gestures and secretive smiles thrown in. He also has really big hands and will hold copious amounts of fabric for Spencer while he’s draping, which gets him lots of points.

The Way brothers are in art. Mikey does quick, almost frantic feeling pencil sketches that capture a distinct sense of movement. He draws Frank a lot, because Frank has a lot of movement to capture and Frank’s also kind of a whore for modeling. Relative to his brother, he’s kind of a nonentity, but he likes it that way. He just goes about his business, doodles unicorns, and texts his girlfriend (who stayed at the public). He also spends a lot of time cuddling with Pete Wentz. It doesn’t mean anything--maybe it did once, but Mikey never said anything and Pete never said anything, and now Mikey’s got Alicia and Pete, well, he’s desperately trying to get Patrick--but it feels nice. Mikey would rather cuddle with Gerard, because he’s much warmer with softer edges, but Pete seems like a safer choice. Mikey isn’t really all that interested in art--he isn’t, to be perfectly honest, all that interested in anything--but he wasn’t about to let Gerard go off to CA all by himself (he needs someone to look after him, and Mikey doesn’t trust anybody else to do it).

Gerard Way is a bit of a celebrity on campus. His paintings--zombie hamsters and vampire family portraits--are somehow both dark and full of joy, even a touch of humor at times. They’re always in the forefront of the display cases, which is shocking (and maybe insulting, depending on who you ask) to his fellow students, because Gerard was a late start. He spent two years skulking past lockers and hiding behind his hair before he was accepted into CA. But he fits here, more than anywhere, and sometimes he finds himself just smiling because he really loves it. He can spend as much time in the studio as he wants, getting paint in a surprising number of the crevasses on his body and thumb a smear of color across Mikey’s cheek (he won’t notice for at least half the day). Of course, it’s not like he’s happy all the time. Sometimes he hates the attention. He’s never told anyone except Mikey, because he knows it’s stupid, but sometimes he really hates being Gerard Way. It’s not him, but it is, but it’s not. The paintings represent a part of him, but it’s not who he is, and everyone loves his paintings and he always feels like he (normal everyday Gerard) is a disappointment to them. He hates disappointing people. It was easier to just hang out with Bert and do whatever stupid shit they thought was a good idea while they were trashed. (Bert hasn’t spoken to him since he came to CA, since Gerard “abandoned” him.) But any time he starts to feel like that, he just looks at Bob and Ray who are so awesome and Patrick, who’s just the most talented and adorable thing he’s ever seen (he just wants to squish him!), and it gets a little better. The only thing he doesn’t understand--and it really eats at him because hey, he’s friendly, and he honestly wants everyone to get along and smile at each other--is why Frank Iero won’t talk to him.

So I'm considering sucking it up and suiting up for bandslashmania. Y/N/Dear God N!! ? Done. *crosses fingers*

Comments

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

Sorry for the heart break...hopefully the snuggly bandboys make up for it ♥