pile of instrument cases stacked high in the front of the room, spencer sat with a trumpet in his lap, a bottle of cleaning spray on the chair next to him. They were going to need more of a deep cleaning than just that, but he wanted to make sure august got in first before they went on an adventure throughout the closed high school. they hadn’t gotten to hang out much since both being in the same town again, and it was a darn shame. august had been one of his favorite people to hang out with in new york, so when he’d gotten the email about the donated instruments, he knew just the person to keep him company.
ears perked up as the heavy, propped open back door to the band room creaked open, and his face lit up. “hey!” he called out, waving the trumpet at her. “good, you found it! the school’s so big, i got worried. though — i guess you did grow up here and all.” satisfied with the cleanliness of the mouthpiece, he raised the trumpet to his lips and blew, fingers trilling over the keys as an arpeggio filled the room from corner to corner. the high school’s fight song came next, making it halfway through before breaking into a fit of laughter. “it’s been a minute, i’m a little rusty,” he said, letting the trumpet fall to his lap again. “i was thinking about taking them to the cafeteria kitchen to give them a nice deep clean. you up for it?” | @augustjames
