The music was swelling; the audience in silence, leaning forward in their seats. Some - most - appreciated the quality of the playing or the complexity of the composition. A few looked on with pride at their loved ones on the stage, achieving so much; hard work turning into expertise.

Gabriel had his own admirer out there, though that wasn't what he was thinking of, no matter how appreciative he was over what Henry had done for him. Given up for him. Instead, he let his body move in time with the notes he drew from his instrument, swaying as he slid the bow to produce the warm, low pitch that resonated through the auditorium, beneath the higher pitch of the violins. He didn't hold back the small smile, allowed his joy to be revealed in a way he rarely did outside playing.

He couldn't see into the audience, not that he'd have looked anyway. It wasn't about them for him. Not about applause, or accolades, even if they were what Henry pushed him to achieve. It wasn't even really about sharing. He would be happy if he were the only person in the high-vaulted room, and his cello the only sound he could hear.

The bright stage lights prevented peering out, anyway, even if his eyes hadn't been closed and his head only in the sonorous notes. He couldn't see Henry, seated to the front left of the stage with all of the other tutors and professors, though he knew he was there. Henry came to every performance, even the ones that were far less illustrious than this. There was no one else out there for him anyway. No one else left.

The section completed, fading away for a moment until the lighter woodwind section entered with a low push of air. Gabriel opened his eyes, stilling and breathing deeply after his extended movement. He glanced across to where Ellis was poised over his piano keys, receiving a bright grin back, although Gabriel just smiled softly before closing his eyes again.

* * * * *

In the sixth row, Sawyer's eyes never left the beautiful boy playing first cello. He had seen the back of François Girard's moronic head in the first row as soon as he came in, next to the committee from the London Philharmonic, his eyes rarely leaving the pretty little jock on the piano, and he had no intention of drawing his attention. But still, Sawyer couldn't stop staring at the cello-boy, who screamed innocence, from his huge eyes framed by messy bangs, to the battered black and white sneakers mainly hidden by over-long pants.

"Why?" Greg whispered, leaning in to prevent getting tutted at by the white-haired woman on his other side, who had already glared several times at him for spreading his legs too wide in the narrow seats.

"Why not?" Sawyer whispered back, shrugging and shifting away. Greg knew him well and had clearly recognized the light of desire in his eyes. He just echoed Sawyer's shrug and sat back, watching the stage again with bored eyes, clearly aware it was a pointless question.

This wasn't his scene. Sawyer wasn't exactly sure why he'd leaped on the chance to take Matthew's ticket when a work emergency had arisen. He did suspect it was an attempt to clamber onto Sawyer's good side, like the creepy little toad he was. Sawyer had seen the calculation when Greg had noted the anger at Matthew letting him down. Whatever the reason, it wasn't Sawyer's issue to care about, so he stopped thinking about it. Instead, he focused back on the sweet thing on stage; so ripe. So very, very corruptible. And he imagined what those soft pink lips, currently slightly parted as full concentration was given to the music, would feel like, stretched obscenely around his cock.

* * * * *

Henry sighed. Gabriel had missed the change by a quarter of a beat. Most of the plebeian crowd wouldn't spot it, but the judges from the London Philharmonic would. There were representatives from a few smaller orchestras too, but that wasn't good enough. Gabriel was the best – he'd crafted him into being the best – and he'd achieve this, Henry was certain. Provided, of course, he could keep his head properly in the music.

He hadn't been practicing enough. Henry knew that, so was angry at himself. It wasn't Gabriel's fault; he really didn't know any better. He was a sweet boy. He'd always been a sweet boy. But without a strong guiding hand, he just wasn't focused enough. Natural talent could only take a person so far, and Gabriel had been talking about his friends a lot recently. They didn't have half the talent Gabriel did and Henry wasn't about to let them be the end of his dreams. He'd have to get stricter. It was in the boy's best interests.

* * * * *

The performers accepted the standing ovation. They were good; they were used to it. The New York Conservatory was one of the best music schools in the country, even the world.

The musicians began to pack up as the attendees filed out, ready to drink cheap wine in the foyer. Ellis passed Gabriel his case with a bright grin.

"We did good?"

"Yeah, it was okay." Gabriel had missed his timing. One time, and only by a moment, but he knew that was what Henry would focus on, despite the entirety of the rest of his playing being perfect.

"Are you going to the after-party?" Ellis joked. They were expected at the soiree, to mingle and schmooze the rich benefactors of the Conservatory.

There was added pressure tonight because of all the orchestra representatives. It was the time of year when they began visiting schools to find the best new talent. Henry had been talking about nothing else for weeks. Another reason why the mistake he made would be an issue.

Gabriel sighed, clicking his case closed and lifting it with a slight grunt. He wasn't very strong. No time to exercise. Not like Ellis did, with his strong muscles and all-American good health. No, Gabriel was pale from too much time indoors, huge bags edging his eyes, from late nights practicing. It wasn't really fair, but the idea of sulking about it was slightly abstract. It wasn't like he'd ever had much time for exercise. Henry had been his tutor since he was a child, and the moment he'd realized Gabriel had such a natural talent for musical instruments, he'd pushed for that to be the only thing he did with every moment of his spare time.

Gabriel was still proud of himself that he'd at least fought back about the instruments. Cello was his big strength, and if Henry had had his way that would have been the only thing he'd have worked on. But Gabriel loved all instruments and had insisted on continuing with the flute and piano too. Luckily he'd had Gramma's unrelenting support. She just liked to see him happy and had told Henry that they'd find a new tutor if he couldn't support that. He'd agreed, in the end and with bad grace, and Gabriel was expert in all of them now.

He missed his grandmother. She'd died when he was just shy of seventeen. A huge loss that he hadn't had a chance to dwell on, because Henry had taken him in to save him from the foster system and immediately started preparing him for his entry to the Conservatory. They'd had to keep their true relationship secret, obviously, but Gabriel knew that Henry had reveled in finally having him close all the time.

Even now, they weren't open about it. As far as the school was concerned, Henry had been Gabriel's guardian, and that's why they were close now, and Henry gave him so much one-to-one tutoring. Even his friends didn't know, though he thought some of them were suspicious. He'd probably let a bit too much be revealed in conversation, though no one had called him on it yet.

Henry would be waiting now. He wouldn't berate Gabriel yet. Not in public. But Gabriel could easily imagine the disappointed glance he'd receive when he went to the foyer, and how that disappointment would manifest when they got home. But what he would expect now was Gabriel's best game face. He hated having to talk to rich people about music that they didn't understand, just so they could feel cultured. But Henry insisted that networking would be his best chance to get a position in a well-known orchestra. Gabriel didn't think it was right – auditions were always blind – but Henry was certain, and dressed Gabriel up in smart suits and trained him in how to speak to potential 'connections'.

Gabriel wasn't a rebel, not really. But he glanced down at his chewed-up Converse with a grin. He couldn't do much, not with Henry so conscious of appearances, but he let himself out in small ways whenever he found them. Mind you, it would be another point to the lecture if Henry had spotted them.

"Come on, we mustn't keep Mr. Brubaker waiting," Ellis said sarcastically, dramatically dragging his feet like a zombie towards the exit. He laughed suddenly then, throwing his head back, brighter and happier than he used to be, and came back to easily grab Gabriel's case. Ellis had a new boyfriend, who had apparently made the cheerfulness that he used to fake a lot more real. Not that Ellis had ever admitted he was faking it. Gabriel just learned to recognize the signs from seeing them in the mirror.

* * * * *

Ellis stored Gabriel's case in the storeroom and dragged him into the huge double-height foyer. It was too bright, the white walls and huge chandeliers headache-inducing. There was Mr. Brubaker, the Director of the Conservatory, gesturing for them to come over. He was talking to a gray-haired man with a very straight back, and an auburn-haired woman with a sour twist to her mouth, in a forest green gown. They must be important. They obviously thought so.

Henry was on the other side of the room, and he looked at Gabriel for just a moment as the spectacled man he was being talked at by paused to take a sip of his wine, wincing. The look Henry sent him was just what he expected. Pursed lips and a furrow to his brow. Loosely translated to 'we'll talk about this when we get home'. Gabriel sighed, following Ellis over to Mr. Brubaker.