Title:  Variations on a Theme - Chapter 1
Author:  Sherrie

Chapter 1

His body relaxed around the instrument between his legs. His mind began to wander in its usual way as the scales and arpeggios of his warm up soared from his cello to fill up the NYU concert hall. Ian always was a little nervous about being in the U.S, particularly in New York, but the familiarity of this routine calmed him. He always started on a C major scale and arpeggio, and then progressed to C minor, then C sharp major, and so on. As he settled his long, lean but well-defined torso against the instrument, he closed his hazel eyes and imagined himself in his London flat, safe from the criticism and politics of the American classical music scene. His reverie was interrupted when he sensed the presence of another in the back of the concert hall. Ordinarily he would have been irritated by the interruption, but Ian sensed that there was something about the young man standing by the door that was important and friendly. He had a sixth sense about things like that.

Justin usually didn’t cut through the music building on his way to class. Too many painful memories seemed to overtake him when he did. But it was cold outside, and he sensed unusual warmth in the building today, so he decided that maybe he should grow up and put the past behind him. It would at least serve the purpose of warming up his hands before he had to paint.

It had been 4 years since Justin had left Brian and the house in Pittsburg. They still talked, emailed, and had the occasional visit; complete with sex that Justin knew was the best he would ever have. He knew that Brian would never accept that he wasn’t making a sacrifice to return to Pittsburgh unless he made a success of himself in New York, and then chose to work in Pittsburgh. But the New York art scene had been tougher to crack than he thought, and although he was making some money from his art and had had a few small gallery showings, he wasn’t exactly taking the New York art scene by storm. .After six months, Justin realized that Brian was right; he really did need his art degree, and he would have it at the end of this semester. It was what he was going to do after graduation that was making him crazy.

A rich and mellow sound caught Justin’s ear as he passed the closed doors of the concert hall. It was only scales and arpeggios; Ethan had taught him that as he played them every day of Justin’s stay in the dank little flat. But this sound was compelling as opposed to irritating, and Justin found himself slipping in the back door of the concert hall to see who was producing such a haunting sound.

Justin froze. He blinked several times to be sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Although he knew that Brian didn’t play the cello, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought that this was his ex-fiancé in a secret life. The hair, the shape of his body, the long, sculpted legs wrapped around the cello in the same way that he used to find Brian’s around him in the morning before he was awake enough to be embarrassed about it; this gorgeous creature producing these beautiful sounds could be Brian’s twin. The grip of longing around Justin’s heart reminded him that he wasn’t over the love of his life, and he never would be.

Ian stopped playing and carefully set down his instrument and bow. “Who’s there?” he asked, surprised at himself for really wanting to know. As he jumped off the stage and started down the aisle, he got a better look at a beautiful blond man dressed in khakis and a paint-streaked T-shirt who stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I’m … I’m so sorry,” Justin stammered as the Kinney-god-like man ambled toward him. Even the sexy, stalking gait was the same. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just had to see who was making that beautiful sound.” Justin stared open-mouthed as the man came up to stand just a little bit too much in his personal space. This time Justin didn’t have a lamppost to hold him up; he almost wished he did.

Ian held eye contact with the blue-eyed dream, and the corners of the cellist’s mouth turned upward slightly as one eyebrow arched. “You weren’t bothering me,” Ian purred in a soft low voice. “I make it a point to meet every gorgeous blond man who is attracted to my…music. Always have, always will.”

Justin closed his eyes. He had to break the feeling of loss that overcame him while staring into the cellist’s eyes. He felt the tears starting to build, and he took a deep breath before he opened his eyes again. “I’m so sorry...you…you just remind me of someone that I used to …know,” Justin muttered, not daring to make eye contact. With great resolve, he swallowed and then seemed to draw upon some old reserve of country-club upbringing. “I’m Justin Taylor, a senior art student here,” he said, as he thrust his hand out toward the other man.

Ian took Justin’s hand and held it a little too long for it to be a polite handshake. “Stop apologizing,” Ian said gently. “I’m Ian Kinney, guest soloist for the concert tonight; just arrived from London. It is indeed my pleasure to meet you.”

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