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Antonio Salieri kept thinking to himself, I'm getting old. 35 was frankly not a bad age at all, but the new year was coming, and in a blink of an eye another year would be added onto him. His body became crankier and he couldn’t stay up too late anymore. Furthermore, being around Wolfgang Amadè Mozart would probably make most people feel older than they actually were. He sighed and massaged the back of his neck, the reason of soreness clearly caused by not having his head placed properly on the pillow when Mozart was spooning him from the back yesterday.
The next second, Mozart, draped with a huge fluffy blanket, came running at him much like a flying squirrel and wrapped his arms around him, as if Salieri was his favourite tree ever.
"How I've missed you!"
"... You’ve literally been hugging me for the past 2 hours and only left to get a snack for 30 seconds."
"Yes, and?"
He sighed again and ruffled Mozart’s hair as the younger man buried his face at his shoulder with a satisfied hum.
Christmas had passed, and Mozart had gone back to Salzburg and returned to their Vienna apartment to cuddle with him snugly. This was their second year together, and after some awkwardness Mozart had decided that it was still too early for Salieri to see his father. As for himself, he was visiting his brother in Italy, so not the worst excuse for not showing up to see his possible future father-in-law. The energetic rock singer couldn’t stay at Salzburg until after the new year for one reason and another, but his most pressing commitment was to be back at Vienna for a concert on the last day of the year.
After Mozart happily munched on some Christmas cookies Salieri had baked earlier and spent 5 minutes seemingly dozing off on his shoulder, he jumped off the couch more lively than ever, grabbing Salieri to get changed for their ice skating date. This was only their second year together, but the days in between Christmas and new year had firmly become the designated cozy time just for the two of them, where they kept things slow and relaxing, which was not the easiest thing for both of them. Salieri was a workaholic of a music professor and got himself quite occupied with researching, composing, and reading outside of teaching, and Mozart was… well he was Mozart, and steady and slow were not how you described someone with a rockstar soul.
On the outside they seemed the total opposite, but on the inside there was a similar sense of restlessness flowing through their veins that drove them forward constantly. They were two different forces to be reckoned with in their own rights. So it was nice last night, when Mozart gleefully sat down with him to watch a new documentary series on dinosaurs he had been looking forward to, but fell asleep halfway through the second episode, not due to boredom but the sense of comfortable tranquillity. Then he heard the younger man mumbling in his sleep: Antonio… that’s too much chocolate… and felt sort of called out. (But at the end of the year was the only time he fully indulged himself, so, not guilty.)
Even as several Christmas markets had closed by this point, the streets of Vienna were still adorned with a vibrant display of lights, like an open air palace filled with Rococo exuberance. As Mozart got more and more famous, winter was comparatively much easier for him to hide his face. Most of his straw blond hair including the iconic longer strand on the side were tucked into a dark blue winter hat, and half of his face was buried under a big scarf. Salieri was just happy the streets were not as crowded, and they walked quietly in each other’s company.
They enjoyed watching figure skating together as well as skating together. He had to agree with Mozart that he would look great in one of those sparkly figure skater outfits, although his wardrobe was already filled with equally dazzling, if not more flamboyant fits. Any time he would like to go to Mozart’s concert, a VIP seat was guaranteed. (As opposed to, Mozart randomly showing up at his university and pretending to be a student.) Oftentimes he felt incompatible in the bustling crowd, but as he watched Mozart blossom and shine on the stage, he often secretly thought take my heart and take all that I have.
“I want to go to the zoo.” That was the first thing Mozart said after they got on the ice. “I want to take photos with a goat standing on my back.”
The reality was obviously much more complicated, but for Salieri, imagining Mozart under the spotlight, leather jacket with a spike collar, completely one with the music, and Mozart in a big plain coat with hay all over, crouching with a bunch of goats and with a baby goat on his back, laughing carelessly, were both easy and enjoyable.
“We can go tomorrow.”
“And I want to see you holding the rabbits!”
Now Salieri was very aware of the textures of the blades etching into the ice, which was something very grounding and tactile. He was never fully prepared for random waves of musing and sentimentality to hit, forcing him to be honest with his emotions. Being in a relationship with Mozart sometimes felt unreal and fantastical, and he often needed to look for reminders that it wasn’t all in his head. He reached out and held onto his lover’s hand firmly, something he was still often too anxious to do in public, but he didn’t want to care now. Additionally, he was really looking forward to petting those fluffy little rabbits. Mozart gave him a knowing smile so sweet and warm it could melt the whole ice field.
“What else do you want to do?”
“Take a walk around Schönbrunn? You alway enjoy that.”
He nodded and let the younger man pull him closer to peck on his cheek. There were some things… or perhaps many things he still kept secret, like beautiful snow globes locked in a bottom drawer. Things like how nice it would be to waltz with Mozart on the ice, at midnight, where there was no one, just the stars and moon and them. Maybe he could finally without any reservation, let out all his passion and affection. Although his waist would probably hurt the next day.
He took a break in the middle of the rink while Mozart zoomed around for several more laps. He couldn’t follow the speed and fluidity, and he watched the younger man glide across the field with magical, sparkling traces of Peter Pan. Irresistibly he found himself composing in his head as he watched. Harp, flutes, violins, they traced the motions of Mozart and surrendered to him.
“An-to-niooo!!”
His eyes went dark for a second when unexpectedly being attacked by a flash and quickly felt himself spinning like a Loony Tunes character in some sort of slapstick altercation, and the culprit was holding onto his waist tightly. He thankfully stopped the undignified gasp from escaping but unfortunately couldn’t stop spinning as a giggling Mozart kept adding momentum until he started seeing all sorts of stars, including the ones in the sky, sparkles from the dizziness, and well, the mischievous Mozart himself. Eventually he lost his footing, kicked his legs nervously and futilely, and both of them fell to the floor.
“Wolfgang Mozart…!” Exasperatedly he lay back on the hand that protected his head before hitting the floor.
“I’m sorry, Mein Schatz!”
Somewhat apologetically (even though he could tell he was trying not to laugh) Mozart kissed him on the nose and all over the cheeks. The temperature of his face had certainly reached the point of boiling from the embarrassment and demonstration of affection that were incredibly public. He didn’t want to know how many people actually saw it because even one person was already too many.
“You’re not seriously angry… are you?”
He glared at the younger man for a moment.
“Now help me up.”
He grabbed onto the hand and didn’t let go, taking the lead and setting the pace. Mozart seemed confused at first but soon started giggling and eventually led him to chuckle as well. They went around and around the rink talking about nonsensical and charming things, only letting go of their hands briefly when Mozart did his whimsical little spins from time to time.
“I like this.” Mozart exclaimed like an artist suddenly overwhelmed with a realization so mundane yet groundbreaking. “It makes me feel like we are swans gliding through a lake.”
Snow started falling like powdered sugar when they passed by a market for Glühwein and baked chestnuts after dinner. He had been in Vienna for so long and in many aspects much like a native, but chestnuts had always remained a warm link for him to Italy, and furthermore, they were also associated with senses of love and belonging. Snowflakes melted on his face, and he felt so alive in the most mellow way.
Salieri turned to gaze at Mozart, and the symphony of yellow, orange, and peach coloured lights magically enticed him. Much like the technique of sfumato of the old masters, the outline of Mozart was gently and softly embraced by the lights. The colours saturated his hair, making it glossier and shiner, as if blessed by fairies, and unconsciously he held his breath. Then the musician also turned to look at him with a playful grin, fully aware of his prolonged staring.
“The lights look good on you.” He darted his eyes but admitted honestly and sighed a little. “Can I take a picture?”
“You know that Wolfgang Amadè Mozart would never refuse a picture.” Mozart’s eyes lighted up and swiftly leaned down to kiss his hand. “Especially not from you.”
Not that he thought the subpar night vision mode on his phone camera could capture anything monumental, but the urge to seize the moment, to preserve the forms, hues, atmosphere, essence in any way was so compelling.
Smooching him on the cheek quickly, Mozart delightfully leaned on his shoulder to look at the photos on his phone.
“Not bad at all.”
“A good one for social media maybe?”
“Totally could be, but I don’t want to post it.” Sneakily circling his waist with both of his arms, the younger man continued. “This is for you only.”
He paused for a moment and looked back at the photos. The reality of Mozart being a celebrity often struck him in unpredictable moments, and being reserved and frankly possessive at times as he was, he couldn’t help but relish moments like this.
“Now! It’s my turn.”
“... What?”
“My turn to take photos of you.”
Before instinctively refusing right away, Salieri swallowed the words back. Especially after some incidents with paparazzis, which led to all of his students finding out who he was dating, he was averse to photos more than ever.
“Pleeease, Mein Schatz.” Seeing him motionless, Mozart blinked his puppy eyes. “My beautiful, graceful, lovely Antonio.”
The tips of his ears went red and he obliged. The way Mozart always managed to pierce through his cold and cynical surface, like how Gerda’s kiss and tears had melted Kai’s heart and released him from the mirror splinters, would never cease to surprise him. His heart’s yearning for the most forthright and passionate affection was being rediscovered, even if it might still take him a while to fully come to terms with it.
They headed home with warm satisfied hearts, and without missing a beat Mozart had pressed him on the door to kiss him. Their limbs and bodies entangle, like vines that nurtured the most gorgeous and tender of roses. Finally he landed a kiss on Mozart’s nose, but then with difficulty they, well mostly him, tried to walk across the living room while Mozart hung onto him like a koala asking for more kisses.
“Your kiss limit has been reached today. I’m going to take a shower now.”
“Wha- not fair Antonio!”
Although Mozart didn't seem completely happy and tried to protest, for now he complied with the no kiss rule. Salieri was reading the Oscar Wilde short story collection in bed when Mozart came out of the shower, hair damp and unruly. Mozart lay there like a big ginger cat, pretending he wasn’t peeking at Salieri and silently asking for attention. Eventually seeing no reaction from him, the younger man grabbed his phone and decided to use his stomach as a cushion. He sideyed him for a moment and went back to the book, or “The Canterville Ghost” more precisely. He couldn’t help but think that if Mozart were to meet a ghost, he could by himself carry out all the mischiefs done by the Otis family, and would probably write no less than two songs about the experience.
Mozart was still rolling on top of his stomach and enjoyed the position very much like a restless golden retriever. Mozart indeed was like a spectacular combination of many animals, but the golden retriever was for sure a big portion of it. Half-heartedly, Salieri ran his hand down Mozart’s back and quickly they both comfortably settled into the motion. Two years had passed by quickly since Mozart had revealed that his best hit love song was about him and begged him to at least give a try at this relationship, to his initial apprehension. Fights happened as they always did, especially between two stubborn people like them, but after one guitar had fallen victim to their anger by accident, which wasn’t smashed by everyone but by Salieri falling over, untimely and dramatically toppling over chairs, table, and guitar, the weirdly tense, comedic, and sad moment had really taught them a lesson.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand, and he knew it must be Mozart sending him something. He ignored it and the phone vibrated again, and then a second time. With the anticipation of Mozart grinning like a Cheshire Cat he picked up his phone. It was a crying cat meme, a picture with two cats hugging with the caption “this is us you have no choice”, and lastly a picture with a kitten lying on its back with the caption “cause of death no kisses.” Just barely giving him any time to read them and react, Mozart decided to pounce on him and kissed his cheeks several times.
“You wouldn’t let me die from no kisses, would you?”
He sighed at Mozart, who was currently using his elbows to prop himself up above him with a big, zealous smile. In an incredibly swift movement, even to his surprise, Salieri circled his arms around Mozart’s neck, flipped both of them over to the pillow beside, kissed the man, and then quickly got up again to turn off the light.
“Now where did you learn to do that?” In the dark, Mozart’s thumbs searched for his lips, his voice containing a sense of joyful amazement.
“There’s only one person I could possibly learn from isn’t it.”
The younger man giggled and kissed him again.
“Tomorrow, I’ll make us pancakes for breakfast.” Mozart continued slowly. “With strawberries and whip cream.”
“Then I’ll make risotto for dinner. With antipasto salad and champagne.”
Mozart naturally squeezed himself in between his arms, and tonight Salieri was the big spoon. He adjusted his neck deliberately until it felt almost right and hoped for the best.
“Good night.”
“Good night, love you.”
The new year was arriving very soon, and everything would become bustling and hectic, but for now there was no expectation and concern for anything, just them simply being together, peacefully and slowly.