Chapter 1: Just A Pretty Face

"Again," the music club senior instructed Mick sternly. "And you're still not breathing properly, Mickey."

The boy hated being called Mickey, but he merely went red with embarrassment and concentrated on playing the French horn correctly this time. It was difficult, between controlling one's breath, positioning the lips and pressing the valves in time. 

It also didn't help he was alone in the school's music room with the most notorious senior in the entire club. Om Tatchakorn was popular and well-loved, but also had a reputation for being hard on the underclassmen. He risked a sideways glance at the tall senior with the buzz-cut hair, and winced as he accidentally played a wrong note.

"Stop, just stop," Om sighed in irritation. "I asked you to look at the notes, not at me. Is there an F sharp written on my forehead, nong Mickey Mouse?"

"N-no, p'Om," Mick stuttered. "I'm sorry, p'." Mick could feel his face reddening further, but he couldn't help it. He hated the fact that he had a nervous stutter and fair skin that blushed at the drop of a hat, neither of which he could control. And he'd tried so hard to be the one to impress Om too. 

Mick had set his heart on joining the music club ever since he'd seen them perform way back in 7th Grade at the annual Live Contest music competition. Om, with his best friend Noh and Film had absolutely rocked the stage and left him starry eyed in their wake. He'd been keeping tabs on them since, and had been first in line to sign up for the music club this year when he was finally eligible, and they’d put him into the band.

He'd volunteered to learn the horn, since he’d had some experience with woodwind instruments. He also knew full well that Om Tatchakorn was the only one in the club who could teach it besides Noh, the club president who was always busy anyway. Mick spent a lot of time just practicing with the mouthpiece, and had tried to read up about the instrument online but handling it in real life was more challenging than he'd thought it would be. 

Mick quickly lifted the horn to his lips and tried blowing a note, but the heavy brass tubing slipped in his sweaty hands and if it wasn't for Om's quick reflexes, it would have fallen to the floor and Mick along with it.

"What did I tell you about posture?" Om demanded. "Don't start on it until you've positioned yourself properly! I don't know why I even bothered with you in the first place,” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Mick winced, his eyes prickling with tears of disappointment. No, no, no dammit I'm not going to cry in front of him! He thought, panicking and hating himself even more.

Just then the door opened and Film walked in, distracting Om. Film was the club vice-president in charge of the juniors and the marching band, and of the three seniors he was the most encouraging and kind-hearted of them all. Mick quickly used the opportunity to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, but Film saw it.

"Om! Are you bullying the underclassmen yet again?!" He demanded, going over to them.

"You're the one who asked me to help him. If he can't take basic instructions maybe it's better he sticks to the traditional instruments first for this year, Film," Om said calmly. Mick stared at Om in horror. It would mean he'd miss out on the marching band and the live competition!

"Are you okay?" Film asked Mick in a gentle voice. Mick gulped back his tears once again and just nodded mutely. 

"For 's sake Film, I didn't touch your damn pet," Om put his hands up. "If you keep coddling the juniors they'll never learn any better."

"Well you don't have to be so harsh on them," Film shot back. "Look at this guy, he's trembling already. I've only left you guys for fifteen minutes!" 

"Whatever, man. I'm not wasting my break time on a gone case," Om got to his feet and grabbed his wallet. "You -" he pointed at Mick. "Go practice blowing the khlui and then show me what you can do next week. You're not touching the horn until you've proven that you're more than just a pretty face."

"Om-!" Film was getting angry now, but Om just shrugged at him and left. Film turned to Mick, but the boy had already started cleaning the French horn and packing it neatly into its case.

"Don't mind him. He can be difficult but he's not being mean on purpose. At least, I think so. He can be such an at times," he said apologetically. "Why don't you try the drums, I can teach you those myself."

"Thanks so much p'Film but I really enjoy playing the horn. I'm ok with however p'Om wants to treat me as long as I get to learn something from him," Mick said, going over to the traditional Thai instruments and taking out the khlui. It was a basic wind instrument that any student could more or less play. "I'll get really good at this and then p'Om won't get mad at me anymore, right?" He asked eagerly.

Film looked at Mick silently, not knowing to strangle him or pinch his cheeks. Mick could be too adorable for words, and the boy didn't even know the effect he had on people when he acted all cute and earnest like this. It was one of the reasons why Film had singled him out for private tutoring but had been disappointed when Mick insisted on learning the French horn. Even now he was blowing into the stupid khlui with single-minded determination, all but ignoring Film.

The older boy shook his head and left the music room, leaving Mick alone to practice. 

I'm going to prove to p'Om I've got what it takes, he thought fiercely. It hurt to be dismissed as being useless because of his looks. Mick didn't ask to be born smaller, or to be fair skinned and have large eyes. He didn't ask to be constantly bullied because he was shy and couldn't fight back anyway. He didn't ask for all the extra attention he got from seniors and teachers who thought this quiet, polite little boy was adorable - that only got him more bullying from his previous school, and it had gotten so bad his parents had to transfer him to this one in his 7th Grade.

The only solace Mick got was from music. When he had his headphones on, Mick felt like he was in another world entirely. Somewhere he could just be himself, lost in the rhythms. He closed his eyes and thought of Om as he played. The tall senior looked tough and talked tough, but Mick felt underneath that exterior he was a really good person. He did give Mick a chance after all, and he could only blame himself for screwing it up. 

He never treated Mick differently from the other juniors, in fact Mick was very surprised he was so strict when it came to teaching music, considering Om joked around and played pranks all the other times during club meetings. But when it came to music, he was all business and Mick respected him for that.

If only Mick didn't act like a total klutz whenever he was around Om. Every time he'd look at the tall, handsome senior he'd somehow play the wrong note, or lose his balance, or in today's case, both. There was just something about being around Om that made Mick extra nervous, and extra self conscious. 

Mick wondered if Om had a girlfriend already. Surely someone of that stature would definitely have one. He'd heard rumors about a nong "Carp" from the convent nearby but he wasn't sure if that was a real person or just a nickname. Of course he was too shy to ask, and God forbid what would happen if he brought up that name before Om himself. 

I bet he'd be a good boyfriend though, he thought to himself idly. I wouldn't mind dating a guy like that. 

Not that Mick had lots of experience dating anyone. As a matter of fact, he had none. Guys his age were already starting to have very healthy interest in girls. But Mick wasn't into that. What really interested him were the boys, and he'd known he was different from the other kids since he was young in that respect. 

It wouldn't be hard to get a boyfriend in this school, he knew that. Mick may be painfully shy, but he wasn't dumb. He knew he got special attention from seniors and other boys purely because of his looks and shyness. He was thankful to Film for taking him under his wing and standing up for him, but he was also careful not to lead Film on or owe him any special favors. 

There was only one guy Mick desperately wanted to impress, and he was proving to be a tough nut to crack. Well, that just spurred Mick to try all the more harder, then.

I'll show you, p'Om. One day I'll make you smile for me!