Chapter Text
The bow glided across the strings. Music swelled, washing the room in a haze of noise. Nikolaj Petrov allowed himself to become immersed in the sound as it rang throughout, and the violists joined in soon after. The composition was an original one written by their orchestra teacher himself.
The teacher-Mr. Smalls-was quite impressed with Nikolaj's performance. He was one of the only cello players on his level and he had to be one of the best cellists he's seen in years. The kid seemed to be a natural at everything-A clean record, a GPA of 4.0, a natural cello player, and, of course, running the student council smoothly as he did, being the school president.
The bell rang, interrupting the flow of music, but the teacher told them to keep playing just a bit longer. Reach a certain checkpoint in the song. As soon as they did, bows were dropped carelessly to the floor and bags slung over shoulders, eager to make it out the door first and be home-free. Nikolaj was among the few who carefully put away his instrument and was last out the door.
The student body was a massive throng of teenagers pushing to get home, shouts in the hallways and students thrusting forward to race away. Nikolaj didn’t run, didn’t shout, but just stopped and waited when he saw a fellow member of student council, Eduard von Bock, racing towards him, looking at him with determination, fighting the crowd.
“Nikolaj! Nikolaj!”
He skid to a halt near the Bulgarian student before smiling at him, brushing his blond locks out of his eyes.
“Tere, Nikolaj,” Eduard panted, adjusting the glasses on his face.
“Здравейте ,” Nikolaj greeted the blond, looking down at him expectantly, awaiting something. They didn't normally talk to one another, and when they did, it was usually about something of importance.
“Mr. Beilschmidt has a job for you!” Eduard said, smiling at the dark-haired teen, who only blinked at him in response for a moment.
Mr. Beilschmidt was the school’s principal, a buff guy with long blond hair and a battle-like attitude. His sons attended the school-Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, both with some of the highest grades in the school-and a reputation of not being ones to mess with. It was also rumored that Mr. Beilschmidt had an affair with Mr. Vargas.
That just proved how ridiculous high school rumors could get.
“What’s the job?” Nikolaj asked, cocking his head to the side in curiosity after mulling over the sentence a bit. Eduard gave a few waves of his hand, trying to find the right words before saying,
“There’s a new student coming to school tomorrow.”
“And he wants me to show him around?” Nikolaj asked, raising an eyebrow. Why couldn’t Mr. Beilschmidt give that job to someone who was actually willing to, who signed up in the Student Connections club for just that reason? Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Vargas’s grandson, for example. Why not him?
“Well, this guy, he’s like…” Eduard struggled for the word before saying, “Mute. He doesn’t talk. So Mr. Beilschmidt is assigning you to be like a translator for him, since he uses sign language and like, nobody else in those school does except you.”
“Oh,” Nikolaj said, frowning slightly, not really comfortable with this, “Okay then. What’s his name?”
“Vladimir Popescu.” Eduard answered brightly.
“Romanian?” Nikolaj asked, guessing by the name. Eduard shrugged before adding,
“By the way, since you’re one of the only students that can use sign language, Vlad’s going to have a schedule just like yours, and he’s going to be placed in classes he doesn’t have with you with someone else who uses sign language as well.”
“Okay,” Nikolaj shrugged, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. Sharing several periods a day with someone just to be their translator wasn’t very much an idea he was keen to, but if the guy needed to get around, someone had to know what he was saying.
“Oh, great!” Eduard beamed, looking ecstatic, “I’ll tell him you said yes! Aitäh, Nikolaj!”
Nikolaj nodded in response and headed home, feeling a bit weary. He hoped this new student wasn’t annoying, but how could he be if he couldn’t even talk? Well, he could always be running off and all over the place, but that’s a maybe.
Nikolaj's house loomed at the end of a nearby street, a recent paint job making it look a bit newer than it actually was. The steps creaked when he walked up them to his front door.
The dark-haired teen dropped his backpack on the floor near the opening of his house once he got inside, before stepping into the kitchen where his mother was.
A word about miss Milena Petrov, Nikolaj’s mother.
She was probably the best person in the world. Dark hair like his, shining blue eyes and a smile on her face almost all the time, no matter how tired and weary she looked. There were already aging lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and she walked a little slow, but Nikolaj loved his mother more than anybody else in this world. She would laugh and tell jokes and she cooked like nobody's business. She had been the one to buy Nikolaj his own cello when he was nine.
“How was school?” Milena asked, looking up from her book. The coffee cup beside her looked untouched, and cold. Nikolaj gave a smile before saying,
“We learned a new composition in orchestra today.”
His mother reached a hand out, and Nikolaj took it. She rubbed her thumb in a small circle on the back of his hand for a while, before asking,
“Will you play it for me tomorrow?”
Nikolaj paused, thinking about it for a moment, before saying,
“Actually, Ma, I’ve got to show around a new kid tomorrow. Eduard says he’s mute, so like...I got to be there to translate sign language. But maybe on Saturday. Okay?”
Milena nodded in understanding, the same soft smile reaching her eyes, before her expression turned slightly serious.
“How is Eduard? Is he doing okay at home?”
“Yes, Ma,” Nikolaj nodded, though in reality, he wasn’t so sure. Even if something was wrong at Eduard’s house, the Estonian wouldn’t tell him. Nikolaj has known Eduard for seven years, and it wasn’t until last year did Nikolaj discover the truth about Eduard’s home life.
It wasn’t a desirable one.
Milena pursed her lips slightly, unsure whether or not to truly believe that Eduard was doing fine, but simply ran her fingers through her son’s hair and gave him another hug before telling him to go do his homework.
…………………………………………………………………..
“Bye, Ma!” Nikolaj called, a piece of toast in his mouth, waving to his mother who was once again sitting at the kitchen table, this time with a cup of tea and her laptop.
“обичам те,” She called, smiling lightly. Nikolaj closed the door behind him and began lugging his cello and bag to school, which was only a five minute walk from his house, conveniently. His mind wandered to the new student he’d be showing around-Vladimir Popescu, right? He gave a small sigh, knowing this day would be a tiring one with him having to translate the boy’s sign language the whole time.
Upon arriving at school, he was greeted by a familiar face.
“Ciao, Nikolaj!” Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Vargas’s grandson, called, waving his hand enthusiastically, “I heard from Eduard that-a you’re a-showing a new kid around! Can I say hi to him? Is it it really a-true he can’t talk and stuff? I wonder if he likes-a pasta? Of course he likes pasta because everybody likes-a pasta, and-”
“Da, you can say hello to him,” Nikolaj cut him off with a soft sigh. Feliciano was a fellow cellist with him in his Advanced Orchestra class, and while he wasn’t so bad, he was very loud and very, very talkative. Feliciano bounced happily at the thought of meeting the new student, a wide smile on his face. Beside him was his brother, Lovino, who had darker skin and hair. Lovino was generally a grumpy person that often launched into pissy rants that amused everybody to no end.
Once inside the school, Nikolaj headed to the front office, hoping the new student would be residing there, Feliciano sticking close to him and chattering brightly about something-or-other. Inside the office was the secretary flipping through several pages of papers, while a few students milled around, probably asking for a schedule change or something. Nikolaj made his way to the desk and asked,
“Hi, I’m here to show a new student around? Do you know where he is?”
“The mute one?” The secretary asked distractedly, searching for something, strands of hair falling into her face, “Yeah, he’s with the principal right now, he’ll be out in a minute.”
Nikolaj gave a sigh and sat down in a chair near the door, Feliciano still talking about what he thought of the vice-president of the student council, Ludwig Beilschmidt-the aforementioned son of Mr. Beilschmidt.
“His muscles look a-big and hard and he has-a really pretty eyes and-”
“Nikolaj Petrov?” The principal’s voice said, and Nikolaj got to his feet, and thankfully, Feliciano silenced himself. Mr. Beilschmidt was standing next to a teen and a woman, both shorter than the towering man. The teen had strawberry colored hair and a pair of red eyes that looked a bit pink as well, and his skin was a bit on the pale side. Nikolaj vaguely wondered if he was albino. The woman had ginger hair and brown eyes, and was much shorter than both Nikolaj and the teen, though she was smiling brightly and seemed chipper.
“Nice meeting you!” She told the principal before giving the teen a quick hug and telling him something. She left quickly, the teen only waving silently to her.
Nikolaj approached the teen slowly, aware that he was about two inches taller than him, though of the same build. He was dressed in the academy’s standard uniform, though it was a bit loose on him, and he seemed nervous.
“Your name is Vladimir, right?” Nikolaj asked, crossing his arms as the teen adjusted his backpack.
‘You can call me Vlad,’ the teen signed with his hand, adjusting his book bag slightly. He suddenly seemed a bit less nervous when he saw Feliciano jumping excitedly next to Nikolaj.
“Oh, what did he a-just say?” Feliciano asked, peering up at Vlad, eyes wide, “Wow, you a-look really funny, you really remind-a me of my friend Gilbert, he-”
“Ignore him,” Nikolaj cut the Italian off awkwardly, not wanting the new student to be overwhelmed by him and feel the need to reply, “He just said we can call him Vlad.”
“Oh, a-really? You can-a come sit with me and my friends at lunch, okay? We like-a new people,” Feliciano paused, “Well, mi fratello doesn’t, but I a-do! He probably won’t a-kill you today!”
‘You’re funny,’ Vlad signed, looking faintly amused. Feliciano turned his head to Nikolaj expectantly.
“What did he sa-”
“He said you’re funny.” Nikolaj answered, already frustrated with the new task at hand-being this boy's translator.
“Oh, grazie Vlad, I-”
“Get to class,” Mr. Beilschmidt sighed from the doorway, and Nikolaj realized they had a minute before the bell rang. He couldn’t be late-it would tarnish his perfect record!
“What class do you have first?” Nikolaj asked Vlad, but Mr. Beilschmidt was already handing a copy of Vlad’s schedule to him. Nikolaj glanced over it-he shared many classes with the new student-before nodding and saying,
“Right, history with Ms. Karpusi...I have that class too. Follow me.”
The two barely made it on time, Feliciano bidding them goodbye about halfway there. Vlad had kept silent (well, of course he had, he was a mute, Nikolaj reminded himself) and the teacher seemed mildly surprised when Vlad answered her question of what his name was in sign language-the teachers must not have been alerted of Vlad-before she answered back in awkward sign language. She obviously did not know a lot of it.
‘I’m mute, not deaf,’ Vlad signed back towards her. The corner of Ms. Karpusi’s mouth twitched slightly before she assigned Vlad the seat next to Nikolaj, which had thankfully, been empty all year, as the class was small.
The class period went on pretty normally, Nikolaj having to be Vlad’s translator the entire time, and when the bell rang Nikolaj led Vlad through the halls to their next class together.
“Nikolaj!” A familiar voice shouted from behind them, and the dark-haired teen turned to face Eduard, who was smiling at him.
“Good morning!” Eduard said brightly, “Is this the….Uh….New student?”
‘I come from planet Mars,’ Vlad signed, the corner of his mouth twitching at his attempted joke. Nikolaj rolled his eyes before saying,
“Yes, he’s the new guy.”
“He’s taller than I…” Eduard struggled to think of the word for a moment, brows furrowing, “Imagined. Yeah, imagined.”
“You okay?” Nikolaj asked, glancing at the dark circles under Eduard's eyes, “You don’t look very good.”
“I’m fine, Nikolaj. I spent the night at Raivis’s last night with Toris and Feliks.” Eduard responded, shifting on his feet.
‘Without me?’ Vlad signed flamboyantly.
“Er, what’s he saying?”
“Nothing important,” Nikolaj grunted with a roll of his eyes, “C’mon, newb, we got to get to our next class. Bye, Eduard.”
“Bye, Nikolaj!”
Nikolaj took Vlad’s upper arm and led him through the bustling halls until they were outside their geometry classroom.
“Stop trying to be funny, nobody understands it because they can’t speak sign language anyways,” Nikolaj told Vlad, who gave a pout and signed, ‘You’re no fun.’
“I am the killjoy of this school,” Nikolaj sniffed, only getting angrier when Vlad smiled, “Get used to it.”
The classroom burst into questions about why Vlad was a mute as soon as the teacher introduced him, but Vlad didn’t reply to any of their questions. Even if he did, they wouldn’t understand him, anyways. Nikolaj huffed with annoyance every time Vlad tried to tell him something funny, trying to do his work with the strawberry-blond talking-er, signing-to him.
Nikolaj did wonder why Vlad was a mute, like everybody else. But he didn’t ask, because it was none of his business. And frankly, it probably wouldn't even matter if he was told why. Maybe he was just born that way?
After class, was P.E. Vlad seemed like a fairly lazy type, and to be honest, Nikolaj didn’t really like P.E. or put as much effort into it as he should. He expected that Vlad would probably lag behind with him.
Thankfully, P.E. didn’t require much talking or translating as the coach made them all run laps. Dressed in the academy’s ridiculous uniform of a white shirt and short blue shorts-so short they were just a few inches away from being classified as booty shorts-Nikolaj lagged a bit behind the hardcore gym kids as usual, keeping his pace slow as to not wear out his legs. Vlad, to his surprise, was one of the kids at the front keeping ahead. However, after the third lap, he slowed down to jog next to Nikolaj, managing to sign easily to him despite running.
‘Was that guy with glasses your friend?’
“No, not really, he just talks to me a lot,” Nikolaj huffed, due to it being about ten times harder for him to talk and run at the same time. Vlad didn’t ‘say’ anything for a moment before signing,
‘He’s short.’
“No, you’re just tall,” Nikolaj said as they passed into their fourth lap, the coach shouting hoarsely at the kids in the very back, who were still somewhere around halfway through their second lap.
‘No, you’re just short.’ Vlad seemed to giggle silently.
“Shut up.”
‘How? I’m not actually speaking’, Vlad was smirking now, and Nikolaj was growing more and more irritated by the second. Couldn't he run in peace?
“Stop signing, then.”
‘As you wish, Your Highness'
“Don’t call me that.” Nijolaj snapped.
Vlad’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as he pulled ahead of Nikolaj, catching up with the kids in the very front. Nikolaj could tell this would be a very long day.