Chapter Text
You were caught by surprise. Not because you were shocked or anything, but because you had seen someone who was your whole type.
His nose, his hair, his eyes, his stubble, even down to the way his sweat rolled down his back, catching onto his shirt. It was a dark grey, which was perfect for catching his sweat, but terrible for the heat that was associated with learning to march.
He wasn’t wearing a hate so you could see the sweat buildup on his head and face aswell. He was so focused on what his section leader was saying that he wasn’t looking around at all, keeping his attention the whole time unlike many of the other sophomores in his section.
It was almost like he was glistening. You’d had a thing for sweaty guys before, but seeing this stranger whose name you didn’t even know was like another awakening.
His hair was black, dripping with sweat. His deep brown eyes were focused on his section leader, keeping their gaze. His skin was a beautiful beige olive, a moderate brown if you will. With his hands holding his trumpet, even from far away you could see the care placed in his hands and their appearance, drawing you in.
You still had to pay attention to the marching fundamentals you were being told, sophomores in your section being taught for the first time. You were in their position last year, so you knew the exact kind of strain it put on everyone physically and mentally.
You continued to watch him silently, him never losing focus on his own tasks with learning fundamentals. You weren’t a bad marcher, but you weren’t the best either. It was good to have a reminder on how to do certain things, but you knew the logistics.
He wasn’t the best marchers either, but it was only the first day. No one is ever that good on the first day, especially if someone’s never done it before. His toes weren’t up all the way like they needed to for his front march. Since it was his first day, you knew he wouldn’t learn to do anything substantial today. You were learning coordinate sheets next week, and that was a later you problem.
Every water break you took, you would look over to the trumpet section and see him working hard. Every water break he took, he would look beautiful. He was always silent, only ever talking to his blonde friend. You didn’t know anything about this guy either, and you didn’t care. You just wanted to know about him. Just him.
When practice ended for the day and everyone went back to the cubby room, you went up to your friend Bodhi. He was also a trumpet. You’d known him and his twin, Kopi, since the eighth grade when you moved here.
“Hey Bodhi.” He turns around and smiles. “Oh hey bro! What’s up?” You look around, checking to see if the guy from earlier is around. “There’s a sophomore in your section, and I’m wondering what his name is. He was wearing a black shirt today and he has black curly hair.” He looks at you, pauses for a second, and says, “I don’t know who that is.. I’ll keep an eye out for you though!” You thank him, and go to your own cubby.
While you pack up your things for the day, you think of him. He already left, which is apparent by the lack of him in the cubby room or the band room, but it makes you think of the mystery of him. Bodhi doesn’t know his name, where he usually remembers the most random things until you need to know something ’important’.
As you ride home, all you can think about is this guy.
———
Tuesday rolls around. Your feet ache from the constant pressure on them from yesterday, but nothing you can’t take. Today’s dress up day was for dressing up as a tourist. You got a text last night that you’d be inside all day because 79 sophomores forgot their physical, so you put on a black shirt. This black shirt is in fact a Green Day American Idiot shirt. Why not dress like a European tourist? They all seem to hate Americans, so why not?
When you get there, you find him. He’s wearing a bright orange shirt, and talking to that one friend of his. Since you’re inside all day, you only see him after the day has ended.
All of your time today was devoted to sectionals, learning the music for the marching show, and admittedly reading fanfiction the whole time. The teacher teaching your sectional was going so astronomically slow, it was just too boring. You finished about 16 different fanfics that whole day while still retaining the information you learned about your music.
Wednesday came. It was school colors day, and he was wearing a darker blue shirt. You were wearing a white shirt with some blue on it since all your school shirts were that same shade of dark blue he was wearing. You’d learned last year wearing darker colors was akin to death out in the blazing heat on top of the reflective concrete.
You still watched him in the morning. You noticed his improvement, his forward march becoming more solid by the rep. The trumpet section started on back marching, and he was picking it up way faster than you had the year before.
It was fun to watch him, you thought. Sure, your eyes had wandered occasionally. The way his shorts cupped his behind, the way his nipples would harden when everyone went back into the air conditioned building. You could see his sweat drip down his neck, licking your lips without thinking, all while your subconscious is wanting nothing more than to stop time and lick his sweat off his body.
After everyone went inside, you’d realized that Bodhi never got back to you about his name. He forgets a lot of things, so it’s to be expected. Before you go to eat your lunch, you talk to Kopi. Since everyone has inside sectionals inside and she’s also a trumpet, she says she’ll ask him.
The end of the day comes and Kopi comes back up to you. She tells you his name is Hector. While eating your lunch, you ponder over his name.
All you know about him is his first name. No last name, no likes or dislikes, just his first name and what he looks like. Hector. His name is Hector. Hector. Hector.
What a nice name.