Assassin's Creed High-School

Music Club

Finally back to writing this story! Okay, now I hope you guys read this because it's rather important: I know in previous chapters I made Mary Read and James Kidd two separate people...but I've changed that. Mary/James shall remain how they were in game.

I apologise for any inconvenience, but I think it will be better this way in the long run. I have gone back on previous chapters to edit Mary's role accordingly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob had yet to notice your presence lingering in the doorway of the clubroom – and you hoped to keep it that way. From this position, you could easily observe – nay, admire – him as he perched on the arm of the couch, an acoustic guitar resting comfortably upon his lap.

You make an effort not to make any noise. Focusing on your breathing, you tried to keep it low and steady, discreet, lest you be discovered. But judging by the acute concentration on his face, you highly doubt any small noise would rouse him.

Previous encounters with the British student had involved arrogant smirks and playful quips, regardless of the situation, so to see him so focused, so serious...it was like stumbling upon a unicorn. On his lips sat the slightest of twists, the beginnings of a satisfied smile as whatever vision he had planned came to fruition.

The guy had such lovely hands, you mused whilst watching as his long digits glide back and forth the fretboard with expert precision. From his soul flows a melody unlike any you’ve ever heard before, and when closing your eyes, you’re transported to a faraway land.

Reopening your eyes, you’re surprised to find a pair of enchanting hazel orbs staring back at you, lips curling with a mischievous glee. “Eavesdropping, are we? How naughty.”

“I was afraid you’d stop playing if I interrupted; it was an impressive show.”

You don’t bother trying to cover up the fact that you had been spying on him – impetuous lying was not a skill you possessed. Besides, everyone loves the occasional compliment, so you might as well give him the praise he is due.

As though already believing his impressiveness was obvious, he smiles and sets the guitar aside. “Well in the future you don’t need to lurk in the doorway.” He drags those talented fingers through already dishevelled hair and plasters on his characteristic roguish smirk. “I always have appreciated an audience.”

“Our leader,” another voice drawls from the doorway, “such a humble fellow, he is.”

Arno saunters into the room with Kadar hot on his heels and drops his bag in the corner. His blazer immediately follows and he sighs, shoulders rolling in an attempt to rid his muscles of the kinks inherited after a long and tiresome day. 

Kadar slinks closer to your side, “I’ve been looking forward to this moment all day.”

You provide a smile in response despite knowing that you were about to greatly disappoint all three of them; talent did not reside within you.

Jacob stands and cracks each of his fingers, “Before we assign (Y/N) an instrument, let’s play her one of our songs to give her an idea of the type of sound we’re going for.”

The trio disperses momentarily to retrieve their instruments and you take up position on the couch, wincing upon feeling the sharp jab of a spring in your backside. You scoot to the other end of the couch and glare accusingly at the offending couch cushion before redirecting your attention to the three teenage males setting up in the centre of the room. 

Arno adjusts the stool behind the drum kit before taking a seat and giving his drumsticks a light tap together. Kadar fiddles with the tuning pegs on his bass and gives the strings a few inquisitive plucks, smiling once satisfied with the sound. Jacob straightens up after adjusting the amplifier to his needs and gives his guitar a strum.

“On my count,” Jacob murmurs and raises three fingers. “Three, two, one…”

Goosebumps immediately stand to attention and rush across the bare skin of your arms. Their music...despite only beginning, it was a special sound. You lacked the discipline needed to learn how to play an actual instrument, but music was something that you lived for, and every song spoke to you in some way. There was something about the vibrations that felt so heavenly, as if it were liquid energy seeping directly through your skin and into your bones. 

Kadar begins bouncing playfully on the tips of his toes and excitement dances beneath his lashes. He hops left, right, then left again. He twirls, sways, and dips wildly to the melody. Though the style of dance took away from the seriousness of the rock genre – at least, that’s what you think is the sound they’re going for -, it was adorable, you had to admit. 

Your hands come together in applause when their song reaches an end. “That was awesome,” you praise sincerely, leaving the couch and inching closer.

Jacob’s brows raise in mirth and he casts an over the shoulder glance at Arno. “Satisfied now?”

Arno gives a jerk of his head in order to move the rebellious lock of hair away from his eyes – which roll skywards at Jacob’s smug attitude. “Just because we received a positive reaction this time around doesn’t mean we’re on our way to stardom. We still have a long way to go.”

Jacob dismisses his words with a languid wave of the hand and a ‘pffft’ sound.

“We’ve never performed for anyone before,” Kadar tells you. “I’m glad you were the first one to see us perform. Do...do you really think we were good?”

“I do.”

And you weren’t simply saying that in order to spare his feelings; they were a talented group of musicians, and with the right management, they could easily become highly successful.

A broad grin stretches across the bassists face and he pumps a fist in a tiny victory gesture.

“The keyboard might be good for you,” Jacob interjects from the other side of the room. “What do you think?”

You can’t help but sneeze as dust flies into the air after Jacob gives the keys a frantic sweep with one hand. Clearly no one had used this particular instrument in a very long time. Would it even still work?

You decide now would be the perfect time to confess whilst Jacob searches for the AC adaptor. “Listen, I know I said this before, but I feel the need to remind you that I can’t play an instrument.”

“We’ll teach you.”

“But doesn’t learning an instrument take at least six months?” You scratch the back of your neck. “And even then, I won’t be able to keep up with the three of you.”

Panic flitters across Kadar’s face as his eyes flicker between the two other club members. “We can work around that. Right, guys? I mean, sure it’ll take time, but we have no problem with that.”

Jacob manages to get the first syllable of an agreement out before Arno is interrupting, “She has a point. We can definitely teach her...but-”

“Oh, please. No buts,” Kadar pleaded softly.

Arno glances at him momentarily and with a trace of compunction. “But,” he continues, “we won’t be able to perform at Musolaza. We’ll have to drop out.”

Musolaza? Where had you heard that before? Oh, duh! It was one of the largest music festivals organised solely for bands that were searching to make a name for themselves. Perform well and you were guaranteed to find an agency willing to form a contract.

They couldn’t give up their position there.

You wouldn’t let them.

Jacob brings a hand to his chin and his lips press into a thin line. “Well,” he begins after a moment, “what about singing? Can you sing?”

“I don’t—”

“Just try,” Kadar interrupts with an adorable smile. “Please?”

Saying no to Kadar was like saying no to a puppy pleading to be picked up – impossible. And it was only one little song...in front of three other people. Nothing daunting about that...right? 

You wonder if Kadar can sense your reluctance and reservation slowly ebbing away because he amps up the cuteness level by clasping his hands together and broadening his smile. You half expected sparkles to appear around him to complete the look.

With the trio staring at you expectantly, you have no choice but to humiliate yourself in front of them; shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your palms rub together, mind struggling to pick a song. Not that it mattered. None of them will sound even remotely bearable coming from you.

Oh. Looks they were getting impatient.

Ah, okay. Enough stalling.

Without further ado, the lyrics of your all time favourite song come flowing from your mouth. Wait, did you say flowing? Ha, right. You actually meant tumbling. The lyrics tumbled from your mouth like an idiot down a flight of stairs. You grimace whenever your voice cracks, a few of the notes proving to be too far out of your vocal range.

Jacob eventually takes pity on you and holds up a hand, silencing you immediately.

You look at them awkwardly. Their stunned silence was probably a bad sign...

Jacob stands and scratches the back of his head; you’ve been caught singing enough times to know that that expression meant that he was struggling to provide feedback without hurting your feelings.

“That was horrible.”

Oh...guess not.

Arno elbows Jacob in the stomach, “Damn, Jacob, tell her what you really think.”

The friends stare at one another, silently conversing with only their eyes. Arno raises a brow. Jacob clicks his tongue and relents, now flashing an affable smile in your direction.

“Don’t worry about not being talented, (Y/N). Being able to play an instrument and singing isn’t all that important.”

“But...it’s a music club.”

Jacob goes silent for a moment before peering at Arno. “You can’t say I didn’t try.”

Arno’s chocolate orbs travel skywards but the corner of his lips quirk upwards in amusement. “I’m certain we can find something else for (Y/N) to do which doesn’t require singing or knowing how to play an instrument.”

“What about a manager?” Kadar suggests with a soft voice.

“A manager?” Jacob’s brows rise to the top of his forehead. “That’s not a bad idea. (Y/N), what do you think? Does that sound like something you’d be able to do?”

You consider the offer for a moment with crossed arms. “I might be able to handle that,” you say. At least this way you’d still remain a member of the club but without the risk of holding them back. And you can still learn an instrument at your own pace.

The trio smiled and Jacob slung an arm around your shoulders.

“Welcome to ‘The Rooks’, (Y/N).”