Chapter Text
SIMON
This was it. Tonight was the big night. I had been planning this for months, and everything had to be perfect.
Or else.
I stood in front of the mirror, and fiddled with the buttons on my suit jacket. I ran a hand through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame my mess of curls.
Tonight was the night I was going to propose to Agatha. We’d been together since school. How could I go this long with her and not marry her? She made a wonderful girlfriend. I bet she’d make an even better wife. I picked up my phone and went through the schedule one more time. I needed to be at the restaurant by six-thirty to meet with the wait staff and musician that I had hired. Agatha was a classy girl, and what better way to “class up” a situation than with a bit of classical music?
I don’t know. I was trying really hard for her, even if half the stuff she liked went over my head. All her shows, and galas, and regattas. All her fancy people stuff. I just didn’t get it. Well, you know what they say. Happy soon-to-be wife, happy life.
I grabbed my keys and made sure that the small box that held the ring was safely inside my pocket. It was a cold autumn day, and my breath came out in little clouds as I walked to the tube station. After we left school, we got a flat in Chiswick, not too far from Central London. It was a great location. Not too far from our offices, and a short tube ride to London’s nightlife. And, we were only a block away from the river. I’m glad that her family’s helping us pay the rent. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have even begun to dream about living here.
I got off the train in Wimbledon. The restaurant was a few shops down from the exit of the station, so it made for a short walk. I had told Agatha to meet me there at seven, and when I glanced down at my watch, I saw that I still had a good amount of time left. I opened the heavy door, and was greeted with a rush of warm air. I took off my overcoat as I explained the situation to the hostess. She said that, “Yes, I remember you calling earlier. Your violinist is over in the back corner over there. That’s my favorite table.” Moira, as I learned her name was, lead me back into the bowels of the restaurant.
The table was lit by warm candlelight, and partly hidden from view of the general public by a huge potted plant. Ten or so feet away was a little alcove where the violinist was setting up. I draped my coat over the back of one of the chairs and went over to greet him.
“Hey! I’m Simon.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m the one who hired you tonight.” He looked up from whatever he was doing. Rubbing something on the bow, by the looks of it, and returned my handshake.
“Baz Pitch. It’s nice to meet you in person, and not just over email.” he said. This was the first time I had seen his face, and Aleister Crowley, was it a sight to behold. I mean, I knew that I wasn’t completely straight, even if I hadn’t told anybody, but goodness gracious. He was beautiful, in a statuesque kind of way. He looked like one of those men in those old portraits of lords and ladies and such. He had an air of regality about him, and just by being in his presence made you want to sit a little straighter and push your shoulders back and down.
I tried to regain control over my thoughts. “Right. I’m going to propose to my girlfriend tonight, and I thought that music might help “set the mood”. We’re sitting just over there.” I pointed to our table. “I don’t really know classical music that well, so what sort of songs would you suggest for this type of occasion? My knowledge extends to about Fur Elise, and stops there.” I laughed awkwardly, and Baz smiled. He looked gorgeous when he smiled.
“Well, you’re proposing, right? When you pull out the ring, I’ll start playing a song by Elgar called Salut D’Amour.” Was that French? I don’t know. Sounded French. Baz has a nice French accent. “It’s the most romantic piece that comes to mind. Otherwise, when you’re just sitting and eating, I’ll do some general background music. I can play Romantic Era pieces, if you like.” I’m not sure what that means. But, ‘Romantic Era’ sounds promising.
“Yeah. That sounds good. Agatha, my girlfriend, is supposed to get here around seven. Would you mind if you’re already playing when she sits down? I dunno, I’ll signal you or something.” Baz smiled again, and I felt lucky to be granted with another moment of pure beauty. Not that he wasn’t pretty when he wasn’t smiling. ‘Cause he was. Very pretty. All the time.
BAZ
I make surprisingly good money as a freelance violinist in London. I do gigs, both solo and with a group, and I record chamber music, as well. Every once in a while, I’ll get invited to be a soloist with one orchestra or another, and I live for those performances. Sometimes, I forget just how good I sound in a concert hall with an orchestra at my back. I’m enthralled by the feeling of having the audience in the palm of my hand, and getting them to react just the way I want them to.
Tonight is one of my more low-key nights. I’m pretty thankful, actually. This weekend marks the beginning of a series of music festivals all over Britain. I won’t be in my own apartment over the weekend for a while. But, it’s fun. I meet up with some friends, and we’ll all travel together. Anyway, I get gigs like this a lot. I play at weddings, dances, really any place they need a classical violinist.
Proposals are pretty standard. I’ve got playlists for each type of event I play at, and of course I’ll play whatever the client wants. I got to the restaurant before the client did, and so I asked the hostess where I should set up. She said that she’d put them in the back corner, and so that’s where I went. It’s a perfect little spot. Private, and there’s space for everything. And, the acoustics aren’t too bad, either. I put my case and music down, in a little alcove just the length of my case. I took my stand out of it’s flimsy fabric case and begun to reassemble it. When I finish, I stood it up and put my music on the ledge. I took my case off the floor and sit in a chair to unpack. My violin was really out of tune. I sat it back in the case and scrubbed some rosin on my bow. It needed it, that’s for sure.
I saw the hostess leading someone else back here, and I could only assume that was my client. He offered his hand and introduces himself, and told me how he planned to propose to his girlfriend tonight.” He was cute. Simon, he told me, wasn’t just cute. He was devastatingly handsome. Ten out of ten on his gorgeous tan skin and bronze hair. And those eyes. Bright blue. Almost too blue. It’s a pity he was straight. Why do I always have to fall in love with straight boys? Ugh, this is like grade school all over again.
I can’t say I wasn’t instantly more excited to be here, though. I got to look at a pretty boy the whole time. I talked to him about what I was going so play, and asked if he had any particular requests. He didn’t. Which is fairly uncommon in my arena. You’d be surprised how opinionated people are. One wedding that I played for almost didn’t pay me because I played Handel. I mean, Handel at a wedding is pretty standard. When they told me, halfway through my set, that they didn’t want any Handel, I was confused. But, I put on my difficult client face and played everything but Handel. In fact, I played Haydn. Just to spite them.
Not long after, what I assumed to be Simon’s girlfriend was escorted back here by one of the wait staff. She was pretty as well, in a pale, faerie-like way. She was tall, and willowy, and had white-blonde hair and the palest skin I’d ever seen to match. She was wearing an expensive coat and was carrying a designer handbag. She took her coat off as Simon stood up to give her a quick kiss and a hug. They made a cute couple, that’s for sure.
They sat down and I began to play. Some of the other people sitting around me looked up and smiled. One older gentleman, actually turned around and watched for a moment. The time flew by as I played solo concerto after solo concerto. Mendelssohn and Tchaikovsky. Simon told me in the email that he sent that he planned to propose after they had finished eating their main course. Then, the wait staff would come out with a little congratulatory dessert, and they’d kiss and leave. I’d get paid over Venmo, and then I’d leave too. Simple. Easy. Soon, their plates were clean and Simon looked right at me with those crazy-blue eyes. He made a little rolling motion with his hand, and I launched into Salut D’Amour.