Work Text:
Alex sighs and drops his bag on the floor the second he walks in the door. The shoes are off his feet before he walks further into his apartment, and he’s ready to de-stress after a long day of classes. Of course, he can’t really de-stress all that much because he still has a paper to write this evening. Sure, it’s not due for another week and a half, but if he’s going to stay on his strict schedule he’s given himself, he needs to stick to his deadlines.
His desk is a mess of papers and binders and notebooks, all things that have a specific place, even if he’s just worked around them for the last month. He’ll stack them up and move them to one side so he can write. And then he’ll shift the stack to the side. And inevitably, it always ends up back like this.
As he restacks the notebooks on the left and puts the binders in a line up on the shelf over his desk, he can hear footsteps above him. Glancing at his watch, a small smile crosses his face. It’s almost that time. He grabs his laptop and places it in the hole he created on his desk, opening it to start on his paper. The minute he sits down, it starts.
It’s been maybe three months or so of his upstairs neighbor giving him near nightly concerts. When the person actually plays, it’s always at 8:00 on the dot. They’ll usually play for a couple of hours, going from classical pieces Alex usually isn’t familiar with — but is learning — to pop hits of any decade, ranging from Elton John, Queen, and once — to Alex’s amusement — Taylor Swift.
Alex uses this opportunity as the perfect time to work. It sets a more peaceful ambiance than he can accomplish on his own. When this talented neighbor of his sits down to play, Alex usually finds himself stilling to listen, to enjoy it. He started doing his work at that time because the music calms him down enough to focus.
Occasionally when he takes a break from a paper, he’ll try to guess the song the person is playing. But it’s also good motivation to have a fair amount of work done by 10:00 when the music stops.
Every now and then, he imagines walking up there and knocking on the door to let them know how much he enjoys the music. But then he’d have to interrupt them and he doesn’t want to do that. He decides to just enjoy it from afar, silently wishing he could suggest songs the person should play. Maybe if he knew them, he could text songs he’d like to hear as he works.
By the time the music stops for the evening — wrapping up on “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen — Alex has gotten a lot accomplished. He wrote five pages of his paper that is only supposed to be 7-10. He’s on a roll. Opening up another tab of his browser, he turns on a station that plays instrumental versions of pop hits. He doesn’t know when he started needing it to get his papers written, but he suspects it was sometime around when he started hearing his neighbor play.
The next morning, Alex feels pretty accomplished. He’ll have another long day, but he hopes he’ll get home just in time for the show as he did the night before. As he’s walking down to the door, he stops to put an envelope in the mail. And he’s glad he did, because when he turns, he sees Blond Guy walking down the stairs. His messenger bag crosses his body as he walks gracefully. The man’s hair is always coiffed nicely, a perfect swoop of blond hair. His eyes are the most radiant shade of blue that Alex has ever seen in person. He thought only photoshop gave people eyes like that. And when he nods and politely smiles at Alex, it never fails to make his insides rearrange themselves a bit.
“Morning,” Blond Guy says, his perfect fucking British accent curling delightfully around the singular word. Alex didn’t even know he was into British accents. He’s into this one for sure.
Clearing his throat, Alex replies, “Morning.”
There’s not usually more than that between them. They usually walk off in opposite directions to start their days. Today, though, Blond Guy heads in the same direction as Alex. They’re not exactly walking side by side, but there’s only a short distance between them. It’s small enough that Alex feels the need to fill the air between them. “Not working today?” he asks.
Blond Guy looks back at him, slowing his stride a bit. “Hmm?”
“Um, well, we usually split off,” Alex says, motioning going in two different directions. He immediately wonders if he’s creepy for noticing where the other guy goes every morning. Shit. “I just…” He’s an idiot.
Except that Blond Guy smiles, almost to himself. “I do usually go the other way,” he confirms. “Work is that way, but I was tasked with getting coffee this morning. Since I’m getting it for the whole office, I decided I’m going to be late to spite them all for making me do the coffee run.”
Alex laughs, throwing his head back. His crush only grows as he realizes the guy is funny. Hot and funny is just too much for one person to contain. You can’t have those eyes and make Alex laugh too. That’s not fair.
“That sounds like a solid plan, honestly.”
Blond Guy grins when he looks over at him. Alex tries not to melt. “I’m glad you agree.”
Way too soon, they come up on the coffee shop nearest to their building. “Well, this is me,” Blond Guy says. “Have a nice day.”
Alex nods, ignoring the disappointment sinking in his stomach. “Yeah, you too. I’ll, uh, see you around.”
It looks for a second like Blond Guy wants to say something, but instead, he just nods and ducks into the door to get in line. Alex thinks about him the rest of the way to his classes. His first class of the day is enough to distract him, but every now and then, the pleased grin on his face pops into Alex’s head and he wonders what it would be like to spend an evening with the guy.
The rest of the day distracts him fairly well. By the time Alex gets home, all he can think about is his schedule for the evening. Flashcards to be made and a paper to be finished. He can do it, he just doesn’t want to.
Just when he thinks about giving up, about starting his weekend a day early, the piano starts. Alex sighs, a reluctant smile crossing his face. It’s a sign that he needs to get his work done. He doesn’t want to miss the show, so he has to get his silent work done in order to hear it.
That night, just after the playing stops, Alex rips a piece of paper out of his notebook. This person has kept him on track and kept him motivated and they don’t even know it. He wants to thank them for it, for finding a way to keep him going on days he didn’t want to. So he writes a letter:
Hi!
I am your downstairs neighbor and I just wanted to thank you for the beautiful music you play every evening. If I hear your piano, I know it’s 8:00 and I usually use it as my window to make sure I’m getting my own work done. The papers I write and the studying I do are more enjoyable when I get to listen to your beautiful songs. I don’t know what it is that keeps you on such a strict schedule of playing every night from 8:00 to 10:00, but I love it. In case you were worried about your neighbors not liking it, believe me, that’s not the case. Your talent is incredible and I’m glad you share it with me. Sometimes when I’m in a homework hole and it feels endless and isolating, I’ll hear you playing and I know I’m not alone.
Sorry if that’s a weird thing to say. I enjoy your music a normal amount.
Anyway, thanks for the entertainment.
Alex
4G
Before he can talk himself out of it, he walks upstairs and tucks it into the seam of the door and the doorjamb.
Alex heads back to his apartment and by the next morning, he’s forgotten all about it. Yet again, it’s another long day, but he doesn’t really care. It’s not like he’s expecting anything else. Besides, it’s the weekend. Finally. Even if he shouldn’t, he plans to relax this weekend. He’ll have two days and three nights to just do whatever he wants. His schedule actually accommodates it. Take that June, he does have a school/life balance!
So when he walks into his apartment, he slumps his bag onto the floor, kicks off his shoes, ignores his messy desk, and walks over to change into more comfortable clothes. He’s in gray joggers and a black t-shirt, trying to decide what to watch on Netflix when there’s a knock at his door. Alex walks over and nearly gasps when he opens it.
“Um, hi.”
Standing on the other side of his door is Blond Guy. He’s smiling broadly at Alex before holding up a piece of paper. Alex is briefly confused until Blond Guy starts talking. “Alex?” he asks. Alex nods, suddenly remembering the letter he left for his upstairs neighbor. Fuck, that was him? Holy shit.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Henry,” Blond Guy says. Henry. It fits him. “Nice to actually meet you. I, erm, got your letter and I just wanted to thank you for it. I do worry occasionally that my neighbors find it annoying. It’s quite a relief to know that you enjoy it.”
Alex is still incredibly stunned. He stares back at Henry, probably creeping him out. Finally, forcing a smile on his face, Alex nods. “I do enjoy it. You’re really good.” He laughs to himself, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I play a game with myself sometimes to see if I can recognize the songs you’re playing.”
Henry smiles and Alex feels his heart do something weird. “The walls aren’t that thick. You can always yell up a song you like.”
“Oh, shit,” Alex says, laughing. “I’m definitely going to take you up on that.”
“I look forward to it,” Henry says, still smiling.
Alex steps back from the door, hoping his apartment looks somewhat clean. “Uh, you’re welcome to come in, if you want. I have beer, or —”
“I would,” Henry says, slightly cutting him off, “but it’s almost 8:00 and I do need to play more this evening.”
With a nod, Alex says, “Ah, gotcha.” He hopes the disappointment doesn’t show on his face. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you around.”
Right as he’s about to close the door, Henry holds his hand out. “Actually,” he says, “I… well, since you said you liked my playing, I…” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I thought I’d ask if you wanted to, you know, erm, come up while I played and watch or —” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and holding his hands over his face. “Christ, sorry, that’s such an awkward thing to offer. Forget I said anything.”
He turns to go, but it’s Alex’s turn to stop him. “Wait, do you mean it?” Henry looks back at him, one eyebrow raised. “I’m welcome to come watch you play?” he asks.
Clearing his throat, Henry nods. “Yeah, if you’d like.”
Alex grins. “I’d fucking love that.” There’s a disbelieving laugh that ekes out of Henry. It’s one of the cutest things Alex has ever heard. “Give me a minute and I’ll be right up there.”
“All right,” Henry says, smiling almost shyly. “Okay, I’ll… see you there.”
The second the door is closed again, Alex panics. What is he supposed to do, sitting there, watching Henry play the piano? Without knowing who his upstairs neighbor was, he had strong feelings about the music. And now he finds out it’s the same guy he’s harbored a secret, completely irrational crush on? These sorts of things don’t happen to Alex. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act up there. He doesn’t know how he’s going to keep from throwing himself at Henry. The last thing he wants to do is make it weird when they run into each other.
Turning off the TV, Alex smacks his cheeks. You can do this, he tells himself. He takes a deep breath, pausing his trek upstairs to brush his teeth. If nothing else, he doesn't know how close he’ll sit to Henry. He doesn’t want to have bad breath. That’s the only reason why.
Once he gets up to Henry’s apartment, he knocks almost hesitantly at the door. Henry still takes his breath away when he opens the door, a brilliant smile on his face. “Come on in,” he says. There’s a waver to his voice. Could he be… nervous? Alex certainly feels nervous. This isn’t exactly something he’s done before: walked into the home of someone he harbors a secret crush on to watch him play the piano. Overall, it’s one of the weirder things he’s done, but he’s going to follow this wherever it goes.
“So, um, why the strict schedule?” Alex asks, hovering inside the door. Henry glances at his watch, so Alex does too. 7:53. Only a few minutes until show time.
“Well,” Henry says, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge, “I’m practicing before this big audition I have in another month. So, I’m sorry, you’ll probably be hearing it up until then.”
Alex chuckles as he takes the beer from Henry. “I think it’s well documented that I enjoy it. Not a problem from me.”
“I’m glad,” Henry says, his voice soft. Alex deliberately looks down at his beer so that he doesn’t do anything stupid, like kiss him. “Erm, anyway, I am practicing to hopefully secure a spot with the New York Symphony.”
“I’m sorry, what. Tell me I misheard you. That’s insane,” Alex says. “And awesome.”
Henry shrugs, a shy grin on his face. “I’m trying. We’ll see. They probably won’t be impressed with me, but I’m going to try.”
Alex shakes his head. “I don’t know. Based on my understanding, I think you have a chance.”
“Do you have a musical background?” Henry asks. He takes a step or two closer to his piano.
“Not at all,” Alex admits, laughing. “But I know good music when I hear it.”
The same shy smile reappears on his face. Alex can’t get enough of it. As Henry settles at his piano, Alex takes the chair off to the side. He watches as Henry stretches out his fingers, wiggling them, shaking them out before he hovers them over the keys.
“Honestly,” Alex says, probably pulling Henry out of the zone, “with this audition, I’m surprised you only play the two hours a night.” Suddenly, he hears how that must sound. “Not saying you’re not doing enough. Oh my god.” He drops his head in his hands.
A chuckle from Henry pulls Alex back, letting him look up at him nervously. “That’s only the hours I keep here. It’s not counting the hours I do during the day at a studio near where I work. My lunch break is spent mostly playing the piano. Then I get off around 4:30 and play for a couple of hours until I head home. Then I eat and… play some more.”
“Jesus,” Alex says. “That’s a lot. You’re really dedicated.”
“Like I said, I’m trying.”
A small timer sounds somewhere in the apartment and Henry turns in front of the piano fully. Alex can tell the moment when he zones out, ignores the presence of the other person in the room, and focuses completely on the keys. The notes start out softly, building up to a faster, louder melody. Alex can’t take his eyes off Henry as he plays, can’t look away from the way his fingers fly over the keys, hitting every note precisely. It is one of the most impressive and one of the most attractive things Alex has ever seen. He has no idea what piece Henry is playing, just knows it’s some classical song. Alex barely paid attention in his music class. He didn’t think it was important.
Now, he wishes he’d paid more attention.
Henry switches effortlessly from song to song, from genre to genre. He’ll go from some intense, technical piece to a slow ballad Alex vaguely recognizes. And then he’ll go back again. It’s incredible to watch.
Alex thinks he falls a bit in love with Henry just by watching him play. He can’t imagine how anyone could watch Henry at his audition and not give him the spot. There’s a chance Alex would give Henry anything he fucking asked for right now and he only learned his name earlier this evening.
When Henry’s fingers still, hovering over the keys for a second before he plants them in his lap, Alex expects him to start again. “Why’d you stop?” Alex asks, almost breathless.
Henry looks over at him with a small smile. “My time’s up for the evening.”
Looking down at his watch, Alex is in shock to know that two hours passed that quickly. He was so focused on Henry, so attuned to every move he made that time flew without him realizing it. “Oh. Oh wow. Okay.”
Poking at one key, not looking at Alex, Henry asks, “Was it just as enjoyable from up here?”
“Way fucking better. It was like listening to a song over and over and then finally hearing it in concert. I loved it,” Alex answers without thinking. Henry looks over in surprise, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half smile. “Watching you play was incredible. You’re so fucking talented.”
Henry is silent for a moment, nodding to himself. “Thank you,” he breathes. “I really appreciate that.”
“I think it’s very clear to see how hard you’ve worked for this,” Alex continues. “You’re amazing. And those people would be idiots to not see that.” He shrugs, staring down at his hands. “I’ve listened to you play for months now and I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a bad note.”
“Thank you.”
Alex looks up at him, meeting Henry’s shy gaze. “Do you ever take a break?” Henry frowns, his brow knitting together. “You know, do you ever miss a night?”
Henry shrugs. “I guess I’d have to have a pretty good reason.” The look he gives Alex is the complete opposite of the shy expression from just moments before. “If someone gave me something more compelling to do, I might.”
Leaning forward, grinning broadly, Alex asks, “Would dinner be compelling enough?”
One year later
Alex straightens his suit jacket as he sits in his seat. Someone had the gall to say that his seat was subpar, but to him, it’s the best seat in the house. From this very spot, he has a prime shot at the pianist for the New York Symphony. Well, he has a prime shot at his boyfriend.
There aren’t that many times he gets to actually go to the symphony. He’s heard Henry play so many times that he can predict the change he’ll make to a piece or the half second when he transitions to another, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a profound joy from seeing it all live.
A month after their first date, Henry was accepted into the symphony. They celebrated that evening by getting bombed on champagne and Alex fucking Henry on the piano. Henry had been against it until Alex gave him a very compelling argument (his mouth in some very choice places). Somehow, between Alex battling through law school and Henry joining the symphony, they also found the time to actually date. Sometimes their evenings were spent with a quick meal of take out before Henry practiced and Alex studied on his couch while he played.
Occasionally, Henry had to pull Alex away from a paper he’d written and rewritten three times. And sometimes Alex had to take Henry’s hands off the keys and pull him away from the piano before he ruined his hands. They both had days where they were too in their heads, but thankfully, their days like that didn’t overlap.
Most of their relationship has been spent in one of their apartments — usually Henry’s, because… piano — but either way, it was together. On days when Alex was locked in his apartment, studying for a final or perfecting a paper, Henry would draw him out with the sounds of some song, luring Alex upstairs to the music like a siren and an unsuspecting sailor. Except that Henry would just kiss him and give him food and make him drink water and stretch his legs.
Their run ins in the morning became a thing of the past. They still left together, but it was typically from the same apartment.
Alex never could have predicted that the guy he would see in the lobby and had a stupid crush on would become the person he fell in love with, but life just works like that sometimes. He was half in love with him just from his music and the rest came so fast it left him reeling.
So, now, on the anniversary of Henry getting into the symphony, Alex is surprising him. He’d lied and said he couldn’t make it, said something about needing to study. Henry knows how hard Alex works, so he’d bought it. He’d kissed Alex particularly deeply before he left — still just a shadow of the night before — and wished him luck with getting his work finished.
As the musicians file out to their spots, Henry walking a straight path to his piano, Alex is even happier that he made it. His whole body reacts to seeing Henry in his element. His heart lifts, his skin heats, his smile widens, his feet tap, his blood rushes. Watching Henry be as talented as he is is a fucking full body experience. There’s a reason that they usually are busy after Henry finishes practicing and it’s because Alex immediately needs to have his body on Henry’s in some way.
It makes going to see him in the symphony a bit awkward. But Alex is usually pretty good at handling it.
Other times, he’s brought his family with him. He didn’t tell anyone he was dating his hot, talented neighbor until his parents were coming to town to visit him. Alex tried to seem cultured and mature, insisting they go to the symphony. June had raised some eyebrows, but had agreed. All three of his parents seemed sort of impressed, especially when they thought he’d footed the bill for that. (Henry had gotten him some tickets.) And at the end of the show, Henry lingered at the piano for a moment longer than normal and Alex pointed him out, making sure everyone saw him and appreciated him, before saying, “That’s my boyfriend.”
Today, it’s just him. Just him and a bouquet of flowers on his lap, waiting to run into the arms of the man he loves and congratulate him for having spent a year living his dream. He couldn’t be prouder of him.
At the end of the show, Alex finagles his way into the back. He knocks at Henry’s door and is eagerly grinning when Henry stares at him with wide eyes. “You’re here?”
“Happy anniversary, baby,” Alex says, throwing himself into Henry’s arms.
Henry stares at him for a moment before pulling him in and kissing Alex desperately. He separates faster than Alex is expecting, shaking his head in awe. “I thought you had work to do.”
“I lied,” Alex replies happily. He places the slightly smushed flowers in Henry’s arms and fiddles with his lapels. “I wouldn’t have missed this.”
“God, I love you,” Henry breathes before pulling Alex back into another kiss. They sit for a bit while Henry appreciates his flowers, while he changes out of his tux, while he decompresses from the evening. Alex is happy just to be in his space.
Finally, Henry stretches out a hand to Alex, pulling him up from the couch. “You ready to head home?”
Alex pulls him in for another kiss and smiles. “Absolutely.”
Henry wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders and tucks him into his side, pressing a kiss to his head. On their way out, Alex’s eyes catch on the same thing they do every time he’s here: a letter in a frame on the wall, telling Henry how beautiful his music is. Alex grins to himself, wondering how such a beautiful, happy life started with something as simple as a letter.