Chapter Text
Jack sighed, looking into the music room. He thought he'd heard music. Sammy was still at the piano, cursing quietly. He moved to the younger “Hey, relax.” He said quietly. “Listen, you’re tired, you’ve been awake for almost two straight days. You just need to stop and go home to sleep.” Jack sat on the piano bench next to the slumped Sammy, who was resting his head on the keys.
“I need to finish this piece; I can’t relax until I’m finished.” Sammy muttered, not moving to sit up. Jack noticed he wasn’t speaking in his usual way. He really was exhausted. “I’m used to staying up all night Mr. Fain. I can handle this myself.”
“Lawrence, I can see the blood under your nails. You need to rest before you tear open the skin of your fingers even more.” Jack pulled the teens hands towards him, inspecting them. They were indeed red, both from irritation and the dried blood stuck to them. Sammy sat up, yanking himself free and attempted to stand. He clumsily tripped over the leg of the bench and hit the wall with a loud thwack.
Sammy groaned, rubbing his back as he sat on the floor. “I can handle myself. I’m fine Mr. Fain. Really, I just need one more hour. I want to impress Mr. Drew and I am so, so close.” He waved his hands around, as if Jack’s concerns were bugs he had to swat away.
Jack sighed, squatting in front of Sammy. “Listen, Mr. Drew isn’t going to notice this unless you or someone else goes up and says it. He expects people to finish things that fast.” Sammy shook his head, trying to ignore the man.
“I will finish this, and then I can be in charge of the whole music department.” Sammy began to ramble, pushing himself to his feet. He kept talking, swaying as he grabbed onto chairs or tables to stay upright. “You’ll see, they’ll see my age doesn’t impact my ability. I’ll be the best director you could ever have! Things will change around here. I’ll make sure our deadlines are less strangling, and that the instruments will be tuned more often. Mr. Drew will be impressed and listen to me. I’ll prove myself to him, to everyone! Just, just…I just have to keep pushing…” His words slurred together, the unfortunate teenager tripping over one of the music stands. Jack cringed as Sammy toppled over, hitting the chair beside it.
Jack rushed to Sammy’s side, checking for any bleeding. Sammy attempted to push him off but resigned to the inspection. “You’re going to hurt yourself, just go home Sammy.” Jack chided, helping him sit up.
“I can’t…” Sammy mumbled, looking down at his hands. Jack raised an eyebrow, moving to sit across from Sammy.
“Why not?”
“Well…Someone stole my bike last week, and my house is too far away to walk home.” Sammy hid his face, scooting away from Jack. “So, I’ve been staying here and sleeping in the medical center.” Jack stared, mouth working to respond.
“Listen Mr. Fain, I do not want you looking at me with pity. I am doing just fine, and I can care for myself. If you want to help me, you can leave and forget about this.” The more aloof, formal speech was back. “You have your life, and I have mine.”
The man looked him over, a mix of sadness and understanding tinging his eyes. “Mr. Lawrence, you don’t have to work this hard to impress your boss. I get why you want to, Joey’s just…You want him to be proud of your work. But this isn’t how you do it. This is how you get sick and have to take leave for days.”
Sammy looked up at Jack.
“It’s not your age I’m worried about. It’s your health. You’ve been working yourself ragged for months, and it’s showing in the songs too. If you really want to be a good worker, you need to stop playing for so long your hands freeze up and you can’t unbend them.” Jack gave him a meaningful look. “You can’t keep pounding the keys so hard your fingers bleed. Or stay up so late that those music sheets you sent me were just a page of scribbles in the shape of music notes.” Sammy winced.
“I-”
“No, you can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy. What about your parents? Haven’t they been worried about you not coming home for days?”
“Mr. Fain-”
“I mean, how about your siblings? Pets, those cats you talk about all the time, why hasn’t anyone come to pick you up and get you home?”
“JACK!” Sammy shouted, interrupting him. He stopped, turning back to the teen. Sammy sat on a chair, leaning on a table. “Johnny is fine, he can care for the cats on his own.” There was a pause. “My mother is on another business trip as a secretary. She won’t be home for at least another week. Johnny is used to me not coming home.”
Jack walked to sit next to him. “What about…”
“My father died in the war. Johnny has been keeping everything running for us.” Jack wasn’t surprised, just sad.
Sammy took a breath, staring Jack in the eyes. “I can handle myself. I have plenty of experience. Now if you’ve finished worrying, I have work to do.”
“Can I please take you home? I have a car. It’s almost three in the morning and you can barely stand up.” Jack tried to stay neutral.
Sammy’s eye twitched, the tell that he was about to start yelling, but he paused. “...Mr. Fain, why do you care so much about this? We barely know each other. You have no reason to be this nice to me.”
Jack sighed. “Because I think you have potential. You clearly have everything you need to be successful except proper work habits, but all I see is you spinning your wheels. You keep getting stuck on tiny problems, overworking everything you do. You obsess over little details and run yourself into the ground. I want to make sure you don’t get completely burned out.” Sammy didn’t move. “Plus, I like you, you’re fun to be around when you aren’t two minutes from a nervous breakdown.”
“...” Sammy looked around the room, the knocked over music stand, the papers on the floor, the piano. “I miss my cats. Could you drive me home tonight?” He finally asked, brushing himself off.
Jack smiled, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Of course, Mr. Lawrence. I’d be happy to.”
“Sammy.”
“Of course, Sammy. I’d be happy to.”