Sky didn't last five minutes.
He made it three before the need to touch Chris, to be alone with him, became unbearable. The crowd felt suffocating, every second stretching like hours. And it didn't help that with him being alone there, people were suddenly interested in chatting him up.
A CEO wanted to discuss the technical aspects of his playing. A socialite wanted to introduce him to her daughter who also played piano. A retired music professor wanted to debate the merits of various classical composers.
And oh, someone had also asked where Chris was.
Sky smiled and nodded and answered questions while internally screaming. Chris was waiting upstairs. Chris had looked so desperate, so flushed, so ready to combust. And Sky was stuck down here discussing Chopin's nocturnes with someone's grandmother.
When he finally managed to get himself away, he wasted no time in reaching Chris's room, which he was familiar with.
