Week 2: Feliciano/Roderich

In front of him, standing over the piano's keyboard, was the score titled "Piano sonata no.14 in C min - Molto Allegro". On the keyboard, the boy's fingers were running fast up and now, jumping from the black keys to the white ones as they were playing some kind of game.

Feliciano loved that sonata, loved how its mood changed from serious to playful in a few chords. Now, he knew he was playing it a little bit too freely - although it was Mozart, it still was '700's music, so it was probably supposed to be played a bit more, uhm, by the rules? But he enjoyed playing it so much...

He stopped as he reached the end of the first movement, looking at his teacher expectantly, wondering whether Roderich was going to hit him on the head with the metronome or if he would spare him for once.

Roderich stood silently next to the piano, lips pressed together in a slight frown. It wasn't necessarily an indication that he was upset or annoyed; that was just how he tended to look. He had his arms firmly folded, but one foot tapped out a quiet metronome on the wooden floor as his student played. Feliciano was perhaps a little over eager in his performance, but there was no denying the boy had skill, and besides, Roderich liked the piece. He wasn't about to say anything like that out loud, of course. He had standards to maintain.

As Feliciano paused and looked up at him, Roderich waited a few seconds before passing judgement. He'd known the boy- young man, now, really- for quite a while now, and he'd always been too exuberant for his liking. Still, he loved music, which was something Roderich could appreciate. Eventually, he found something to say about the performance.

'You were a little too fast, and if you don't rein it in you'll find yourself making mistakes. Watch your tempo.' He paused, and continued. 'However...on the whole, nicely played. The piece suits you. Just make sure you practice it. Sleep a little less and play a little more, perhaps.'

He was as stern as ever, but from him, this was practically great praise.

Feliciano nodded energetically. He almost always put on his metronome when he practiced, to say the truth, but then he just... forgot to follow it. Or maybe he was so concentrated on his own sense of the music that he didn't pay attention to it anymore, after a while.

Pleased by the result, Feliciano smiled as he turned the page of his Mozart Sonatas' book to start playing the second movement. He had known Roderich for a long time, and now he could dare to interpret the slight changes in his teacher's expression: it looked like he appreciated his execution this time. The Italian took in great consideration everything that Roderich could teach him about music and was pretty eager to learn as much as he could - although he had his own way to do it, sometimes, and his ways were normally very far from what his teacher considered the right method for practicing.

The Adagio was slower, and Feliciano took his time to let the melody develop and trace its lines, the notes following obediently his fingers as he paused between a phrase and the next one.
He hoped his teacher would like the second movement as well, and if he had baked some of the delicious Sachertorte he could make so well... Sachertorte... the thought of that heavenly delicacy distracted him for a second, and he ended up failing badly a couple of chords.

Standing quietly once more, Roderich let his eyes close, resting a hand on the instrument and listening carefully to the next piece. He drummed his fingers against the wood of his precious parlour grand, something he'd never let a student touch without his supervision. As he listened, his mind began to wander slightly; for all his stern and rule-abiding appearance, he was given to daydreaming rather often. He denied it, of course.

In this instance, he began to muse on what he had in his kitchen to go with tea later on, and what were the chances of his Stradivarius being repaired within the week, and hadn't he lent a book to Ludwig a month ago, what happened to that...in fact, without realising it, the slow, pleasant melody was almost making him doze off.

At least, until Feliciano's fingers slipped, waking Roderich up with a start. He jumped, glasses sliding to one side and leaving him with a lopsided appearance, and he turned to blink confusedly at his student. 'What was...oh.'

Pulling himself together, he took off his glasses and polished them, giving Feli an irritated look. 'Were you daydreaming again?' he asked, conveniently ignoring the fact that he'd been doing exactly the same thing.

Feliciano startled as Roderich addressed him sternly, and stopped playing. The music had almost made him forget where he was, and that his teacher was just in front of him.
He rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. What a stupid mistake to make, he thought.

"I'm sorry, I believe I'm a bit hungry." he answered honestly. He glanced at the clock - it still wasn't time for tea and biscuits and cakes and everything else, but Feliciano had to have lunch early in order to have his siesta earlier to be on time for the lesson with Roderich... (and no, he couldn't avoid the siesta, otherwise he would end up falling asleep during the lesson or something)

"I was just wondering if you prepared any of your specialities...?" Of course he came to Roderich's place to learn music. The fact that he did also amazing cakes was just an extra. A very enticing extra, to say the truth.
"Aaaanyway, I'll go on with the piece, uh?"

Roderich raised an eyebrow at Feliciano's boldness. If he'd been anyone else, Roderich would have chastised them quite sharply, but he was simply used to Feli thinking with his stomach. He checked the clock; it was too early, and he knew he ought to make Feliciano continue with the lesson, but the truth was his own mind kept straying to the kitchen. A short break wouldn't hurt.

'...If you're hungry, we can stop for a little while. As it happens, there is a torte ready in the kitchen,' he said, voice a little softer now. Feli had been playing well, after all; and apart from anything else, it was quite hard for even Roderich to be harsh with him. The boy seemed to have an endearing quality about him. In fact, people often found themselves tempted to ruffle his hair, although Roderich would restrain himself from going quite that far.

He sighed, and gestured behind him towards his living room. 'Go on through, I'll prepare something for you. But then we're coming back out here, and you're going to practice until you can play this piece perfectly, understand?'

Feliciano clapped his hands as he jumped on his feet. "Wonderful! Thank you so much!"

Now, Feliciano couldn't really do a top-ten of his favorite dishes, and not even a top-twenty, probably - a part from pasta, which was on the top of everything of course, but pasta wasn't really only a dish, but more a way of living, a nutritional philosophy, a something that was already involved in everything else.
Anyway, a good slice of Sachertorte (with whipped cream, possibly) surely ranked on the top of his personal list of best cakes and pastries of the known world.

"I'm sure I'll play amazingly after the break~"

To underline his gratitude, he didn't spare Roderich from a short hug. He sort of knew that the man wasn't that inclined to this kind of effusions, but Feliciano couldn't restrain. When he was happy - and the idea of a Sachetorte in the other room was a really good reason to be happy indeed - he had to share his happiness to the world.
This done, he trotted to the kitchen, already smelling the sweet flavor of the cake that had been baked there.

'Yes, yes, just don't break any- oh, good grief-' Roderich broke off as Feliciano hugged him, before bounding off to the living room. He made an irritated huffing noise as he straightened his cravat; he'd had words with Feli before about personal space and inappropriate conduct, but they never seemed to sink in. He shook his head in exasperation- although, if he was completely honest, he didn't mind that much. Sighing, he headed into the kitchen and began to make tea, setting a tray with elegant china and various delicacies from his cupboards. Pride of place was given to two generous servings of Sachertorte; after a second's thought, he added cream and a dusting of sugar. He rather prided himself on his hospitality when it came to things like this.

When the tea was ready, he carefully took the tray into the living room, balancing it deftly on one arm as he opened the door. Setting it down on the coffee table, he gave Feliciano a brief smile before sitting on one of his small, old-fashioned couches and pouring the tea. 'There we are. Help yourself to cakes. Do you take milk and sugar?' It had been quite a while since he'd had tea with Feliciano, now that he came to think of it; he found himself wondering what the boy had been up to lately. Probably eating, sleeping and maybe painting, he thought, almost affectionately.

Feliciano stared as Roderich entered the living room with the tray. He stood up and stepped towards him to help, then thought better of it - it could end in a disaster, and he didn't want to crash Roderich's elegant china and, most of all, the cake.

"Sugar only, grazie~" he replied at the other's question. He carefully raised one of the small and refined plates with the Sachertorte and took a first bite.
"Fantastica! Why are your cakes always so delicious?! Although I've tried backing this a lot of times, it will never be as good as yours~" he commented, still holding the tip of the fork between his lips. Really, he had followed the recipe, taking care of the smallest details, but the way that torte could come out so delicate and sweet and tender from Roderich's hands still looked to him like a miracle.

He glanced at Roderich, before taking carefully the hot tea cup between his fingers. He wondered what he did in that house for the whole day, a part from playing his piano and backing cakes. Well, these two activities already took a lot of time, for sure.

"I regret not coming here more often, lately. Not only for the cake, I mean."

Roderich allowed himself another small smile at Feliciano's praise. 'Thank you,' he said quietly, stirring sugar into his tea. 'It's just a hobby of mine; I suppose it comes with practice. You're quite welcome to some any time you like, by the way; I always make too much. You ought to take some home with you.' His refridgerator and pantry were almost always overstocked, and he had a choice between over eating, giving some away or risking Gilbert raiding his kitchen constantly. That last thought was frankly horrifying.

He helped himself to his own slice of cake, taking a small bite and watching Feliciano over the rim of his glasses. Wondering what the boy had meant, Roderich thought carefully about it before replying. 'You're welcome here whenever you wish to visit,' he said slowly. 'But aside from the music lessons- and the cake, of course,' he added with a slight smile, 'there's not much here to entertain you, is there?'

Roderich liked the quiet peacefulness of his house, but even he could admit it got a bit boring at times. The trouble came from living alone; when he'd shared his home with others, there had always been noise or company. Often both at once, he recalled, and he wasn't just thinking of the ruckus Gilbert usually caused. There had been a lot more fun in his house, back in the day, but not quite the kind one could bring up over tea and cake.

"Ah, really? Thank you!" Feliciano stared in happiness at the delicious cake part of which was going to be his own property in a while. Lucky afternoon~ "I know what you mean, though. When you cook or make something, it's a pity to make small portions only... on the other hand, then you can end up wasting the food..." he considered, taking another piece of cake. "Luckily, between me and my brother, we almost never let any food go to waste."

Feliciano looked surprised at the other's indirect question.
"Well, I don't want you to think I come here only for the cake, even if it is so delicious that it would be a sufficient reason in itself~" he giggled, then offered Roderich a more serious smile. "What I meant is that I should come over here just to greet you or spend some time chatting with you, sometimes. We're neighbors, after all!" he said, shaking his fork up and down. "If I'm welcomed, that is." but then again, if Roderich accepted him as his music's student in spite of his mistakes, he could let him in for something that didn't involve discordant chords and stuff alike.

He took another bite and then sipped some tea. The best thing to drink while eating Sachertorte was still hot chocolate, in his opinion, but tea was good as well.