Icy Inferno (Troyler AU)

⋙ Chapter Nineteen

With a deep breath I rolled up my sleeves. I held onto the edge of the shelves, going up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to reach it. My fingers brushed against the instrument. Despite everything I couldn't get a proper grip on it.

I felt a presence coming up behind me. Before I could react, someone pressed into my back, gripping my hip with one hand. I looked down, recognising the familiar elongated fingers. I relaxed into the touch, knowing I was being saved from further embarrassment.

“Can’t reach the violin?” he teased.

“No... I’m just doing my morning stretches.”

With a disbelieving laugh his other hand reached up to get the violin. He got it easily, only having to rise slightly. Once he got it I turned round, gladly taking it from him. “Cheers babe.”

He leant down and kissed my nose. “You’re welcome.”

The classroom door swung open then, almost bashing Troye’s head. Before either of us could scold the person who’d entered, we saw who it was. Mr Howard rushed towards the door, stopping in his tracks when he saw the person. I was grateful that I'd kept quiet that once - it was the head teacher, after all.

Mr Howard gave her a shaky smile. “Oh, Ms Singh, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you said you were coming at nine o’clock.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It is nine o’clock.”

“Right, yes, of course I must’ve lost track of time. Silly me."

“Hm..." she started writing down on the piece of paper in her hand. "So, are there any students recording?”

“Um, you see, most the students haven’t- ah, Troye and Tyler, my star pupils!” the relief on his face was obvious. “Are you two ready to record the song, or do you need to practice one more time?”

Although I’d wanted to practice again, his desperate expression made me say “No, we’re ready now.”

“Alright then, the recording rooms all set up. Ms Singh, would you like to see a live performance by the most talented students.”

“Sure.”

Troye muttered his annoyance for having to perform, but didn't speak loud enough for others to hear. We did quick vocal exercises. My voice was scratchy that day. Fortunately I was only backing vocals, and Troye was sounding angelic as always.

Once we were poised, and the two teachers had settled down, we started to play. Troye’s melodic voice carried the piece along, harmonising with my own when the chorus took place. The teacher's watched uswith carefully guarded emotions. I blocked them out, focusing on my playing. Once or twice I played the wrong note, creating a disonant sound. I tried not to wince at the sound, remembering the tune in my head as I played on.

Like every time before, my bow was set on fire. The flames licked the solemn expressions from the teachers faces. Ice began to dust the piano at the same time. We played on expertly, showing no outward reaction. Ms Singh’s eyes widened in fascination, even taking out her phone to take a photo.

When we finished, Ms Singh nodded her head in a way that said ‘not bad’. She swiveled round to face the teacher, her neutral expression returning. “How do you think the boys should improve for next time then Mr Howard?”

Mr Howard, who looked ready to clap, lowered his hands and cleared his throat. “Well boys, that was an excellent performance. You had an original arrangement, good timings, well-suited harmonies… To develop the piece you should experiment having the bridge in the minor key, or maybe adding more intonation.” His voice went up, as if he was questioning his own advice.