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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

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Let’s Face the Music & Dance

Part One: There May be Trouble Ahead

A/N: Alright. Here. We. Go. Got your dancin’ shoes? John is makin’ moves. (Quote in bold taken from Much Ado About Nothing)

*read the intro here*

Warning: um... narrowly avoided vehicular manslaughter?

Word Count: 3,492

The air rushed past his face chilling the skin of his cheeks beneath the leather trimmed goggles that he wore as he sped down the open country roads. His carefully slicked back hair had blown free only a few kilometers into the trip, loose strands trailing down and back over his ears. I can’t believe that… He tightened his grasp on the handles, pushing the limit on the speed as he pushed the thought from his mind. The truth was that he could believe, he did believe that his mother thought so little of him. She’d made it quite clear where she placed blame and where she placed expectations. And the former far outweighs the latter, so… He sniffed, his nose red from the cold air and from the way Veronica’s cold comments stung at his eyes. So this is how it has to be.

He hadn’t planned to make the trip down to Oxford all in one go, nor had he planned to leave home that day. But I couldn’t stay, not after… Trees blurred into countryside, rolling hills and pastures full of sheep flying by as John left everything he knew behind him in hopes that he could make something new of himself; something successful and worthy of rehabilitating the Whittaker name. Worthy of showing everyone that they were wrong about me. He tucked away as much of the hurt that his mother’s words and decisions had caused him as he could, stuffing it into the emptiness that the dissolution of his marriage had left him feeling. It won’t do any good to dwell...to continue to...to wallow.

After Larita and his father absconded from the estate in a flurry of shattered statuary and broken hearts, John hadn’t come down from his room for nearly a week. He’d quickly realized that while he did love her, and he was sure that she had loved him- at least while we were together in Monaco- the two were about as unlikely to last as ice cream on an August afternoon. There were too many differences, too many areas of their lives that were complete and utter mismatches. But still, the fact that he’d taken her hand and taken the leap only to end up on the ground alone was… lonely, I felt...I felt alone. He’d thought that being married, having a wife, being her husband, would mean that he’d never have to feel that way, and certainly not so soon after taking that leap did he expect to crash. It wasn’t that he missed Larita. It was that he felt as though he had failed himself by grabbing the wrong hand.

But shortly after he’d realized that it wasn’t her absence that was causing the ache in his chest but the connotations of that absence, John started to come back to himself. His mother, it seemed, had already gotten past the pain of her own crash, likely before she’d even hit the ground, and he was hurt all over again by the fact that he was alone in feeling alone. The truth, as he’d learned, was that not only had Veronica made peace with the fact that her marriage hadn’t been what it once was for a very long time, she’d also made peace with selling even more of their property to a banker named Harold Roberts, and marrying Hilda off to his son Walter. It was an attempt to keep what little they had left, but it was an attempt that excluded John completely. While Marion seemed content to be overlooked, believing, as Veronica had always said, that marriage would never be the route that she went down, John on the other hand, felt as though the rug had been pulled from beneath him.

It was no use fighting with his mother once she made her calculating mind up, though, and so he chose to go on with his plan regardless of the other that was hatching. Phillip Hurst, in his own attempt to try to make something meaningful of his life, had decided to attend Oxford University, and John had decided to join him. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d study, or where it might take him, but he knew that it was a much better plan than waiting around to make another dangerous leap. He spent the rest of the trip from Nottinghamshire ruminating on what courses he might take, on what knowledge he might gain. Phillip had chosen to study Literature, which to John made sense, as his friend had always had a flair for the dramatics, but sitting still and reading for hours on end was not something that John could see for himself. Still, Phillip had been supportive of John’s choice to enroll in University, quoting Shakespeare in a telegram that John supposed was meant to be comforting. “Everyone can master grief but he that has it… so leave it behind and join me!”

Four hours since leaving the home he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to call his again, John Whittaker arrived in Oxford, England. He pushed the goggles up onto his forehead to get a better view of the city and of the buildings that constituted the University. Feeling better, if only for the moment, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to feel hope for the first time since he watched his wife and father exit his life. This is… I’m really…

But before he could fully enjoy the feeling or the moment, a young woman was shouting as she leapt out of the way of his bike. Taking his eyes off the road to appreciate his new situation had caused him to veer slightly off course, sending him careening towards the walkways. Oh! Quickly turning the handles, he narrowly avoided crashing into the woman, though he hadn’t avoided the bush right beside her, ending up halfway into the greenery before he could stop. Right. Well. I’m here.

“Would you watch where you are going? You nearly knocked me over there with your carelessness! Who even…” You’d dropped your books when you’d had to jump from his path, your skirt twisting around and your top askew.

What? I...Oh, I… “I’m sorry, I’m so…” He pulled the motorbike out of the bush and bent down to pick up one of your dropped texts, handing it back to you as a page fluttered out onto the ground. “Are you alri-” You snatched it back from him with one hand, the other pulling at your clothing to fix it back into place.

“No, I am not alright! As I said, sir-”

“It’s John, actually, John Whittaker, and I’m very-”

“As I said, John, you nearly knocked me over with your,” you gestured at his motorbike with the book, “your ridiculous cycle here, and I-”

“But you aren’t hurt, are you?” He asked as he stepped towards you, the sincerity in his eyes clearer than the embarrassment. He looked you over quickly scanning your elbows, your face, the small amount of skin that was visible beneath the hem of your skirt. She’s not bleeding, I don’t see any-

You blew out a breath in a huff and shook your head. “No, I’m not hurt, but you should… You need to be more cautious.”

Nodding profusely, he agreed. “You’re right, I should be more careful, it was foolish of me not to pay more attention.” You seemed to be expecting him to disagree and were caught off guard by the lack of fight he put up, your sharp eyes softening the smallest amount. “Can I… do you need any help or… can I walk you to wherever it is you were going?” The soft look vanished as one eyebrow shot up, but before you could open your mouth to protest his forwardness, he continued. “I don’t mean to be forward, I only want to make sure that you’re truly not hurt. It seems the least that I can do after, well after,” he tilted his head towards the motorbike, a broken branch of leaves sticking in the spokes of the front wheel. “After I almost ran you down, Miss..?”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you tried to decide what his intentions might be. I only want to make sure that I don’t leave my mark on your life like I do everywhere I go. Blowing out another breath through your nose as you fixed your sleeve, you told him your name, which he repeated in his mind immediately, not ignoring the fact that he liked the way it sounded. No, don’t start that now, that’s not why you’re here. “Um… no, I, er…” you nodded curtly. “I’m alright, John, and I need to be going now or I’ll be late to my study group. Just...just be more careful, and keep your tires on the road, will you?” With that, you turned and kept walking down the path you’d been on before he’d disrupted your day.

“Excellent first impression on Oxford, Whittaker!” Phillip’s voice called from across the street, and John turned to see his friend ambling towards him with a laugh lifting his cheeks and lighting his face. “If you’re done running down students, why don’t you pull that heap of rubbish out of that bush and follow me, I’ll show you to the dormitories.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

A few days after moving into the dormitory hall, John decided to use the last remaining days before formal instruction began to familiarize himself with his new surroundings, striding out into the early autumn sunshine and strolling the paths. Not two minutes into his walk, he found you, walking the same path he’d run his vehicle up onto the day before. What are the odds? Wanting to ensure that you were still alright after what had happened, he crossed the road, waving one arm as he called your name.

You turned, an unsure look on your face as your name hit your ear that vanished the second you saw him, replaced with a slightly exasperated expression. “Oh, it’s you, the motorbike man.”

The motorbike man? He shook his head. Not important. “H-how are you? Are you still...are you alright?” He blinked as he looked you over, suddenly aware of the way that you were looking at him. Oh, she’s…

“Yes, I’m alright.” You raised one hand towards the road. “No one has tried to run me down yet today, and since you’re here and your cycle is not, I presume that I’m safe. For now.” You nodded. “Now, If you’ll excuse me, I do have an appointment with my advisor and so-”

Oh! She’s a student? She- “So you… you study here then? You’re a student?” John’s eyes flicked from your face to the imposing structure that you were walking towards, its chimneys looming above the brick building.

“Well aren’t you brilliant?” Your teasing answer came from the corner of your lips as you continued to walk along as though John wasn’t trying to have a conversation with you.

Brilliant? That’s the last- “Brilliant? Oh, no, I think that-”

“No?” Turning to face him, you brushed your hair back behind your ear, and John couldn’t help but notice the way that the skin at the corner of your eye scrunched as you looked over at him. “You aren’t brilliant then?”

Not if you ask- “Well, not if you ask-”

Cutting him off, you adjusted the small stack of books that you were carrying. “I’m asking you, Jack, is it?”

“It’s,” he gestured to himself. “It’s John, actually.”

“Yes,” you winked at him. “That’s right. John. John Whittaker.” Yes, that’s me, she remem- “John Whittaker, the man who nearly knocked me off my feet with his motorbike just the other day.” You’d stopped walking, pausing at the corner to wait for a baker’s delivery truck to trundle slowly through the intersection.

The smell of still warm, freshly baked loaves wafted through the air, reminding John that it had been nearly a full day since he’d eaten anything. His empty stomach rumbled loudly to confirm that, par for the course, nothing since he’d left home the previous day had gone as he had hoped it might. The echo of his mother’s words tumbled in his ear, but he shook his head to empty it, returning his attention to you. “That was...well it was…” The truck passed through the intersection, turning a corner, and you promptly began crossing the road. He stepped off of the curb, crossing just behind you. A cool breeze swept some leaves about your feet and ruffled the hem of your skirt, adding to the clipped click of your heels on the hard road. The image of you sprawled across the street, books strewn about and your elbows scraped flashed quickly through his mind, but he blinked it away. That’s not what happened, only what could have happened. A small frown pulled his lips downward as he thought about the trouble he’d almost caused with his carelessness. Catching up to you, he stepped onto the sidewalk at the same instant that you did, speaking your name with such earnest apology in his tone that you actually faced him with a hint of sympathy in your eyes. “I’m sorry. What happened yesterday was boorish of me and, well, well I only wanted to say that I’m glad that you weren’t hurt. And if there’s anything that-”

“John.” You pressed your rouged lips together before letting them slide into a slight smile. It wasn’t a joyous expression, or one of surprised excitement, but it changed the light in your eyes, softened the hard outer shell that he suspected was necessary as a female student at Oxford. He wasn’t prepared, though, for the way that it felt to hear you speak his name and know that after it had left your lips, they curved into that small smile. A small breath escaped his lungs, and suddenly he felt much warmer than the autumn temperature should allow. “I was only teasing you. I know you didn’t mean to barrel through that crosswalk on that...thing of yours.” A short burst of air from your nose served as an amused little laugh and you shook your head, John watching as your lips curved upwards a little more. “You have nothing to apologize for.” You held up one finger, shifting your books in your arms. “Yet.” The smile turned smirkish as you turned and continued walking.

Instantly, the phantom guilt from what almost happened dissipated, and where he first felt uncertainty about where he stood with you, he was invigorated with new hope. For what? I’m not… I didn’t come all this way just to… It was even hard to think it, but he forced himself to, if for no other reason than that he deserved to give himself a fair chance at this endeavor, and not allow himself to fall quickly into something that would derail that chance. I didn’t come all this way just to replace Lari. Having passed, the thought that seemed difficult proved itself to be unnecessary as he realized that even though he’d not known you more than a collective twenty minutes, you were nothing like his ex-wife. “Well, I hope to continue that streak of having no need for apologies then.”

“Is that so?” He nodded. “To what end?”

“To what..? To what end? Well, to the end of…” Think, Whittaker, and fast. “Well perhaps to the end of studying together some time.” It sounded like a suggestion or a line and he knew it thought it truly wasn’t, but luckily your temporary suspension of teasing remained in place.

“You want to study with me, John?” You raised an eyebrow as you began walking again.

“Well, yes. I mean, that is to say, if you don’t-”

“Do you even have any idea what courses I am here to study?” The smirk still hadn’t left your face and he was beginning to forget the way your tight frown looked in favor of this more relaxed demeanor. “Do you even have any idea of what courses you’re here to study?”

“Well, of course I know what I’m here to study,” he answered quickly without actually answering. He confidently imagined you seated at a piano, and could almost hear the comments you would make on The Mona Lisa. Yes, Arts & Music, I’m almost certain. “And if I were to guess, I’d say that you are enrolled in the-”

“Philosophy, actually,” you tossed your correction of his assumption over your shoulder, where it bounced with your curls and hit him smack in the face. His eyes grew even wider, mouth dropping open as yours scrunched to the side in a failed attempt to contain your burst of laughter. “Not at all what you were expecting, I presume.”

John quickly shook his head, closing his gaping mouth and hurrying toward the sign post, grabbing onto it and swinging himself around so that he was next to you once more. “Not, not what I was expecting.” He pushed the loose strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face back over the crown of his head. “It's only that,” letting go of the sign post, he stuck both hands in his pockets and focused on keeping stride with you down the sidewalk. Since I can’t seem to keep stride with the conversation.

You turned, raising one eyebrow and tilting your chin. “It’s only that?” Pausing long enough to make him sweat but not long enough to let him answer, you continued. “It’s only that women don’t-” What? No, I… “It’s only that we should only be allowed to study certain-“

Once again, John scrambled ahead of you, his head shaking furiously from side to side. “No.” He gestured with his hands, crossing them in front of his body before sweeping them out to his sides, and while you had let out an exasperated breath, your eyes rolling as you did, he was glad to see the hint of a smile pulling at your lips again. That’s a relief. Come now, don’t mess it all up, John. “It’s only that Philosophy… well it sounds so,” Your smile turned slightly more amused as it climbed up into your cheeks as you started walking again. John followed closely at your heels. “Well It’s only that Philosophy sounds so dull.” He could tell that it was the wrong thing to say, yet nonetheless there the words hung in the crisp air.

But before he could worry that he’d offended you yet again, you laughed, the sound light and clear. “Dull?” You asked, “tell me, sir,” it’s John, you know my name is J- “What is dull about learning how to think intelligently about the world in which we live?”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I only meant-“ that you aren’t dull...you aren’t dull at all and-

“You only meant that-“

“I only meant,” John stepped around in front of you again, standing directly in your path. “That you don’t seem to be the type of person who likes to be told how to think.”

You regarded him for a few seconds longer than you had yet to, and he could feel your eyes weighing his. “That is the first correct assumption that you’ve made about me so far, John Whittaker, and it is precisely why I choose to study the classics, the great thinkers.” John cocked his head to the side, brow wrinkling questioningly, not quite following your reasoning. “I want to know how others have looked at the world, so that I can look and form my own opinions. I want to…” You blew out a breath, shaking your head and finally breaking eye contact to stare at the buckle of your shoe as you scuffed the sole across the cobbled walkway.

“You want to...what?” He dipped his chin to find your eyes again, bringing them back up with his own.

“I,” But the rest of your sentence was drowned out by the tolling of enormous bells, announcing the hour. You gave a startled gasp, eyes widening. “I have to go, John or I’ll be late to meet with my advisor.” Chewing your lip, you hesitated before spinning away from him. “If you…” If I? You inhaled quickly and finished the rest with that breath. “If you’d really like to study together, meet me in the library tomorrow at two o’clock.” John felt his whole face lift as he nodded. “And John?” You started walking backwards, still looking at him but heading towards the building that he presumed your meeting was in.

“Yes?”

“Don’t be late.” With that, you shook your head and laughed quietly, turning and picking up your pace, steps widening and quickening almost into a run. He stood on the cobbled pathway, students and other pedestrians milling about that he hadn’t noticed before, and watched as you disappeared through the brick archway. I won’t be.

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#let's face the music & dance #john whittaker #john whittaker easy virtue #easy virtue fic #john whittaker x reader #john whittaker x you #there may be trouble ahead #(there will be.)#john takes on oxford #look out world #no really LOOK OUT #here he comes #much ado about nothing

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