A collective hush fell upon the crowd as everyone stared up at the darkened skies in child-like wonder, as if it were the first time. The magic broke, and children jumped and shrieked, look, look, look, before a few stuck out the tips of their tongues. 

‘What?’ Erik said. Cas startled a little, not realising how long he’d been staring. He’d watched Erik devour his cookie within a few bites, brushing aside the curls falling over his eyes. 

‘Nothing, I just—‘ Cas paused. ‘I just can’t believe I’m sitting here with you.’  

Erik smiled. He gently thumbed the side of Cas’ lip, where a fleck of gingerbread remained. 

‘Well. I can’t believe I’m about to perform the duet with you.’ 

Erik stared up at the sky for a moment. The night washed soft shadows and the warm pulse of streetlamps. Snow fell softly around them, as if not to disturb the pair. 

‘When I started piano, I was five,’ Erik said. This time, he wasn’t brazenly looking at Cas as he usually did. All flirtatious attempts moulded into defeated sighs and the slight hesitation in his jaw. His lips carried a confession, a bitterness that was more sad than resentful, hesitant to be released. Beyond the stoicism was the real Erik that Cas was still yet to discover. 

‘Mother in particular saw that I grasped it so quickly, and it didn’t take long before people around us noticed it too. A genius in the making, they said. Then competitions and recitals started, and it became my life. One prize turned into another, and it was impossible to stop. It was too easy to pass up, and my mother knew it too. A mistake, to lose the first prize, was all but someone else’s fears. Of course, some parents may have tried to complain that I shouldn’t be allowed to participate…for they knew there was no chance their child could hope to win.’ 

Erik’s expression clouded, but it was more of a resignation than not. 

‘But alas, no one can reign forever. I was ten, attending what was probably the most important performance that would earn my place as an artist in residence, and would likely forge my career. But I made a mistake, Cas.’ His tone grew woeful, almost like he had returned to the memory. A place Cas could never reach. He wished he could cut away the impossible distance, and hold tightly to the Erik who remained trapped there, alone. 

‘For the first time in my life, I simply stopped playing. I don’t even know why.’ 

Cars hummed through the snow-slushed road, young parents held babies in their arms, ready to retire for the evening. It was chilly and still, but Cas only saw a boy who had high hopes, crushed by the praise and expectation and love that became the trophies he fought to keep. Falling was a concept impossible to grasp, and Cas had the sense he was still falling, slower perhaps, but Erik never quite got back up. 

Unsure of what to say, Cas took Erik’s hand and held it. They didn’t know how long they’d stayed that way. But all Cas remembered was upon seeing Erik’s watch. It finally made him stand, the word curfew spilled faster than he could think. Guilt was a sickening lurch at the base of his heart, that it made Cas wonder if he’d long past the possibility of Erik forgiving him, if he were to tell him why he really had to return. What he was returning to. 

Erik’s kiss was more tender than before, that it surprised him. The feeling lingered when they both headed their own separate ways, silent promises to stay filling in the gaps between their footsteps. Gratitude. Love. A need. Perhaps it was more, perhaps words were no longer necessary. 

The party was a cocktail of extinguished guests, the scent of smoked salmon and roasted tomatoes and murmured voices floating under warm chandelier lights, gleaming off something expensive under the cuffs and whisper of dresses. Soft, mellow jazz from the record player hummed into furnished walls and the bases of polished shoes and manicured feet. The atmosphere was already starting to wane, conversations slurring with every new glass of wine. Laughter a few pitches too high and responses a beat too slow. 

Cas sneaked around to the garden and crept in through the back door. Faint music hummed through the manor. Guests had gathered around Alexander as he played, enthralment in their impossible stillness. A picture of slender fingers, forgotten glasses of champagne and the piano notes slowly pulling in focus. 

Cas paused for a moment, watching silently from the shadows, before ascending the long flight of stairs. Light applause and eager murmurs of praise followed, but Cas didn’t look back.