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Antonio has not slept for nearly two weeks. He is running on fumes at this point and finds himself reading the same notes over and over again with nothing new to add to his current music piece. It was frustrating. He had a strict deadline to finish it so he threw himself into it.
For the first week, he had been doing amazing. He had the melody in mind and spent those days practicing, testing out notes and choosing whether the measure was filled with higher keys or lower ones. However half way into the second week, he was burnt out. Unable to focus. He had to finish this but he absolutely had no motivation. He finally decided to step away from the piano and exited the music room he had occupied for weeks straight.
He heard a piano in use. He paused. He followed the soft sounds of crescendos and decrescendos. The melody itself was not as loud and elaborate as he realized upon growing closer. He silently stood in front of the door where the music had grown a bit more louder. He hesitated. Who else would be here so late at night? He assumed he was the only one occupying a music room. Then again, maybe a bit of company would not be so bad. His hand went to the doorknob and he slowly turned it as quietly as possible.
What he was not prepared for was to see Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart seated on a piano stool, back towards him. Salieri paused. He felt like he was interrupting..but the notes. The melody. It was...brilliant. Soft. Definitely far from his most lengthy and energetic pieces. He remembered he had attended a rehearsal for Mozart's new opera. He clearly remembered Rosenberg's disdain for the blond and himself, fascinated and intrigued with other. He attended his operas, overheard his sonatas and his rehearsals. Antonio tried to brush off these feelings as rivalry, hate. But every time he found himself in the company of Wolfgang, he felt his heart pound.
Mozart. Well known and well liked. His operas were popular, near famous he dared say. He knew he could never top anything like that. His pieces weren't enough. They needed to be better. They had to be. Jealousy. He could never aspire to his level. Still. As he heard him play, those feelings bubbled up. No. These feelings would never be reciprocated. He knew what they thought of them. Knew what Wolfgang thought of him. The Italian should've known better. He stayed by the door but closed his eyes.
Again. Wolfgang Mozart had succeeded again over him. He had no idea what went on in the Austrian man's head. It was like chaos but somehow he always seemed to know which notes belonged where and which key was appropriate for each line. He didn't realize the music stopped until he heard a voice startle him out of his thoughts. His eyes opened and met Mozart's. They stared at each other before Wolfgang spoke again.
"How long have you been standing there?"
Salieri found himself looking at the sparkly coat of the man in front of him. Complete opposites. Mozart had a thing for dramatics and flair, letting nothing and no one stand in the way of what he wanted. Antonio tended to keep his emotions bottled up, took criticism instead of standing up for himself. Strands from his ponytail had fallen out. The bags under his eyes were proof of his exhaustion. He was too tired to defend himself. Make up some lie about how he had just stumbled upon the room, not realizing it was occupied. Instead he replied,
"At least a half hour...I heard the music from the halls and I came to check who would be here so late. I...I guess I was not expecting you here. I thought I was alone."
A soft smirk landed on the other's face. Salieri swallowed hard, diverting his gaze to the floor.
"Ah, I see." Mozart stood up and adjusted his coat. "I have wondered where you have been the past week. I did not see you at my latest rehearsal."
This made Salieri pause. Mozart knew he had been attending his rehearsals? He could hear the beating of his own heart and he was afraid Wolfgang could hear it to.
"How did you know I attended your rehearsals?" He asked, gaze shifting back upwards onto Wolfgang, who had a smile on his face.
"You think I would not notice?" He laughed. Antonio rather liked hearing him laugh. Something...nice hearing it. "I knew you always tried to hide backstage or in midst of the ensemble members. I would not forget your face so easily. Although I knew if I told you, you would stop coming."
Upon hearing this, the dark haired man found himself turning pink. He was blushing. That horrified him. Mozart knew he had been there the entire time and intentionally pretended he wasn't there. All because he didn't want him to stop showing up to them? His mind filled with questions but he was too exhausted to barely acknowledge them. He was surprised he hadn't collapsed already. He was a bit shaky.
"I never knew." He replied quietly. He had to finish his music. He had to finish his own piece. Why hadn't he left yet? It seemed Wolfgang had noticed the deterioration of the other's appearance. His usual neat ponytail was in a bit of a disarray with several loose strands framing his face. Then he noticed the bags under his eyes and the shakiness. He frowned.
"Salieri? Are you alright?"
A nod from the other. Mozart frowned.
"How long has it been since you have slept properly?"
"Um, about nearly two weeks. I have been working on a particular piece due next week. I just...I just cannot quit when I am so close to finishing." A lie. He was only about halfway through his music sheets. He didn't quiet have a proper climax or conclusion yet. He had to keep going. But he did not want to interfere with Mozart or his late night practice.
Wolfgang opened his mouth to speak when Antonio's legs betrayed him and he just about fainted onto the floor if it weren't for the other man to catch him. He shook his head.
"You are going to sleep tonight. Your health is above some music sheets." He insisted as he helped the other to a rather large sofa. He laid him down. Antonio was much too tired to argue. The sofa was quite soft. He tried to sit up but Wolfgang merely pushed him back down. He fetched a blanket and draped it over him.
"Rest. I will stay here, I promise."
Salieri merely nodded and found himself already starting to doze off. Somehow, he knew Mozart was telling the truth and with that, he finally fell asleep.