Work Text:
It was dark outside, and quite windy for May. Mozart ran through the courtyard, not wanting to catch a cold, but also getting away from everything as fast as he could. He was exhausted, but he had waited for some free time alone for hours.
As soon as he entered the building, he went straight to his favorite place: the music room. There was barely any light, no one was around, but Mozart knew the way by heart.
A few minutes later, he was already at the door and opened it. The room was silent and only a small candle in the back was lightened. He spot rapidly the piano in the darkness and directly went to sit at it before opening the lid.
Finally.
He slightly ran his fingers over the keys, before starting to play. He didn't need any partition. He didn't need any good light. The music was flowing just right, and he had been waiting the entire day to just relax and play whatever he felt like. No pressure.
He wasn't sure how long he played. Minutes. Hours? He could lose time easily. But he started to feel something nearby, a presence. Was it there before?
He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness and looked around. That's when he saw him. The shape of a man, facing away and sitting on floor, back against the desk a few feet away from the piano.
He frowned. "Who—"
"Don't stop."
Mozart froze. He knew this voice.
"Salieri?"
"Please." His voice was low and hoarse, different from usual. "Keep playing."
Mozart hesitated, but finally did as told without a word. He hadn't the strength to argue anyway.
So he played. And played. And played more. Variations of his latest opera. Improvisation. Even the few lullabies his father taught him when he was a kid. Salieri was staying silent the whole time.
Mozart was getting tired, so he stopped after finishing a soft melody. Salieri was still silent. That was truly uncharacteristic.
He finally got up and grabbed the candle holder. As he was making his way toward, Salieri, the man didn't move an inch.
"Is everything all right, my friend?"
At the light of the candle, Mozart noticed that he was stoically sitting straight under a hundred of torn music sheets, his gaze lost, staring in front of him.
A wave of concern hit him. "What happened in here?"
"Why did you stop playing?"
The way Salieri's voice was filled with despair made Mozart's heart hurt.
He kneeled in front of him and reached softly for his arm. "Salieri... Antonio. It's late. You should go home."
"There's no use. It won't get any better."
"What won't?"
Salieri stayed silent, avoiding Mozart's gaze. But he hadn't pushed away his hand. Mozart saw this as a good sign and brushed his wrist with his thumb, reassuringly.
"Let's take a walk?" he proposed.
He didn't wait for an answer and grabbed Salieri's hand, leading him outside. The man didn't resist the slightest, and he only let go when they were a few feet in the courtyard.
Mozart looked up, smiling. "Look, Antonio! The stars are beautiful. Vienna's sky has never been so cloudless!"
His excitation and smile grew even more when he spotted the only constellation he knew. "Cassiopeia is right over here!" he said happily while pointing to the sky. "My mum used to—"
A weight against his back took him by surprise, and he felt shaky hands around his waist. Mozart could feel Salieri's quick breath against his neck, and waited till it would slow down to even move.
When Salieri finally calmed down, Mozart slowly put his hand over his friend's, brushing the skin as before. He could feel the man leaning against him with all his weight, as if he was looking for something to hold on unto, a crutch. A few minutes passed by, and he sensed Salieri relax at last, as if his problems were lifted from his shoulders, finally at ease. But he didn't move. Neither did Mozart. It was too peaceful to break this moment.
They stayed that way a while. Mozart didn't know how long.
He could lose time easily.
He looked once again at the sky and smiled.