"What are you doing?" Piotr asked. He was playing peacefully on the floor of Erik's living room as Erik worked. They were alone for the day - Alina and Amelija were out, Yana was still at work, and Piotr was happily enjoying Erik's company in silence until now. He often liked just being there and being allowed in the room while Erik worked, with of course the added benefit of hearing him play interesting music in the background. Erik also didn't mind Piotr while he worked - occasional questions and requests were, of course, unavoidable; still, Piotr would usually withdraw after getting a certain amount of attention he wanted and do something on his own. Erik liked his company for reasons he couldn't quite put into words, not even to himself.
"I'm working. I'm rehearsing this part so I can teach my soloist to play it", he rambled absentmindedly. "It has to be very clear what I want him to do, I don't really have the patience to explain everything at length to him."
"Your what?"
"Soloist. Solo musician. It's like - you know how stories have main characters? Like Tsarevich Ivan?"
"Um. I guess."
"Like that. He is the main character, but he plays piano."
"He is like Tsarevich Ivan? Who are you?" comparisons like that were a bit too advanced for Piotr to understand how exactly the pianist was like Tsarevich Ivan, but he enjoyed asking questions that made Erik ramble. When he rambled, he forgot to filter himself so that Piotr would understand him, which could get very interesting.
"Uh", Erik stuttered as his hand slipped. "I- I'm not a character. I hope. I'm the writer." he paused for a second, then started to laugh. "You really know how to throw me off balance with these questions. I really don't know what to tell you. I used to think I was born to be a villain, but now I don't even know anymore. We'll talk about it when you're older."
"Sure", Piotr shrugged, his attention having already moved back to his toys.
"Actually", Erik looked at his watch. "I should go to work soon. I'm supposed to meet Oliver at six. Where is your mom? She was supposed to be back by now."
"I dunno. She's working." Piotr shrugged.
"Still?" Erik blinked in confusion. "Wasn't she supposed to work until four? Or- is today Wednesday?"
Piotr looked at him with confusion. How was he supposed to know?
"Oh. Oh my god. Yana works longer on Wednesdays. It's been a while, and I completely forgot", Erik stood up and started pacing around, rubbing his temples. "She won't be home until after six, and I can't leave Oliver waiting - it's his first day, he can't start without me - I can't send him a note, it's too late- oh. I'm so, so stupid. I could have just told her, or told Alina, and someone would have stayed with you. I don't even know where Alina is right now, because I wasn't paying attention when she told me." stupid, stupid stupid - you can't just withdraw into your own head whenever you find a pet obsession anymore, not when people are actually counting on you - not when it's Piotr -
"I don't know what I'm going to do", he turned to Piotr, "but don't worry. I'm not going to just leave you alone. I'll figure this out." he had no idea what or how he would figure out, to be honest.
"Can I go with you?" Piotr asked plainly. He was aware that Erik was panicking, and didn't really know how to feel about it; it was starting to make him nervous as well.
"I- I don't know. We would have to make sure nobody sees you - I don't think it's exactly allowed, so you'd have to be quiet. And I'll have to write a note for your mom, so she knows where to find you when she's done with work… I'm not sure I can take you all the way there, and I don't think it's a fun place for a little boy-"
"Jack takes me with him", Piotr suggested, smiling like a little angel.
"Oh, he does?" Erik looked at him. "I presume you two have a good time while I'm busy?"
"Mhm. Carries me around. He said I'm always good", Piotr was still smiling back at him, almost unbearably cute. "He tells my mom. Ask her."
"Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to refuse you something that Jack allows you to do. God forbid if you started spending more time with him than me", Erik tore his gaze from Piotr and remarked in a slightly sour tone, gathering his papers and collecting them into a folder.
Piotr said nothing, still smiling.
"You are the world's most vicious manipulator", Erik pointed his finger down without looking at him. "You won't be this cute forever, so take advantage of it while you can."
"Mom says I'm almost too big to carry", Piotr leaned on his palms to steady himself as he got up from the floor. "Am I too big to carry?"
"All the way to Manhattan?" Erik thought about it. "Well, it wouldn't be very practical - I have to carry my folder too, and it's not that close."
"Jack carries me on his back", Piotr pointed his finger at Erik's shoulders. "Says that's easier."
"Huh", Erik looked at him in thought. Yes, it would probably be easier to carry him on his back but there were a million reasons not to do it, a million reasons why he didn't want to do it, and why it would overall be a bad idea. "You know, my back is kind of… not right as it should be, so to speak."
"What does that mean? Does it hurt?"
Oh, it did. "Uh, no, but it's not very comfortable when people touch it. It stings." he had no idea how to explain it to a child - while his back didn't physically sting, the scarred tissue on his upper body was somewhat sensitive and - a much bigger problem - his mind usually started screaming in alarm when people touched it for too long. It would usually subside, with some time, but he was also afraid he might drop Piotr or harm him in that jittery-alert state.
"Oh, I didn't know. Sorry." Piotr gathered his things. "I can walk. Don't be sad."
"No, goddamnit, you won't walk. Get over here."
"You know what's funny?" Erik remarked at Piotr who held on with his arms around Erik's neck and his chin on Erik's shoulder, blissfully content. A lot of things were funny, such as the fact Erik's back, which was now carrying Piotr, was scarred so thoroughly that a year ago it wouldn't occur to him to carry the child this way; or the fact Piotr was very obviously delighted to cling onto Erik and follow him around, or the fact Erik felt alright having Piotr so close to his head, certain that he wouldn't suddenly untie his mask even though he would definitely be able to do it before Erik had a chance to stop him, if he wanted to.
"No?"
"People actually stare at me a lot less now that I'm carrying you on my back. You're a very efficient attention attractor." Erik's spine, which had been tingling uncomfortably since he first picked Piotr up, was now finally calming down.
"So what?"
"Haven't you noticed people normally stare at me like I'm something that crawled out from under a rock?"
"No, I don't care."
"Of course you don't", Erik rolled his eyes. "You are your mother's son."
"Does your back sting?" Piotr asked, not sure and not caring what Erik meant.
"No, it's alright now. You've been so calm I can barely tell I'm carrying you. You know, you're the most well-behaved little boy I've ever seen. I can't believe it sometimes."
"Really?" Piotr shifted a little higher so he could talk to him, obviously delighted to hear that.
"Yes, you're the best child in the history of children and you should know it. I was a nightmare when I was your age." and I was dying to hear someone call me a good kid, so there you go.
"Alina says I have to be very good with you. I shouldn't make you angry."
"She said that?" Erik's step faltered a little; he didn't like the sound of that. "That's not fair. Everyone makes me angry. I wouldn't hurt you if you did."
"She says you're different. Your head hurts when you're angry. That's why you touch it all the time."
"Um", Erik stuttered, getting slightly uncomfortable. "That's just a tic. I didn't know it was that obvious."
"Did she lie?"
"No, I suppose not. I just didn't want you to know that, but it's probably better that you do, considering that it worked."
"What worked?"
"Well, you really don't make me angry. You're very good all the time."
"I don't want to hurt your head."
"As I said, very kind of you. That's why you get to come with me."
"What's your work? What are you doing today?" Piotr asked with interest.
"Well, I'm going to teach my soloist how to play the piano parts of my symphony. He's blind, so he can't read what I wrote, so I have to play it for him."
"But how does he know which keys to play? If he's blind?"
"What do you mean? He can still hear what he's doing. Oh", Erik suddenly understood. "Well, you know, once you play it for a while, you get used to it and your fingers kind of know where the right key will be. They're all the same width, and they go in order from deeper to higher notes. So your hand learns where to go."
"Ohhhhh. Good." Piotr paused. "Can I listen?"
"Of course, you'll be with me the whole time. Just don't interrupt him."
"Can I play too?"
"If I find a way for you to do that without being noticed, I will absolutely let you play. But I can't promise it, because I don't know if there will be people still inside the building. Do you understand?"
"Sure."
Erik entered the Conservatory through one of the side entrances to avoid the girl at the reception, careful not to run into anyone. He stopped in a shadowy corner at the entrance and turned his head slightly to Piotr.
"Be very quiet", he whispered. "Oliver will be waiting for us in the room, and I'd like you to not say anything before we get there. I'll carry you so that nobody can hear your footsteps. Don't talk while we're in the hallways, alright?"
"Why are we hiding from him?"
"We're not. We're hiding from my boss, who is a lot scarier and less friendly than Oliver. I'll figure out a way to tell Oliver you're here with us, when the time is right." Erik realized now that there was absolutely no chance on Earth that Piotr might remember to be quiet for longer than five minutes, and was starting to get used to the fact Oliver will definitely know about all this. It made him more than a little nervous; he had no idea how the man would react.
"Okay", Piotr whispered back.
"Don't worry. You won't have to be here long. Your mom will pick you up. I left her a note."
"Okay. But I like it here."
"Well, good to know", Erik smiled and continued swiftly through the hallways until he reached the room that held Oliver's favourite piano - he could hear Oliver rehearsing and warming up his fingers through the entire floor, and as soon as he entered the room (with Piotr still on his back), Oliver stopped. Erik managed to carefully close the door without dropping Piotr or bumping into anything, and felt his blood pressure lower almost audibly now that they were out of the hallways.
"Good afternoon to my new maestro", Oliver turned to him and smiled, then cheerfully offered his hand which Erik carefully shook once. "I gotta admit, I'm really looking forward to this. I feel like a student again."
"That's good. I'm glad", Erik said, feeling at the same time flattered and uncomfortable. He tried to think about what to do with Piotr at the same time -where to put him down to cause the least suspicion, when Piotr solved that problem himself.
"He seems nice", Piotr nudged Erik, pulling the shoulder seam of his jacket. Piotr was, to his credit, getting incredibly good at figuring out where he could poke him to get his attention without causing him unnecessary alarm.
"Is that a child I hear?" Oliver gasped. "A little boy? In the Conservatory?"
"Uhh", Erik panicked and blanked. "No...?"
"Yes", Piotr said simultaneously. Erik sighed, putting him down; there was no point in trying to be unnoticeable anymore. Piotr hopped down politely, looking at the new person with his usual interest.
"And what is this fine gentleman's name?" Oliver grinned, tapping his cane against the side of his shoe and leaning forward slightly.
"I'm Piotr", Piotr said from below. "I'm here to play piano. If Erik says I can", he smiled apologetically at Erik.
Oliver laughed in earnest. "I can't wait! I'm sure there's a thing or two you could teach me."
"I dunno, I just started", Piotr said, unsure if the man was teasing him or not. He was holding onto the leg of Erik's pants for reassurance, and Erik found it very, very hard to be annoyed with him anymore.
"You'll get your chance. But we have to work first, alright? Can you play with something else while you wait for us?" Erik's voice was serious as he crouched down so he could look Piotr in the eye. "This is important to me, do you understand?"
"Yes", Piotr nodded. "But then my turn, right?"
"Your turn then, yes." Erik bowed his head and smiled, taking a few pencils and pieces of paper from his pocket to give to him. Piotr could entertain himself quite easily; he usually had pockets full of interesting things he found around and didn't mind being left alone for a little bit, as long as he could get some attention when he wanted to.
"Sure", Piotr shrugged, then ran off. Erik's gaze followed him for a moment or two to check what he was doing, but the boy seemed to be simply exploring the room a little; he was too small to reach anything, but the sight of musical instruments and tools was still fascinating to him.
"What on Earth possessed you to bring a small child into the Conservatory?" Oliver whispered with concern as Erik turned back to him. "How did you get Heidel to approve of this?"
"Ah yes, Heidel. If he could possibly not find out, that would be fantastic", Erik's voice shifted half an octave higher as he rubbed his temples, feeling a headache very near in the future. "Piotr won't bother us, he's the most well-behaved kid you've ever seen, I swear. He never bothers anybody."
Oliver looked shocked for a moment before letting out a short, sincere laugh. "Is he your son?"
"No", Erik replied miserably. "But he's still family. He's my neighbor's kid, but she got delayed at work and couldn't come- I couldn't leave him alone, so I had to bring him with me."
"Oh I see, I see", Oliver grinned. "Don't worry; I won't tell Heidel anything."
Erik spent another moment staring ahead in embarrassed silence, thankful that Oliver at least couldn't see him. He distracted himself by looking around the room for a chair, then pulling it up to sit next to Oliver, hoping silently that he would let it go. Unfortunately, this was still far too interesting for Oliver to let go.
"He's a cute kid. It's probably a lot of fun being around him, huh?" Oliver said after a minute of thinking.
"He's very smart", Erik stared at the golden cursive letters etched into the piano in front of him. "It's not hard to entertain him - he's so curious he'll learn anything you show him in a heartbeat. Yana, his mother, works a lot, so he's usually with Alina and me. I used to spend a lot more time with him, because I was usually working from home. But I don't think that will be possible anymore."
"No, I think it probably won't be possible to bring him here everyday", Oliver nodded, practically dying to know who Alina was and what the hell was happening there- this was the second time Erik mentioned her without giving any explanation. He made a mental note to ask at some point. "People would notice. But, since I'm the only one here now, and there are very few people in the Conservatory during summer anyway, if you happen to bring him once in a while I will simply not notice him at all and no-one will ever know. It's plausible deniability, considering I can't possibly see him, right?" he expected Erik to at least laugh a little at that joke, hoping to disperse his apparent embarrassment at least a little, but was again met with only silence. It was starting to irritate him slightly.
"I sure hope you're not gesturing something to me, buddy."
"No", Erik replied. "I was just thinking. That's very kind of you."
"Well, I never cared much about rules, and I don't want to be the reason you get estranged from your kid because you were busy giving me private lessons. Don't mention it."
"He's really not my-"
"Not your son, I get it, but you kid anyway." Oliver cracked his knuckles. "Is this matter finally resolved? I'm itching to play some goddamn piano."
Erik played the first page to Oliver once, then once more in a slower tempo, occasionally stopping to clarify something that came to mind. Oliver seemed to have quite a good memory, and after a few tries managed to somehow play it all more or less note-for-note, with no glaring mistakes or slips - but something about it, hard to describe and pinpoint, kept gnawing at the back of Erik's head - wrong wrong wrong - and he couldn't quite explain how, but he knew that somehow some crucial part of the message was being lost. It sounded to him like when a person who didn't know a language would try to repeat a phrase after someone else - even if the sounds were all correct, it would linger somewhere in there that the person didn't understand what they were saying.
Erik thought in silence for a moment when Oliver finished. "Yes, that was close, but not quite right. Can you do it again?"
"Certainly, no problem." Oliver smiled and moved the hair out of his face, then obediently repeated the section once more. Erik wandered through the room while he played.
"Again."
"Sure." Oliver politely obliged, wondering why the hell Erik's voice sounded so flat all of a sudden.
"Again."
Oliver played it once again, deciding this would be the last time.
"Ag-"
"Is something bothering you, Erik?" Oliver asked at the keyboard, his right hand hovering a little above the keys as he lowered his left and tapped his fingers in a barely-audible rhythm on the soft cushion of the piano stool. It was the only, tiny little sign that gave away how frustrated he was getting.
"It all sounds different when you play it", Erik scratched at his chin behind Oliver, speaking with that same standoffish tone. "It's barely noticeable, but it's there. And always in a different way, every time. And they're not normal mistakes. You're not learning it wrong; you're changing it on purpose. I'm trying to figure out why."
"I'm used to interpreting things less than literally", Oliver shrugged.
"Are you doing this on purpose? Are you trying to say something to me?" Do you hate it? Do you hate me? Are you trying to make me angry? Please don't say yes. I have no idea how I'll react if you say yes.
"Not really", Oliver said. "God did not put me on this Earth to follow instructions, Maestro. I can do it, if you want - but that's not why you wanted me here, is it?"
Erik thought about it for a moment. "No."
"What's the problem then?"
"If you're changing it while you're still learning, it might be unrecognizable by the end."
"That's what you're afraid of?" Oliver laughed. "That I'll just spiral out of your control into playing something that isn't even yours?"
Erik decided not to answer that.
"I admit I'm not the most obedient student, but I'm not actually that unhinged", Oliver remarked. "We've just started - I was trying it out; I guess I wasn't taking all of this that seriously yet, but apparently, you were. It's my mistake. I should have guessed it would be important to you."
Erik decided not to answer that, either.
"I'm not sure what to do when you go silent like that. I can't see what's going on, and you're so eerily quiet that it's like shouting into a void sometimes. Give me something, at least."
"Shouting into a void?" Erik repeated, frowning under his mask. That certainly stung.
"See, this is better, because at least now I know I've offended you. Can you imagine talking to someone you can't see who just withdraws completely when you try to have an honest conversation?"
"Oh, I absolutely can", bitterness dripped from Erik's voice.
"Then you can probably imagine what you're putting me through right now. Now, I've told you already - you can trust me I'll handle this composition with respect, now that I've realized how serious this is. I'll do my best to repeat after you verbatim while you're teaching me. How's that?"
"Fine", Erik said. "That's fine."
"Is there something in particular that's bothering you about what I've been doing?"
"No. Well, actually, yes", Erik finally said. "It's too loud. Too confident."
"Is it meant to be insecure?" Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You want me to play a quiet and shy allegro capriccioso?"
"Yes", Erik hissed quietly. "Yes, I'm sure it's hard for you to imagine, but this part, as happy as it is, is meant to be insecure. It's the happiness of someone who is not used to being happy, and if you keep playing it so smoothly and loudly, it completely loses its point."
"Oh!" Oliver snapped his fingers. "Oh, of course! I was approaching this completely wrong. You should have said so sooner. Well, that casts a very different light on it all. Let me try again." he turned to the piano again.
"No, wait", Erik said, sitting down in his own chair. "I'll show you again first. Please note the dynamics and the acciaccaturas."
"What was wrong with the acciaccaturas?"
"You're emphasizing and blending them too smoothly into the following note - they sound too smooth, almost like appoggiaturas. Make them quicker and less emphasized. It sounds like you're trying to embellish the main note, which is technically correct, but I'd like them to sound a little bit dissonant and out of tempo - like your hand slipped, if you can do that."
"But without sounding like my hand actually slipped, right?" Oliver laughed.
"If possible."
"Well, I do love challenges."
"Is that good enough for this particular page, Maestro?" Oliver asked, only half-joking, about half an hour after they'd started.
"Yes", Erik leaned back in his own chair to Oliver's left. "Well, maybe we should take a break now. Piotr?" he turned around to check where he was for what seemed the hundredth time.
"Yeah?" Piotr looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, reading one of his picture books - well, mostly looking at the pictures.
"Are you bored?"
"Nah." he shook his head. "I like the music."
"Good", Erik nodded. He picked the parts Piotr would like on purpose - he didn't want the boy stuck in a foreign room listening to something melancholic or disturbing. "Would you like to-"
"Who plays it better?" Oliver interrupted, smiling. "Erik or me?"
"Erik."
"You're kidding? You can tell the difference?"
"No", Piotr shrugged to himself. "It's the same song. But he plays best."
"Young man, I am properly offended by that", Oliver turned his head. "Although, admittedly, impressed by your loyalty. I didn't think kids your age could lie."
"Would you like to try playing while Oliver rests, Piotr?" Erik asked quietly, smiling to himself. He was well aware that Oliver was, strictly speaking, a more skilled and more experienced pianist than he was - but every time Piotr announced to someone that Erik was the best in whatever context, he felt his chest expand a little.
"Can I?" Piotr got up with alarming speed and pitter-pattered towards them.
"Yes, it's alright. Your mom will probably be here soon to pick you up, but you can have a little fun before she comes. I don't think anyone will notice at this time."
"You can sit here", Oliver shifted to his right to make room for Piotr on the stool next to him, and Erik lifted him up to help him sit - but, instead of trying to play, he looked over at Oliver.
"You're nice. Erik says you're like a main character in his story."
Oliver graced that comment with a very loud, roaring laughter but as Erik felt his cheeks and ears getting hot with embarrassment, Oliver didn't make any snide or poking remarks. He chuckled one more time to himself and said to Piotr, "Well, to be honest, I'm always the main character when I'm on the stage."
"He has eyes like my mom", Piotr turned to Erik, who immediately winced at that comment.
"Piotr", he said with quiet seriousness, "It's very rude to comment on people's looks with someone else like they're not here. Alright?"
Piotr blinked at that remark - he was not used to Erik being strict with him; he only had two important rules - don't yell too loud, don't try to touch the mask. His mother was much more firm so it didn't bother him - but Erik, who normally walked on eggshells around him, was right now acting out of character. Piotr nodded, but didn't say anything, getting slightly upset.
"It's fine, boy, I'm not offended", Oliver said with interest. "Your uncle is raising you well, but don't worry. Is your mommy also blind?"
"No", Piotr shook his head, confused. "She just has blue eyes, like you."
"Blue eyes? I don't have blue eyes", Oliver touched the skin of his eyelids as if he could feel the color underneath. "Wait, do I have blue eyes?"
Piotr, who was literally just told not to comment on people's looks and smart enough to remember that, just turned to Erik for an answer.
"Um, k-kind of", Erik stuttered. "Maybe more grey."
Oliver paused for a moment. "I actually didn't know that. The last time I saw myself properly, they were brown. Well, thank you, young man", he nodded at Piotr. "People are usually too scared to comment on anything about me - I would never have known. They must have turned blue sometime after I went blind, and nobody told me. Hah."
"So can you show me how to play like you?" Piotr replied.
"Like me?" Oliver laughed in surprise. "Not like Erik? I'm joking, I'm joking. It's easy to play like me, but I can't show you how. The only way you can play like me is if you totally disregard everything other people try to teach you. How about that?"
"That thing", Piotr disregarded everything Oliver said with obvious natural talent, "Uh, when you drag your hand over the piano?"
"Glissando? Hah, yeah, I can show you that. It fascinated me, too, when I was a kid. Right or left hand? Which one is easier for you?"
"He's right handed", Erik chimed in quietly, listening to the conversation.
"Okay, so young man, if you want to gliss from high notes to low, then you put your thumb on the piano like this", he demonstrated, "and just-" he glided his hand across the keyboard smoothly and elegantly. "If you want to go the other way, use your fingers. Middle finger, to be precise. Like this."
Piotr gave it a valiant attempt, even though his hand was clearly too small for it.
"It hurts."
"I suppose you're probably using your knuckles? You should glide with your nail, not your finger, then it won't hurt. You'll learn it, don't worry."
Piotr tried it a few more times, with no particular success.
"Hmm." he frowned at the keyboard with obvious disappointment.
"Don't worry - nobody learns it right away. It's important that you have fun. You'll have plenty of time to worry about right and wrong techniques when you're older. For now, just make a lot of noise."
"Okay." Piotr hopped off the stool. "I wanna go play something else now." he walked up to Erik, pulling his jacket again. "Are we gonna stay here long?"
"A little longer, but not much. We have to go through this part just one more time - your mom should be here very soon. You've been very polite, and if you just hold out for a little longer, I will be very thankful."
"Ah, okay", Piotr sighed. "I'll wait."
"Thank you, little prince."
Erik's note had been thankfully simple and precise: the address, the room, and the entrance where Yana could enter without being seen. She wasn't eager to explain to people what she was doing in the Conservatory - a shy little woman dressed in her work clothes with an obvious Russian accent would have stood out if there were people present to see her, and she was getting slightly self-conscious. She walked through the Conservatory noting the paintings and photographs of famous musicians, the neat hallways and classy wallpaper, counting the doors until she reached the one Erik had written to knock on. She knocked on it, then heard rustling from the inside as Erik rushed to open the door.
"You're here", he sighed with obvious relief. "Come in."
"Mama!" Piotr hopped off the chair he was sitting on next to the piano and ran up to hug her; she lifted him up and looked around the room. The other man sitting at the piano turned and got up as well, greeting her with a sincere smile and handshake.
"Nice to meet you, madam. Your son is quite a pleasure to be around."
"He didn't bother you?" Yana looked at Piotr. "I didn't think Erik would bring him here."
"No, not at all. I won't mind if you bring him again."
"He says you were very good", she said to Piotr in Russian. "I'm very proud of you."
"I was. And I learned a piano trick."
"Very good. You'll show it to me. Now, we have to go. Erik", she turned to him, "can I just talk to you a little before we go?
"Uh, of course", Erik followed her out.
"Erik", Yana said gently as they exited the room. "Why did you take him with you?"
"Huh?" Erik blinked, trying to shift his focus from music to her. "Sorry. I had to go, and I couldn't just leave him alone. But he was safe, nothing could happen to him."
"You could leave him with me. At work."
"We leave him with you too often these days. I've been too busy to be with him often", he fumbled. "What if you get fired, if your boss gets tired of seeing him around? I couldn't risk it."
"Erik", she repeated, calling his name like a little bird. "That was not a normal thing you did."
Erik turned his head to look at her, his expression unreadable.
"Do you see these pictures of men on the walls?" Yana gestured at the walls.
"I… yes. They're musicians." Erik said, unsure where that was going - he didn't like the direction, but he was taken aback and unable to react properly.
"Do you think men who want a career in Manhattan often take someone else's son with them to work?" Yana said quietly. "I don't know a lot about normal, but even I know that. If anyone saw you, other than that good pianist, they would think it's very strange. Men don't just babysit children that aren't theirs and take them to work."
"I suppose a normal man would know better", he hissed, adjusting his collar higher. "I won't make that mistake next time." He turned away to get Piotr and get this over with; if he could still focus on work after all this.
"Erik, look at me", she stopped, pulling his sleeve lightly.
He stopped, even though he was furious enough that he would have kept going and ignored her if it was anyone else. Yana looked back at him, her eyes slightly glassy.
"The best thing about you", she said slowly, "is that you don't think you're better than anyone. You could move and never see us again, or decide that Piotr is someone else's problem if you want. You have money now, you will soon have a career. All those men in pictures who have those things would not take a little boy to work and risk getting distracted, or people laughing at them, even if it was their own son."
"You're my friend", he said without thinking. "To hell with them all. You were my friend back when I wanted to die, I'm not going to forget that as soon as my life gets better-"
"Mikita would kill to give Piotr a chance to see a music school and try playing piano", she continued. "If he was alive now, he would be so happy."
Erik didn't quite know what to say.
"It was the strangest thing to do, to bring him here. But it was the most beautiful thing you could do. It's the most beautiful thing, that you don't think you're better than anyone. Even now that you could have reasons to think that. You had nothing a year ago, and now you could build yourself a castle and say you're above everyone, but you don't. I know you want to, and I wouldn't judge you - you'd be safer like that. But you're here. With us. You are such a good, beautiful friend. Do you understand?"
Erik still didn't know what to say, but he knew if he didn't cover his mouth with his hand Yana might see his lip trembling slightly, and so he did just that.
"You need to get married", she smiled at him. "You're the only man Alina deserves. And you'll be a good father."
"Goddamnit, Yana, stop", he whispered through his hand. "Jesus Christ. Show some mercy."
"No", she poked his shoulder with her finger. "I like torturing you with nice words."
"Does it make you happy to see me squirm?"
"Yes! Very much." she smiled. "It also makes you less conceited."
Erik lowered the hand from his mouth, regaining his composure, and stuffed both his hands in his pockets. "Did you learn that word just to mess with me?"
"No, actually", Yana's voice had that unmistakable note of mischief. "I learned it to mess with Amelija, but it's more useful than I thought. Anyway, we won't be keeping you any longer. Piotr needs to eat dinner. Please thank that man for being so patient."
"Oliver? Yes, alright. I will." Erik opened the door and went back inside, waiting until Piotr gathered his things and left with Yana. Oliver listened to the whole conversation politely and patiently, and waved at Piotr as he left. Erik didn't quite know what to say in the newfound awkwardness and silence that ensued, but thankfully Oliver broke it first.
"Well, all of this has been more than a little unusual."
"I'm sorry. Yana said to thank you for your patience. I really didn't know what to do - you have my full attention now."
"No, that wasn't my point", Oliver shook his head. "I really did have a lot of fun. I like kids, they're funny. I just didn't expect you to like them. I had thought you to be a much colder man when I first met you, than I do today. I'm sorry - it was a mistake on my part. I must say, I think we'll get along a lot better than I'd originally imagined."
"Uh", Erik panicked. "Alright - thank you."
"As long as you stop bleeding me dry, maestro. Your attention to detail is admirable, but maybe you could extend some of this patience and understanding to me as well? You do want me to keep doing this every day, yes?"
"Yes…?"
"Well, so do I. But I know my limits, and they might not be to your liking in the beginning, so we'll both have to adjust our expectations a little bit. I'm sure it won't be so offensive to your ears by the end."
Erik paused for a second, processing that, and it suddenly hit him - like a big, heavy, embarrassing brick to the stomach - how he'd been acting and how it would seem to someone who didn't know him. "It's not offensive to my ears at all." he paused. Words were hard to form in his mouth, even if his head knew what he wanted to say. "No, your performance is incredible, I'm just used to working until I pass out. You're definitely a much better pianist than I am a teacher - that is, perhaps, the whole problem."
"Not a problem at all, just a challenge", Oliver smiled. "I think we'll have a lot more fun here than I imagined."
A/N: I had no idea this would be so long when I started. This chapter had basically two purposes: one, to show Erik ineracting with someone he can't control (Piotr) and reacting with patience, and having Oliver see it. It's a turning point for the two of them, because Oliver would not have otherwise seen a warmer and kinder side of Erik, nor would he want them to be friends - and Oliver wanting to be friends might be important for both of them later.
Second reason why I wrote this is that I've been in a pretty depressed mood for the past two weeks and this was all I could come up with. No drama this week, only baby. Hope you enjoyed
