Disclaimer: Bully/Canis Canem Edit belongs to Rockstar

Disclaimer: Bully/Canis Canem Edit belongs to Rockstar. Original characters belong to their respective owners. I don’t own “Stairway to Heaven”, that belongs to Led Zeppelin.

A/N: I’m really sorry for the late update. I haven’t been feeling all too well and I’ve been rushing with finals and dance routines! Again, much apologies, I hope no one has forgotten the fic just yet! I hope everyone enjoys!

Observation Twenty-Four: Don’t Ever Change

“So please don't ever change,
no don't you ever change.
I kind of like you
just the way you are...”

- The Beatles, Don’t Ever Change

He bowed, taking in the cheers and applause of the audience. Adrian had never felt so smug in his life, for he finally showed the non-believers and nay say-ers the true pinnacle of his woefully underappreciated talent. He blew kisses and gave the crowds a word of thanks for watching, and as he walked to the back of the stage, trying to squeeze every glorifying moment he can, he looked at Jimmy with an eyebrow raised and a rather disapproving look.

“Well Hopkins, you’re up next. Ready to play that trashy little number you dare call music?”

The other boy was certainly by no means, impressed by the Aquaberry heir’s behavior, and he gave Adrian a condescending smile as he said, “If they can clap their hands to that piece of shit you just pulled off, they’d be tossing roses at me.”

“W-what? Why you filthy little—” But before Adrian could get another word out, the twins stepped forth and put their hands on their younger brother’s shoulders.

And just as they took that step forward, it sent Jimmy a good three steps back. Because no matter how alike and how androgynous they looked, he could never get over the fact that they were related and quite possibly insane. With the way they seemed to enjoy pretending to be the other gender, they frightened Jimmy to an all time record, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Hell, he’d be more surprised if there were actually people who weren’t afraid of Angelina and Andrew Aquaberry…

“Now Jimmy-James,” one of the twins (who looked like Andrew but sounded terrifyingly like Angelina) said to the boy in a rather defensive manner. “Don’t you ever speak to our baby brother like that again! How can you be so rude and thoughtless?”

“Yes,” agreed the other twin (who looked like Angelina but reminded Jimmy horrifyingly of Andrew). “Our dearest Adrian’s been practicing for so long and trying so hard to put on such an amazing show! You should at least be respectful!”

A muscle went off in Jimmy’s jaw. I see the bitchiness runs in the family…

He rolled his eyes and gave a displeased glare at Adrian, who was no sooner dragged off further down the wing by his cooing, impressed siblings, showering the poor thing with praises left, right and center. Naturally though, Jimmy knew that they probably didn’t mean a word of it (and if they did, Jimmy had feared for mankind’s sudden drop in taste) and were giving Adrian encouraging remarks.

Truth of the matter was that the audience was really quite impressed at Adrian’s presentation, not so much the actual music playing. Needless to say, Jimmy knew that Jacqueline Hydee might give the Aquaberry heir a less than favorable mark, should she decide to be a little more rational that night.

“Last, but not least, is Jimmy Hopkins and his rendition of the Led Zeppelin classic; Stairway to Heaven. Give it up for Jimmy, everyone!” A roar from the audience could soon be heard, and Jimmy couldn’t help but manage a small smile when he heard the distinct drawl of Christy Martin yelling out “WE LOVE YOU JIMMY!”

Flattered as any boy his age could be, he took the guitar by the neck and walked out with a newly instilled sense of confidence. He shielded his eyes from the sudden glare of the spotlight on stage, but he quickly got used to it, admiring the eager smiles from friends in the audience.

Walking over to the chair placed in the center, he spoke a few words into the microphone, adjusting himself to be a little more comfortable.

“Uhh... hi everyone, thanks for coming. Tonight I’m playing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ by Led Zep, as you all know.” There were a few stifled giggles from the audience, mostly from the girls who had admired him. “Before I start, I’d like to thank Miss Hydee for giving me a chance to play up here.” Jimmy winked at the music teacher below, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt to butter up the woman as he spied something of a small smile forming on her lips. “And also, I’d like to give out a small shout out to a friend. He isn’t here tonight, but this kinda goes out to him. Right, here we go...”

He felt all sorts of stupid for saying such a thing. The fact that he didn’t need to say it made him feel even sillier still, but after his small encounter with Ben earlier in the day and his discovery of the wheat-blond boy’s secret friendship with Roxy Smith, somewhere, deep down, Jimmy just wanted to prove to Benji that he was just as good as a friend as some wallflower of an English girl, if not better.

Damn, I sound like a fucking chick.

He slowly started his master-level recital, noting that grins were still plastered on most of the audiences’ faces. Fingers on the fret board and a worn but trusty pick in his grasp, he began to play the first few notes of the song, each one as haunting as the original, as true as Jimmy Page’s plucks and strums.

“There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold,
And she's buying a stairway to heaven,
And when she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed,
With a word she can get what she came for...”

There was a roar from the audience, with shrieks and squeals this time around. While somewhat distracting, it just proved to Jimmy he was going in the right way, and it only encouraged him further.

He sang and played just as well as any talented guitarist. There were moments where he would catch himself slowly losing grip, where his fingers would hurt a little bit from holding the strings down too hard, but luckily he regained himself, he managed through just fine.

Hell, he managed far better than Adrian did. His number was not only long, it was also complicated. And while Led Zeppelin had the luxury of doing many other takes and far more practice time than Jimmy could have, he was feeling rather well about his performance. This of course, earned Jimmy a little bit more merit than the pathetic excuse of a nemesis who called himself Adrian Aquaberry.

“There's a feeling I get when I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking”

You can do this Jimmy...

“And it's whispered that soon, if we all called the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
And the forest will echo with laughter”

He was near the end. Beads of sweat were rolling down the side of his face, courtesy of the hot and powerful spotlights. He could feel his fingers losing their grip—they hurt now and his reactions were getting a little bit slower. It was a little bit more difficult to move from chord to chord, moving up and down the board became a little harder, and he found harder and harder to hold the neck.

“And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our souls
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock and not to roll
Ooooooooooooh”

He hit the final note, the sound roaring through the auditorium like a scream from an otherworldly being. It was like a moment of tense suspense, everyone remained quiet, waiting for the final line...

“And she’s buying a stairway to heaven...” Jimmy sung softly into the microphone, eyes closed and soul relieved. He grinned widely and uttered "thank you" to the audience as they cheered and applauded for his amazing rendition.

As he took one final glance at the screaming, clapping, cheering faces, he saw a person, far in the back with an old, heavy coat on his small frame and a worn scarf, smiling at him. This little boy was gently waving, and Jimmy could see a distinctive mop of wheat blonde hair and a pair of glasses as plain as they came.

“Ben...?” His jaw dropped.

Now I really look like a pussy.

--

The show was soon over, the marks had been written down on that dreaded clipboard. Lady Jacqueline, in her more popular persona, had mentioned to the students that the grades will be announced soon, how everyone did a good job. Of course, there was still the matter on whether or not she would stick to traditional classics or throw some modern tunes into the mix. As she turned to leave, she simply said, “You’ll soon know, my little dears.”

She practically danced out of the exit, with a pop in her steps and a tune on her lips. Singing away with car keys in her hand and twirling in the snow.

You just had to wonder about her sometimes.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky now, as Jimmy had packed up his guitar and made plans to sleep his way through the week. He deserved it for many reasons; for having to watch for that prick of a boy called Benji, for having to put up with a crazed, bi-polar music teacher who made him play a hellish number (even if he did do well, his fingers were sore and some were beginning to bleed), and just for putting up with the hell called Bullworth Academy.

He deserved a week long nap. The drama that the other students liked to put on his shoulders was enough to make him kill, and he deserved such a long period of sleep because he was the king on winter-fucking-break. If he wanted to hibernate like a bear and eat a room full of junk food, then by all means he would.

But first, he had to find the mysterious little stranger, the bringer of both encouragement and embarrassment to young Hopkins. Whipping around the corner of the fountain, he saw the figure walking towards the parking lot in a brisk walk.

“BEN!” He called out. “HEY! Ben! Is that you?” There was no answer, and this made the boy scowl more than anything. “HEY! You little dipshit! Can’t you hear me?!”

The figure then stopped and turned, his little mouth twisted in a frown as he threw Jimmy an annoyed glare. “Can’t you think of a better way of attracting my attention without cursing me, Jim?”

“Nothing else seems to work, kid.” Grinning, Jimmy didn’t hesitate for even a moment and made his way over to Benji, slapping a hand on the younger boy’s back. “Hey, why were you there? Why’d you come tonight?”

“Err…” Benji didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer, let alone find a good excuse for his attendance. Jimmy was in the right after all. He was encouraged to not come in order to avoid any trouble between him and that dastardly Aquaberry heir. But no, here was the little brat, standing before him in a horrible old coat.

“Well?” Jimmy prodded.

The younger boy shrugged and said as a matter-of-factly, “I guess... I guess I wouldn’t be such a good friend if I didn’t come to see you perform tonight. My conscience has enough guilt as it is.” He gave the older boy a pat on the arms, “I was really impressed tonight, you know. I think you might actually make something of yourself.”

Jimmy had his jaw wide open, nearly touching the floor. He couldn’t believe what the boy had just said. No one ever said those words of encouragement to him before, and to hear them from Benji was the last thing he had ever expected. So far was he in his disbelief that he didn’t even bat an eye or break out of his surprised stance when Benji bade him goodbye and disappeared within the crowd.

“What the hell...?”

Indeed, what could anyone say in such a situation. But Benji was a boy of mystery, a riddle wrapped in an enigma; no one can ever expect anything out of him. All the same, Jimmy warmed up, realizing the implications of the conversation. He couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his lips.

“Ben, you’re such an asshole.” He picked up his guitar and made his way back to the dorms.

Time for that week long nap.

--

Adrian had finally gotten away from the twins, hastily rubbing his cheeks and trying to rid himself of the so-called taint his older siblings had given him. As he swung around the corner leading to the Harrington House, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the infamous “Nightingale” talking in a rather friendly manner to Gord Vendome.

She was wearing a rather expensive looking coat, with an expensive looking scarf and hat to match. From his days parading about as Ace, Adrian had never thought of Roxy as anything else but a kinder-than-normal greaser girl. Oh, the Aquaberry vest, she explained, was a symbol that she was just as tough as the rest of the clique, for she had claimed it was stolen off Pinky when she was much younger.

But now it made a bit of sense, seeing as that he had never understood why Peanut would roll his eyes at the story and tell the girl that “one day, you’ll do it for real.” Well, now he knew.

“Gord...” Adrian approached the pair, walking a bit more cautiously than normal. “What on Earth are you doing out here, shouldn’t you head home? It’s getting rather late, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” the shorter boy giggled, as the darker haired prep began playing with his scarf. “I was just about to head home, but dear Roxanne needed to get back with her roots.”

“Quite the understatement,” she laughed off. “No, no, Adrian dear, I just wanted to hand off a few presents to Gord. Christmas and all that, might as well get into the giving spirit while I can.” She straightened herself up, with a jovial manner she said, “Right, off I go. I see the lovely Miss Gauthier over there and I simply must hand these little surprises to her. I’ll see you both whenever I do. And Gord, do stay out of trouble.”

“Even if you are a traitor, I commend you on your delightful gifts,” he replied with a smile, “Don’t worry about me misbehaving, it’s what I have Adrian here for.” He put his hands on his lover’s chest, and gazed up into the Aquaberry heir’s eyes lovingly. “Isn’t that right, my dearest cuddle-bunny?”

“Yes, yes,” Adrian said absently, patting Gord carelessly on the head. “Quite true, angel-wings. Must be on my way now, cheers to you both.”

Gord and Adrian made their way into the Harrington House, thankful for the warm, cushy interior and certainly having to rid themselves of the cold, wet coats at the front. Sitting by the common room before a blazing fireplace, cups of hot drinks in each of their hands, they soon began idle chattering.

“Tell me, my dearest Gord,” the dark-haired prep began, “why on Earth did you call that Roxanne girl a ‘traitor’?”

He didn’t have to know why per se, but rather, he wanted to know the history. Just how did that girl manage through siding with the greasers and yet making ample time for some of the preps?

“Oh, really, it’s certainly not like we enjoy each other’s company. I don’t think anyone else does too, we never really liked her from the start, and she was always a bit too quiet and studious for our tastes, even if she was quite fashionable at the time.”

“What happened?”

“If it weren’t for those grease monkeys, she wouldn’t have been persuaded by their roguish charms to have thought of even joining them. I’d like to think that it was entirely her fault though, I hate to speak ill about Derby, but I think he shouldn’t have pushed her too far.” Gord paused to take a sip from his mug, before sighing and shaking his head. “It’s not that I’d care to sympathize for her or anything, but it seems such a damn shame…”

Soon, Adrian was caught up in this story that happened not too long ago, where a girl of English origins had set out for the preps and their elite ways. But she had long grown disillusioned of the glamorous life, instead, much preferring to retire to something a little more grounded and laid back. Enter the greasers, who were the just the right amount of scruff, dirt and street honor to make her weak in the knees and her heart set a-blazin’.

She was highly regarded in most social circles still; hence the faux politeness and faked smiles the other preps would give, even if they would distastefully call her out as a traitor when she was with her more preferred clique. Roxy never did care for it, she was in fact, very pleased with herself that she was able to stand in the auto shop grounds, Aquaberry clad, and not get beaten up (even if did ruffle some of the new greasers’ feathers a bit).

In spite of himself, he began to remember things, the people he met, and the designers he worked with. And eventually, a face popped up, a young English girl. A daughter of one of his most treasured designers, sitting placidly in the Rainbow Room in Kensington. She wore her black and red uniform of her former school, hair slightly longer and manners a little bit more reclusive, but she remembered him and he remembered her.

“That’s how she knows me... that’s how she figured it out...” the Aquaberry heir whispered quietly to himself, still deep in thought.

“Excuse me? Did you say something?” Gord seemed to have caught it, but Adrian quickly pushed it away, simply stating that he was thinking out loud again, that it was just a lingering thought that needed no attention.

This isn’t good. What if she lets the others know? My life will be ruined if she so much as to breathe my identity to those other greasers... I’ll have to have a word with her soon.

--

Meela looked up from her book as she heard the front door swing open. “Benji? Where have you been, darling? Mr. Sai said you stepped out to see a friend. Is that true?”

Benji put the coat on the rack and ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, momma. I went to see Jimmy perform tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier...”

The mother was, more than anything, just thankful her son was out of harm’s way. But she would’ve liked to see Saint Jimmy perform. That boy had a habit of making her smile. “Well, did he do well? I’m sure he’s very talented.”

“Yes, momma, he put on a really good show.” Along with Adrian, but I’d never let you get anywhere near him. I can’t risk it.

“At least you’re back home. But next time, baby, please let me know where you’re going and who you’re seeing. You know it worries me so.”

The wheat-blond boy snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “For you information,” he said flatly, “I happen to be a big boy, Meela.”

“And I know you are,” Meela replied sweetly, “but a mother worries now and forever…you know that.” She got up and walked over to her son, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a kiss. “Would you like a hot drink, darling? It’s really cold tonight. I still have some hot chocolate left over. We can heat it up again and talk about Jimmy’s performance.”

“I’m a bit sleepy,” he muttered, before let out a long yawn and a stretch. “But…hot chocolate sounds really good.”

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll get the drinks ready? We’ll make a party out of it,” Meela said with a smile, and despite himself, Benji couldn’t hold back a smile either.

“Sure thing momma.”

It was good to be home.

--

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