Frerard Oneshots

Teach Me - Kellic

***smut***

***Kellins POV***

I hate having to work late.

Usually, I wouldn't mind, but I had plans tonight. Well, they weren't importantplans, but I just wanted to kick back and relax, while watching a movie or something.

But instead, I'm stuck in the music room of Clairemont High, cleaning out used instruments. I guess it's kind of my job to, though. I am the music teacher, after all. The only times I ever get help cleaning the instruments are when the students get in trouble, and it's their punishment.

It's currently 5:30pm, and school ended at 4:00pm. My hands have been working away for an hour and a half, making the brass instruments nice and shiny, just for them to get coated in spit, and ruined all over again.

I sigh, and place down the tuba I am working on. I go to the sink, where the students wash their mouthpieces and reeds, to wash my hands. I lather soap on them, and turn on the tap for the water. I sigh in content, as I wash the soap off. It feels nice to have clean hands once again.

I dry them with paper towel, and walk to my desk, sitting in the red wheelie chair. I spin myself around a couple times, before looking through some papers. I have to grade some music tests before I can go home. I only have about 10 or so to mark, so it shouldn't take that long, really.

I pick up the first test on the small pile, and check the name. 'Jesse (: hiMr. Quinn!'

I smile slightly, and write next to it 'HeyJesse!'.

Jesse is a good kid. He plays guitar wonderfully. I look at the first question.

'What doyoudowhenafermataisshownonabarof music?

a) repeatthebarofmusic

b) donotplaythenoteitis above

c) holdthenoteforlonger

d) playnotequietly

Jesse has c) circled. I give him a check mark.

I scroll down to the next question, but stop when I hear something. I listen closely, and stiffen in my seat. That's fucking footsteps.

They're getting closer. It's probably just another teacher. I get up quickly, and look out the window that shows the parking lot.

There's only one car out there.

My car.

I swear under my breath, and run back to my desk. Why am I such a wuss? I duck under the desk, and stay dead silent. I listen to the footsteps as they become clearer and clearer.

They enter the room, and I want to let out a sob, but I refrain myself from doing so.

"Mr. Quinn?" The person asks. The voice sounds so fucking familiar, but I can't place a name. If this person knows me, and I may know them, it should be safe.

"Right here." I say, coming up from the spot under my desk. I look up, and see him.

Principal Fuentes. I gulp, and sit on the chair, waiting for him to say something. "Why were you under your desk?" He asks, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.