"Finally signing up for an audition?" Gilbert asked as his legs dangled off the couch. Francis nodded as he stroked his chin at the chosen piece, crammed at the other side as he fiddled with a calendar app, likely to mark the date of the audition. "About time."

Francis would have answered that remark already, such as with a snippy comment or with a half hearted chuckle if he was feeling meek. But he was silent and hunched over his phone, and his taps on the phone's surface turned jerky. There was a frown on his face as he glanced at the music sheet. Gilbert yawned and continued to scroll through his phone, failing to notice Francis' lack of a response.

A few months ago after Francis admitted to going to a therapist's, Antonio started to keep an eye out for him and tried to be mindful with what he was saying. Francis had been good at hiding his anxieties. Too good, too convincing. Then again, neither Antonio nor Gilbert were paying attention to Francis at all, and Francis had to have his head invaded with masked mockeries while they remained oblivious. To never repeat that mistake again, Antonio had been especially careful not to boast about his career in front of Francis, especially not since he finally scraped enough courage to audition for that concert band position. Antonio was better off staying on guard than having said the wrong thing and be sorry too late. This problem would be easier if Gilbert could cooperate.

Gilbert had started out just as careful as Antonio, though he was a lot more wary. Unfortunately, once Francis continuously assured him that his actions were fine, Gilbert was back as his cocky, indifferent, risky self.

Antonio decided that he could add something to the conversation as well. He stood up and sat next to Francis. Francis had some pencil markings on his music sheet already, and he was still deeply engrossed with it. Antonio cleared his throat. "By the way, what piece is that?"

Francis glanced back at Antonio, surprised at the sudden appearance. "It's a Polonaise. Because it's a piece for a concert band audition, it needs to be something more traditional, so anything Baroque should be suitable. Of course..." Francis gulped, "I'd still need to figure out what scales I need to practise."

"Technical work's not mandatory in band auditions, Fran, they're for those music examinations." Gilbert's interjection made Antonio jolt. "Also Why? Why choose something Baroque? I thought you only liked anything post-classical. Don't you like to play solo too? Heck, wouldn't a band restrict you? Cause you tend to do better when you improvise. And polonaises aren't even intended for saxophones."

How was Francis going to react? Antonio leaned forward while on the lookout for any sudden changed. Francis' eyes were wide, though more in curiosity. Alright, he seemed to be calm so far. If anything went badly then Antonio will intervene. Once Francis drew in a deep breath, Antonio leaned in closer. "Gilbert… you do have a point, but I want this job, I can't slack off from practising and expect everything to be fine-"

"Whoa, where'd you get that idea from?" He squinted. "No, I didn't suggest anything close to casually slacking off. I'm just saying, you're better off doing it alone-"

"Alright, alright!" Antonio cut in as he stood up. "It's true, what Francis said was correct. Just because he's part of a symphonic band doesn't mean he will be in it forever!" He let out a small chuckle to lighten the atmosphere, " and Francis… erhm," Antonio glanced back at Gilbert, whose snowy white eyebrow stretched upwards, intrigued by what he had to say. "He… has a good point about how Polonaises aren't for saxophones, hah!" He rubbed the back of his head. When he looked down, Francis was furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, not satisfied like how Antonio would've liked. A ghastly sense of dread started to loom over Antonio, because he might've made a grave mistake without realising. "You've got any romantic era pieces?" Antonio piped in. "I could help you pick some!"

Luckily, Francis agreed to change his chosen music piece. Antonio picked out a sonata by Saint-Saens (a fellow Frenchman too! He added) which, with its rich ambience and loose form meant that Francis will have plenty of opportunities to improvise. Though Francis was a bit reluctant at first, Antonio reassured him that since it was a genre he'd be familiar with, Francis could learn this sonata very quickly, and Francis agreed with a smile. After the piece was printed and Francis finally accepted the music sheet, Antonio rubbed the bridge of his nose and collapsed onto the couch. Gilbert had long left, so much to Antonio's disappointment, he could no longer talk to him about his earlier behaviour.

An aching loneliness then seeped into Antonio. Not one thank you from Francis. Not one apology from Gilbert. Was what Antonio doing worth it? Wouldn't his efforts have some sort of reward? But hey, at the very least he helped Francis pick out a new piece that might serve him well. A small part inside Antonio was doubting whether it was helpful or not, but Antonio shut it down because doubts had a lot of unnecessary baggage to them and were always unhelpful and disruptive anyway.

Antonio told himself that what he was doing for Francis was for his good, and that he was working hard in watching out for him, so there was no need to doubt the morality of his actions. Of course, Antonio still did not know how to deal with Gilbert and how to break it to him that he shouldn't sow seeds of doubt into Francis, given his current issues.

Antonio's phone rang, and to his relief, it was Roderich. He excused himself and answered the phone, glad that there was something to take his mind off of this whole situation.

For the rest of the afternoon, Francis studied and edited the Saint-Saens sonata.

Though it was nice of Antonio to search up a new piece for him, practising this new piece had been an issue for Francis. All the YouTube clips of this sonata seemed to have a different variation added by the musician. There was no doubt that the playing time was quite long too (I know ten minutes is a long time, but you can play a lot of it by ear, right Francis? Antonio had added) so he needed to learn this piece as quickly as possible in order to be able to cover all of the segments. Francis had already crossed off all of the harder sections to give him more time for the other ones.

Perhaps he was going on well, Francis told himself. Going on at a nice, steady practise pace. He could start off with perfecting five sheets of music a day (four even if he was starting to get overwhelmed) and then he might have plenty of time to refine it before the audition. Francis checked his phone, and breathed out a sigh of relief. The audition will not be for another two weeks, so if he learnt five sheets a day he'll have at least a week to refine everything.

That did nothing to erase the unrestliness that sat inside his chest. Something was wrong, Francis decided. Francis shook his head and focused on replaying a sequence. What was this deep sense of uneasiness? Perhaps it was because he was playing this piece wrong somehow, but did not know where. Francis had a feeling he was forgetting something, something major. He checked the key signature and gave a runthrough of this piece to no avail. There was something off but he just could not figure out what.

Then it dawned upon him. Francis needed another ear to check this piece.

Arthur was busy right now editing his novel, and he wouldn't like to be disturbed. He didn't know if Arthur would particularly be interested in coming over right now, especially considering the mixed emotions surrounding them both. Francis gulped and rubbed his cheek. No, Francis doubted whether Arthur was in the mood to hear the music out for him.

Francis considered whether or not to ask Antonio to listen for him once he came back from his date, but decided that Antonio would sugarcoat his words and give Francis too much empty praise in an effort to make him feel it would be kind of Antonio to do so, this audition was not a matter of fixing Francis' pride. No, Francis wanted something a little more truthful, even if it hurts, because if something was comfortable then it must mean that Francis was being too soft on himself and too cocky about his abilities, only to be disappointed once the auditioners reject him.

Gilbert traipsed into the room as he looked idly at his phone, head hung, hand in his hoodie pocket with not much else to do. An idea appeared in Francis' head. Gilbert tended to be a blunt person who spoke whatever was in his mind. Even if the comments Gilbert made were rough, they were at least always honest. Francis needed a bit of honesty. Gilbert had some music background as well, having played the flute. The other two options were out of the question. Arthur and him were on unsteady terms, Antonio and him were too cautious around each other. So Gilbert it was. And who knows, maybe he could give Gilbert a second chance. Maybe there was a vital piece of information Gilbert had. Francis drew in a deep breath, then asked:

"Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"Mind if you review my music?"

And so for the rest of the afternoon Gilbert guided Francis through this sonata. But as the day went on, Francis realised his mistake. In truth, what Francis had in mind was some stern but helpful guidance to help guide him while he played. Gilbert's tips, in comparisons, were like if an anvil dropped onto his head every five seconds.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes as he stroked his chin. "It's a little sharp. Plus it needs to be a little more on tempo."

Francis winced at the comment's sting. To act polite, he nodded.

"Mind if you play that sequence again? I want to see how it's working out."

Francis played the sequence again, trying to keep in mind all of Gilbert's advice. A natural there, count for three quavers, one breath pause, that sharp, and finally a tapering semibreve.

Gilbert stroked his chin. "Good." Francis breathed out a sigh of relief. "But it needs a bit more 'oomph' to it. Y'know?" Francis' abdominal muscles clenched.

Nevertheless, Francis nodded as Gilbert stated what Francis needed to do to play better. "So yeah," Gilbert added at the end. "Just a few more rounds." Francis looked down at the sonata. All this time, but they've barely made a dent on the overall music.

And so this cycle went on. Francis playing a few lines of the music, Gilbert stopping him and critiquing, Francis playing it again, Gilbert either approving of it or dismissing it but wanting Francis to replay the sequence with 'a bit more oomph' nonetheless, Francis looking down at the piece of music and frowning at how barely anything had been covered. A flurry of thoughts flew inside his head. Francis had graduated with a degree in music, yet Gilbert, a hobby flutist, was able to pick apart every bit of his performance. His heart sank into his stomach. Was that music degree just a fancy piece of paper? It didn't matter if the skill was not there. Sure, some people may like his music no matter what, but wasn't that seeking empty praise for something Francis didn't even practise thoroughly? Did Francis even warrant to be able to be called a professional musician-

"No no, actually, cut that out," Gilbert grumbled as he waved his hand in dismissal. Francis frowned and glanced over at Gilbert.

"Why?" He spat out. Francis bit his lower lip at that word's venom. Should he apologise? Francis glanced up at Gilbert. Gilbert was studying him, scanning him but with a critical eye, squinted. He did not seem too cross, at least.

He waved his hand. "You were thinking of something else, weren't you?"

"I'll do one more sequence."

"Fran, you're not concentrating on playing the piece."

"I said, I'll do one more sequence!"

"And all I'm saying is that being stressed-"

"I'm not stressed!"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Well." He sat down. "Says you."

Francis was about to say a reply when he realised Gilbert's posture. Slack, hands in his pockets, and, he swore, a faint smirk. Did Gilbert think of this as a game? Did Gilbert carelessly give out advice while not giving a second thought as to what he was saying? Gilbert was better than this. Francis looked away and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He should've just practised by himself. Asking Gilbert for any sort of advice was a frustrating mistake.

"I'm going out for a walk."

"What?"

Francis shoved his saxophone back into his case, not caring that he forgot to disassemble it, and marched towards the door. "I said, I'm going out for a walk!"

"Francis, Wait-"

BANG!

That should just be one of Francis' moods again.

Give him some time, and he'll cool off by himself. That was the thing with those emotions. Vent them off with an outlet and they won't bother you anymore. This statement would've calmed Gilbert down, if this event had not happened twice in a week.

By then, Gilbert had helped pack Francis' saxophone away. The second time Francis left without disassembling it. It was almost comical how in sync both events were. Gilbert placed it in its usual spot in the wall corner, then waited on the couch.

As he sat, some thoughts came up. Should he apologise? No, Gilbert figured out that it should be fine. At the very most, he could explain the situation to Francis once he came back. Ask some questions to clarify things, even. Why Francis was so desperate for harsh criticism. Why Francis was so cross at that remark. Why that was causing him to slam the door even. Not even a metaphorical door, but a literal one.

So he waited. Gilbert combed through and edited his questions. When the door opened, he perked up. To his disappointment, it was Antonio. However, there was a mint coloured envelope in his hands.

"What's that?"

"What?" Antonio replied. He shoved it into his coat pocket. A little late- not before Gilbert saw what it was, however.

"It's from the landlord."

"No it's not," Antonio garbled out. "Well, not necessarily."

"Not necessarily? Antonio, You know that out of the handful of landlords in the world who still send letters to their tenants, the only person who'd send their letters in mint coloured envelopes is ours." Gilbert stuck out his hand. "Come on. Give it to me."

Antonio stared at Gilbert in the eye. Then, as he maintained eye contact, he narrowed his eyes, slipped his finger under the flap, and ripped the envelope open. Gilbert cringed at the jagged streaks that ruined and crumpled the perfectly good paper.

"What'd you do that for! We have a letter opener!"

"It's a letter addressed to the tenants of this apartment, and the last time I checked, that meant all three of us, not necessarily just you."

He frowned. "What… does that mean? I just want to see what's in the envelope. And that letter doesn't need to be ripped apart like that."

Antonio's mind was elsewhere. He was instead reading the letter, then he frowned. "Hang on." He pulled out his phone and dialled a number.

"Who are you calling?"

"Arthur."

Why was Antonio calling Arthur? Something curdled in Gilbert's stomach. It wasn't because Antonio trusted Arthur more than Gilbert, was it? "Why?"

Antonio was finishing off his call, then he hung up. "It was a noise complaint."

Gilbert remembered earlier in the afternoon when he asked Francis to play that sequence again and again. "Oh…" As he brought himself back to the present, Gilbert stated: "well, we could do something about that."

Antonio nodded. "A music studio could be rented, but… Francis won't feel great about having to use our cash."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and huffed. Then he thought. A cost-effective method to give Francis a soundproof room? Then an idea popped up inside of Gilbert's head.

"Antonio. You left some scrap wooden frames from Doubloon in that self storage unit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And we still have some unused duvets."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is…"

"That…"

"We can soundproof one of the rooms with the frames and duvets?"

"Bingo!" Gilbert hopped up and paced to the bedsheet cabinet. "I'll get the duvets, you can get the wooden frames. Well, unless you lost your keys again, heh."

Antonio suggested for the frames to be hung in the bedroom since that was the smallest room and Francis only needed a small space to practise. As Gilbert fetched the old duvets, hammer and nails, he hoped that it won't be too long before Antonio came back with the frames. Fortunately, Francis hadn't come back to the apartment by the time Antonio had finished fetching the frames, so after they nailed the duvets to the frames, all they needed to do was to wait.

Antonio sat on Francis' bunk while Gilbert sat on the floor. Once the door opened, they perked up. "I'm back, Francis announced from the living room. "I bought some groceries. I..." Was that in relation to something earlier that afternoon?

"Oh!" Antonio stood up and walked outside the room. As the door closed, Gilbert waited. A minute passed. Well, what should be a minute, it shouldn't take so long for Antonio to greet Francis. Gilbert was about to stand up and check what was going on outside when Antonio said:

"By the way, we er… heh, we got a noise complaint. But it's not a bad thing, and you probably won't be thrilled with renting out a music studio to practise. So…" The doorknob clattered before Antonio opened the door. "We-"

"Tah-dah! We soundproofed the bedroom!" Gilbert announced as he waved some jazz hands for good measure.

"Yes! Heh." Antonio turned around to face Francis. "We couldn't figure out how to put up the old duvets without nailing into the wall and making the landlord mad,"

"Uh-huh,"

"But then I remembered that I had some leftover scrap wood from Doubloon so I used them here! With some help from Gilbert. So… at the very least you can practise without getting noise complaints!"

Gilbert nodded, but raised an eyebrow at the use of I. Or maybe his ears were tricking him. Yes, his ears were tricking him. He shrugged.

"Ah." Francis rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you."

And so Francis walked forward to the room, then gave Antonio a handshake.

"Or hopefully you can practise in the bedroom. I know it's not your usual practising space, but I hope that it doesn't… sound bad."

Francis blinked. Then he let out a small chuckle. "Ah."

"It really is the minim-al consequence, though," Gilbert piped in. Francis glanced at him for a split second, his grin dropping a bit, before Antonio distracted him with something else.

"Hah. That didn't crotchet your interests, did it?" Antonio and Francis continued with whatever funny discussion they were having. Fine, that was a terrible pun, it was warranted. Gilbert crossed his arms and waited. But a few minutes passed, and Antonio still had no signs of stopping.

"Ahem, I am right here," Gilbert muttered. Antonio continued to joke with Francis while their backs were turned against him.

Gilbert frowned. Where had Antonio been, anyway? Spending more time with Roderich and away from Francis, yet here he was, even though the last big conversation they had was a few weeks ago before Francis left for that penpal's wedding.

What puzzled Gilbert especially was how much Antonio and Francis were, with their backs turned to Gilbert, uneager to talk to him as well. Why? Why was that? A sharp burn seared inside of him in just the wrong way. What if it was because Antonio had a point? What if all, well, whatever Gilbert was saying was going to bite him back?

Gilbert rubbed his face. Alright, focus back on the main topic. Francis now has a sound proof room that he will use for as long as he needed to so that the landlord won't get complaints. That should be enough. It was fine, it'll pass, Gilbert told himself. This was just a one time thing, alright? A one time thing that shouldn't mean anything compared to their decade-long friendship. They've been friends for more than a decade, a small uncomfortable moment made from poor wording choices meant nothing, and that was final.

So Gilbert nodded and waited until Antonio and Francis were finished.

Grave apologies for the late update! Life happened. A lot of things have been happening, so it's a tad hard for my beta and I to keep up. The next update will come quickly, however! In approximately two weeks!