The next day, the music room was indeed empty. Cas was early, and the only sounds were faint noises of students engaging in sports despite the grey skies.
The silence stretched into unbearable minutes, and Cas glanced at the door a few times. Just when he thought Erik would never show, the youth entered.
‘You’re early today. Thought you might have changed your mind.’ Erik sat at the piano stool, motioning Cas to the space beside him.
‘One session, as you say. No strings attached.’
‘Don’t be so eager to crush my hopes just yet.’ He spreaded out the manuscripts he’d brought. Mendelssohn peeked behind Schubert, and there’s Beethoven, Mozart and Liszt in bright covers. ‘I’ve only got these pieces from home. But if you prefer another composer you can bring them along tomorrow, though I think these are quite good.’
Without thinking much, Cas’ hand picked out Schubert. He flicked through the pages. Faded pencil scribbles and eraser marks scattered the margins.
‘How about this one? It looks like you’ve not tried this either.’
‘Fantasie in F Minor...okay, let’s do it.’
Erik’s patience filled the gaps between Cas’ flushed expressions whenever he made a mistake, that was occasionally broken by, ‘I swear, if you apologise again—,’ to a sincere nod, ‘Very nice.’ The room was oddly warm for October, and Cas didn’t realise their notes would fall so close to each other, though barely, almost as if the players were meant to hold themselves back, reluctance and longing like the push and pull of a morning tide. Erik didn’t seem to notice, his gaze steady as his playing. It wasn’t that Cas had always wished to play with someone else and didn’t get a chance, but now that he was, it was difficult to let go.
The hour passed before either of them knew it, and the bell rang for their next lesson.
‘So...’ Erik eyed him closely. ‘That’s the teaser. Want to keep going tomorrow? Or if you’d like, you can come back to mine after classes and we can play for a few more hours.’
Cas was silent for a moment. He’d agreed half heartedly to begin with, but now it was as if he’d been tempted into something he shouldn’t have fallen for. A dream that he was reluctant to see end. Despite the knot that had formed, he spoke, ‘Tomorrow. Let’s meet again tomorrow.’
The following week passed in a blur of repetitions, hands stumbling over keys and the soft melodies. The hours would drag stubbornly during lessons and only seemed to end as soon as they began the first bar. The uneasiness slowly ebbed as Cas traced the steps toward the practice room, his hand on the cold handle in breathless anticipation. Mostly Erik was always the first to arrive, handing him a carton of juice in greeting before they began their session.
‘You’re sure you don’t want to come by later?’
‘Maybe another time. Don’t you have assignments to do as well?’
‘Don’t remind me.’
They’d just finished revisiting nearly a quarter of the first movement. Erik marked their progress on the sheet and got ready to leave.
‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ Cas said. ‘Is it not against the rules to play with an applicant?’
Erik’s expression didn’t change. ‘There’s no rule that stops me from being your partner. After all, no one can help anyone play the sonatas for them in the final. And besides, if you had a teacher to go to, you wouldn’t have accepted my offer.’
Cas was quiet for a moment.
‘My mother. She taught me.’
Erik nodded, ‘She must be incredible, given your skills.’
Cas smiled quietly, ‘She was. And Chopin was her favourite too.’
Erik stopped short, and then, ‘I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.’
Rain was lightly drumming the windows. Distracted, the pair watched the skies grow increasingly dark, before quickly turning into a grey torrent. Uneven tadpoles of water warped against the glass, washing away the, ‘It’s okay, you didn’t know,’ that Cas had meant to say. The rain forgave all, clearing endings with beginnings, the impenetrable stillness settling like a parting gift. Erik was a good two feet away and yet still so close, that Cas could almost hear his breaths beside him.
There it was again, that look that spoke nothing and everything all at once. A kindness. A certainty. Or perhaps it was what Cas hoped he felt: the same inexplicable feeling where words fail to mould into. Erik didn’t move from the door, a border to another full day’s wait before meeting again, hours dragging between the lift of another textbook and a pen nibs scratching collectively in an exercise book. It was as if Erik was a bird paused before flight, unwilling to part.
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