The following day, word had already spread of Lagen Institute’s scholarship. As Cas brought out another textbook to work on during their break, the students were clustered in groups, talking all at once. 

A girl was retouching her makeup, making careful strokes on her eyelashes. ‘I don’t understand why everyone’s making such a big fuss. It’s not like all of us are planning to study music next year.’ 

‘Besides, there are other schools. Dierdre's uncle is already arranging to send her to the States.’

‘Fair enough. But this is Lagen we are talking about.’

‘Dierdre knows how to pick her battles. I mean, only two places for piano each year? Better to put your energy elsewhere where you know you have a higher chance of being accepted.’

‘Hey, I heard Xander and Johan are both wanting to go there.’ 

‘I’m not even surprised. If they can’t get in, it’s hard to think anyone else could. Handsome and skilled…God really does have favourites.’ 

‘More like some people have been preparing for this since birth. Speaking of favourites, have you seen Erik? Wonder what he’s thinking, having to compete with them.’

‘Erik Lagen?’ There was a snap as the first girl closed her compact mirror. ‘Everyone knows he’s not interested in piano anymore, or music for that matter. He hasn’t performed since-’

‘Is he still hung up about what happened? I thought he’d moved on from it.’

‘I mean, can you blame him though? Wonder which college he’ll be applying to instead…’

The group continued their idle chatter. Suddenly unable to focus, Cas left the classroom to find the music room nearby. He’d used it frequently in the past, but nowadays the free hours and breaks are spent catching up on assignments. Just this time, he allowed himself to be guided to the familiar solitary space. 

When Cas neared it however, it was apparent someone else was already inside. In the silent corridor, faint notes of Chopin seemed to hum through the walls, reaching the hearts of those who knew to listen. Their techniques were made to seem effortless amidst the fluidity of the piece. Such passion, brilliance and beauty everywhere all at once, and yet, it felt as if the keys were simply not enough for release. 

With a pounding heart, Cas’ curiosity finally made him pause at the door.

A boy with brown curly hair was seated at the grand piano. His posture and expression were that of complete calm, but the gaze he held was one Cas recognized and felt deeply. The music was a ghost that possessed the artist, and willingly, they let themselves be lost. 

When the boy had finished, the essence of the piece continued to linger around them like a gentle scent. He checked his watch, appearing unaware that he wasn’t alone. He repositioned his hands on the keys and did not look up. 

‘Are you just going to keep watching? It’s rude, you know.’

Before Cas could move away, the young man had glanced up. Despite the confrontation, the eyes that met Cas’ held no contempt. Rather, they were more accepting than friendly, more curious than judgemental. 

Cas opened the door, slightly flustered. No musician ever liked the idea of someone watching them practise, no matter how good one perceived them to be. 

‘Sorry. I was going to leave, but your playing—it’s beautiful. I couldn’t help but listen.’ 

‘Do you play?’ 

‘A little.’ 

‘Since you’re here, you might as well stay.’ He moved and sat on one of the stray chairs. 

When Cas didn’t approach the piano, he spoke again calmly, ‘I would like to hear it.’ 

Warmth spread across Cas’ face. Aside from Lily, no one else had seen him play. ‘I think I better go. Class is starting soon.’ 

‘Come now, that’s not very fair. You listened to me too.’ 

Glancing at the clock, there was roughly fifteen minutes before the end of break. Reluctantly, Cas sat down, feeling the other’s eyes on him. A weight lifted from his shoulders when his fingers touched the keys, and soon, music filled the air. The hesitance quickly weaned off, and the stranger’s presence along with it. His heart was filled with the delicate lightness once again, a feeling that came as quickly as it went. 

Without Cas’ awareness, the boy’s attention piqued, and his gaze did not break away from him. Neither had seen the other before, and the boy wouldn’t have forgotten it if they crossed paths. He didn’t remember music to be like this. The room became startlingly alive; melancholic grey shadowed the walls, shifting into a silent field of wildflowers, then to the calming of dewdrops in a cold morning. The ray of sun extended a hand, soft golds amidst trembling grass. Despite Cas’ gentle smile, an underlying pain betrayed his notes. One that the boy couldn’t articulate.