The Berliner Philharmoniker

My dad wanted to talk to me. Every time he said that, it didn't turn out right. It was absolutely aggravating just trying to figure out what he was going to talk about. No, he isn't hiring a professional to read your texts, so relax.

"Have a seat, son," he said.

History was repeating itself, I lowered myself onto the seat—the couch opposite from his own.

His eyes fleeted to me, pinning me to the spot. If I wasn't thinking so much, I'd say there was remorse in them. "I'm sorry," he said.

"What?" I asked, not really believing what I'd just heard.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I was a little paranoid." It was more than that in my opinion. "It was wrong of me to have you followed." Yeah damn wrong. "You deserve your privacy and for that I'm sorry."

I had to remind myself that this wasn't a dream and I heard him right. My father looked at me a little bit waveringly and I couldn't help but feel the worry emanating from him. I nodded and forced the words out of my mouth, my tongue feeling heavy. "It's fine, dad."

"Really?" He asked and I was reminded that he loved me. Enough to seem scared I wasn't going to be able to forgive him.

"Yes, but only that part. I still won't forgive you if you think it's wrong for him to be around me because something like his skin tone is different from mine." I felt my hands tighten to fists all on their own, a million and one arguments right at the tip of my tongue, just waiting to explode.

"And I'm proud of you for saying that. But I honestly hoped you didn't make friends with him, I meant that part. I called him poor because I could tell...I had him followed because I had to make sure you were safe. None of it had anything to do with the colour of his skin."

Underneath my frustration and annoyance, was relief. "I only have two questions," I said and my dad nodded. He seemed eager to comply with anything I said, mostly to make amends, so this was my golden chance. He told me to go ahead and ask, so I did. "So what if he is 'poor'?"

"They always try to take advantage of you, one way or another," my dad replied with a far away look in his eyes like he'd seen this particular thing happen many times before. "That's why I believe our worlds should never mix."

"He's not like that!" I replied, my statement laced with more heat than I intended to insert. If I even intended to.

Dad only looked at me with mild surprise, indicated by the slight rise of his eyebrows like he wasn't expecting me to defend Kayden so ferociously. I wasn't either. "I'll take your word for it, for now," he replied. "And I'll promise you here, that I won't have you and him followed again. If you continue to be...er...friends, then eventually I have to meet him, I'll see for myself then, why you like him so much. Maybe you could invite him here."

               My heart almost dropped to my feet when he said that statement. But it should have been harmless, right?

"No...not now...not yet," I replied. "I'll think about it." What I didn't say was that I'd prefer to keep him away from any notion of judgment for as long as I could help it.

"And the second question?" He asked calmly.

"What happened?" I asked. "Why are you so obsessed with my safety?"

Dad looked like the air had been sucked from his lungs. He shook his head, trying to gather himself. "I'm just looking out for you."

"We both know it's more than that," I said, trying really hard to stand my ground.

"I'm trying," he said more quietly.

"That does not answer my question," I replied. "What made you so paranoid? Is someone trying to kill me for some reason unbeknownst to me?"

"No! No one is trying to kill you..." he said. It was a little too defensive for my liking.

"Well?"

"I... I just want to keep you safe," dad replied just when I thought he was going to give in, making me feel defeated, because we both knew that was all he was going to say about the issue. It only fed my curiosity, but as usual, I quietened it.

It looked like an idea struck dad and he turned to me. In an effort to steer the conversation away from where it was just a few seconds ago, he said, "How about we spend some quality time together?"

I folded my legs on the couch and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I sighed internally, willing myself not to start an argument about why he didn't exactly give me a truthful answer. "What do you have in mind?" I asked. Please be fun, please be fun, please be fun.

"Let's go shooting ducks," he replied enthusiastically.

"Uh no. Ew. People don't do that anymore," I said with all the disinterest I could muster at the moment—it was a lot—hopefully the message got through.

The look on my face must have been repulsive enough, because he laughed. "I wasn't being serious, but now I know never to bring it up."

Before I could nod my relief, my mum just sort of waltzed into the room at that moment, her blue dress billowing down to her ankles like she was about to sweep the floor with it, but not quite. She had pretty white heels with straps on them. I knew that even if I stood right next to her with them still on, I'd still almost tower over her.

She sat on my dad's lap and closed her hands around his neck, focusing her gaze entirely on him. Even after all these years, they still had so much chemistry. I didn't have to contemplate, I knew all of his attention was hers. By the time he was smiling up at her like that, with an arm around her like there was no way she was getting away.

"Hey honey," he said and kissed her.

I cringed and shrunk further into my seat, putting up a hand to cover one side of my face to prevent looking at them from my peripheral. It could take a while if they got like this. My dad only had eyes for my mom, that much I knew because I've watched women throw themselves at him, it was one of the few times I saw him actually be cold. And then my mom walks in, and he's reduced to a thoughtless, smiling machine. Mom loved him too, but in my opinion, he loved her a lot more than she did.

They finally acknowledged my presence again when my mom turned to me. She smiled like she had just noticed her little baby was awake or in her presence. "Let's all go out," she said and my dad perked up. There was no question now, we were doing this.

There is a reason why I always steered clear whenever they made their plans; no one else had the ability to make you feel out of place like my parents could. But with the excitement I sensed pouring out of my dad, I knew there was no getting out of this one.

After approximately fifteen minutes of throwing around ideas of where to go, my mom finally decided on the orchestra, and we both agreed.

For all the times I dreaded doing what my parents preferred to do, I actually enjoyed going to the orchestra. There was always something about the entire performance that managed to always blow me away every single time.

Tonight there was to be a private concert performed by the Berliner Philharmoniker in a location I didn't bother to ask my dad. I was only excited to see Simon Rattle conduct in the phenomenal way he knew how to. I did hear a rumour that he'd retired but he was conducting this particular performance so I was more than thrilled.

Both my dad and I were dressed in black suits which for some reason accentuated our resemblance to outstanding levels. My mom looked lovely in her deep red dress and barely any jewelry. I wish we'd taken pictures before coming here. See, I'm not so anti-family after all.

I was introduced to a few new faces before the performance started. It always feels like there's always someone I have to meet for the first time every time I go out with my parents. It always takes a while, and it probably doesn't show how much I dread it but I just suffer through it in silence. Eventually it came to an end and we settled down, me between my parents.

From the moment I sat down and the music started, there was no other way to put it. I was entranced. I wasn't expecting the performance to bring to surface so many memories but it did and it was all I could do not to get too overwhelmed. I thought of my dad, and the number of times he'd lifted me in his arms and tucked me into bed. I didn't think we'd fight so much when I got older but we did, and I was thankful that no matter how many harsh words we exchanged...underneath all that were endless layers of love. I reached out and covered his hand with mine, realizing the slight differences in the sizes—mine couldn't properly cover his.

My dad let out an emotional sound and brought his other hand over mine, so that now, my hand was being sandwiched by both of his. We didn't say anything, but it was enough.

Before I could search out my mom's hand, she extended hers to mine and this time covered my hand with hers instead. On any other ordinary day, I would have felt nothing short of suffocated by this moment, but right now, it felt comfortable and secure.

I thought of Andre and just how many times he'd read me to sleep. How he was always there, how much he obviously cared more about me than his own job. How much I wish he was right here. There's no grown up whose company I enjoyed like I did his.

And then I thought of Kayden. At that point I'm sure it wasn't just inside my head, the music intensified. As if searing his bright as day image deep into the crevices of mind, like it wasn't there already. I thought about how he had no reason to smell so good, or just look so good. His easy way with words, and how he definitely had no reason to rattle up all my insides just at the mere sight of him.

               From the time I met Kayden, there is a door that formed itself in my mind, but for some reason I could never open it. I strongly suspected what was inside it but never did I once open it, or attempt to. But right now, I was doing just that. I reached out for the door, slowly, cautiously, like I was afraid it would get away from me if I rushed. It felt like opening that door was going to reveal a few things I preferred hidden away, things about the boy I just met, things I couldn't bring myself to accept, or to admit.

And just when I was about to turn that knob , the theatre went still. Everything held its breath and the loudest sounds of silence filled the air, disrupting me from my thoughts, making me feel disoriented and taken aback. In my mind, I took a step away from that door, then took another...and then another. Maybe I'd come back, or maybe I would not, but it suspiciously felt like whether I did or not was going to be up to Kayden.

Coming back to my senses, or at least to the present, the first thing I realised was that I was breathing really hard trying to take in every single feeling and thought process at the same time.

I was probably the last person to stand up and applaud the performance. They were incredible, not that that word even began to describe it.

Dinner was in a restaurant a five minutes drive away from the location of the concert. It was barely enough time to process everything I was feeling at once coming from the orchestra, so much that my mom asked if everything was alright.

My dad was barely even looking at me after food was laid out on the table. I practically made the entire order for three as they were both too invested in each other. My dad nodded at the small things I said but I knew that all of his attention belonged to my mother at the moment.

During dinner, I was focused on my phone, looking at the last text between me and Kayden, refusing to be the one to respond, even if the conversation started out with him. Good; his last reply. I'd waited for more, but he said nothing else, and so I went to sleep at the time.

"Do you like it?" I looked up to see my dad looking at my mom lovingly, a black case open on her hands with a diamond necklace inside it. She nodded at my dad with her cheeks flushed, looking like a young girl experiencing love for the first time. My dad kissed her and I tried not to die of embarrassment.

"You're still apologizing to me right?" I asked my dad when he finally found the self control to release my mom. As if kissing felt so good that someone wouldn't want to stop. In my opinion, it's disgusting when it goes on for too long.

"Yeah yeah," he replied and made a dismissive gesture while he looked at her. Funny how I suddenly became the third wheel.

               Deep down I was grateful that they're focus was far from me and more towards each other as I could get lost in my own thoughts without anyone bothering me. It made me think about things, which didn't really help a lot because I couldn't come to any conclusion, but it was alright. And by the time we were leaving, I was exhausted and couldn't just wait to drop down onto my bed.

"Can I drive back with Andre?" I asked, ready to put up a fight if I got a negative answer. I was even ready to guilt trip him about how none of their focus was on me.

"Sure." I loved how my dad said it without hesitation. It somewhat felt like we were finally progressing.

Andre smiled with his entire face when I got into the car. "Did you have a good time?"

"I actually did," I answered. "It was incredible. My favorite part was when mom and dad forgot my existence for the rest of the night. I think I started looking like a pest at one point."

Andre's laugh tore out of him while he fastened his seatbelt. "Is that why you ran away from your third-wheeling duties?"

"No," I answered then put my hand on his on the steering wheel, forcing him to look at me. "I just wanted to be with you."

Andre stopped, as if his words died on his tongue. The realisation caught him a little too late. "I didn't–"

"Shut up I got you!" I said excitedly. "Now we're even. You should have seen your face!"

There wasn't much he could do to argue, so he clenched his jaw with a little smile. "Fine," he ground out, driving away from the parking space. "Have fun with it for now."

"Aw Andre..."

"My lord."

"Ugh, when are you going to drop that title?" I said a little bit exasperated. "You wouldn't like me giving you a title, just ask Kay–"

"Who's Kay?" Andre asked. I could tell I had all of his attention.

I tried to pretend that I wasn't lost for words, but I was. But who got tongue tied when they were asked about a friend? I quickly recovered to answer him before it became too awkward. "Kayden. He's my friend."

"Yeah?" Andre asks. "The one Killian–"

"Yes." I know all of the bodyguards report to Andre, so there's no way that he doesn't know about Kay.

"Relax my lord, there's no need to get so worked up," replied Andre. "It's normal to have a friend out of school."

               I failed to respond to that, so there was a mini awkward silence in the car. It felt like if I said anything, I'd sound more defensive than I was already being which would yet rouse more suspicion. Plus he was right, there really is no need for me to get so worked up.

"But I'm glad you had a great time," Andre's voice filled the silence.

"Jeez, Andre, when exactly was it when I imprinted on you?" I asked.

I'd gone for a light tone but Andre kept his eyes on the road, and answered without faltering. "The day you were born."

•••

It was late when we got back home and just like I fantasised, I saw my bed and smiled, walking towards it and dropping down on it, casting all cares to the wind.

               It felt so good.

               It didn't take long before I was drifting off into sleep. The moments between drifting off and waking up were what confused me. I didn't know how long I'd slept for, but I knew it wasn't very long.

               My eye flicked open at a sound, followed by the other one. That sound was my ringtone. The fatigue of the day made itself present in all of my joints. Don't go out with your parents, it's a trick. The first thing I saw was a black box resting on my bed, identical to the one I'd seen my dad give mom. So he hadn't really forgotten about me after all. I just knew it was going to be a watch. I ignored it for now to pay attention to the ringing phone.

               I grabbed my phone with uncertainty and looked at the screen for the caller ID.

               It was Kayden.