Chapter XXIII

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The old horse carer greets them at the stables half an hour later, always happy to have Darren around. He doesn't hide his surprise at the other boy, but Darren offers little explanation. The carer leads them to JJ's spot and leaves them alone with a bow of his head.

Janine Jansen the horse—not the renowned violinist—neighs at them, proudly shaking her cinnamon brown hair. Darren offers a hand, with a few sugar cubes on the palm, and she lowers her head to get them. Lee watches the whole exchange with an impressed expression.

"Right, I'll introduce you guys," Darren says, taking a step back. "Janine, this is Lee Jung, a friend of mine. He's a bit of a jerk, but I promise he'll be on his best behavior for you today."

Unsurprisingly enough, the horse doesn't answer.

"Go on, she wants you to pet her," he tells the pianist and gives him a little push.

Lee stumbles a step forward and lifts his head at the horse, visibly intimidated. After gathering some courage, he draws a hand near the side of her face, and approaches her slowly. The horse doesn't back away, so Lee pets her with careful gestures.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jansen," he whispers. "Big fan of yours."

It takes a bit of convincing on Darren's part but, through a bet and some teasing, he finally gets Lee to agree to ride JJ.

"Fucking hell this is so high," the boy complains for the seventh time, when they're strolling on the fields outside the stables. "Why are horses so big. Oh my god. I hate this. I hate you. I hate heights. I hate the fucking cold. I wanna die."

Darren snickers under his breath. With Lee on JJ's back, Darren leads the way by foot, grabbing onto the horse's reins. They go very slow, though that doesn't stop Lee for nearly panicking the whole time.

"Jeez, calm down," he says. "Did you know horses are omnivores?"

"What?!"

The boy goes sickly pale, and Darren can't help but bursting into giggles. He gets a glare in response, which doesn't deter him a single bit.

"Idiot. I actually have no idea, but better not take the risk," he shrugs. Lee clicks his tongue.

It starts getting late, so they make their way back to the stables with little conversation. An assistant takes JJ back to her place to spend the night, as the horse carer bids them goodbye and encourages them to come back soon.

"Janine is very important for young Mr. Kohn," he tells Lee, as if Darren wasn't right there. "He doesn't let just anyone meet her, let alone take her for a walk. You should consider yourself very lucky, boy."

Before Lee gets a chance to answer, Darren gestures wildly and pushes him outside, smiling at the horse carer with the promise of being back sometime in the future.

The sky is already a dark lead color when they get to Darren's place once more. The heating envelops them in a warm hug, they shrug off a few layers of clothing upon crossing the doorstep and head to the kitchen. There's no talk of more practice at this point.

"Okay, we need to be well-rested for tomorrow, so no falling asleep on the couch today," Lee states after dinner, pausing the movie they'd picked. "Show me to my room."

Darren does as told, leading the pianist to the guest room he prepared this morning with the fluffiest blankets he owns so he wouldn't complain about the cold. While Lee goes to the bathroom to get ready for the night, Darren does the same, back in his bedroom. Once he's brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas, he drops by the guest room again. It's still rather early to go to sleep.

Lee sits with his back leaning on the bed's headboard, looking at something in his phone. Soft strands of hair fall on his forehead, the black and red sleeves of his pajamas reach his knuckles, and he overall looks smaller than usual. It tugs at Darren's heartstrings enough to stop him at the doorway to stare for a little.

"Do you think we're gonna fuck up tomorrow?" Lee's question startles him.

"Maybe," Darren shrugs, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Really fucking comforting," he scoffs.

Darren smiles. "Does it matter? It'll happen in the moment, there's nothing we can do now about it."

Lee puts his phone on the pillow next to him. He still looks so small, so soft in his bed clothes, not really fragile but like something that should be taken care of, like something Darren could wrap in his arms and hold close. He grips the bed covers to stop himself from actually doing it.

"Your nihilism is so weird."

"I don't know what that is," Darren says, getting an eye-roll for all answer.

After a second of hesitation, he drops on his back and his head ends up somewhere near the pianist's folded knees. From here, he looks up at Lee and gets a great view of his jawline and his neck. Not that he notices. Still, his eyes latch to the movement of the Lee's Adam's apple when he swallows—so maybe he notices a little.

"I wish my mother could hear us play, even if we do horribly."

"Yeah. I wish my parents could too," he whispers. When Lee lowers his head to meet his eyes, a stray lock of hair falls on his face. Darren raises a hand, pushes the strand back and keeps it there, his fingertips brushing over Lee's skin.

Letting out a slow breath, the boy's mouth curls in a faint smile, tiny gesture that makes heat bloom in the pit of Darren's stomach. He can feel the heat creeping up to his neck when Lee moves a hand to touch his cheek. Darren closes his eyes for a second, in silent permission for him to do whatever he wants. Opening them again, he finds something in Lee's midnight eyes, something he so desperately wants to call fondness he does it, just for now—lets himself believe it.

The pads of Lee's fingers graze over his cheekbone, trail down to his jaw, up to his nose. He's definitely red now, and having trouble keeping his breath even. Maybe the pianist doesn't know, what he does to Darren, how he makes electricity buzz under his skin everywhere he touches. Maybe the pianist doesn't know, how hard Darren is fighting against the urge to lean forward, push himself up on his elbows and- well, he doesn't have to know, either.

All his thoughts scramble when Lee's fingers reach the corner of his mouth. He searches the boy's eyes, but Lee doesn't meet his gaze. After a second of sizzling tension, a fingertip ghosts over his lower lip. Darren swallows down a gasp, afraid any movement or sound might break the moment.

Lee traces the shape of his mouth with trembling fingers. Darren's eyes flutter closed for a second, but he endeavors to open them again, staring fixedly at Lee's face, watching the flicker in his eyes and the way his tongue darts out for just an instant. His heartbeat stutters at the sight.

The touch grows more confident, just a tiny bit, and Lee presses two fingertips on his mouth.

Without thinking, a little because he can't, and a little because he wants this so much it's driving him insane, Darren kisses his fingers. Lee's eyes fly back to his, and he holds his gaze with all the courage he has left.

"You'll do great tomorrow," he whispers against the fingertips still on his mouth.

The pianist doesn't answer.

They stay like that for another minute before Darren considers he should maybe leave. If Lee shakes off this weird, calm state of his, things could get awkward. Still, the sole idea of parting now twists his stomach into a knot. He takes a breath to prepare himself, because maybe he should leave, maybe he should let the pianist get some rest instead of—instead of whatever this is, and yet.

Don't let me leave, he begs silently, unsure if the feeling slips through his gaze. Please, don't let me leave.

Then again, maybe he should. He's resigning himself to that much when:

"Stay until I fall asleep?"

He smiles against his will, and Lee pokes at the corner of the gesture.

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