A/N: no trigger warnings, but detail on content is at the bottom

The audition was on Tuesday. Gabriel was prepared. He'd been preparing most of his life. But he would have really liked it if Henry could have been there with him. He was meant to be. When Mr. Brubaker had emailed the details to Henry, he'd said he would be; promised even. But last night, Monday night, over dinner, he'd suddenly announced he couldn't make it. That some student called Tommy had an audition coming up, and he needed a last-minute tutorial with Henry.

Gabriel hadn't whined, no matter how much he'd wanted to. Henry hated whining. But he'd asked, in his best, calmest, non-whiny voice, why Henry would do that instead of coming to Gabriel's audition. The thing that they'd been working towards forever. Henry had just said that he'd done everything Gabriel needed for so long, and he could do this one, little thing on his own, while he helped someone who needed it.

It had felt like a physical blow then, and Gabriel still hadn't recovered as he paced the waiting area, his cello gently placed across two chairs as if waiting for him, because he couldn't trust himself to touch her. He'd kept his true response hidden last night, but it was leaking now, as if his body was incapable of containing it.

It was a strange collection of emotions. He thought he might be angry. That Henry's bland, unbothered rejection of his needs had struck him in a place he'd kept hidden for so long he'd been thinking it didn't exist anymore. That it had been left behind, in his childhood. But seemingly it hadn't, and it did exist.

Clearly it did, if the roiling in his mind was anything to go by. He couldn't afford that kind of inconsistency now though – any kind of emotion at all. He had to be prepared to be perfect, just like he'd been taught for so long.

He sat, away from his instrument; still not ready to place hands on her. Putting his head in his hands instead. He could hear people around him, tuning up – though he thought that was a foolish thing to be doing right now – talking quietly with the people who'd come to support them, or on the phone. He couldn't even ring Henry for last minute morale because he'd said he'd be unreachable. Busy.

"Gabriel?"

His head jerked up at his name. It couldn't be his turn yet. He was early – really early, unable to stay in the empty apartment any longer.

The man in front of him was tall. Blond and handsome, with a broad but edgy smile. There was something...not entirely secure about him, about the way he seemed to carry himself, even standing completely still, looking down at Gabriel with his head to one side. Gabriel shivered involuntarily, and tried to smile back, though it was a weak attempt.

"Hi?"

"Hello. I'm Sawyer Montgomery. I work for the law firm representing the Philharmonic here in the states."

"You're a lawyer?"

"I am."

The man seemed reluctant to say anything more, and Gabriel wondered why this whole interaction was giving him the strangest feeling of surrealness. Because it wasn't usual for people connected with the auditions to come out this way – to talk to the musicians. This was the first big audition he'd done, but the Conservatory trained them for this – there were actual lessons; a brief but mandatory unit for all of their courses. And that was because they were the best – it was expected that the students were aiming to graduate and then be part of the swathe of desperate musicians hoping to be caught by an orchestra.

But even if he didn't seem to want to talk, he was looking down at Gabriel like he wanted him to talk instead.

"Um?"

"Are you okay, Gabriel? I'm sorry, I'm not trying to pry, but you look...nervous."

"Oh? Oh! I'm not." And Gabriel realized it was true. He wasn't actually nervous at all, and he had no idea whether it was the anger he was feeling – the hurt – or whether he wouldn't be anyway. He knew how good he was, though he was equally aware that the others here – not all of whom he knew, so not all were from the Conservatory – would be almost as good. But no, nervousness wasn't an issue; he either performed in the way they were looking for or he didn't, and he had no say in it, so there was no point. Regardless, it was weirdly nice for this stranger to care enough to ask.

"Would you like a coffee?"

"Probably not a great idea. I need my hands steady."

Gabriel finally sat up a little, starting to feel clearer. The conversation was helping, and he felt a wave of gratitude towards the man.

"Of course." Mr. Montgomery smiled at him, and Gabriel wondered why he'd thought there was something strange about his smile before. It was a nice smile. Just the right amount of straight, white teeth set in a tanned face. His hair was styled, but not enough to make him look frivolous. Henry always told Gabriel he had to keep his hair natural – unaffected, he said. He said it was part of his charm, although he didn't mind if Gabriel wanted to wear eyeliner occasionally because he said it made his pretty eyes even more beautiful. But generally, Henry preferred him unadorned.

"I think you'll do very well."

"You do?" Gabriel looked closer at the eyes that gazed right back. They were that unusual shade that were like looking at the bottom of a rock pool through azure seawater, unlike Gabriel's, which were kind of gray. He didn't recognize them, or anything about the man. He was pretty sure he'd have remembered someone this good-looking, especially if he'd been staring at Gabriel like he was now, with an almost unnerving intensity.

"I've seen you perform. For the Conservatory. You're very good."

"Oh, yeah, thank you." That would explain it, obviously. The Conservatory put events on with boring regularity, and Gabriel had taken a solo role consistently almost since he joined – certainly whenever the composition called for it. The man obviously appreciated good music.

"Have you been playing a long time?"

"Since I was a kid. My grandmother encouraged it."

"That's very fortunate. Not your parents though?"

"Uh, they died when I was young."

Those expressive eyes took on sympathy. "I'm sorry. How lucky your grandmother supports your dreams."

"Oh, she- she died a few years ago."

"Oh dear, how terrible. Please tell me you aren't alone."

"I have Henry. He, ah, he fostered me."

He was thankful Mr. Montgomery didn't ask any more about Henry. The understanding look on his face suggested he was sympathetic, but that could have been awkward. Instead, he just nodded with a smile.

Mr. Montgomery seemed to be thinking, still staring and apparently not suffering any embarrassment at Gabriel looking right back at him. He minutely shook his head after a moment, stepping back.

"I just wanted to wish you luck. I hope to see you again."

Gabriel didn't know what to say, so just nodded instead of trying to find something. He wondered if he'd have tried to find a way to escape if he hadn't been trapped here by the need to await his name being called. That's how he usually dealt with anyone who wanted to know more about him. It was moot, though, and his name was called then, preventing any further thought as his head was filled with music instead.

* * * * *

Sawyer was thankful he could continue with his billable hours on his laptop, even stuck in this musty smelling foyer as he waited for Gabriel to come out. He'd been a few hours, which was to be expected – the process certainly didn't stop at the primary blind audition. A few had petered through, clutching their cases and with disappointment in their eyes, though Sawyer was unsurprised his boy wasn't among them. It was part of the reason this was worth the effort. And then, in addition to talent, Gabriel was so ripe, so blatantly naïve, so obviously submissive, Sawyer didn't begrudge the slight effort to find ways he could be guided in the right direction.

He looked up when someone swung open the large external door. It was the man that had acted so possessive toward Gabriel at the show: presumably this 'Henry'. He gave Sawyer a slight, somewhat icy smile and sat in a chair a few feet away.

"You must be Henry." Sawyer approached but didn't hold out a hand; kept a level of coldness in his own voice and stance as the man looked up in shock.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Sawyer smirked. "You're Gabriel's friend." He made sure there was a sneer in it. He had no reason to try and keep this man on side – the opposite really, if he was going to get what he wanted. And he was. He was rewarded by wariness appearing in Henry's dull, brown eyes.

"Yes...I came to pick him up."

"That's good of you."

Henry shrugged, his eyes darting over Sawyer's shoulder, and he stood as Sawyer saw Gabriel approaching with a smile.

"Did it go well?"

"Yes. I think so. I think it's between me and one other person, and they said they'll contact me in a few days."

"I told you you'd do very well," Sawyer interrupted the two men with his warmest smile, receiving a matching one from Gabriel, though Henry looked confused.

"Come, Gabriel, we're going home." He turned away, but Sawyer put a hand on Gabriel's shoulder before he could follow.

"Here," he passed the boy a business card, "I'll be very happy to take a look at your contract when they send it to you."

"Oh, thank you."

He was pleased to see Gabriel slip the card into a pocket on his case before following Henry.

"Who is he?" Sawyer could hear Henry ask as they approached the door.

"Oh, I think he's just a music fan. He said he'd seen me play, and he's a lawyer, so I think he'll help me if they send a contract."

"I'm sure they will, darling." Henry placed a hand – that possessive hand again – on the small of Gabriel's back, guiding him through the door. Sawyer was certain they were in a relationship, despite the fatherly aspect of the man, but he was yet more sure that Henry was no dominant, which was perfect, because Gabriel would be even more innocent than he initially appeared. 

A/N: so Sawyer has already started being a little gaslighty. And poor Gabe really is naive from years of being de-socialised and wrapped in cotton wool

There will be *a lot* of dramatic irony in arc 1