giddy seizures - falsettos oneshots

the scarlet letter + teacher!whizzvin

Ah, high schoolers, the oxymoronic examples that living zombies really do exist.

Marvin Stern feasted on the glorious horizon of his junior class, the young dawn's fingertips no longer of soft roses - but of sunken eyes and a growing desperation for a simple hug - of sighs painted with an underlying formation of tears.

Oh, and of course, Mister Brown waltzing into his fucking classroom for the third - fourth time today? He's afraid to admit he's lost count.

"Hey, Marv," the dance teacher sing-songs, still clad in his sweatpants, jazz shoes, and tight shirt, advancing towards the English teacher's desk in a thoughtless way - one that's been practiced far too many times.

"Mister Brown," Stern acknowledged, not looking up from the random book he had grabbed from his desk and pretended to have been reading - of course, to avoid eye contact or entertaining Whizzer, heaven forbid he have a reason to stay longer.

Marvin thoughtlessly scanned the first few lines of the lucky page - The Scarlet Letter, lovely.

Upon Mister Brown's entrance, the miserable students perked up from their sad worksheets - excited to see the one source of entertainment from Mister Stern's AP English class.

Whizzer Brown dramatized a frown, as if he thought the English teacher might happen to steal a glance at him from the ink bled on the pages. Once he noticed the title, he grinned.

"The Scarlet Letter, huh," the dance instructor shifted, lifting himself to lean - no, sit - on Marvin's desk, which caused Stern to grimace. "Y'know, that was adapted into a musical."

This surprised the teacher for a moment, causing his nose to twitch in some form of curious excitement, his glasses shifting on his face, "Was it really?"

Whizzer simpered, overjoyed to have ever caught the stuck-up's attention, "Oh, Marvin! I didn't know you had a flare for the dramatics!"

"First of all," the English teacher shushed him. "Don't call me by my first name in front of my students. That's blatant unprofessionalism."

Brown rolled his eyes, "I bet you don't even know my first name."

"Whizzer," he said without pause.

This caused the taller man to dramatically, visibly shudder, fake moaning, "Ah, yes! Say it again."

Stern, albeit a childish joke, allowed himself to chuckle, rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he continued. "Secondly, Mister Brown, I minored on it in college. I'm definitely not an encyclopedia, but I'm not clueless."

Whizzer, completely unfazed, continues with the same excitement, "What's your favorite musical?"

"Lord, I don't know," Marvin decided to surrender the facade of The Scarlet Letter and closed it. "There's far too many."

Mister Brown smacked his lips, "Okay, it's a little cliché, but mine's Chicago."

Stern smirked, "Do you plan to 'paint the town' someday, Sir?"

"Maybe," Whizzer smiled, fully whispering for the first time since he's arrived in the class. "Would you want to see me roll my stockings down?"

The oblivious Marvin Stern had not realized that what he said was even remotely flirtatious until Brown replied. His heart dropped and felt as though it was about to explode - as if a bomb had landed in the ocean - sinking lower, lower, lower, until, suddenly -

The bell signals the teenagers to their lunch period - around 12:10 PM, which does nothing, but terrify Marvin further. He is not emotionally, nor romantically capable of being flirtatious with a man - Stern was sure he was going to die. However, Brown was still sitting rather seductively in an exaggerated way on his desk, and Stern prayed he was joking.

He stood up to busy himself with disorganizing and reorganizing his bookshelves, to busy his anxieties.

Whizzer piped up from behind him, "How come you never come to my studio?"

"Mist- Whizzer, you know I don't have any free periods like you do," He faked an empathetic tone - he was lying, he didn't teach 2nd or 7th period, but was far too intimidated by the instructor to ever attend a class there.

There was a pregnant pause, filled only with the soft shifting sound of leather against leather - book cover against book cover - as Mister Stern continued to fidget. Once satisfied, he turned around, only to be met with the dance instructor's face directly facing him, far too close for comfort. The scene was straight from a shitty horror movie remake of a better horror novel - complete with the far scarier Jaws' theme constantly playing in the back of his mind.

"Why are you so distant from me? Did I do something?"

"Mister Brown, I beg your pardon?"

"Stop fucking calling me Mister Brown! An-and using your stupid formal words! I'm asking a genuine question," Whizzer seemed rather upset, which looks completely wrong on a face suitable for cheerfulness and sarcasm. "Why do you hate me?"

"Mist- Whizzer, I don't hate you?"

"Then why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why all of this," he makes a vague gesture to Marvin. "The book, the bookshelves, the avoiding - barely talking to me. I'm trying really hard to connect with you. You make it impossible."

"Look, Whiz -"

"Is it because you think I'm not smart enough? Because I'm the stupid fucking dance instructor that lives across the campus from you?"

"No, no - of course it's not -"

"Then why, Marvin Stern, why?"

There was a pause.

"Because I'm scared of you."

The atmosphere softened.

Marvin watched Whizzer's eyes soften to confusion before quickly continuing, "No - no, I don't mean like that. You're just, intimidating?"

The confused look didn't fade.

"You're so happy, your students love you, you look great, socializing and knowing exactly what to say comes so easily for you," Marvin traced the cheap tile floors of the classroom with his gaze. "I just - you're better than me in every way imaginable. I wish I could be like you."

The younger man's face slowly faded to a smile, genuine and completely void of sarcasm, "Go out with me tonight."

"Sorry, what?"

"You need some fun. C'mon, hang out with me. Just the two of us."

"Seriously?"

"Are you not single?"

"No, no - I am. I mean - yes, I'm single."

"Then why not?"

"Like - like a date?"

Whizzer smirked, shrugging, "Only if you want it to be."

+

Author's Note

i'm gonna write a part 2 eventually. i'm just bored of this tbh