Simply Beautiful (Mozart x Salieri)

Chapter 4: Needing Explanations

They were trembling. His hands. Not enough to be furiously or outlandishly so but enough to be noticeable, as if a thousand tiny shivers were going throughout his palms and fingers without his consent.

Salieri had refused looking upon his opponent as his only priority right at the moment was to forcefully calm his nervous appendages by gripping harshly onto the fabric of his silk velvet trousers. But of course, it seemed to do little difference.

"You know..."

Somehow even despite his already rigid composure, Antonio tensed even more.

"I always found you sort of... odd, Maestro." Salieri could practically feel the slightly shorter man's careful eyes upon him.

"A lover of; the arts, our Lord & saviour and everything that is so beautiful. Even yourself a creator of beauty sometimes. And yet..." He took a small breath. "Such a stiff, boring, uptight and dull person. Only focusing on pleasing his superiors instead of becoming one himself. A famous composer yet a complete nobody to everyone in th—"

"Enough. Are you trying to prove a point with this? Or are you just trying to patronize me Amadeus?"

Antonio didn't need to hear much until his gaze was cold and furious. So, he had practically barked his words back at the young one.
He should've known... this was just an excuse. All of this had just led to the little humanoid devil humiliating him yet again.

"I would appreciate that you don't interrupt me so I could get to my point Sir."


"And I would appreciate you to shut your--!"

But he stopped himself when he saw Mozart's expression. Wolfgang looked so uncharacteristically serious and calm as he stared unblinkingly at Salieri's raged features. Salieri's lips automatically locked themselves together, almost as if ashamed. Ashamed??? He should not be feeling such thing! He should fight back! Yet...


As if on queue the one with the grey wig cocked and nodded his head with satisfaction. Leading the conversation to whichever topic he so pleased, and there wasn't much the older could say about it.

"What I was getting to was; I don't understand your presence around me Signior. You could be out there making at least three times the amount of music you make now! Probably making a name for yourself in most likely even more countries! . . . . . If you just weren't so distracted. By me...? Of all people?"


"I'm not—"


"Sir Salieri please, let's not play pretend.
You're not very good at that game."


A final huff at the end of it made Wolfgang's point clear.


To say that the older was baffled was a great understatement, so much had happened in just 2 hours that it was honestly bewildering that the oldest composer had held himself together by now.

But for once, he wasn't going snarl. Nor scoff. Nor... dismiss. (Or try not to at least.) He had not only been backed into a corner, but he had also practically been sealed there. So, for once...... fate had to be eventually accepted.

There was a pause.

"I..."

His fingers traced over his own hand, tapping small gentle strokes on violet petals.

"I've always— I have always despised your entire existence. All since the day I saw you in person for the very first time. I've never felt so much hatred for a human being."

Finally. Finally, God, he had finally said it. So many, yet so few words had been plaguing and tormenting his mind for years and now they were finally out there! He could cry of joy right now; no matter the pride, as a man, he had to hold so meticulously.

Yet his mouth was now dry, making him gulp slowly and anxiously. He shan't stop now, he couldn't. Even if someone tried to stop him.

"You're... such a sniveling little child!"

In a fast motion that he barely registered himself; Salieri dramatically stood up.

"So talented yet so ungrateful. So annoying and... dumb!!! You understand nothing of what you've been given! AND YET; the emperor still wants you around. AND YET; God gave you every wealth imaginable. I despise you and everything you stand for."

 

Antonio turned around and hands practically clawing in Amadeus direction as if imagining them around his throat. Eyes filled with such unrelenting hatred and sorrow it was indescribable.

"I want you dead Wolfgang."

 

"I want to see your eyes drain till they are lifeless. I want to see the devils from the underworld drag you by the ankles, down to the pits of hell where you always belonged. And witness your godly musical talents get ripped away mercilessly. Suffer. Suffer. SUFFER. Suffer until you have no clue of what 'mercy' is anymore Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!!! "

"Because; that is... what you deserve."

Throat so dry. Breaths were hitching uncomfortably. Whole body was shaking furiously.

Tears.
Prickling irritably in the corner of the eyes.

There was no words exchanged.
Of course. There was no need for it.

God, Salieri felt sick.

Why wasn't it satisfying?
Why did it hurt???
It shouldn't--

Why was he smiling?

"Oh my stars. Is that all?"

A few petals were plucked idly from the bush beside the hammock. The famous man smacked his lips, making a small pop noise. Looking down at the now dead petals in his hand, he blew them carefully off his hand; letting the warm wind guide the direction of their path. Finally, he blinked slowly and smiled all so kindly at the standing one before him.

"My dear Maestro, I've always known about that."