Hollahi Hollaho

Wirt always had a slight melancholy hanging over him,darkening his days, but playing music was something that always brightened his vision. Maybe that's what compelled him to be a music teacher, but that thought didn't last as he had to try and keep a class of 30 in check, each student needing attention he couldn't give. It was draining to say the least; but sometimes he'd come across a student with promise, or potential beyond those that struggle with "mary had a little lamb" on the recorder. However, no matter how much he wished he could help these students and expand their talents, the school's budget was thin enough as is, and his own paycheck wasn't as grand as the employment agency described. So he forced himself into a forlorn seclusion, only broken up by the few times when he'd meet back with his younger brother back in Massachusetts.

It had been several months since he had played last, he had been so consumed by work. Despite this, his fingers still found purchase on the keys as naturally as he would holding a pen. His fourth period was on a grade wide excursion, so he had some spare time, and decided to indulge himself. His other classes were sorted so he felt no guilt in pressing the reed to his lips and losing himself in a little tune. His foot tapping in time with his playing always helped him keep steady, it had far too long. He could feel the nostalgia in waves from his youth, playing to his sweetheart in the high school concert hall, leading the school marching band, leading a parade down the living room with his little brother. The memories brought a seldom seen smile to his face, as his song started to pick up in tune to match his shift in mood.

Lost in his bliss, he barely noticed when the classroom door was opened, and had he turned around he would have noticed the astonished face of one his year nines who had been on his way to class. Neither did he notice the how the young teen started to tap his own foot in time with the teacher. He did notice however when the kids hands started to softly clap in time with cheerful melody flowing through the room.
Wirt turned around instantly, the music coming to an abrupt halt. His face stricken with confusion, and concern. What was this kid doing here? Had he not locked the door? Why was Dipper from his 9B class not in his own class? As the questions buzzed around in Wirts mind, a different set bumped around in Dipper's as he squeaked upon the sudden silence striking the room. He hadn't intended to intrude on his music teacher's recital, but hearing something with actual emotion from outside the room felt so bizarre that he had to investigate it himself.

Standing opposite one another, at first neither one of them moved, but then Wirt let out a defeated sigh and took a seat on the nearest students desk, caring for the child's presence as much as he would for any other. The kid had talent, in fact as part of the local marching band he was the lead of the brass section with his sausophone. But Wirt couldn't help him, Wirt couldn't do much at all, so he resigned himself to cleaning the reed as he waved the child off back to his class.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you sir." came the quiet voice, Wirt recognised the apologetic tone, it was the same one his younger brother would give when he was in trouble.
"It's okay, just go back to class, your teacher will begin to worry" Wirt said

"Ms Odph wouldn't notice I was gone, and um- besides I'd prefer listening to you play like you were than to reading about Macbeth any day" Dipper said, looking down.

"Well as it's not like I can force you back, just make sure you get back before the next bell." Wirt replied, replacing the clarinet to his lips and starting up another tune. Dipper resigning himself to sitting at the nearest seat and listening on, it took him all of his willpower not to give a round of applause by the end of Wirt's song.

As the music teacher got up to readjust his seating, he noticed the boy picking one of the spare recorders he had lying on his teacher's desk for his year sevens next period.
"Hey-um- Mr. Palmer ?" he began, his nerves showing as the recorder slowly shook in his hands, " I was-uh-wondering if you wouldn't mind-um-i-i-f you'd like to play a duet?"
Keeping his patience with the child's stuttered proposal, Wirt smiled a little as he patted the space he made next to him and shuffled to the side. With a look of absolute glee Dipper climbed onto the desk alongside his teacher and got his hands comfortable with the recorder. Soon the air was filled with the chipper sound of a clarinet being matched by a much higher pitched recorder.