Chapter 24: "The 'Grand' Finale"

They had said their goodbyes the day before. Lukas wasn't allowed to come out today. He was busy packing and he'd be leaving this evening.

Mathias hated to admit it, but it wasn't a good goodbye. He had a little over a minute to say goodbye because Lukas was so busy, busy enough that he couldn't even go to school, and it wasn't what he thought it would be. It was a little awkward and a lot sad. The part that was the sweetest was the kiss, but then again, every kiss from Lukas was sweet. They embraced once more, and then his mother said it was time for him to start packing again.

Lukas let go and waved at him from the doorway as he walked back down the street. He had tried to ignore the tears rolling down Lukas' cheeks and tried harder to ignore the knot growing in his own throat. He still hadn't cried. He was toughing it out.

Now it was the 30th, the night of their final orchestra concert. Mathias clutched the cello case in his hand with an odd sort of determination as he walked into the school. He almost expected Lukas to be there, but he knew deep down that he wasn't. He wouldn't be there when he climbed onto the stage and he wouldn't be there when he stepped off of it. And he wouldn't be there tomorrow, or the next day.

His eyes glossed over, but he wasn't crying. He didn't cry. He couldn't cry. He went to his seat on the stage and took out his cello. He prepared it, then took out his sheet music. The lump in his throat was getting larger, but he swallowed it down. No time for that, he told himself as he organized the music on the stand.

He watched as more of the students piled onto the stage. Parents had completely filled the audience and he looked out. He could see many faces, but three stuck out. The first, to his surprise and delight, was Mr. Vainamoinens. He actually smiled for the first time all day and waved at him. The man waved back, flashing a grin. The janitor was next to him, but he looked a lot better than before. He could have passed for a teacher. Mathias smiled and waved at him, too. He didn't smile, but he gave a little wave.

The second was his mothers face. She was taking pictures and showing them to the third person he noticed. His father. He wasn't smiling, but he was looking at his son, no sign of anger in his eyes, but no sign of happiness or pride, either. Mathias couldn't help but feel glad he was there. He hated him, but there was always a drive to please him that he couldn't explain. He wanted to make his mother and teacher proud especially, though.

When the orchestra teacher raised her hands, Mathias practiced with the rest of them, but all he could picture was Lukas stepping onto that plane. He was on his way to America and he was stuck here alone. He wished he could be on that plane with him. He wondered if Lukas was thinking about him as he searched for his seat.

He suddenly had a bad feeling. He couldn't describe it, but it twisted his stomach and the lights were so bright on the stage and the music suddenly seemed so loud. He tried to keep playing, but it hurt, it hurt badly, so he stopped. He wanted to drop the bow, but eyes bore into him; his fathers, his mothers, Mr. Vainamoinens, and tears brimmed in his eyes as he clutched the bow tighter. "Dammit," he muttered through clenched teeth.

He swallowed the tears, swallowed every ounce of pain he had, taking it all with strife as the orchestra teacher raised her hand for them to begin the concert. He focused the pain and despair he was feeling on his music, and he didn't look away from the notes for one second. This was the best distraction he had right now. He melted into the music, not knowing how else to cope, and for a second, it seemed like an extension of himself. Everything he was feeling shot through his veins, down his slender wrists and into the bow, out into the vibrating strings and through the air in powerful waves.

The audience members couldn't help but to notice Mathias, the way his face seemed pained, the way he grew flushed and the way his fingers raked over the heavy strings at the top of his cello, the way his face twisted on certain notes and lightened on others. Never had they seen someone so young playing like that, and they were both intrigued and amused by such a boy.

Still, he kept his eyes on the paper, head low, tears nearly falling. He imagined Lukas there beside him and they could play together, and it would be beautiful. Because everything we did together was beautiful, he thought. Tears came to his eyes once more and no amount of blinking was pushing them back in. The notes on the white paper blurred and a small tear balanced on his bottom eyelash, threatening to fall, but he was adamant to leave it. He breathed in quickly, his movements and strokes becoming rougher.

He would give anything for Lukas to be there. He would have given anything for him to be able to stay. The bad feeling wouldn't go away and he was sure Lukas felt the same way. He thought about that beautiful smile, the beautiful way he laughed and talked and the way he felt in his arms, and all at once, like the breaking of a dam, tears streamed down his cheeks and dropped onto the cello, sliding down the wood slower than they had on his face.

But he kept playing. Nothing could stop his fingers from moving and nothing could stop the music from coming out. He was going to finish this concert if it was the last thing he did. His fingers burned, his breathing was hoarse, and he just wanted to finish it. He just wanted this to be over.

Suddenly, as if someone had touched his shoulder, he looked up at the back of the auditorium. Eyes burned into him, making him feel lighter, making him feel comforted, but when he looked to the back, there was nothing standing where he expected a form to be. But there had been someone watching, he was sure of it, and their presence lingered, and he was sure it was Lukas. It had to be, because nobody could have made him startle like that, and nobody could have turned his head like that.

His heart said to move, to jump off the stage and confirm his thought. Confirm that he was there, that he wasn't on the plane yet and had come to the last performance, but his mind told him that this was not possible. He trusted his mind and turned to the music, playing once more until finally the teacher brought her arms down and he was free from the hold the instrument had on him.

As the parents were clapping and taking photos, he was packing up the cello and his music. He could see his parents shoving through the others to talk to him, and as much as he didn't want to talk to them, he stood there solemnly and accepted the praise they offered until he was able to break away and find Mr. Vainamoinen.

"Mathias!" The teacher was waving at him from the back of the auditorium. He pushed through the people to reach him and when he was finally standing in front of him, he hugged him tightly, not knowing what else to do. Mr. Vainamoinen hugged him back and looked down at him brightly. He was smiling, so cheerful, so happy. "Mathias, did you see Lukas?"

Mathias stared up at him and backed away for a second, blood running cold. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought he was leaving today, but I saw him standing in the back. He came in late and didn't stay long, though."

Mathias' lip was quivering and he brought up a hand to cover his eyes as he broke harder than he'd ever broken before. He couldn't stop the constant flow of tears, so he let them fall down into his hands while Mr. Vainamoinen talked softly to him, muttering comforting words that he couldn't even understand. He couldn't see anything but lights reflecting in his own eyes. He heard laughter and yelling and cheering and talking all around him, all blurred together and it was too much.

He took a deep, shuddering breath as more tears fell into his palms. Something wasn't right. That feeling again. That feeling that caused his stomach to flip and his palms to sweat. Something was off and he didn't know why but he felt this way.

"I want Lukas, I... something isn't right," he managed to sob out. But nobody could hear him through the noise and even if they did, nobody knew how to help him.

Lukas wiped his eyes and clutched the pink bunny tightly. He knew he must have looked so ridiculous to everyone there, but he didn't care what they thought. He continued to wipe his eyes, but the tears seemed endless and he just gave up. The airport was so busy and he wanted quiet. He wanted to be alone after seeing Mathias.

His flight had been delayed for just long enough that he could stop in and see Mathias play his cello one more time. He couldn't stay long, but he was glad he went at all. Mathias played so beautifully and he looked radiant on stage. His eyes were drawn to him immediately, and once they were on him, he couldn't look away. He played like he had a purpose, like it meant more to him than making music.

It reminded him of how his father played. He admired Mathias at that moment and was smiling through the tears. He was proud of him. Proud that someone like Mathias loved someone like him, proud that he was able to find something he enjoyed all on his own, proud that he had grown so much thanks to Mathias over the year and Mathias had grown, too. His heart swelled with affection for him and he was sure he loved him. He didn't care what his mother thought or his father thought, because he knew, deep in his heart, that he loved Mathias.

He wished he would have looked up. He expected him to. But he didn't. His eyes were fixed on his papers and nothing was stopping him. He pleaded in his mind for him to notice him, though. He imagined it like one of his fairytales. Mathias would get down, everyone would stare, and he would take him in his arms, kiss him, and tell him everything was alright. But he stayed put, feet firm, head firm. Lukas had to leave.

He had wiped his nose with the back of his hand and cried a little harder as he started feeling more panicked than he had before. Something felt wrong and he couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew it wasn't how he was supposed to feel and he didn't like it. He almost yelled out for Mathias from the back of the auditorium. Almost. But he knew it wasn't appropriate and he was too shy either way. So he kissed his hand softly and blew it to him, then left right after.

Now he was stepping onto the plane and taking his seat next to the window. He looked out at the lights of the city as they were just being turned on. They were beautiful. Copenhagen was beautiful. He wiped away his tears, clutched the bunny closely, and listened to the speakers.

"Please put your phones on airplane mode if you have them..."

Lukas reached into his backpack for his phone. He furrowed his eyebrows and dug around more, not feeling it. But it was small, so he peeked inside the bag. But the phone wasn't there. He dug in his pockets. Nothing. He stared at his mother and tugged on her arm frantically, "Mama, I think I forgot my phone." He started breathing faster and crying a lot harder. "Look! It isn't here and I don't have Mathias' number and he'll be calling the phone and I don't have it! How am I supposed to talk to him now?! How am I supposed to talk to him?!"

He was having a panic attack. He was on a plane to America and he didn't have any way of contacting Mathias without his phone. He just wanted Mathias and he wanted his room and he wanted it all back. His mother was rubbing circles in his back and he was crying quietly to himself as he looked out the window, completely lost in his own sadness.

At this moment, Lukas realised that it wasn't right. It was, in fact, NOT better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. It hurt so bad and he wished he would have never decided to love Mathias, but he couldn't stop it now. His heart already ached for him and nothing he could do or say could stop that.

He looked down at the lights once more as the plane took off, and with a shaky nod of his head he said goodbye to Copenhagen and goodbye to Denmark, once and for all.

THE END