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“I cannot play with him.”
Athena pointed her bow directly in Simon’s face. “You can and will, because this concert will make or break the whole orchestra. And probably your career.”
He knocked away the stick of the bow with his own. “I cannot possibly play with someone who does not play the music how it is written.” He sat back in his chair, having crossed over to forbidden first violin territory to force his best friend Athena Cykes to listen to him complain. The whole orchestra was gathering for the day, and they had arrived together.
Simon Blackquill considered himself a fairly excellent cello player, and he had gotten where he was by practicing hours a day, obeying every word his instructor, the dear, departed Cykes-dono, told him, and actually playing the score accurately. None of this improvisation business that Nahyuta Sahdmadhi seemed so fond of. Nahyuta Sahdmadhi was the nephew of world renowned Ga’ran Sigatar Khura’in, who had mastered her instrument from a young age and had therefore began instructing Nahyuta on it when he was a child. That was the tale, at least. For some reason, the man had recently cut all ties with his aunt/instructor, creating a rift in both his family and in the professional world.
He was internationally known as one of the greatest cellists around, yet Simon had yet to hear him play their music properly. It was not that he could not play it; he simply chose not to play it right. He would move slow when the notation clearly called for an aggressive speed; he would be loud, despite the pianississimo markings. As they trudged through their duet yesterday, Simon reached his breaking point when Nahyuta played a whole octave higher at one point, just for the hell of it.
Since Simon cut their practicing short yesterday, it meant he was stuck with Nahyuta for double their regular amount of time today, as per Edgeworth’s request. Their performance was in a few weeks, and they had only gotten through the piece a few times. Simon made them stop when Nahyuta did something he was not supposed to, which was all the time.
Athena pretended to hold her violin between her legs, like the way Simon played the cello. She dragged her bow harshly across the higher strings and said, “How about I play you the world’s saddest song?”
He scowled. “I can only hope you have someone supposedly so high and mighty as Nahyuta Sahdmadhi as a stand partner, who refuses to follow directions, not from myself and not even from Edgeworth-dono. He is not so skilled as to ignore all instructions, especially from the conductor.”
A horrible scraping sounded through the concert hall. All the tired musicians searched for the sound of the shrill screech; it was Nahyuta Sahdmadhi himself, kicking Simon’s first cello chair out of the way, letting the legs scrape meanly across the wood of the stage. Nahyuta was glaring down Simon like he had insulted him. Which…he actually just had done so.
Athena sucked in a breath through her teeth and got up to go talk to Maya Fey and escape any possible agony that might be inflicted on Simon. He almost called out to her to come back, but that would have looked silly. Finally, Simon had to act, as Nahyuta kept pushing the chair further and further, running one of the legs into his cello. The instrument was luckily still in its case, but if damage could be avoided, that sure would be great.
“Excuse me,” Nahyuta ground out icily, “but this was in my way.”
“Oh, was it?” Simon shoved the chair back to its rightful place. Nahyuta brushed past him, just barely stepping over the instrument, retreating back stage. Damn, this would make practicing for six hours with the man rather unbearable.
It certainly made the whole orchestra practicing together awkward. They were stand partners, since Simon was first cello, and Nahyuta had been invited to join the orchestra for the current winter season, so he took up his residence right next to Simon. While playing as a whole cohesive group, Nahyuta did nothing out of the ordinary, which was why Blackquill so readily agreed to playing a duet with him. He was not sure what was different about playing as a group and playing with another person, since the music dictated them at all times.
But today, as Edgeworth called them all to order, briefing the group on what they would be playing today, Nahyuta did almost everything in his power to make things difficult for Simon. He had angled the stand just right so that Simon could not see the music entirely. This was not a huge issue, since it was all stored in his head at this point, but the comfort of having the notes in front of him was useful. They had never had any problems with running their bows into each other, but Nahyuta seemed to take great pleasure in stabbing at Simon’s thigh with the oddly sharp tip of his ivory bow when he would play on the A string. It was hard to remain focused when Nahyuta was emanating such a threatening aura.
He was clearly so furious at Simon’s words that it affected his playing. Edgeworth-dono tentatively suggested to him that he play a little softer and relax slightly, yet Nahyuta (of course) did not take the instruction very well and just did what he wanted after that. It honestly just proved Simon was right all along. At least the notes were the right tone and length, unlike when he played a few eighth notes here and there when he and Simon would play together.
Rehearsal continued to be hostile until the end, when Nahyuta set his cello down on its side and stormed off backstage. Where he thought he was going, Simon had no idea, as they had six hours to spend together today. Athena and Apollo, lucky violists, wished Simon luck as they packed up their instruments. Athena had yet to strap her violin back into its velvet lining, so she grabbed her bow and started a rendition of “Livin on a Prayer,” since that was a song she knew how to play on her violin as a classically trained musician. Apollo joined in a moment later, providing a solid accompaniment.
They stopped when Edgeworth-dono walked back onto the stage. He approached Simon directly yet also found the time and energy to cast a fairly disapproving glance towards Athena and Apollo.
“I trust you will not need me to babysit you and Mr. Sahdmadhi?” he asked sternly. “I am very busy with preparing for the rest of the concert, as you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll have the piece together for tomorrow’s rehearsal, yes?”
“Yes, sir.” More like probably, but Edgeworth-dono did not need to know that. Edgeworth left, and soon, so did everyone else, leaving Simon alone in the great big performance hall. The rest of the musicians had put away their stands and chairs, leaving just two of each on the stage for Simon and Nahyuta to use. He still had no idea where Nahyuta was; it wasn’t that big of a deal, since they had some time before their scheduled practicing. But it never hurt to get an extra half hour in.
Simon was being nitpicky with his tuning, twisting the fine tuners until he was sure he had the perfect pitch. He ran through a few scales, going slow, alternating the volume, adding some flair; if he was going to practice scales, it might as well be semi-enjoyable.
Simon had just started his part of the duet when the side doors swung open, and Nahyuta strolled in. He stopped short, glaring at Simon.
“Do you ever take a break?” he asked, as he finally moved again to pick up his abandoned instrument and pluck each string individually.
“When are you not on break?” Simon shot back.
Nahyuta faltered, his bow slipping on the strings, dragging the hair unpleasantly across it. He slowly turned to face Simon, but he did not say anything. Instead, he sat down in his chair, spread his legs rather menacingly, and nodded for Simon to start.
They were three measures in when Nahyuta changed the score to his liking, adding a grace note to what was written on the staff lines. Simon inhaled deeply, trying to keep his anger at bay and carry on through the song. So long as he played what he was supposed to, things would work out. Except by measure 23, when Nahyuta played an abrupt natural instead of a flat, it just made everything sound terrible.
Simon stopped him. “What exactly was that?”
“The natural sounds better.”
“If it sounded better, I have to wonder why the composer did not include it themselves.”
“Ah, it is a shame they have been dead for two hundred years, and you cannot ask them yourself.” He brushed the little strands of lilac hair that hung in front of his face back. “From the top or from 23?”
“Are you going to play the music correctly this time?”
He furrowed his brow. “Who says I am not playing it correctly?”
That struck a nerve in Simon. Having reached his breaking point yesterday, he was not surprised that he would snap very early into their rehearsal today. He contemplated unraveling one of his strings and choking Nahyuta with it.
“The music dictates wh-”
“I have no interest in what the music tells me to do. What I play sounds perfectly fine, yes?”
“Not when you play an accidental natural, and I play the flat,” Simon seethed.
“Perhaps you could play the natural, instead of the flat, as well, Simon. Have you considered that?”
“Of course not! That’s not what the sheet music says!” He stood and despite all of his pent up anger and desperate need to throw something, he gently set his cello down on its side. His bow landed rather heavily in his abandoned seat as he stormed off the stage. He tore through the halls of the theater, finding his bag and coat and preparing to leave entirely, yet knowing that he would be in some very hot water for doing so.
He tried to leave but crashed into Nahyuta while turning the corner.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“I cannot play with you if you’re going to play it wrong.” He sounded like a broken record at this point. Nahyuta rolled his eyes, so Simon prepared to shout him down, but he was suddenly gripping on his lapels and dragging him around and out of sight from the main hallway. He silently directed Simon to stand against the opposite wall, taking a place next to him, very silent. Approaching footsteps sounded on the fine tile, and they watched Edgeworth pass them by, nose buried in some documents.
When he was gone, Simon turned to Nahyuta, still angry for his poor attitude. “That was needlessly dramatic, Nahyuta.”
“Would you have rather he caught us? Requiring an explanation for why you appear to be leaving the theater entirely?”
“Yes, why do you appear to be leaving?” Edgeworth had unfairly appeared in their little hiding spot, looking over the rim of his glasses at them both.
Simon tensed. His heart stopped and then beat rapidly, practically shocking him dead. But Nahyuta looked calm.
“Simon merely complained he was feeling hungry, sir. I suggested we try the new burger place down the street.” Edgeworth had complained about it for days after it opened, since it was apparently affected the integrity of the street? That the burgers somehow affected their musical skill? Simon ended up tuning him out, eventually. Besides, Maya had raved about it when she dragged her best friend and his daughter to it earlier.
Edgeworth pursed his lips but said nothing. So Nahyuta sidled past, darting into the same room Simon had stored his things in to grab a thick white leather coat. Somehow, he made the psychedelic patterned tights he wore and white leather look enticingly good. Simon followed him out the side doors and into the tiny alleyway, and they popped out on the street.
“Why would you tell him that?” Simon asked.
“You clearly weren’t going to come up with a good enough excuse. You would have told the truth and gotten us both in trouble.” Nahyuta pulled his long braid from the inside of his jacket, shaking it a little, letting the loose strands get even looser. “And now we have an excuse to eat something before locking ourselves in that performance hall for hours on end.”
He turned without another word and led the way down the busy street. It was late in the pretty Sunday afternoon, but the burger place was still weirdly crowded. Simon stood just a few inches behind Nahyuta in line. He had a peach tattoo on the back of his neck. Interesting. The man suddenly whipped around, hitting Simon with his braid.
“Why did you start playing?” he asked suddenly.
Simon crossed his arms. “I have no reason.”
“Everyone has a reason for it, Simon,” he explained sagely. “For example, I began playing because my aunt forced me to. Why did you start?”
He uncrossed those arms and sighed, “My mother thought I was too energetic as a boy and found a teacher to teach me something. I of course selected the instrument that was as big as I was at the time.”
“Too energetic? So your mother thought cello lessons would assist?”
“More movement than piano. Only slightly, though,” he quipped. They stepped forward slightly. “You said your aunt forced you to play?”
“Ah, yes.” Nahyuta looked away. “But I am, I suppose, glad that she imparted such a…strong work ethic in me, as it has gotten me where I am now.”
“International recognition is something to be proud of.”
“Yes, but I mostly mean physically here and away from her.” He tensed. “What was your teacher like?”
Well, all right, moving away from that conversation immediately then.
Simon shrugged. “She was kind and patient. Especially on days when I would rather play with Athena than my instrument.”
“What.”
“Ah, my instructor was Athena’s mother. She was a few years old when I started taking lessons. Cykes-dono started her daughter on violin, but she died seven years ago. Athena has since kept up her lessons, obviously.”
“I’m sorry she’s gone.”
Simon chanced a look at Nahyuta; his green eyes were so sympathetic and wide and gorgeous. Simon felt his heart shudder again.
“It was a very long time. So long as Athena and I work hard to carry on her mother’s legacy and wishes.” They inched forward in the line.
“She appreciates that, I am sure. And is probably quite happy that her daughter can keep an eye on you.” He laughed at his own joke.
Simon scoffed but felt a little smile form on his face. “I would obviously argue that it is the other way around, Nahyuta.”
“I am not sure you would be right about that.” Another inch forward. “What is your favorite piece to play?”
He didn’t want to answer this. Nahyuta asked again, stepping closer, attempting to get up in his face. Simon waved him away as he answered, “The Swan.”
“Ah, that’s an excellent choice. Though I would expect something deeper from you.”
“Oh? And what is yours?”
Nahyuta smirked up at him. “Brahms’ Lullaby.”
Simon snorted.
“Do not laugh! I played it for my baby sister when I was younger. She’s ten years younger than I am, and she would be very upset about having to sleep before big brother Nahyuta did.”
“How kind of you to play her the lullaby of all lullabies.”
“I am an extraordinarily kind person.” He moved his braid so it hit Simon again. “You, however, are not.”
Simon swallowed.
“Though, I could be persuaded to forgive you for that gross misstatement from earlier if you buy me my food.” Nahyuta batted his eyelashes. Simon scoffed but figured if he was given an out of really truly apologizing for being such a damn jerk earlier, then he would take it. Regrettably, when they finally reached the front of the line and got their burgers, there was no place to sit. So Nahyuta, without a word, left the little restaurant and headed back to the concert hall. Simon kept pace with him, and they ended up back on the stage; their instruments were untouched.
Nahyuta sat himself on the ground, swinging his legs over the side of the stage. He held out his hand expectantly.
“We’re eating in the theater?” Simon asked, rather dumbfounded.
“I believe so.” He accepted the burger that Simon finally gave him, wolfing it down in a few bites. Simon took pride in not being a heathen and actually tasting his food, but he watched Nahyuta stand and stretch, shedding his leather jacket. He reached for his light-stained cello and plucked a few of the strings experimentally.
“In all seriousness,” Simon called from his spot on the ground, “why do you refuse to play to the music?”
“I play it ‘correctly’ the majority of the time, do I not? It is only occasionally that I feel it could use some of my improvements.”
“No one else feels that way, Nahyuta. Everyone else plays it like it is written.”
“I am not everyone else, Simon. Are you done eating? Won’t you join me?”
He rolled his eyes, about to grumble that those burgers were all Nahyuta’s idea in the first place. But he remained silent for once. They made sure they were both in tune, yet Simon told Nahyuta to wait before starting.
“How will you be playing this?”
“As I see fit.”
Simon sighed and said, “Perhaps consider playing it as it is written just this once?”
“You will not like how it sounds,” Nahyuta said cheekily, adjusting his instrument and getting his fingers in the right place. “But I will play it how you wish me to. Will you count us down?”
He did, and they played, and it was…odd. It would probably kill Simon to admit how much he did not like the sound of their duet and admit how right Nahyuta was.
“I will refrain from telling you how correct I was,” Nahyuta announced when they had finished. “So perhaps we might play it a little differently next time?” He flicked his hair back and added, “Start at measure 54?”
Simon squared his shoulders and found the place. He counted them down again, and they worked through the next ten or so measures. Simon noticed that Nahyuta managed to change one thing in each measure. And it sounded better than when they played it together, as directed on the staff lines.
He huffed and set his bow down on the stand. “Play it through,” he commanded.
“By myself? However I wish?”
“Yes, yes. Just play it.” Simon set his cello down gently and turned in his chair to face him directly, watching Nahyuta’s graceful fingers touch down on each string almost automatically. He was not looking at the music in front of him, as his eyes were closed. His first change was in the third measure, adding that grace note again. At least he was consistent with his little adjustments. Simon kept his eyes on his left hand the whole time, only darting down to watch his bowing when he changed around the length and speed of notes – he never made them longer, which was a good thing for Simon.
When Nahyuta finished with a flourish, Simon instructed him to play it again. And so with a roll of his eyes and a precious little smile on his lips, he did. Simon grabbed the sheet music and made a tick mark for every place that Nahyuta changed things up. There were an astounding number of marks by the time Nahyuta had played through it again a second time.
“Would you like an encore of the encore?”
He leaned back to set the sheet music down carefully. “Just for asking that, yes, I would like an encore performance. If you do not mind.”
Nahyuta groaned, but he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He thrust his wooden torture box into Simon’s hands and stood to stretch his arms and back before taking it back to play through the piece again. That proved to be a poor decision, as Simon had already watched both hands move to the music, so he just accidentally looked at Nahyuta’s face and nowhere else. His eyes were still blissfully closed, with his expression changing with each crescendo and hand position change. He zipped right through the trickier parts, and the only indication he gave that they were indeed tricky was the furrowing of his brows.
It was not a good idea to watch his pretty face through the whole performance. Nahyuta cheekily asked if Simon felt like joining him on this rendition of the piece, so he picked his instrument back up to groove along with him, glad that he had something else to focus on now. While Nahyuta’s changes were still a little strange to Simon, they sounded better altogether; he felt satisfied at the end of the song and was not feeling wanting or feeling odd with its conclusion.
With the tick marks he had made on the music, he could accurately predict where Nahyuta’s changes would be. He managed to play some of the naturals that Nahyuta threw in there for fun. It actually sounded rather good after a few hours of working together to try and match up their different playing methods.
Even Edgeworth-dono, the next day, congratulated them on their remarkable improvements from the day before. They had clearly worked hard to create a cohesive piece of music. Nahyuta looked smug as he thanked him, as they both knew it was mostly thanks to his little additions that gave the music a sort of twist.
But still, there was work to be done. As Simon had memorized the piece exactly how it was written, he needed to make a conscious effort to follow his new markings and play accordingly. When the rest of the orchestra cleared out, leaving them alone to chip away at the music, Nahyuta took away the sheet music and sat directly in front of Simon.
“You have it memorized, do you not?” he asked. Simon stuttered and protested as Nahyuta dragged his stand further away. “It is your turn to play solo.” He crossed his legs and waved his hand, as if telling Simon to get on with it. He took a few deep breaths and played from memory. Regrettably, he was programmed to play it how he memorized it, and he didn’t hit any of the accidentals he was supposed to.
When he bowed the last whole note, Nahyuta uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Did that feel natural to you?” he asked Simon.
“It felt…mechanical.”
“You looked rather like a darkened machine than a superb cellist.” He dragged the stand back so Simon could see his music with his notations again. “In all honestly, it did not sound particularly good. Obviously you played it well, but there was no flow.”
Simon started to feel offended.
“I am sure you appreciate The Swan as you do because it is one cohesive piece, yes? Yet this monstrosity Edgeworth picked for us is awkward and stunted.”
“It is not so horrible, Nahyuta.”
“You said yourself when we play together it sounds strange. Why not work together to make it what we want it to be? Something amazing? Something no one else has created before?”
Simon set down his cello and reached for his rosin, deciding that he needed to be doing something with his hands and be distracted with, as Nahyuta was inching closer and closer to him, looking more and more passionate. He could only apply so much, and when he looked back up at Nahyuta, his pretty green eyes were wide with excitement.
“Play it how you want it to be played,” Nahyuta commanded.
“I play it how it is written.”
The other man exhaled deeply. He shifted positions in his chair and suddenly asked, “Try something for me?”
Simon feared what he was getting himself into.
“Will you play what you feel right now? Compose something short for yourself.”
“Play what I feel?”
“Yes! Have you never warmed up that way?” Nahyuta looked at him like he was speaking a different language. “My mother taught me piano before my aunt took over lessons, and Mother always had me bang on the keys before I started playing proper, to get out any frustrations or anything else on my mind. So playing became therapeutic for me. Ga’ran rather discouraged that, but I still found the time to play what I wished before she arrived.”
“She…discouraged creativity?”
“Ah, not entirely. It was more so like…very intense encouragement to play the music exactly as recorded.” He bent to pick up his own bow. Things were starting to make sense to Simon. “And if my rendition of the piece was different from her expectations or deviated at all from the composer’s requirements, things ended rather poorly for me.”
Things were crystal clear, now.
“And now that I myself am well established, she has no control over me. You asked me yesterday why I play things ‘wrong,’ and it is because I was never given the opportunity earlier.” His expression turned rather mischievous. “And what better time to experiment than when with you, Simon Blackquill, to frustrate you endlessly?”
He scowled and readied himself to play “What exactly do you want from me?”
“Just play whatever you feel like. You can make up something pretty, I am sure.”
Well, theoretically he could, yes. But Simon had always much preferred to play the music like it was laid out for him (obviously), because there was nothing more rewarding to him than to take something he did not understand and obliterate it entirely through nothing but hard work and time. While much of his school work was never too important to him, his one track mind and staunch determination allowed him to destroy his tests and assignments, mostly through sheer force of will alone.
He looked to Nahyuta, who had a mix of impatience and excitement on his face. Well, all right, he could try. After a very deep breath, he touched the bow to the strings. He crafted a slow, low song, since he almost always preferred lower-pitched songs to something higher. Things dragged on slowly, and he felt his eyes close. That grew boring after another few made up phrases, so he moved to something faster. Simon had felt anxious about this duet for so long, and it only grew worse whenever Nahyuta purposefully messed things up. Simon cracked an eye open, watching the man sitting directly in front of him. His legs were crossed, and he had stuffed both hands between his thighs; he was sitting pretty, and his pretty eyes were closed, too. He nodded along to Simon’s music. When he was finally feeling finished, Nahyuta clapped for him.
“Look how well you improvise, Simon,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t that feel very nice to just play how you wanted to?”
“There is a distinct difference between creating my own music and blatantly ignoring the music someone else already wrote for me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And it wasn’t a very efficient means of practicing, but I suppose it was enjoyable.
“Nonsense, it is exactly the same.” Nahyuta settled his cello between his legs. “Are you ready?” Simon supposed he was as ready as he could be when faced with such an impossible task. Nahyuta positioned himself directly next to Simon, and he counted them down. Measure three came along, as well as that little grace note that Nahyuta was so fond of. There was measure fourteen, too, converted entirely into eighth notes. Simon remembered which measure had the natural he needed to play to match Nahyuta’s. He hit it perfectly, of course, and dared to look at the man next to him, spotting a little grin on his lips. It turned serious again as they approached those tricky parts, but it was nothing they could not handle. Though Nahyuta abruptly stopped playing.
“What is it?”
He set his instrument down on the ground and stood directly next to Simon. He rested his free left hand on Simon’s bow arm and pointed dramatically with his own bow. He traced the staff lines on the sheet music in front of them. The professional musician part of Simon knew he should be paying attention to what Nahyuta was saying, but also that was a surprisingly warm and strong grip on his shoulder.
“What do you say to speeding this part up?”
“Making it more terrible than it already is?”
Nahyuta practically giggled. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean.” Simon ran through it a few times, increasing his speed each time. On his last iteration, Nahyuta finally nodded and returned to his seat, tearing through the few measures at top speed. Without warning and blatantly ignoring the other player and notes entirely, Simon struck a chord that complemented Nahyuta’s playing perfectly. He faltered mid-note, stopping entirely.
“Ah...sorry.”
“No, do not apologize for that. Are you going to make a mark to remind yourself to play that next time?” The pencil had migrated over to his stand, and in his haste to get it for Simon, he dropped his pretty bow. They played those measures a few more times, with Simon’s sudden addition in them.
Now that Simon had more or less conquered his mental block of flat out refusing to try anything Nahyuta suggested, he was far freer with the music for the next few hours they practiced. Things flowed now. Things were cohesive, and things were one whole musical celebration. They stayed together to practice well past their scheduled hours. They stayed so late that the security officer for the theater barged into the concert hall.
“What are you two whippersnappers do-” Wendy Oldbag cut herself off as she stormed down the aisle, staring directly at Simon. His stomach dropped. “Oh Quilly-poo! I haven’t seen you in days!”
He rose to his feet immediately and started packing up. Nahyuta, who could just barely keep himself from bursting out laughing, followed suit and laid his cello to rest comfortable in its case.
“Simey? Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Don’t let me distract you!” Oldbag called out. She squeezed her ancient body into a front row seat, her wrinkled face lighting up with gross enthusiasm. “I would love for you to serenade me with that great big instrument you have there.”
He narrowly avoided gagging. “No, I have somewhere else to be.”
“Oh, but Simon,” Nahyuta the Bastard said innocently, “you said that wasn’t for another few hours.”
“Then stay!” Oldbag shrieked.
He shut his ebony case closed and dragged the heavy instrument away, snatching up the music from the stand and practically running off the stage. He vaguely heard Oldbag start attempting to chat up Nahyuta - it served him right for being such a cheeky shit. Maybe the hag would move on from Simon to wiggle her wrinkly self up to Nahyuta. A guy could dream. Simon made his way out to the hallways where his other belongings were. He put on his coat just as Nahyuta came speeding towards him.
“What a wrinkly, nasty worm that woman is,” he whispered.
“Yes, which is exactly why I left as soon as possible.”
“Had I known she was so disturbing I would not have made that little comment. She desperately tried to get me to tell her more about you. As if I know anything else than she does.”
“Well, you do,” Simon answered flatly.
Something in his pretty jade eyes twinkled. “I suppose you are right. So long as it stays that way, I will feel good about myself.” He, again, laughed at his own joke. “Are you genuinely going home?”
“I cannot and will not stay here.” Perhaps that was disappointment in Nahyuta’s eyes? Simon couldn’t tell.
“I look forward to practicing with you tomorrow.” He grinned, whatever emotion that was in his eyes dissipating. “I personally feel that our song needs just a little more love.”
Simon felt like that was a rather strange way of saying they needed to practice together more, but he merely said he agreed with him. They parted ways, with Nahyuta saying a kind goodbye and heading back in the direction of the concert hall. Hopefully Wendy had left by then, or else he was surely in for it from the old bag.
Once they had figured out how things were supposed to go and what sounded best together, things progressed easily. Athena sat in while Simon and Nahyuta played together, and she talked for probably ten minutes about how amazing they had sounded. Nahyuta accredited their current sound to Simon’s “inspired musical breakthrough”. Edgeworth had given his full blessing, and they played for the whole orchestra a few days later. The dress rehearsal was just as successful.
And then the actual concert rolled around.
Simon was always a black and white ball of nervous energy before he played in front of a crowd. Nahyuta looked calm from his comfortable spot against the wall next to him. Edgeworth had rearranged the concert so that they opened the whole evening. Simon forced his fingers to crack over and over, and finally, Nahyuta rested both of his hands on his balled up ones.
“Try to relax,” he said, stepping in front of him. “You know you will be fine.”
“Of course I will. Knowing that and accepting that are two different ideas, however.”
Nahyuta smiled. “I find that meditating before a concert helps.”
His lip curled. “Shall I also pray and do a dance?”
“You could, or you could take my advice and calm the hell down, Simon.” His hands squeezed his own painfully. And with sudden and surprising strength, Nahyuta swung him around and pushed Simon forward. He stumbled just slightly but recovered enough to walk out onto the stage like a professional and not like a ten year old at their first recital. The crowd applauded them both before they even sat down to play. Athena, surprisingly enough, stood at the piano.
Their instruments were already lying in wait for them, and dear Athena hit the keys to make sure they were both in tune.
Simon looked across the stage to Nahyuta, who looked so damn ethereal and regal. It was a rather jarring change to see him in something other than comfortable pants and sweatshirts - he wore all white and gold. It was far different from what Simon was wearing. Nahyuta was finally situated properly, and he gave him the widest smile. He also gave a tiny little nod, signaling that he was ready. Simon nodded back and silently counted them down.
As much as Simon wanted to know how the audience was reacting to their alterations, he made sure he was focused on the music. A few times, he chanced a peek at Nahyuta, who looked blissful, yet still had an intense look of concentration on his face.
Everything fit perfectly as they played. Simon had played his fair share of duets in his time, but he had yet to experience one this perfect. He looked to Nahyuta again towards the end, ensuring that he wouldn’t be doing anything crazy or unrehearsed. They were fast approaching the last few measures, which they had mutually agreed needed to be powerful and fast and meaningful. Nahyuta reached his high notes with an expert shift of the wrist, and Simon walked his fingers down to his lower notes with ease and grace.
And...it was over.
The audience cheered as they stood to bow, but it all rather passed in a blur for Simon. He could finally focus on the disgustingly gorgeous smile on Nahyuta’s face. But he knew he needed get off the stage so the rest of the performers could find their seats. He led the way back stage and behind the curtains.
Again, with very surprising strength, Nahyuta gripped his shoulders and pulled Simon backwards, turning him as he dragged him around. His graceful fingers curled around his lapels as he kissed Simon, sudden and sharp and shocking. Simon Blackquill was at a loss for what to do, but he did manage to grip onto Nahyuta’s shoulders tightly. Though things ended quickly, as the rest of the orchestra was making their way onto the stage. The other cello players congratulated them silently as they took their places on stage. Nahyuta joined the stream, and Simon found a place a few people after.
Once he was situated, he spied Athena and Apollo giving them very subtle thumbs up; Edgeworth would probably kick them out of the group if he saw them. The man himself made his way to the podium, and as he got himself organized and ready to conduct, Simon felt something sharp dig into his thigh.
Nahyuta pulled his ivory bow back, winking and grinning. Simon grew hot, and it was not solely because of the warm stage lights on him. Just as Edgeworth waved his hands upwards, Simon absently thought that he would need to suggest performing a few more duets with Nahyuta; he rather liked playing with him and wondered just how far they could twist the song to make it their own.