The competition was in five months, the pre-screening submission due in the second week of December. Alongside the duet, Cas had started working on his selected piece from Bach and a Beethoven sonata he was already familiar with. The Chopin lyrical piece he’d picked was already challenging enough without the others, but now that the twins were also working on their repertoire for applications, Silas had immediately cut down time for other extracurriculars since last month. 

Infrequent as it had always been, it was now nearly impossible to approach the music room in the manor. The days slipped past like sand through fingers, and where Cas had initially looked forward to practising with Erik, the undeniable truth gnawed at him when the clock struck twelve.

The sessions would pass in a series of repeated bars, the previous day’s phrasing he’d forgotten to implement, and dynamics he never seemed to get right. His hands were too slow, his pacing too abrupt. Erik’s reassurances became incoherent, and there was only the softness of his features and questions that weren’t asked.

The added list of chores was always ready in hand just when Cas began to relax, impossibly longer than the last. No matter how hard Cas tried to finish quickly, night fell first, its presence more guilty than quiet. Past the windows, the unflinching blackness seemed to mourn over him. 

Evenings were about trying to ignore the ache in his muscles when he returned upstairs, insides withering with each second of terse silence. The scent of detergent and remnants of dinner clung to skin and obscured everything into a thin veil of numbness, and he briefly noted the cracks in his hands. 

Reminders for tomorrow fell apart like threads from a seam, floating away like dust motes. There was only nothing when sleep took him. 

‘Cas. Cas, can you hear me?’ 

Cas opened his eyes to see Erik standing over him. Slightly dazed, he lifted his head from the desk, incoherent thoughts barely stringing together. 

‘You didn’t come, so I thought I'd find you. You alright?’

The classroom was empty, but Cas didn’t recall falling asleep during their free period. 

‘You don’t look too well. It’s best we leave it for now.’ Erik claimed the seat in front of him, and placed a carton of juice on the desk. ‘Sorry, it’s orange. They ran out of apple.’ 

Cas gave a murmur of thanks before taking it, aligning his fingers to snap the straw free. He wondered how many more he would receive before this would end. These meetings, finding solitude in each other’s company, those careful hands guiding his own like a waltz, and remembering his face caught in the afternoon sun. The seconds went by quickly, the minutes even faster. 

‘Erik.’ 

‘Hmm?’ 

‘I can’t practise with you anymore.’ 

Erik’s eyes widened slightly, a break Cas had not seen before. ‘What? Why not?’ 

‘Midterms are close to the pre-screening deadline. And, well—I’m not able to fit in the hours like before.’

‘You’re...not trying for the scholarship?’ 

Cas looked away. ‘I’m sorry for having wasted your time.’ 

‘But we’ve already run through the first movement. It still needs work, but we’ve made a lot of progress. Besides, the hours would be freed up to keep going afterwards.’ Erik leaned closer. ‘The institute won’t care about your grades except music. You know that.’ 

‘I know...but it’s worth having some backup, right? Just in case.’ Cas paused slightly. ‘There are only two spots, Erik. I have to be rational.’ 

‘Okay,’ Erik said at last. ‘But there’s one thing you should know. You’re good. Really good. It pains me that you don’t see it.’ 

Cas fell silent. Whether he’d spoken honestly, or the fear of being discovered finally got to him, it didn’t matter. Exhaustion burned his eyes, teetering him between the dreaming and reality. Hope was transient, expensive, and so impossibly frail. But somehow hearing Erik’s words, he was determined to find a way.