Chapter Text
"It would seem that our little Barbarina and the young ladies of the chorus were all a flutter with talk of a mysterious young man in attendance at today's rehearsal." Wolfgang teased with a grin. He began pulling absently at the thin blades of spring grass that rustled between them. As it seemed, Mozart was always doing something with his hands...
Laying comfortably skywards with eyes closed, the young Ludwig politely ignored the light humored taunting and simply smiled with a subdued chuckle. He had only been in Vienna for a short while, but he already felt a certain comfort here, despite being miles away from home. Sometimes at night, when sleep would not come, he would stare up at the ceiling with a wrenching sense of melancholy washing over him, dampening his thoughts. A longing for the quaintness of his home, his old bed, for his Mama, alas, with the sun warming his face in that very moment and his musical career seemingly within his grasp, it was all but a fleeting thought. He shrugged the idea away, to which Mozart raised a curious eyebrow, but he knew better than to pry. He had not been long in his life, but Wolfgang already knew that words did not come easily to the brooding young man who had caught the attention of his young female chorus.
Since Ludwig's arrival a few weeks prior, Herr Mozart had been more than accommodating. Impressed by his piano skills, Mozart remained a demanding teacher, but moreover, he became a delightful companion for the talented boy. For him, Ludwig worked tirelessly. He was bold, he was sure and he wanted to prove himself to the great master of which he had modelled so much of his own musical self. Ludwig was eager to take on whatever may be required of him, after all, he wanted to be regarded as a consummate professional.
He had spent the last several nights cramping his hands and straining his eyes to copy the new overture for Herr Mozart's latest opera, The Marriage of Figaro. A bold piece and, technically demanding. A flurry of notes which Ludwig had painstakingly copied pitch by pitch in the finest print he could muster. Having seen Ludwig's own fledgling compositions, Herr Mozart had deemed it a good exercise for the young man, the copying of the wicked new overture would serve "to improve his wretched penmanship."
He knew what Herr Mozart was saying about Frau Gottlieb and the other ladies to be true, for he himself had heard the chatter from the wings of the theatre as rehearsal wrapped up. Singers gawked and whispered amongst themselves, who was the young man the Maestro had accompanying him? Was he a new pupil? It was no secret that Mozart had tutored several young prodigies over the years, and even taken a few into his lodging for a period of time. Perhaps Beethoven was only the next in a long line of mediocre talents, soon to be blessed by Mozart's goodwill and teachings.
It was warm that afternoon in Vienna. It was nearly May and the sun shone brightly, bringing everything to life. Couples walked to a fro, ladies tastefully dressed with wide brimmed hats neatly pinned in place. Tired maids with their young charges racing about by the river, carts rattling by as the market bustled with activity. It was almost as if it were a scene from a painting, or a passage from novel. For a boy from a small town, the energy of it all was very romantic. Resting his hands softly over the buttons of his plain waistcoat Ludwig exhaled peacefully, he wished to stay in this moment forever.
"There are some very pretty girls in the chorus, wouldn't you say Herr Beethoven?" Mozart interrupted his thoughts once more. His voice was tinged with that audaciousness that made Ludwig flush. Seeing a soft rose brighten his cheeks Wolfgang grinned wickedly, "I knew it!" he whispered lowly, tossing bits of grass at the motionless boy in an effort to finally get a rise out of him. He knew Ludwig had a temper, and setting him off had quickly become one his most favourite things. Ludwig peeled one distrustful eye open to size up his tormentor, but thought better of it and simply brushed the foliage from his face peacefully. Wolfgang frowned with disappointment - what, was the boy learning some sort of self control?
"Yes Herr Mozart, I would not deny that." Ludwig muttered, eyes still closed. It was safer to keep them that way.
"Oh? So it's true then?" Wolfgang questioned in mock disbelief, "Deep down in there somewhere you have emotion?" he poked playfully at Ludwig's middle, making him flinch and finally open his eyes. Sitting up on his elbows Ludwig grumbled in a flustered blush, "Well - of course I do!" Be careful Ludwig, he calmed himself internally.
"Is that so?" Wolfgang grinned, loving the reaction he was getting, "So, do you like any of those girls Ludwig? They seemed rather interested in meeting you. As the conductor of the production, and your tutor - I can certainly arrange that if you wish."
No....
Ludwig's face burned with red
"Danke Herr Mozart but...." Ludwig bowed his head shyly, his belly twisting itself inside out torturously. He too began to pluck at the grass beneath him, anything to escape the pressure of this moment.
"May I ask you something Ludwig?" Wolfgang’s voice suddenly turned serious, peaking Ludwig's interest. He stilled and glanced out from under his mess of hair cautiously, was this another one of Mozart's traps?
"What if one of those girls wanted to kiss you?" his bold question was met with wretched silence, "Have you ever kissed a woman before?" Wolfgang asked with genuine intrigue, propping himself up on one arm. Ludwig swallowed nervously, praying for something - anything - to change the subject. It was true, he had kissed a girl - several in fact - but the emptiness, and the disappointment that came with it terrified him. It was true he did have passion, he did have emotion, deep down. He had it for music, he had it for God.
He could feel it, he could feel it so strongly that it made him ache - it even made him cry. The frustration of it burning in his belly was almost unbearable. Whilst his friends were busy chasing young ladies, he only felt confused. Could he see their beauty, did he admire their physique? Of course, but when their lips finally met his own - he felt nothing of what his friends spoke of. A hurried peck on the cheek, an awkward brush of their lips, a dance danced too close. Nothing.
But staring at his Maestro in that moment, sprawled out on the spring grass, waistcoat unbuttoned, hair tussled and falling loose from its bow, those expressive blue eyes, he felt his mouth run dry. He had heard rumours of these sorts of things, but knew them to be untrue. Or at least, he had hoped. He prayed that if he ignored the feelings, they'd simply go away. Perhaps the perfect young lady would make him forget - or at least, satisfy. However, unfortunately it seemed that the problem only grew worse by the day. And lately, with Mozart as his tutor and companion, it had been growing nearly out of control. He flopped back onto the grass with a sigh. closing his eyes once more, masking his turmoil with an outward expression of forced content. He was hoping Herr Mozart would interpret the blush in his cheeks as a sign of having had a few novice experiences thus far. Perhaps then he would leave him alone.
Wolfgang was not so easily convinced, nor was he merciful.
Unsatisfied with Ludwig's lack of response, Wolfgang decided to take their conversation to the next
level. "What if I kissed you?" It was a brazen question to be sure, but he was determined to get this boy to talk if it was the last thing he'd do. Leaning over him with a smug expression, eyebrows raised, he awaited Ludwig's reply.
Ludwig debated silently over what to say - deciding to turn the conversation on its head. Wolfgang loved to play games, so play one he shall!
"If it's you Maestro - I don't mind..." Ludwig held back a smile, wishing he could open his eyes to gauge his Master's reaction for both his own entertainment, but also with a tinge of seriousness.
Ludwig tried to distract himself from the serious silence that followed by listening to the sounds of the surrounding nature - the wind rustling the trees, a bird singing somewhere in the distance, but all of it was deafened by the erratic thumping of his heart in his chest. He chewed his lip nervously before opening his eyes to see Wolfgang staring down at him curiously. The deepness of his gaze caught him off guard and he scrambled up onto his elbows, staring back with a mixture of fear and longing. Wolfgang smiled, watching him squirm, his smugness making Ludwig grow bold in anger. Is he mocking me? Furrowing his brow with determination Ludwig leaned forward and closed the distance between them, feeling the surprising softness of the Maestro's lips against his own. He felt him stiffen in surprise before Ludwig pulled away, noticing Wolfgang's eyes had blown to twice their normal size.
Ludwig felt immediate remorse, dizzy from the reality of what had just occurred. His hand flew to his forehead and he dropped his eyes to the grass below. "I....Ah!" he gasped, on the verge of frustrated tears. He could feel the hot droplets threatening to spill out and stain his cheeks, he quickly bit his tongue to hold them back, "I'm so sorry Maestro - I should have known you were only joking" he sputtered in a fluster of embarrassment and shame, gathering his coat and leaping to his feet.
"Wait -" Wolfgang's face softened as he watched the boy desperately gather his things, reaching out to grab his arm in an effort to stop him but Ludwig quickly pulled away and bolted, darting off towards town.
"I wasn't...." Mozart finished feebly in a whisper while watching the retreating figure disappear over the crest of the hill.