A/N: there's a bit of a content warning toward the end here, and I'll put more detail at the bottom of the page in case you're worried. Gabe is about to find something out about himself...

Gabriel's anger, bubbling back the moment his final audition piece had ended, faded instantly when he saw Henry waiting for him. Every thought he'd had; about Henry being full of words but lacking in action when it actually meant something to both of them: gone. Concern about why Henry was suddenly giving one-to-one tuition, which was something he'd given to no one but Gabriel the entire time they'd been at the Conservatory: gone.

He'd come here, for Gabriel, and it made him almost weak with happiness. He couldn't reveal that though. Henry wasn't a fan of neediness, and Gabriel had to keep it bottled up outside the bedroom – and often even there. It wasn't good to be needy.

He managed until they got outside, and walked towards the park, where Henry bought him a milkshake from a vendor with a cart, getting himself a coffee.

"You can relax now, darling. I'm sure you'll get the position, and we can be in London by summer."

Henry sat on a bench and Gabriel collapsed next to him, remembering himself at the last minute and straightening his back.

"What if I don't get it though?"

"Hey, none of that." Henry turned, placing a hand on Gabriel's knee, though he glanced around to be sure no one was looking. "You're an amazing musician, darling. And they will see that. Anyway," he said sternly, before Gabriel could thank him, or lean into the touch, "you'll be okay getting home, won't you?"

"What do you mean? Aren't we going together?"

"I have to go back to the Conservatory. I just sent poor Tommy to have some dinner, but I have to get back."

Gabriel felt his earlier frustration rise again, quicker than before. "What do you mean? You've been tutoring him all day."

"Come now, Gabriel. Don't get silly. He needs my help. You can get yourself home. Be good. You have some chores to keep you occupied, anyway."

Henry stood, dropping his half-finished coffee in the trash, giving Gabriel a brief wave and an even briefer smile before he turned and headed back. Gabriel took several deep breaths, his milkshake too cold in his hand, the air feeling solid in his throat. He wouldn't be jealous – couldn't be. Henry hated it when he was. Said it was a silly and childish emotion. Said only little babies acted out when they didn't get enough attention.

But just who was this Tommy kid? Someone who'd never been mentioned before, and Gabriel wondered just how long Henry might have been giving him personal tuition. Wondered just how talented he was. Henry had always loved how much natural skill Gabriel had, and he wasn't blind to the fact that it was a large part of Henry's attraction to him. Maybe this Tommy was more. And maybe he was better at being good, and doing what he was told, and not pushing against the demands put on him.

It wouldn't do him any good to dwell though. He had things to do at home, and he couldn't sit in a park for the rest of the afternoon, tempting as it might be to simply refuse responsibility for a while. He pulled the strap of his messenger bag securely across his chest and grasped the handle of his case. It was only a few blocks, but his instrument was going to feel very heavy by the time he got back to the apartment.

He wasn't wrong, and he was only half-way there when it was feeling as though the case was pulling his arm from its socket – both arms in fact, because he had to keep switching hands. He wasn't allowed short cuts, because they invariably meant shady alleys, and the long shadows of dusk were beginning to fall. But it was too much. There was an alley on the next block that could cut almost ten minutes from his usual journey. A direction he'd never taken, but as he felt the numbness in his fingers, it felt like a risk worth taking today. A minor rebellion that Henry wouldn't even know about, but Gabriel would, and just maybe it would make him feel better about all of the inconvenient emotions.

He paused in the mouth of the alley. Though it was still light where he was, the passage was long, and narrow, enough that the tall buildings on either side blocked off most of the weakening light. He faltered. Maybe wandering down there wasn't the best idea. But the case was heavy. And now his neck was aching with the weight of his bag pulling. The apartment was only one block away on the other side of the alley – it would be three if he went the long way.

He was convinced – if he went through, he might have time for a quick bath to soak his aching muscles, not just from the walk, but from an entire day tense with anticipation. It was enough of a temptation to make him step into the grimy mouth of the alley.

He walked faster as soon as the light from the street had dimmed. There were doors into the space, and he could hear noises from behind some, although it didn't calm him to know people were close. There was the sound of breaking glass behind one, and a partially open red door further down had busy sounds of shouting gusting out. He could see the other end, an opening onto a quieter street than the one he'd left, and he was nearly there. Nearly out of the alley, so the man that appeared in front of him made his heart stutter.

He'd come out of nowhere – seemingly from behind a dumpster, where there was nothing but a rough brick wall now. Probably not much bigger than Gabriel, but holding himself stronger, a swagger in the way he walked towards him with hands loosely clenched at his side. Gabriel stilted and stalled, his jaw dropping. He hadn't actually thought he was in danger, but this man exuded it. And now he was closer, and Gabriel felt something worse – felt someone at his back – not touching, but a presence.

His heart was beating hard – the adrenaline that instantly coursed through him doing nothing but making the grip he had on his cello case feel weak. His chest was pulsing – his breath shorter, panicked already even though nothing had happened. Gabriel whimpered, feeling his knees trembling, barely able to hold him up. This was exactly – precisely – what Henry had always warned him of. He'd be so disappointed.

"So, what do we have here?" The man with the New Jersey accent didn't even seem aware of the clichéd words. Gabriel might have laughed if he'd heard it anywhere else, but he didn't have it in him now. He wasn't that cocky, confident type. He was that terrified, weak type instead.

"Looks like something expensive," a deep voice came from behind.

"Hmm. Hand over the bag."

Gabriel unhooked his bag, thrusting it towards the man, thankful that his key and wallet were in his jacket pocket – hoping they'd assume it was in the bag alongside his music notes and an empty water bottle and not directly ask him.

The man didn't say anything, just slung Gabriel's bag over his own shoulder. Gabriel winced, trying not to show his eagerness in hoping they'd simply leave, fade back into the shadows they'd come from.

"What about that?" The deep voice again, and Gabriel knew it was referring to his cello, his grip reflexively tightening in response.

"Hand it over," the first man said.

He finally found his voice. "No, you can't."

"Oh, I can, sweetheart. Give it to me, or I'll take it."

Gabriel saw the glint of a weapon – a short, flashing blade. Strangely, it didn't make him afraid, or at least, not more afraid than he already was.

He couldn't give up his cello. Not only because Henry would be furious, although that had an effect. No, his Gramma had bought this for him, not that long before she'd succumbed. In fact, Gabriel had realized afterwards that that was the reason she'd bought it, knowing she wouldn't be there to hear him play anymore. She'd always supported him – always known he'd make something of his music. Different to Henry, even if he'd had the same thought. Her reasoning was tied up in how much Gabriel loved it, and how much she wanted him to have that in his life – something that was his, that he did because of the pleasure it brought him.

It didn't matter though. The man lunged forward, grabbing the case, though he clearly wasn't prepared for how heavy it was, and it slipped from his grip to the rough ground, landing with a discordant crash, making him curse.

"No!" Gabriel stepped forward, arm out, desperation running through him.

The man swiped, and Gabriel felt a sharp pain that made him gasp, made his head light up for a brief moment, until he saw the blood across the back of his hand and it turned to nausea. The knife hadn't cut deep, but he brought it up to his chest, clutching it to him, trying to ignore the new, dull, throb – trying to ignore the way he felt it in a clenching of his stomach at the same time.

Gabriel was thrown back, a memory blocking his senses. He was fifteen, he thought, point of view blocked by bangs hanging in front of his eyes. His old cello in his hand, the one he'd had before Gramma had got him the new one. But he'd dropped that one. Harsh and jarring, like this time. It hadn't been right after that, hard to tune. Frustrating. But it wasn't the frustration the memory was bringing him. It was the agony. He'd broken his toe that day. The day Vinnie Molstrom had pushed him into the wall. Called him a bitter, angry, hurtful name. Gabriel remembered the sting of the wall scraping his shoulder through his thin t-shirt. The sharp agony of the instrument slamming into his foot. The way he'd sucked in a huff of air so hard it had hurt his throat...

"What the fuck?" The man didn't sound angry – he sounded incredulous, as if he could barely believe Gabriel's nerve in trying to fight back. His fist wound back before Gabriel even realized what was happening – had connected with a dull thud before he could react. The pain bloomed, but, again, the corresponding tenseness was there, in his stomach, as the air left him in a gush.

"What the fuck?" the man said again, but this time he was laughing. "Did you like that, you little pervert?"

Gabriel didn't know what he meant, until he felt a sharp smack against his groin – against the hardness in his pants. He gasped, falling backwards, trying to get away. The blow hadn't affected the new, unexpected, arousal. If anything, he suddenly felt as though he was harder than he'd ever been.

A/N: that content warning, if you need it.

Gabe gets mugged and roughed up. And he's discovering he has a somewhat visceral reaction to pain.