There were no frequent visits to Erik’s place, no dinner with the company of his parents. Cas busied with his shifts on the weekends, his hands raw from dish soap and lukewarm water. On certain nights he would return home to the aftermath of Alexander’s parties, with Johan calmly ordering the mess to be cleared before their father returned home the following morning. 

Any thoughts of the results or competition were forgotten. Cas cleared dishes, washed the clothes, ironed the drapes, and dusted rooms. He went to the dry cleaners and picked up suits for the many formals Silas and the twins were invited to now that the year was coming to an end. 

Alexander wasn’t suited to charity events or dinners compared to Johan, who seemed to prefer the scenery of manicured hands and low chandelier lights humming into flute glasses.

The manor would be buried in silence, and Cas didn’t hesitate to seek out the piano once the car disappeared from the driveway. He would apologise to Erik during their calls, the words I miss you, I miss you a lot, heavier than he dared to admit. It was then he would remember, and they would talk endlessly about the walk up to the institute, sitting in the famed halls, and moving into the dorms. 

‘I would be roomed with you of course, and I’ll wake you when I can’t sleep. We’ll sneak out for a midnight walk and come back just before anyone notices we’re gone. During breaks I’ll play a second of a piece and you try to guess but fail, and as per agreement you’ll have to remove an item of clothing...’  

‘And what makes you think I’m going to do that?’ 

‘...you’ll panic, I know, and say it’s a practice round and that music rooms are sacred. But I’ll smother you against the wall and you end up blushing.’ 

Cas laughed at the absurdity, but he would feel Erik smile behind every articulation. 

Soon the New Year was upon them. The remnants of festivities lingered like a post-dream of sorts, a memory soon forgotten by the hustle of early morning starts, subway fumes and sweat clinging to skin as the doors began to close.

The mundaneness of routine slowly took over the days again like a sickness, more about the next weekend plans and fingers drumming impatiently at five minutes to five, silent wishes at the border between evening and night. 

One afternoon, Cas returned to find a letter addressed to him. The dark red Lagen Institute logo was sharp against the cream of the envelope.

Cas stared at it for a moment, not quite comprehending what he was seeing. He hadn’t realised they were already halfway through January. 

There was no one home. Now that the new semester had begun, the twins resumed their extracurriculars. Piano lessons were frequented by Alexander, but preparation had been the last thing on Cas’ mind. 

If the results were bad, it would be over quickly before anyone could see him. 

In his room, Cas tore open the envelope, hardly daring to breathe. To hope. His heart hammered along the edge of fear, refusing any thought of expectation.  

Soon, the words we are pleased to inform you leapt at him above all else. Time stopped. Heat rushed against him, and all he could do was read the letter again and again, making sure his eyes weren’t cruel to deceive him. 

Just as Cas reached for his phone, the screen lit up.

‘Well? Have you opened it?’ Erik was calm, but there was an urgency Cas knew and sensed.

‘Yes,’ Cas said carefully. ‘Have you?’

‘Yep.’

There was silence. Neither spoke, and Cas could almost imagine Erik’s expression. His leg would be propped up, hand resting under his chin in thought.

‘Tell me,’ Cas said softly. ‘If you didn’t make it—’

‘Wait. So you made it through to the first round?’ Erik’s voice was steady, uplifted.

‘I did.’

‘Oh my god,’ Erik breathed. ‘Cas, we’re going to perform together!’

‘What? But I thought you didn’t...’

‘How dare you underestimate me, when here I was, worried about you.’

The tension broke. Relief poured into Cas’ chest, his words fumbling over breathlessness. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t allow himself to accept this was true. Surely, it was all a dream.

For a moment, the small room was filled with warmth. There was only Erik’s voice, the comforting silence in the manor.

‘Same time Thursday then?’ Erik said.

‘Wouldn’t miss it.’