‘What happened?’ 

The concern in Erik’s voice made Cas want to hide behind the table, tucked in the folds of his blazer. They were in the practice room, perching on the ends of the piano stool. The clouds were folding over blue, a breeze nudged the corners of their music sheets. 

‘It’s nothing. I broke some plates.’ 

Cas half expected Erik to go off in a tangent of mute exasperation. He would watch him deadpan, spilling lines of hands are your instrument, how could you be so careless, and perhaps the plates had it coming. 

But there were no words. No deadpan. The air seemed to freeze when Erik took his hands gently. Too close. 

Erik traced the plasters, his expression unreadable. ‘Does it still hurt?’ 

‘Um, no. It’s fine. We should get practising.’ 

‘Cas.’ 

Cas didn’t speak. The awareness of his own heart was almost overwhelming, he was certain Erik could hear it. But before he could pull away, Erik let go first. 

‘One hour a day isn’t going to be enough,’ Erik continued calmly. ‘For the duet.’ 

‘I’ve rented a piano room recently,’ Cas said. ‘We can practise there, if you want.’ 

Erik nodded, ‘Alright. I’ll come.’ 

They exchanged numbers. Cas messaged him the address, pausing ever so briefly before hitting send. They agreed to meet twice a week, leaving some time for his other pieces. Erik didn’t press him with questions, indifference in his gestures. There was more relief than guilt, and the air was comfortable and still. 

When their fingers brushed against each other, neither of them moved away. 

On the first Tuesday Cas and Erik agreed to meet, it rained. The streets became a cascade of hastily drawn umbrellas, the ground transforming into a shiny gleam of washed out lamplights and murky puddles. 

Cas didn’t have to wait long. The knock was barely registered before the door swung open. Erik carried in the scent of rain and peppermint as he dropped his bag to the side and removed his coat. He glanced around the small space. 

‘Very cosy.’ 

Perhaps Cas had worried the two hours might turn stale when the words ran out. But as their fingers leapt between keys, there was a lightness. A small crescent of hope that things would stay like this for a while, shoulders bumping and fleeting glimpses beneath eyelashes when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

The shame and unspoken questions were buried beneath the flurry of music in their ears, and a shade of moonlight floated at their wrists. 

‘Same time Thursday?’ Erik said. 

Cas nodded. Rain flicked at the windows, drizzle smearing everything into a bruised colour. 

They walked out together, their steps almost slow and deliberate, and waved when it was time to part ways. Saying goodbye was definitive, too certain, and perhaps both of them knew it. Knew their recent exchanges only masked what they were afraid of saying, betrayed by the slight hesitation of Erik’s Adam’s apple, or the searching in Cas’ eyes. It left behind a hollowness that Cas didn’t want to acknowledge, but Thursday was yet to come.