After the night before, there was no denying it any longer.

Osmond was falling deeply in love with his blonde haired traveling mate, and there was absolutely no way to stop it.

All the signs were there. The fluttering heart when he was around and the immediate feeling of relaxation. Constantly Osmond felt the need to reach out and touch him, but couldn't because Carmen still wasn't yet his to touch.

Well, at least not on nights that they didn't have a performance the next day.

The night before he had been free to touch the younger, his hands roaming carefully over every inch of smooth skin as Carmen shifted and cried out beneath him. Osmond wondered if he had felt it to. The connection between the two of them as their eyes met and Osmond pushed completely inside of the distracted boy (with the help of the lubrication they had bought earlier that day). Osmond had noticed every little thing Carmen had done.

The way the boy's toes curled when he slowly grinded into his prostate, his smaller hands pulling as Osmond's hair. Or the way Carmen had fought to keep his eyes open to look up at the other, but failed and allowed himself to succumb to the pleasure.

It has been the deepest of their nights so far and Osmond knew that Carmen had felt it too.

He had to have felt it too.

"You looked so happy up there," Carmen claimed, stabbing his hotel eggs with his fork and the pouting when they crumbled away. Osmond grinned at this, knowing his hands together on top of the table to resist the urge to reach out and help the boy. "Playing for other people rather than playing with me-"

"I love playing with you," Osmond said quickly, furrowing his eyebrows as Carmen looked up at him, a look on his face that said I'm not stupid. "I'm serious, Carmen. Playing with you is one of my favorite things. You're always so accurate and good at watching for cues and your tuning is precise and when you play, well, you're never exactly bad to look at but when you play-"

"Oz, you are rambling," Carmen said, and when Osmond looked back up his face was flushed pink. It was spoken with surprise, more like: you are rambling, and Osmond himself felt as if he should also blush. "Okay, I believe you".

"What?" Still slightly embarrassed, Osmond looked away and took a sip of his grape juice.

"You like playing with me". Osmond just gave him a short nod in response. "But I mean, when you were playing, just now, for those women, you looked so at ease. So happy. Is that what you want to do with your life?"

"Yes," Osmond said without hesitation. "I want to go to New York for school, and then do this all the time. Play piano and compose". He grimaced at the last word, thinking about the sheet music in his suitcase he's barely touched in the trip.

"Compose?" Carmen asked, and then realized this wasn't the right question. "Juilliard?"

"Yeah," Osmond said, and then looked down at his plate to resume eating his French toast. "Isn't that where you want to go?"

Carmen's laugh was sour. "Once again Osmond, want doesn't matter in my life. It's not like I get to choose".

"If you weren't going to go to school for music, what would you do?" Osmond asked, leaning forward and meeting the boy's gaze. Carmen blinked in surprise, chewing on his lip nervously.

"I've never really thought about that".

"Well think now," Osmond urged and Carmen blinked in surprise before beginning go suck on his lower lip.While this meant frustration, Carmen also did it when he was nervous. "It's not like your mom's here and is going to over hear you". Carmen laughed at this and Osmond added quietly. "It's just us".

"Just us," Carmen repeated just above a whisper and Osmond nodded. "I really like history". Osmond laughed at this and Carmen looked rather offended.

"I'm sorry," Osmond said quickly, smiling softly at the boy who was looking at him blankly. "It's not funny. It's just that, well, Adrian was never really good at history. It was his least favorite subject".

"Why is it funny that I like it then?"

"Well because Adrian's-" the only other person I've felt this way about- "um... you and Adrian are just very different".

They were, right down to their appearances. Where Adrian's eyes and hair were dark brown, Carmen had a wonderful contrast of white blonde hair and brown eyes that also had highlights of light brown in it. Where Adrian was 5'2, Carmen was a bit taller at... probably 5'6, maybe 5'7 but Osmond doubted it. Where Adrian was all curves and a girlish (and even the Adrian himself would describe it that way) figure, Carmen was still built like a boy. Even though he didn't eat as much as he should, Carmen appeared to have a healthy body weight, where Adrian, who ate all the fucking time, appeared to be almost sickly skinny.

And then there was their personalities. Carmen was as quiet as Adrian was loud. Adrian talked a lot and always had something to say where Carmen seemed to struggle with his words at times and would even just fall silent. While Adrian was incredibly caring, he sometimes lacked politeness, which is something Osmond had yet to see Carmen do, except for that time where he had interrupted Osmond's conversation with that girl and her mother with a kiss.

Adrian was all grins and laughs, where Carmen was all shy smiles and quiet chuckles.

Osmond considered himself to be the kind of person who glared and upon occasion would smirk at people, but this unpleasant definition of himself was rewritten when he was around Carmen. The boy seemed to be able to make him smile at any given time, and even draw laughs out of him with no effort given at all.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Carmen asked, still sounding a bit upset and Osmond shook his head slowly.

"It's nothing. I'm sorry". They were silent. "Why do you like history?"

"Why doesn't Adrian Vang like history?" Carmen asked, sounding both jealous and adorable and Osmond couldn't help but to laugh quietly.

The second the sound left him Carmen couldn't help but to smile. "It's always the same. That's why I like it. History doesn't really change. Things get added to it every once and awhile, but it has definite answers. I like that. I actually brought my history book from school with me, my mom never gives me time to study, but I haven't gotten around to it yet".

Osmond hummed thoughtfully. "So you want to do something with history?"

"Osmond, I can't-"

"I'm not asking you what you can or can't do, I'm asking you what you want to do," Osmond clarified and Carmen began to chew on his lip.

"Yeah, I guess. I'd like to be a historian or something... but it's pointless to talk about, it's not going to happen," Carmen sounded defeated then, but before Osmond could comment he was changing the subject. "What about you? What if you couldn't play piano? What would you do with your life?" Osmond just looked at him blankly. "You don't have any classes that you enjoy?"

"I don't have any classes," he explained and Carmen raised his eyebrows. "I don't do anything but practice".

"So if you couldn't play the piano you wouldn't do anything?" Carmen asked and Osmond nodded his head. "When did you get good at playing?"

"I don't remember," Osmond said slowly, trying to actually think about it. "I could always just... play, I guess".

"What's that even mean?" Carmen asked, pulling apart a stop of bacon before dropping it on his plate and sucking at his fingers.

"It means that I was never really bad at the piano. I just started playing and kind of knew what I was doing. The hard part was learning the notes and the theory, but I was quick with it. Once they taught me how to count and where to put my fingers, I could honestly just play the music they gave me. Of course they weren't giving me mozart or anything, since I was like, four, and they had no idea what I could do". Carmen was watching him with intrigued eyes, his head tilted a bit down as he did so and for some reason, in that second, he was so absolutely beautiful that Osmond lost his train of thought.

"Well?" Carmen urged, "how did they find out?"

Osmond took a moment to think back to what he had said last for context before answering. "A elementary school teacher back in Wisconsin made a really big deal about me and told my mother she should take me to see some college professor out in California. Of course she didn't, since it was expensive, but my teacher really wanted me to meet him so the guy came to us instead and took me out of class one day to work".

"Was he allowed to do that?" Carmen asked and Osmond shrugged.

"Probably not. My mother was livid when she found out. My reading teacher had called her when she realized I was missing, and I can remember my mom storming into the music room and trying to get me to leave. She said was so worried about me and that they had no right to take me out of class, but then the guy from California apologized and asked for one chance". Osmond smiled. "My mother really loved me. She wasn't going to let me stay until it was me asking her to. I told her I wanted to show her what I had learned in the last hour, and then player her Mozart's piano sonata number 11 in A major by memory- I couldn't really read sheet music that was that difficult at that time. Anyway, my mom really didn't know what to do at that point". Carmen laughed softly.

"She asked the Californian if he could give me lessons, which of course he couldn't, he was going back to california, but he told her that it had nothing to do with him and all to do with me".

Osmond could still remember the words, "he's what we'd consider as a prodigy," clear as day.

"You took lessons?" Carmen asked, and then added. "I take lessons".

"I didn't really get to take lessons. As I said, all I really needed to learn was how to count things and where to put my hands and then I was pretty much more advanced than all the teachers they could find for me". Carmen raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything about it.

Instead he asked, "what did your father do when he found out you were this crazy talented piano player?" and Osmond's breath caught in his throat and his fists clenched. Carmen's whole body froze for a moment, and then his back straightened as he became completely alert. "Are you okay?"

"I-" Osmond began, but his voice came out dry so he took a quick drink from his glass of grape juice. "I'm fine".

Carmen just studied him for a long moment and Osmond looked back. "Oz-"

"My father wasn't happy with me, even though I couldn't help it, and he was upset with my mother for not doing anything to stop it".

"Stop what?" Carmen asked confused and Osmond tried to relax as much as possible.

"My father never wanted me, so whenever something new came up that had to do with me he would get angry with my mother. With the piano, he didn't want to have to pay for lessons or music or anything and was mad that she didn't say no to me". Osmond cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "I remember them screaming at one another about it, her saying that I loved it and him not caring".

"Your parents fought?" Carmen asked and Osmond's eyes opened, incredibly wide and Carmen looked a bit unsure of himself then.

"Fought," Osmond said, his voice weak and then he dropped back against his chair. "I watched..." he decided not to have Carmen look at him that way, not yet, so he said something different. "Yes they fought".

Carmen just nodded his head at him, as if understanding that he didn't want to talk about it.

Both of their plates were empty by this time, so Osmond stood from the table.

They were supposed to play for a banquet that afternoon and then fly to New York that night. Osmond was a bit excited for this. They were to stay in New York for a few days, having a break between performances, and it would be Osmond's first time in his future home.

Carmen looked up at him, his eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. "We should get ready," Osmond mumbled, trying to completely forget the conversation about his father.

Thinking about the man was bad enough, but talking about him... it was something he hadn't done in a very long time. Sometimes him and his aunt would talk about his mother (her sister), but his father never came into the conversation.

Not since had had been the one to do this to them.

Osmond knew that the presence of the older man was not completely erased from their lives. His aunt tried sheltered him from this though. Every year around Christmas she would insist on going through the mail before him, rifling through all of the cards and then snatching one out of the pile that she would throw directly into the fire before Osmond even got a chance to see the name on it.

It was just a silent agreement between them that he didn't ask about his father, and she didn't tell.

The man was as good as dead to him. Gone from his life without a trace. It was almost easy to convince himself that he was actually gone-

"Alright," Carmen mumbled, frowning at Osmond, probably because his sudden change in mood.

And god Osmond wanted to tell him.

But how do you tell someone something that horrible and expect them to still look at you the same way?

A/N My Osmond is developing feelings, but it's still hard for him to open up. I think it's an improvement though because at least he wants to.