Molly P.O.V.

The whole class stares at Mr Stump as he smiles mildly around the room. He is fairly short, with alabaster skin and dark blonde hair, his blue-green eyes sparking with vague amusement. The corner of his mouth twitches as he surveys us and I can't help focusing on his plump, rosy lips. Pink marshmallows spring to the forefront of my mind. Eh?

"So..." he says, unpacking his bag and arranging his folders and pens on his desk. "As I don't know any of you yet, how about we start with a few introductions? Let's go around the class, everyone standing up and saying their name. I'll start, OK? As I said, I'm Mr Stump, the music man. You next?"

He points at an uncertain looking girl on the front row, who stands up to introduce herself before sitting quickly back down. We slowly make our way round the whole class and Mr Stump smiles and nods at every new person.

"Hi, I'm Ray Toro," Ray announces, slumping back on to his chair.

I stand next, legs and voice shaking in a way I desperately hope is not noticeable as I say "I'm Molly Iero," barely above a whisper. I don't relish speaking in front of lots of people, you might have realised, even for such a short time.

Normally at this point I'm asked to repeat myself, with the teacher tapping their foot irritably and the other students raising their eyebrows and smirking to each other. But to my great relief, Mr Stump just gives me a wide, pleasant smile and moves on to the next desk, leaving me to sit back down uninterrogated. I must be honest, being passed over like this definitely warms me to a teacher. Which is probably a little abnormal.

With the whole class introduced, Mr Stump starts to outline all the topics and assessments we'll be doing this year, making notes on the board for us to copy. "But for this first lesson," he grins, "we'll do something a little more lighthearted. A poster-" He breaks off as the class groans. "Hey now. A poster on your favourite music, with bands, singers, logos, lyrics, that kind of thing. Show me what music is important to you. Bob- it is Bob, isn't it?- could you hand out the paper please?"

---

Soon everyone is absorbed in drawing, the chatter descending to a quiet murmuring, as Mr Stump wanders the room, looking at everyone's efforts and commenting on their choices.

After a while he reaches mine and Ray's table, peering at Ray's explosion of Iron Maiden, Queen and Metallica with a large grin. "Fantastic, Ray, you're in to some cool stuff!"

"Ha, thanks, sir."

"So going by your influences, I'm gonna guess you're a bit of a rocker? Guitarist or drummer perhaps?"

"Guitar," Ray beams. His favourite topic!

He and Mr Stump spin off in to an animated tangent on the joys of the electric guitar until the handsome teacher turns to me.

"What do you play, Molly?" He looks at me quizzically.

"Bass," I murmur. "And guitar, a little bit." Wait, did I just call him handsome?

"What about you, sir? What do you play?" Ray asks.

"Oh, well I do guitar and bass as well. Also drums, piano, trumpet and saxophone, and I sing quite a lot too." He pauses as we gape at him in astonishment.

Ray whistles softly. "Wow. That's very impressive. You must be some kind of genius."

Mr Stump's cheeks flush at that and he ducks his head slightly with a soft laugh. "I definitely wouldn't say that! But music has always been my biggest passion so I devote a lot of time to it. That's my secret, I guess. Um, anyway..."

He turns to me, putting a hand on the back of my chair and leaning forward to see my work. There's tiny drawings of Manic Street Preachers, The Smiths and Pulp, next to their respective logos, with the rest of the space filled with my favourite lyrics; I want to walk in the snow and not leave a footprint, I want to walk in the snow and not soil its purity...This life it sucks your principles away, you have to fight against it every single day...I am human and I need to be loved, just like anybody else does........

He's quiet for a few moments before he says softly "Yet another person whose music tastes are after my own heart. Brilliant bands, aren't they?"

I nod, throat tight, feeling weirdly exposed. The songs that ring strongest and purist to someone, the ones closest to their heart, the ones that have been there for them through good times and bad, the ones they've screamed themselves hoarse to and scribbled all over their bedroom walls...that's personal stuff. Displaying them so barely and carelessly to someone else feels uncomfortably...reckless.

"What is it you like about them so much?" I almost miss Mr Stump's question through the fog of my slightly panicked thoughts.

"Th-they've just been such big helps and influences to me...their passion and honesty and intelligence- just- beautiful omnipresence in my life."

I look up from my desk quickly to see Mr Stump staring at me with an expression I can't read. "Yes..." he says slowly, shaking his head minutely as his gentle smile reappears. "That's a very good reason indeed. The best. Excellent work."

He squeezes my shoulder momentarily before moving away.
I let out the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in and searched for my colouring pens, my mind clouded for the rest of the lesson with thoughts of Mr Stump's caressingly-deep voice and the crinkles around his ocean-filled eyes.

---

Lunchtime finds me sipping absent-mindedly from a milkshake while Pete and Ray chatter cheerfully around me.
"...Molly, yoo-hoo, Earth to Molly!"

"Aw, she's thinking about Dreamboat Stump!" Ray winks.

That catches my attention, but only just. "Hush, my fro-child," I say vaguely, patting his curly head.

"So guys, do you wanna hang out this weekend? I was thinking we could maybe go bowling on Saturday," Pete mumbles around a mouthful of chips.

"Sounds cool. Molls, you in?"

"Um..." I waver, confusedly tuning back in to the conversation.
"Oh, no sorry, I can't, it's Uncle Mikey's birthday, so we'll be round his place all Saturday."

"No worries, wish him a happy birthday from us both."

"Will do," I reply with a smile, as the discussion returns back to Game Of Thrones.

Notes

Hope people are enjoying this. Am I the only one who can't read back over any of my own writing without cringing?? Anyway... Frerard next chapter ;)