Adrian's Original Drabbles

[tma]

May I squeeeeee???!!  😳😳

I seriously have a huge thing for Garth Malone, (even though I am a mere USer) and died of fangirl happiness when he actually responded to a question that I had asked him on his FB acct (it was what was his fav language to sing in in terms of sound- he said German, and yes that was years ago and yes I still remember, but...

 

Anyway... I love your writing in general, and honestly between music, teacher-thing, and Gareth.... ummm... please continue.  ❤

[AngelEyes]

Aww. This is adorable!

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Whelp I'm dead. And you know why too...

[AdrianMarx]

@tma !!! i highkey love gareth malone he's so???? cuTE??? good lord i'm so glad he answered you omg that's awesome!!! he's such a sweetheart. did you see him on would i lie to you? he was really good!

@AngelEyes and @Kaze wo Hiku thank you!!! i hope y'all are ready for some more of these boys because i'm love.

---

Mr Malone was late.

This in itself didn’t worry Thomas particularly - their choirmaster always seemed to be rushing somewhere and often had a look about him which suggested he was supposed to be somewhere else - but he did find himself growing concerned when five minutes of their scheduled time had passed without a choirmaster in sight. Of course, practice had been cancelled last minute before (shit happens, as Mr Malone had said) but usually they’d have received an email by now to let them know. Thomas was, therefore, somewhat worried.

Eventually, Milan Dixon voiced what they were all thinking. “Do you think we should just...go?”

“Let’s give it five minutes,” Thomas suggested tentatively and they were quick to agree. Nobody really wanted to run out on Mr Malone.

“Maybe we should warm up?” said James Piper, the only other postgrad student among them. Then he turned to Thomas. “You could play for us, right?”

Thomas didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely.”

As a child, Thomas had outright hated piano practice. It had seemed to tedious and repetitive and he could never seem to get his fingers just right on the keys, especially back when he’d had littler hands. Now it was solace; it was letting go and holding on and a breath of sweet spring air. The feel of the cool smooth keys beneath his fingertips was exhilarating and it had been days since he’d had a chance to play.

Taking a seat on the piano stool, Thomas played a quick C major scale with both hands to warm up and glanced up at the assembled choir with a smile. He suddenly felt important and a sense of calm warmth washed over him at the sight of them, trusting him to lead them through a warm up. Despite the bubble of anxiety in his throat, Thomas felt completely at home.

“Ready?” He asked and, upon receiving their nods of assent, played the familiar lead-in to the warm up.

As he played, his thoughts wandered to Mr Malone and he found himself watching his fingers with a vague sense of distance. He imagined Mr Malone’s fingers playing the same song, pressing the same keys, and felt a blush spread steadily up the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. He took a deep breath.

The final group was left singing in the round when Thomas glanced up at long last and spotted a familiar face in the doorway, stumbling over his notes in surprise. He played the final chord a beat too early and flushed brilliantly, quickly stumbling back to his place among the tenors. Mr Malone was still looking at him curiously.

“Did you pick that up by ear?” He asked and his voice was rougher than the day before.

He still wore the blue scarf and his cardigan was a thick navy-blue cable-knit garment with large flat buttons securing it across the choirmaster’s front. Between his rumpled hair and chapped nose, Thomas was quite certain that he was failing in his valiant attempts to fight off what threatened to be a miserable cold.

Uncertain of what else to say, Thomas nodded bashfully, but it didn’t satisfy Mr Malone’s thoughtful gaze. Thankfully, he was saved from further scrutiny by James.

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping out from the gathered choir and heading over to where Mr Malone was still standing by the door. “You don’t look well.”

Mr Malone smiled wanly and held up a hand. “I’d keep my distance if I were you, James,” he warned jokingly, stopping James in his tracks. “I’m not at my best, I’ll give you that. But I’m thoroughly disinfected and planning to remain at least six feet away from the rest of you at all times so I suspect we’ll manage.”

Despite his obvious illness, Mr Malone’s energy didn’t seem to be curbed. He strode to the piano with all his usual finesse and discarded his music on the stool, grabbing a few stray sheafs from the top of the pile and placing them on a music stand.

“Now then,” he said, placing his foot on the bottom of the stand and adjusting it to suit his height. “Since you’re already warmed up,” he winked at Thomas who, having just cooled down from his last furious blush, felt his face set alight again. “I have a new piece for you.”

Excited chatter broke out among the choir and Gracie Kwan teased, “Is it something from this century?”

Mr Malone smiled. “Almost. We’re closer to the present day than normal.”

He returned to the piano to retrieve a manilla wallet and extracted a wad of paper, splitting it into two sections and handing them to two girls in the front.

“They’re vaguely grouped by part but I’m afraid I didn’t have time to sort through them properly so they might be a bit muddled,” he went on with a sheepish smile. “This is an extract from Duruflé’s Requiem which was composed…” He left the sentence hanging. “Does anyone know?”

“1950s?” Milan suggested.

“Oh, very close. 1948. Well done,” Mr Malone praised and Milan beamed proudly. Thomas couldn’t blame her. He was still flying high from the choirmaster’s earlier comments. “Alright, have a look over your pa-”

Mr Malone stopped talking and Thomas looked up from his music to what was, frankly, an unfairly attractive sight. Despite his attempts to fight it, Mr Malone’s eyes were slipping closed, nose wrinkling as the impending sneeze built outwardly in his features. One slender hand came to hover, uncertain, in front of his face before he finally folded forward, nose buried in the crook of his elbow.

hh’gyISHHhoo! hr’niSHHHhuh!

A chorus of blessings sounded around the room and Mr Malone offered an embarrassed smile as he pulled a fresh packet of pocket tissues from his cardigan and blew his nose harshly. It was clear by the angry colour of his poor nose that he’d been doing that a lot. Thomas felt a wave of sympathy hit him right in the stomach.

“Maybe you ought to go home, Evan,” James suggested in a last-ditch effort to talk some sense into their stubborn choirmaster. It always startled Thomas that James felt comfortable enough to call Mr Malone by his first name. True, the three of them were essentially the same age (Thomas thought that James might actually be older than Mr Malone, in all honesty) but he commanded too much authority for Thomas to ever venture beyond a formal title.

Mr Malone rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re starting to sound like my mother,” he quipped.

And so, practice began.

(Mr Malone called Thomas over as they were packing up and asked him to come to his office before his first class tomorrow morning. Thomas was too painfully crush-stricken to even ask why before wholeheartedly agreeing. And then panicking. All night. Fuck.)

[tma]

Yes, he was great in Would I Lie to You!!

This is just WAY too cute!!  Brings me back to my days of hanging out in the music wing and swooning over cute music teachers.  ❤❤

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Mr Malone stopped talking and Thomas looked up from his music to what was, frankly, an unfairly attractive sight. Despite his attempts to fight it, Mr Malone’s eyes were slipping closed, nose wrinkling as the impending sneeze built outwardly in his features. One slender hand came to hover, uncertain, in front of his face before he finally folded forward, nose buried in the crook of his elbow.

hh’gyISHHhoo! hr’niSHHHhuh!

^ I DIED!!!  Too much goodness!!

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

You’re starting to sound like my mother,” he quipped.

Awww!!! Cute and sweet!!

 

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Thomas was too painfully crush-stricken to even ask why before wholeheartedly agreeing. And then panicking. All night. Fuck.)

Yup, that w ould be me too. :ninja:

 

LOVE ❤❤❤❤

[queenie]

Omg this was soooo cuuuute and the next morning will be ECEN CUTER

[AngelEyes]

Awww. Loving this!

On 3/5/2018 at 5:22 PM, AdrianMarx said:

Thomas was too painfully crush-stricken to even ask why before wholeheartedly agreeing. And then panicking. All night. Fuck.)

This would be me!

[AdrianMarx]

@tma a man who plays piano is instantly more attractive tbh so i 100% get that!

@queenie i hope the next morning meets your expectations!!

@AngelEyes it is definitely me on a daily basis

---

Thomas hovered nervously outside Mr Malone’s office door.

It was a nice door, he thought. Polished wood with frosted glass and a little plaque at hip height bearing the name Mr Evan Malone. Thomas stared at it. Was he really admiring the craftsmanship of a door to avoid having to go in?

God damn it.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe Mr Malone had been running a high fever when he’d asked Thomas here. Thomas had spent the night wondering what on earth he could possibly be being called in for and had run through every single possibility - the good and the bad.

Of course, he didn’t think having Mr Malone fuck him over his desk was a likely outcome but it had come to mind nonetheless. It sprung to the forefront of his thoughts again now and he willed himself not to flush. He squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a shake to will it away.

He knocked before he could talk himself out of it.

“Come in,” came Mr Malone’s hoarse voice from the other side. Thomas bit his lip and took a deep breath.

Mr Malone’s office was, like much of the music department, an organised mess. His desk was covered in piles of sheet music and slim music books while the thicker books of scores as well as books on music theory, history, and teaching lined the ample bookshelves. A brown upright piano lined the wall by the door and it too was covered in various piles of music. In the corner of the room stood two acoustic guitars, one of which had twelve strings, and a violin hung on the wall. Other instruments were dotted around and Thomas honestly wasn’t sure how Mr Malone managed to get to and from his desk without knocking everything over.

Mr Malone himself, funnily enough, also looked something of an organised mess. His hair was dishevelled like he’d rolled out of bed and forgotten to tame it. His cardigan was draped unceremoniously over the back of his chair and he’d folded his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, revealing a tiny treble clef tattoo at the top of his right forearm. (When Thomas looked closer, he saw that the bottom curve of the clef was actually made up of a bass clef.) The top button of his shirt was undone and his tie lay folded on his computer keyboard.

“Ah, Thomas,” Mr Malone smiled, running a hand through his wild hair with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Excuse the mess. It’s not usually...well, no, it’s always like this. Come in, come in.”

Thomas closed the door behind him and hovered awkwardly while Mr Malone began digging through his drawers. He pulled out a fresh box of tissues and ripped the top off, pulling two out and scrubbing at his nose. Thomas couldn’t help but watch.

The evidence of Mr Malone’s worsening cold was abundant; there was a bottle of DayQuil atop the piano and several bottles of painkillers lined up on the windowsill along with a conspicuously large tub of Vicks Vaporub. Thomas tried not to imagine Mr Malone rubbing it onto his chest when he was too stuffy to get any work done. The entire room smelled faintly of eucalyptus and Thomas noticed a humidifier running steadily at the edge of Mr Malone’s desk.

“How’s your morning been?” Mr Malone asked, sounding stuffy and hoarse.

Thomas swallowed. “Um, fine so far. I just had breakfast.”

Thomas wanted to kick himself - like Mr Malone cared about his breakfast.

Mr Malone smiled. “Good. Have a seat.”

Feeling a spike of anxiety, Thomas sat awkwardly, wincing when the chair leg scuffed along the ground and made a horrid noise. Mr Malone didn’t seem fazed, however.

“I wanted to have a chat about your music classes,” Mr Malone said, clasping his hands together and leaning his forearms on his desk. “Are you taking any advanced piano?”

Thomas let out a breath, relieved that he didn’t seem to be in trouble. “No, I didn’t have the prerequisites.”

Mr Malone stared at him blankly so Thomas hurried on.

“I mean, I never had lessons so I didn’t have any formal certificates so they said I’d have to start at the beginner class but I didn’t really want to.”

Mr Malone was silent for a moment before he said slowly, “You taught yourself?”

Thomas nodded, uncertain.

There was a slight smile playing on Mr Malone’s lips. “Take a seat at the piano for me.”

Feeling the apprehension building again, Thomas did as he was asked. He tried to remind himself that he’d told Mr Malone that he was self-taught and, therefore, any mistakes he made would be totally understandable. But he was still horribly nervous.

“Play me a quick C major scale. Both hands, if you can,” Mr Malone said, coming to stand on Thomas’s left side.

Thomas lifted his hands shakily and carefully played through the scale, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t look at Mr Malone when he was finished.

“Alright, now, get ready to start again” Mr Malone took hold of Thomas’s wrists and adjusted them slightly so that they were raised up a little more. “Play again for me but this time try to imagine you’re holding a bubble in your hands that you don’t want to burst.”

Blushing lightly, Thomas played again, trying to keep his wrists where Mr Malone had so gently, carefully placed them.

“Excellent, much better,” Mr Malone praised. “Okay, I’m want you to close your eyes and I’m going to play you something and then I want you to play it back to me as best you can.”

Well, there was the anxiety again. God, this was going to be so embarrassing. Sensing his apprehension, Mr Malone smiled kindly.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to start small. I’d sing it for you but I don’t have the voice.”

As if to prove his point, a harsh cough forced him to step away. He grabbed a fresh tissue and pressed it over his mouth, waving an apologetic hand at Thomas who, instead of awkwardly watching, was filling a small plastic cup with water from the fountain just outside. He handed it to his teacher who sipped it gratefully.

“Thank you,” he croaked when he could finally speak through a few stray coughs were still fighting their way out. As if that wasn’t enough, he was sniffling now too. Thomas felt a pang of sympathy. “I was hoping to be getting over this cold by now.”

“It’s only been three days, hasn’t it?” Thomas said softly.

Mr Malone offered him a smile. “Yes, but I’m terribly impatient.”

It was things like that which made Mr Malone seem a lot older than he was. Thomas had never met anyone under the age of fifty who used words like terribly. But, then again, Mr Malone did sound quite posh so it somehow seemed to fit.

Mr Malone squirted some hand sanitiser into his hand from the bottle on his desk and took a seat at the piano.

“Right,” he said briskly and Thomas braced himself for the inevitable finger-cracking. All the same, he winced when he heard it. “Eyes closed.”

Thomas closed his eyes and listened. Mr Malone played a simple melody and Thomas tried to focus on the notes. If he could find the starting note, he could probably figure out everything else. He thought it was a G.

The music stopped and Thomas switched places with Mr Malone and began to play.

The starting note was indeed a G and it wasn’t too hard to work his way through the tune from there. His left hand itched to add chords but he forced it to keep still on his lap. By the time he was finished, Mr Malone was nodding approvingly.

“I think I started you out too easy,” he mused, gesturing for Thomas to stand as he took up his seat again. Thomas closed his eyes and this time Mr Malone played something more akin to a full-fledged piece. Thomas almost thought he recognised it as a simpler version of something else but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

hhnkTISHHEW!

The music stopped suddenly on an imperfect cadence and Thomas opened his eyes to Mr Malone digging through his pockets to produce a crumpled tissue which he used to wipe underneath his nose.

“My apologies, Thomas,” he muttered with a soft cough. He pulled at his shirt collar and Thomas could see red spots high on his cheeks though he wasn’t sure if they were from embarrassment or the fever he was so clearly running if he could possibly be overheating on what was universally considered the coldest building on campus.

Thomas took a breath to calm himself and said, “You should probably be in bed, y’know.”

Mr Malone rolled his eyes playfully. “Between you and James it’s like I never left home,” he teased but his voice fell flat. He must have really been feeling awful.

So Thomas didn’t laugh and drop it. He looked at Mr Malone curiously, nerves somehow overruled by genuine concern for his health.

“You should cancel practice today,” Thomas said without quite believing he was saying it. He was willingly passing up an opportunity to see Mr Malone later but it was so obvious that he felt like total shit. It just didn’t seem fair to want him at rehearsal when he clearly wasn’t up for it.

Mr Malone smiled wanly. “I’m considering it, especially now that I know you can run the show for me.”

Thomas physically felt himself go pale. “N-No that was...that was just a warm up. I...I can’t...I-I don’t…”

“Thomas,” Mr Malone’s voice was suddenly very serious and soft. “Thomas, take a deep breath. I’m only teasing.”

Mr Malone guided Thomas to the couch where students usually sat if they came to his office hours and sat them both down. Thomas tried to catch his breath. Well, this was embarrassing.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Mr Malone said earnestly and his voice was full of genuine apology. He kept one hand settled on Thomas’s back. “I’m running a bit of a fever and it’s skewing my judgement. I’m sorry.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s alright. I’m just a little anxious today.”

Mr Malone nodded like he understood. “Happens to the best of us,” he said quietly.

After a few more deep, careful breaths, Thomas was starting to feel better. The anxiety was happily settled back in the pit of his stomach and he found his breathing to be much more under his control than it had been a few moments prior. He rubbed his eyes, partly because they stung with unshed tears and partly so he wouldn’t have to look at Mr Malone who had just seen him completely overreact to a friendly joke.

This was not his day.

“Feeling okay now?” Mr Malone asked kindly.

“I should be asking you that,” Thomas muttered back and Mr Malone chuckled through it became a shallow cough fairly quickly.

Mr Malone cleared his throat. “I’ll live,” he said.

If you were to ask Thomas why he did it, he honestly couldn’t tell you. It was something instinctive in him; he read the moment and it seemed to be the logical next step. Slowly, he raised his hand and pressed the back of his fingers to Mr Malone’s exposed neck, finding it just about as warm as he’d expected.

He sighed. “You might burn to death.”

This was apparently exactly the right thing to say because Mr Malone broke into a wide smile. “I think that would be a rather unpleasant way to go.”

Thomas had to agree.

“Do you need anything?” He found himself asking. “Medicine? Tissues? A lift home?”

Mr Malone smiled. “I have classes to teach, unfortunately. But I’m tempted to take you up on that offer nonetheless.”

Feeling brave, Thomas said, “Cancel them. Let me take you home.”

Mr Malone looked like he might be about to protest but then, all at once, his entire composed image seemed to collapse and his entire body slumped just a little. Even his face, somehow, looked more exhausted. He offered Thomas a grateful smile.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

Thomas smiled back, glad the choirmaster was finally seeing some sense. “If you think your office is a mess, wait until you see my car.”

[Hedgehog]

So, this Mr. Malone thing is a TV show? No idea about it; but with your descriptions it's easy to read it like an OC fiction. I like the characters, the conversation, the whole plot and Mr. Malone's cold. Although I found Thomas's step to feel his fever bold. As much as I've wished all the time, something like this would happen - HOW DID HE FIND THE COURAGE TO DO SO?  I would  have never ever dared something like that with a teacher person.

Also - the last sentence about the car was funny.

[AngelEyes]

18 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

It was a nice door, he thought. Polished wood with frosted glass and a little plaque at hip height bearing the name Mr Evan Malone. Thomas stared at it. Was he really admiring the craftsmanship of a door to avoid having to go in?

This cracked me up!

 

19 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

His hair was dishevelled like he’d rolled out of bed and forgotten to tame it.

I love messy hair.

 

19 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

It was things like that which made Mr Malone seem a lot older than he was. Thomas had never met anyone under the age of fifty who used words like terribly. But, then again, Mr Malone did sound quite posh so it somehow seemed to fit.

Awwww

 

19 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

“I’m running a bit of a fever and it’s skewing my judgement. I’m sorry.”

Oh dear.

 

19 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

He sighed. “You might burn to death.”

This was apparently exactly the right thing to say because Mr Malone broke into a wide smile. “I think that would be a rather unpleasant way to go.”

Love this!

 

19 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Thomas smiled back, glad the choirmaster was finally seeing some sense. “If you think your office is a mess, wait until you see my car.”

LOL

[AdrianMarx]

@Hedgehog he's based on a real life choirmaster whom i love a lot but he's pretty much an oc i just felt super inspired when i was watching him and boom here we are. but yes thomas is a brave bean and i love him.

@AngelEyes   

---

Thomas helped Mr Malone pack up his things, unsurprised that he had the equivalent of a small pharmacy stuffed into his satchel, and handed over his phone so Mr Malone could pull up his address on the GPS. Thomas was glad he had parked closeby because he didn’t think Mr Malone would be able to walk particularly far. He was unstable on his feet which convinced Thomas that he’d definitely been right to insist on taking the sickly choirmaster home; he certainly wasn’t in any fit state to teach classes.

“Sorry about the mess,” Thomas muttered as he hastily shoved his folders onto the back seat.

Mr Malone shook his head. “It’s fine. Thank you again for this.”

Thomas waved away his thanks and set his phone on the dashboard in front of the “check engine” light which had been consistently turned on since he’d bought the car. At this point, Thomas was honestly dreading what would be found on the MOT. He just hoped he wasn’t driving around in a stick of dynamite but he hadn’t died yet so it was probably fine.

The drive was largely quiet save for Mr Malone’s coughs and sniffles and Thomas felt a fresh wave of sympathy hit him when he saw the shivers wracking through his body. Mr Malone buttoned up his shirt again and pulled his cardigan tighter around his body. With his glasses slipping down his nose and his hair in chaos, he looked much, much younger that Thomas had ever seen him. The choir often teased him for dressing like a man in his fifties but seeing that put-together image dissolve in front of him made his youth all the more apparent.

When they stopped at a light, Thomas reached into the backseat for his coat.

“Here,” he said quietly, setting it down on his passenger’s lap. “You look cold.”

Mr Malone spread the jacket over himself gratefully with a small “thanks.”

Thomas nodded and fiddled with the air conditioning until it was blowing hot air.

It was difficult to think of the choirmaster in such formal terms now, Thomas thought. Considering how difficult he found it to call Mr Malone by his first name under normal circumstances, he found himself wanting to say it quietly, softly. It was much easier to think of him as Evan when he looked to ill to command authority over his own sense of balance.

By the time Thomas pulled up outside Mr Malone’s block of flats, the choirmaster was practically dozing off in the sweltering heat of the car. Thomas was almost tempted to let him sleep.

“Here we are,” he said instead and Mr Malone unbuckled himself slowly. He glanced at Thomas.

“Thank you for the lift,” he said with a sweet smile. “I really do appreciate it.”

Thomas smiled back. “No problem.”

And that probably would have been that had Mr Malone not taken one step out of the car and practically collapsed.

Okay. Practically collapsed was perhaps a tad overdramatic but it was quite a significant stumble.

Thomas was out of the car in an instant though Mr Malone had righted himself by the time Thomas reached him. He still leant heavily against the car door, breathing deeply and deliberately with his eyes closed. Thomas rested a hand on his back.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said gently. “Why don’t you sit down again?”

Mr Malone opened his eyes and attempted a reassuring smile but it looked more of a grimace to Thomas. “No, no, I’m fine. Really, you’ve done enough. I shouldn’t keep you.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft,” he said. “You’re clearly not well. I’ll walk you inside, alright?”

Apparently too exhausted to argue, Mr Malone simply nodded his thanks and let Thomas guide him inside with a hand on the small of his back. By the time they’d climbed one flight of stairs to Mr Malone’s front door, the poor man was visibly shaking with exertion and Thomas had to take his keys from him when he couldn’t steady himself long enough to fit them into the lock.

“Since you're here, you should come in and meet Ellie,” Mr Malone said as he opened the door and Thomas’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Ellie?

As far as Thomas was aware, Mr Malone had never mentioned having someone to come home to and Thomas felt incredibly guilty for immediately wishing that he didn’t. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about every move he’d made so far - would taking Mr Malone home be considered flirting? Would Ellie hate him? Or would she be glad that he’d gotten home safe?

“Ellie!” Mr Malone called hoarsely as the door opened. “I’m home!”

When no voice immediately replied, Thomas relaxed a little. Perhaps Ellie wasn’t home and he wouldn’t have to face meeting her today after all.

Though Thomas had never considered what the inside of Mr Malone’s flat might look like, it was somehow both unsurprising and almost familiar. There was an electric keyboard and several guitars along with a menagerie of other instruments, including an electric keyboard attached to various cables and several others Thomas couldn’t name. And, naturally, almost every surface was covered in stacks of paper, most of which Thomas assumed to be sheet music. There was a pinboard by the front door which seemed to house important documents like bills and dentist reminders and there was a photograph of Tower Bridge skyline at sunset on the wall leading to the kitchen, fading artistically from blue to purple.

Mr Malone shed his coat and scarf and hung them up on pegs by the doorway. He looked at Thomas gratefully and beckoned him to follow.

“I’ll make you a cuppa before you g-” Mr Malone began but was quite suddenly interrupted by an absolutely ferocious sneeze.

hh’URRISHHEW!

“Oh, goodness. Excuse me,” he sniffled apologetically, heading into the living room where he plucked a tissue from a box on what Thomas assumed was once a coffee table but seemed to be functioning as a makeshift mixing desk.

hh...hiiIH...oh h’hih’ihNGXTch! hng’iSTChoo! hng’iSCHOO!

“Bless you,” Thomas said quietly as Mr Malone excused himself again, sounding much stuffier than he had a moment before.

He blew his nose gingerly into his tissue before fetching another and doing the same. When he looked back at Thomas again, his eyes were watery and his nose was beginning to shift from pink to a brilliant shade of red. Taking pity on his flustered choirmaster, Thomas spoke up.

“I’ll make tea. You sit down,” he said firmly.

Mr Malone looked for a moment like he might argue had he not been sufficiently distracted by the ginger tabby winding demandingly around his ankles. With a smile softer than any Thomas had ever seen, he bent down and scooped up the cat so it settled in his arms like a baby, back legs poking comically upwards as its head nuzzled into its owner’s neck.

“Hello, precious,” Mr Malone murmured, kissing the top of the cat’s head fondly. Then he looked to Thomas, blushing slightly. “This is Ellie,” he said, bouncing the cat in his arms and taking a small step towards Thomas. “She loves people.”

Understanding the statement for the invitation it was, Thomas gently stroked the top of Ellie’s head with the back of his index finger, unbelievably grateful that Ellie was a cat and not some gorgeous blonde with endless legs and a natural talent for every instrument in the world. He felt some of his earlier anxiety melt away with this knowledge and came to feel a bit stupid, really.

“She’s a sweetheart,” he said softly as Ellie’s purring increased tenfold. When she turned her head, Thomas could see that she was blind in her right eye.

Mr Malone smiled. “She’s an idiot. I love her. She’d stay like this all day if I let her.”

“Well, now that you’ve got a day off, you’ve got an opportunity to let her,” Thomas chuckled, gesturing pointedly to the worn couch.

With a fond roll of his eyes, Mr Malone sat down with Ellie curled up in his lap. Thomas nodded approvingly.

“How do you take your tea?”

[AngelEyes]

14 minutes ago, AdrianMarx said:

Thomas waved away his thanks and set his phone on the dashboard in front of the “check engine” light which had been consistently turned on since he’d bought the car. At this point, Thomas was honestly dreading what would be found on the MOT. He just hoped he wasn’t driving around in a stick of dynamite but he hadn’t died yet so it was probably fine.

LOL. Probably.

 

14 minutes ago, AdrianMarx said:

With his glasses slipping down his nose and his hair in chaos, he looked much, much younger that Thomas had ever seen him.

Awwww.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

God after the week I've had I needed this. Fluffy fluff.

"You look cold" Mmmmmm

He made the tea.

These two are adorable.

[queenie]

Um YES the next morning has satisfied me tremendously. There’s such an exchange of vulnerabilities here, it’s truly a delight. You’ve got quite a style!

[AdrianMarx]

thank you friends for your nice comments!!!! i would reply individually but i'm exhausted. here is the next part i hope you like <3

-

As much as he admired him, milk and two sugars was a ridiculous way to take tea, Thomas thought to himself as he poured milk into two cups and waited for the kettle to boil. Still he supposed he could overlook this one character flaw. Maybe. With time.

Even the kitchen, Thomas noted, was decorated with smatterings of sheet music. Curious, Thomas picked up the top sheet of music from the pile by the fridge and smiled fondly at the simple score for Jingle Bells. The image of Mr Malone sitting on the piano stool next to an eager child, patiently demonstrating the melody and then the chords was so painfully sweet that Thomas found himself grinning absurdly.

The fridge itself also had sheet music attached, often with names scrawled at the top. Thomas presumed they were the names of Mr Malone’s private students. There was also a drawing of a man sitting at a piano with an arrow pointing to him, declaring him to be “Mr Melon” and Thomas had to bite his lip to keep his laughter contained.

The sound of Mr Malone’s chesty cough carried through from the living room and Thomas quickly felt his mirth ebbing away. He really did sound terrible. As much as it was causing him anxiety to now be standing in Mr Malone’s house, Thomas was glad he’d offered to take him home. It was obvious to all - save for, apparently, the choirmaster himself - that he was undoubtedly not well enough to work today.

With the tea prepared, Thomas made his way back to the living room, careful not to spill any on Mr Malone’s hallway carpet. The choirmaster, who was stroking absently begid Ellie’s ears with one hand and wiping his nose with a tissue with the other, gave Thomas the most sincerely grateful smile he had ever seen as he took the cup from him and cradled it between his hands. Ellie looked somewhat disgruntled at his ceasing affections and wandered over to Thomas who rubbed the top of her head affectionately.

Mr Malone smiled fondly at her. “She can be a right little diva when she wants to be,” he said as Ellie started scratching insistently at the leg of Thomas’s trousers.

Thomas put his tea down on the floor and scooped Ellie up into his lap.

“She’s quite taken with you,” Mr Malone murmured as Ellie put her front paws on Thomas’s chest and pushed her face against his cheek.

Thomas smiled. “I think I might be in love with your cat.”

Mr Malone laughed heartily at that before dissolving into a few painful chesty coughs. Before Thomas could do much more than move to sit beside him, intending to pat his back, he’d regained himself and, despite the tears in his eyes, was still smiling.

“It looks like she might feel the same way,” he observed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll just have to visit more. If you can stand the mess, that is.”

Thomas felt his heartbeat speed up and forced himself to keep his breathing steady. Ellie settled down with her head just resting on Thomas’s knees and the rest of her body curled up on his thighs.

“You should bring her to your office. She’d be a hit,” he suggested with a smile in his voice but also with complete sincerity.

Mr Malone looked thoughtful. Or, Thomas thought he looked thoughtful. But he suddenly jerked forward and snatched a tissue from the table, pressing it over his nose and mouth with a resounding hh’iSShCHOO!

“Oh, excuse me,” he said, scrubbing at his clearly still itchy nose through the tissue. Thomas blessed him quietly.

There was a moment of quiet while Mr Malone blew his nose and aimed the crumpled tissue at the wastepaper bin in the corner - only to miss quite abysmally.

“I don’t think I was born to be a basketball player,” he said forlornly. And shivered.

“Cold?” Thomas asked. “I can grab you a blanket if you tell me where you keep them?”

Mr Malone sniffled and shook his head. “No, no. Her highness has chosen her throne.”

At this, Ellie purred contentedly. Thomas chuckled. That was the purr of a kitty who knew she was royalty. So Mr Malone got slowly to his feet and started making his way down the hall. When his shuffling footsteps stopped abruptly, Thomas couldn’t help but crane his neck around to investigate.

Mr Malone’s back was to him but even at this angle, Thomas could see the tension in his shoulders. His right hand was thrown out hastily against the wall to brace himself and his left was frantically exploring his pockets, presumably for a tissue. He didn’t find one in time, however, and Thomas watched as the choirmaster lifted his arm to his face and all but doubled over with a ferocious sneeze.

hh’HRRisshHOO!

Thomas couldn’t speak. He was too busy watching Mr Malone’s left hand return to its desperate search while his entire body geared up for another. Thomas held his breath, listening to Mr Malone’s desperate, panting breaths. Even if Ellie hadn’t been sat on his lap, Thomas didn’t think he could have moved. He felt frozen to the spot, like he was trapped in a single moment while his painfully attractive music teacher was struggling with a reluctant sneeze.

The release started in his shoulder blades, shifting down through his arms and travelling down his spine. And, finally, his head ducked forward and his hand on the wall seemed to slip just a little, like the force of it was too much for him to contain.

hhuRRiHSHHOO! hnTZZUHSHHngk!

That last sneeze ended with a distinctly wet noise which made Thomas’s heart clench in his chest and he finally managed a weak “bless you” which didn’t seem like anything close to a proportionate response given the strength of the sneezes he’d just witnessed.

Looking somewhat dazed, Mr Malone finally extracted a tissue from the pocket of his trousers and cleaned under his nose sheepishly. He turned to Thomas with a confused look in his eye.

“Excuse me,” he said, cheeks flushing pinker than before. “What was I doing?”

Thomas bit his lip. “Blanket?”

Mr Malone clicked his fingers and pointed at Thomas briefly before disappearing down the hallway, sniffling and scrubbing at his red nose. Thomas scratched behind Ellie’s ears perhaps a tad too vigorously but she didn’t seem to mind.

Yes, this crush was definitely getting way out of hand.

[AngelEyes]

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

As much as he admired him, milk and two sugars was a ridiculous way to take tea, Thomas thought to himself as he poured milk into two cups and waited for the kettle to boil.

LOL!

 

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

“It looks like she might feel the same way,” he observed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll just have to visit more. If you can stand the mess, that is.”

Oooooh!

 

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

“Excuse me,” he said, cheeks flushing pinker than before. “What was I doing?”

Thomas bit his lip. “Blanket?”

Mr Malone clicked his fingers and pointed at Thomas briefly before disappearing down the hallway, sniffling and scrubbing at his red nose.

Love this exchange.

 

2 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Yes, this crush was definitely getting way out of hand.

Awwwww

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

12 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

declaring him to be “Mr Melon” and Thomas had to bite his lip to keep his laughter contained.

This is the cutest thing evah!

12 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Mr Malone’s back was to him but even at this angle, Thomas could see the tension in his shoulders. His right hand was thrown out hastily against the wall to brace himself and his left was frantically exploring his pockets, presumably for a tissue. He didn’t find one in time, however, and Thomas watched as the choirmaster lifted his arm to his face and all but doubled over with a ferocious sneeze.

hh’HRRisshHOO!

Thomas couldn’t speak. He was too busy watching Mr Malone’s left hand return to its desperate search while his entire body geared up for another. Thomas held his breath, listening to Mr Malone’s desperate, panting breaths. Even if Ellie hadn’t been sat on his lap, Thomas didn’t think he could have moved. He felt frozen to the spot, like he was trapped in a single moment while his painfully attractive music teacher was struggling with a reluctant sneeze.

The release started in his shoulder blades, shifting down through his arms and travelling down his spine. And, finally, his head ducked forward and his hand on the wall seemed to slip just a little, like the force of it was too much for him to contain.

hhuRRiHSHHOO! hnTZZUHSHHngk!

That last sneeze ended with a distinctly wet noise which made Thomas’s heart clench in his chest and he finally managed a weak “bless you” which didn’t seem like anything close to a proportionate response given the strength of the sneezes he’d just witnessed.

Looking somewhat dazed, Mr Malone finally extracted a tissue from the pocket of his trousers and cleaned under his nose sheepishly. He turned to Thomas with a confused look in his eye.

“Excuse me,” he said, cheeks flushing pinker than before. “What was I doing?”

*gets down on one knee* I'm proposing to this incredible vivid well written set of events.  This scene is so amazing, I think I held my breath the entire time reading it. Poor Evan and Thomas just frozen watching him with his soft blessing.  Unf Adrian you are such a talent, it's so easy to picture Evan espc the part which I bolded.   Then you added the forgetting which is SUCH a trope of mine and so me and this writing will now live happily ever after. 

 

12 hours ago, AdrianMarx said:

Yes, this crush was definitely getting way out of hand.

Oh sweet Thomas, I'm right there with you.

[tma]

I qill have to comment further later, as I am completely knackered, but...

 

I LOVE this!!!

My heart was exploding fr om the sweetness, asndx *great* descriptions.

 

Perfect!

[AdrianMarx]

Thomas lied to Mr Malone about his first class. He didn’t know what made him do it but the words were spilling out of him before they’d had a chance to be stupid-checked by his brain.

“I don’t have class until this afternoon if you’d like some company?”

The moment he said it, he experienced an overwhelming urge to hurl himself out the window of Mr Malone’s first floor flat. Even if it wouldn’t kill him, the sheer drama of the moment might distract both of them from the most embarrassing thing Thomas has ever said in his entire life. He had resigned himself to the necessity of transferring to a university on the other side of the country by the time Mr Malone smiled at him.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” he said, and Thomas’s heart hammered as it sank deep into the pit of his stomach. Any lower, and it might just fall out his butt. “But being sick can be terribly lonely.”

Thomas held his breath. Was...was his cute, sexy, and vulnerable choirmaster asking him to stay with him while he suffered through a miserable cold and hold him through his shivers and mop his fevered brow and-

Okay, he was getting a bit ahead of himself. But his heart still catapulted up into his throat and he was suddenly worried it was going to pop out of his mouth rather than his butt. Or maybe it was actually thudding out of his chest like in cartoons. (He risked a quick glance down and was relieved to discover that this was decidedly not the case.)

“Besides,” Mr Malone went on, wiping his poor red nose with what was by now a very tired tissue. “Ellie seems to think you’re part of the couch now. Wouldn’t do to harm her concept of object permanence at such a delicate age.”

God, Thomas thought. He’s so fucking weird. He’s perfect.

Since Mr Malone refused to let him get up lest he disturb Ellie’s catnap, the nurse/patient scenario which had been growing arms and legs in Thomas’s mind quickly began to fade as he watched Mr Malone stand up again with a groan of exhaustion and shuffle into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of tea. Thomas didn’t think anybody actually owned teapots outside of his grandfather and old ladies who exchanged gossip in the church hall on Sunday afternoons. He heard a flurry of rough, almost violent sneezes from the kitchen but all he could see was the blurred outline of Mr Malone’s shadow in the soft light shifting noncommittally with each desperate spasm. 

Trying quite desperately to ignore the sudden heat between his legs as an image of Mr Malone falling asleep with his head on Thomas’s shoulder blossomed unbidden in his mind, Thomas quickly focused his attention on the variety of instruments cluttering up the living room. He noticed a violin case tucked away down the side of an armchair and wondered just how many instruments Mr Malone could actually play. He pictured his long, slender fingers pressing confidently against the taut strings, the body of the instruments nestled expertly beneath his chin. He saw his teacher’s strong grip on the bow, the fluid sway of his body as he moved with the feel of the music, intensity of his body’s melody growing to a climax along with the music until-

“Thomas?”

Thomas snapped back to reality with an unpleasant crash and found Mr Malone sitting on the couch next to him, one hand resting gently on his thigh and an expression of deep concern on his face. The tone of his voice suggested that he’d been trying to get Thomas’s attention for some time and the thought of what his face might have betrayed of his daydreaming sent a shiver down his spine.

“Are you alright?” Mr Malone asked, voice quiet and hoarse. “You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

“No!” Thomas protested quickly, wincing when Ellie grumbled. “No, I’m fine. Just...away with the fairies.”

Mr Malone was squinting at him, apparently unconvinced. “Maybe it isn’t a good idea for you to stay. I really don’t want to give you this.”

“No! It’s okay, really,” Thomas said desperately, trying to claw his way towards an excuse. He didn’t want to leave. He’d just moments ago been granted this insight into Mr Malone’s private life and he didn’t feel ready to give it up yet. 

Mr Malone hummed thoughtfully and reached forward to press a cold hand against Thomas’s forehead. More than anything, Thomas willed himself to stop bloody blushing or else Mr Malone was going to think-

“You look a bit flushed. And you’re warm,” Mr Malone said and the corners of his eyes were creased in concern. 

Thomas wanted to reach over and smooth out the lines of worry on the choirmaster’s face, to reassure him that he was fine, that he didn’t need to go home, that he wasn’t catching Mr Malone’s cold. He cursed his stupid body’s inability to think about this man without instantly turning his face a ridiculous shade of scarlet. 

Mr Malone sighed and Thomas knew what he was going to say before the words were out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to ask you to stay. I’d hate to get you sick,” he said quietly, patting Thomas’s upper arm before pulling away and shifting so he was as far from Thomas as he could be while still sitting on the couch.

“It’s really f-”

“No.” Mr Malone interrupted gently. “I’d like you to go home and rest. I’ll be perfectly alright on my own.”

Thomas sighed. “What about Ellie?” He asked, defeated. He knew this was a lost cause.

Silently, Mr Malone reached over and nudged Ellie’s behind firmly, earning a disgruntled meow as she hopped down onto the ground and sauntered off down the hall with her tail swishing carelessly through the air.

“Thank you for the lift, Thomas,” Mr Malone said as they both stood. Mr Malone placed a hand on the small of Thomas’s back as he guided him to the door. “I really do appreciate it. And I’ll see what I can do about getting you into an advanced piano class.”

“Oh, you don’t, you don’t have to do that,” Thomas said, flustered. 

“It’s no trouble,” Mr Malone said, sounding raspier with every word. Thomas felt his own throat ache in sympathy. “And don’t worry. If they won’t bend the rules, I’m happy to teach you myself.”

And, without even giving Thomas a chance to respond, Mr Malone told him to have a safe trip back and closed the door, leaving his poor, smitten student gaping like a goldfish at the chipped green paint. Feeling somewhat numb, Thomas robotically made his way outside and climbed into his car. 

Mr Malone was...happy to teach him...himself? Did that mean...did that mean there was likely to be more of these one-on-one moments in that tiny office, Mr Malone adjusting his wrists just so? 

Thomas let his forehead smack down on his steering wheel. This man was going to be the death of him.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

*sets up tent*

I am HERE for more Thomas and  Evan!! 

 

[Feo]

I’ve just read through this whole thread and I must say that I LOVE IT!! I will definately read it if you decide to write more!

[Feo]

Okay, so I need to make another comment on this drabble so I don’t dig up an old thread.  I’ve just read your original story/drabble with Oliver and Avery after reading this one, and I simply LOVE IT! It’s s long time since I‘ve read such a good story! I want to tell you that I will definately read it if you decide to continue/finish the story. I’m excitet for more!! Avery and Oliver in my ❤️