𝚳𝐎𝐙𝚨𝐑𝐓 𝚾 𝚮𝚨𝐘𝐃𝚴 𝐎𝚴𝐄𝐒𝚮𝐎𝐓𝐒

CHAP 1 - "Papa"

(no comment... Wtf is wrong with me? This was made at 3 am.)

Franz sighed contently, thinking about his previous day. Last night he arrived at Mozart’s apartment in Vienna, and it had just gotten better from there.
The trip was for work purposes, of course. And momentarily they did work. Really, they did. They started their day off early, waking up at the crack of dawn and tuning their instruments, prepared to practise, compose, and learn from each other. Mozart helped Haydn better his rusty violin work, instructing him delicately on arpeggios and shifting he’d never advanced enough to learn, polishing his vibrato, and paying the closest attention to TTdetail on improving his sound.
Next, Haydn taught Mozart a couple chords on the Harpsichord. Well, not that they had gotten very far. At first, it seemed easy to learn the instrument, and convenient that they just had one lying around, eternally untouched.
At some point, however, when Haydn put his hands on Mozart's, that was when they realised just how much they'd missed each other.
From then on, the two spent the rest of their day getting to know each other again, and enjoying the limited time they had together.

And now, at the end of the day, with countless restless hours spent and wasted, they lie embraced together, their limbs intertwined. Haydn was nearly lethargic, and all to the mercy of his little composer, as his subconscious put it, though he'd never say such a thing out loud.

And now he watched as Mozart slowly nodded off to sleep, exhausted by their long day.

Franz looked down at Wolfgang, whose head was nestled peacefully on Franz’s chest, his arms wrapped around the older man. Franz watched as his eyelids visibly grew heavier and heavier, fluttering tiredly, as if the Earth meant to tease Haydn, showing off what he could never have to himself.

Realising his silence, Haydn ran his fingers through Mozart's hair, softly and slowly rubbing his back in time to his tranquil heartbeat, thumping against the other man's chest.

Mozart mumbled something softly, and Haydn looked down at him.

“What was that, Wolfgang?”

“Papa…”

Haydn blinked, fully stunned. A deep flush creeped up his neck, and his breath hitched. Surely this meant nothing but a testament to their intimate friendship, he thought. But a part of him wondered if this meant any more.
“D-did you just call me-”
Haydn stammered, finally allowing himself to speak up, before he was interrupted once more.
“I love you, Franz.”
Mozart mumbled into his friend, closing his eyes finally before drifting off to sleep.

And so the room was filled with nothing but the silence of their breathing, as Haydn found himself growing just as tired.
“I- Aussi. I love you too, Wolfie. I love you too.”

And with that, the world seemed to stop. Haydn yawned as he leaned back, wondering if they'd ever bring up this night again. He knew it wouldn't matter, though, as he was just glad to sleep alongside his Mozart.

FIN, 495 WORDS