Not sure of things, but trying anyway

colorber by caldatelier

“Well,” Billy scuffed his toe down to the ground, half shy boy before a teacher he’d never had before in his entire life—too small and too smart for his own good—and part baby animal finding its feet in front of what might be a good friend or a predator, “I’m missing out on additions, secondary lessons that would allow my future to secure itself outside of high school. So, Miss Appleby suggested you?” “Liar.” Billy flinched, looking up from his foot to find Skull with his arms crossed, jacket still hung up on the rack to keep the length out of the way of the ivory and pitch keys of the majestic looking piano that Billy happened to know for a fact the school would not have been able to keep up the payments for if Skull himself didn’t maintain it with those long fingers, those careful eyes, the tools of the trade he’d gotten from Grid only knew where. His frame was still wiry, still pale, but Billy could appreciate that he did, in fact, carry a little bit more muscle than he did sixteen months ago. Nothing like running from Putties and Kaiju and curses to build up the heavy mass. (A little part of Billy’s brain was curious about how that was working out for Skull’s sylphlike legs, but he also knew he’d never find out, given that the young man hadn’t worn shorts in public since before his voice dropped.) He swiveled his eyes from hairless arms up to mercury eyes, eyebrows up and the lips that were thin with the serious aura he was giving off. Right. Eugene didn’t take bullshit about piano matters. Fibbing really wouldn’t work here. (--But he’d have to try.) Billy straightened his back with a cough and scratched the fluff at the back of his head, “I’m sure I don’t know how you’d come to that conclusion.” Skull leaned forward, hands to his knees—really subtle, but still a hit against Billy’s being a head shorter since Skull’s latest growth spurt (if he kept growing until he was twenty-one, Billy swore he’d walk into the ocean; this wasn’t fair)—until they were almost nose tip to nose tip. And he smirked that self-assured “I’ve got all the cards so don’t even bother” smirk that Billy very much was thankful did not make him look like his (rat bastard son of a bitch) father or (evil, self-serving, hellspawn) mother, but made him look more and more like the man he was going to be. If only he looked this assured in real life instead of in a room that at present felt closed off from the rest of reality as Skull prodded with amusement, “There is nothing in all the world that would keep teachers from this town from passing you onwards into the future with full honors and the deed to their souls if you asked. Even with you running around for the Youth Center and Promethea and whatever else it is that calls you out of class, you’re still head of the class—except English, because you’re more for numbers than language and literature—“ “How would you know that?” “I know lots of things; don’t interrupt,” Skull hummed, spinning on his heel to saunter back over to the piano’s bench, pulling it out and taking a seat with a cross of his legs and his hands folded at the knee, “You will pass regardless of extra-curricular classes or activities. I’m sure Miss Appleby did point you in my direction because she’s a sweetheart who would hang the moon if you asked her nicely; but it wasn’t because you’re lacking in class credits. So, what are you doing here?” “I…” “Hm?” “I need to learn a new skill.” “We’ve established that as the root of this whole sing-along, William; my hiccup is the why.” Billy ground his jaw and swayed his head back on his neck like a ghost of the boy Skull had been so familiar with for most of their younger lives. All fluffy yellow hair and glasses trying to hold on as his head bobbed back and his middle finger coming up to press the frames up along his nose.