interstellar- Hans zimmer
Experience, what was it that you truly wanted to experience? the embrace of a loved one? the feeling of winning a gold medal? overcoming your biggest fear? or maybe just, love?
Gosh how badly you wanted all of it, how badly you wanted to experience being on the stage, playing what you loved, to prove to the people that doubted you, that they were wrong, to inspire somebody to wanting to be like you.
February 16th
Another day when you'd walk into the studio after a long day of work, another same day when the man at the front smiles and says your professors name out loud, another day you nod and smile before walking down the hallway, and another day of opening the door and seeing the sight of your professor, which was also your closest friend. Spotting you he got up from the piano stool, walking towards you and wrapping his big arms around him, feeling him smile against your head, this sounds like a sad moment, right? yet, inside you felt the happiest.
But why would it be sad? nothing bad was going to happen so.. why did your heart continue beating with the fear of something around the corner, why did your stomach twitch and twirl, why did your knees feel weak and your mouth dry? was it really fear or, love?
"Finals are in 8 weeks, how do you feel?" He asked as he let go of the hug and walked back towards the big piano, you shrugged, rocking back and forth before dropping your bag and walking up to him, "Nervous? i guess" you said sitting down on the stool, pulling on the sleeves of your sweater and warming your fingers up.
"Well you're already doing great, you'll smash it" He said leaning against the piano, the man always wore simple clothes, like now, a plain white button up shirt, paired with black bluish trousers and a tie that was messily done, his hair laid crazily as if he had just woken up, his eye bags there as usual, the coffee he'd always keep next to him and the music note papers, you knew him so well, yet no idea about how he wakes up, how he gets ready or how he leaves his house, i mean, does he wake up and stretch widely while letting out the most animalising noise or does he wake up calmly by his alarm? does he get ready last minute with a piece of burning black toast in between his teeth, or does he have time to sit down and enjoy a nice plate of omelet and nicely made toast? you wish you knew.
Caught up in thought you hadn't even realised he had grabbed his violin, placing it on his shoulder, and if it weren't for the first few notes he played, you'd still be lost in thought, quickly you rushed through the paper, bringing it to the right notes, and beginning with him following after, the beautiful instruments played by such beautiful simple people, two people that had known each other their whole life, two people that had fallen in love yet none being brave enough to speak up first, two people.
With every single note you played, the more emotion you poured into the song, and having somebody like Eren beside you, playing a violin in the most gentle, beautiful manner ever, made you want to stay in this place for ever, even if it meant your fingers would ache from playing, even if it meant you'd die of thirst or hunger. Feeling Erens warmth was a sense you wanted to experience and never lose.
March 17th
30 Days has passed, another 30 days of constant training, another 30 days of seeing Eren constantly, feeling his touch, smelling his scent, seeing his sight, and in those 30 days you've gotten better, even better than how you were the past 10 years of playing piano, because he was there, because he was the person that formed you into who you were today, because he believed you will win the finals, with him by his side, with him playing on the stage, with him celebrating, right?
"I can't" you whispered pulling your hands off the piano tiles, letting them fall on your lap, making Eren place his violin on top of the piano and quickly place his hands on both sides of your shoulders, giving them a quick rub and tug, "You can do this Y/n, i am here" he whispered, squeezing the flesh on your shoulders gently, his fingers so gentle yet harsh, you wish you could feel it on only your flesh, with no clothes, no instruments between the two of you, only skin to skin, and bed sheets.
"Just think about it, you win the internationals, we go out, celebrate, i could buy you the finest bottle of wine, doesn't that sound amazing?" he said pulling his hands away and walking around the piano to face you, leaning against it with his two arms, you nodded, fingers gripping on the fabric of your bottoms, your face scrunching as you cried, not because you thought you won't win, but once again because he was there, those sweet words of encouragement tugging at your heart, that deep voice of his making your throat vibrate and gulp, "So then, why are you crying? Y/n?" he asked, holding out his hand on the black piano waiting for you to grab, and the minute you did he squeezed at your flesh, smiling at you, such a beautiful smile you've never seen on anybody else's face, gosh, how dorky.
April 18th
Hours, 2 hours away from the minute you step on the grand stage and play the song you've been practicing everyday for the past 4 months, 2 hours away from hundreds of live broadcasts across the globe screened you on TV's, 2 hours and Eren was still not there. You stumbled back and forth in the quiet room in the backstages, pushing your own finger nails in your palms in frustration, in anger, in confusion, in sadness, why was he not here? where did he go? why did he leave at this specific moment? was there really something more important than playing with you on stage? than keeping your promise and being next to you when you win or lose?
You couldn't help but hate him, the sudden taste of disgust at the tip of your tongue, making you sit down in front of the big mirror, makeup laid down across the entire table, the mirror lights pointing out all of the flaws that you suddenly spotted in yourself, making you breathe heavier and faster, panting almost, your hands ran across the table in chaos, chasing for the blush before smearing it all over your cheeks, if Eren was there maybe your skin wouldn't have been so pale, maybe you wouldn't have been so miserable.
As the tears of hatred dripped down your chin and on the table you pulled your phone out, going to Erens name and typing out whatever first came to mind.
you
You're around the corner right ?
Shows in 30 minutes don't do this to me Eren.
You said you'd be here.
Who's going to play the violin for me are you serious?
I hope you're dead at this point.
Maybe the last message was too much? maybe you shouldn't have sent that, right? you couldn't even comprehend what you were texting at this point with how much rage was building inside your body, pushing your phone to the side you tried to keep your breathing steady as you sat down in the chair, continuously staring at yourself through the mirror as you waited for a reply from him, a knock at the door was heard making you jump from the seat and walk towards the door, hoping Eren would be on the other side.
A girl with short black hair smiled at you, ear piece in her ear with a microphone attached to her shirt, "Hey you're up in 15" she said taking a step back, her face changing its expression as she spotted the messily blush that was smeared on your cheeks and the red eyes popping through the long lashes. "Oh yeah, i'm ready" you replied as you walked out the room, waiting for her to lead the way, and the whole time your heart beater faster, and with each step you thought about Eren more, about the words he said with each training session, with each time your finger pressed another key tile.
"Wait" you said placing your hand on the girls shoulder, stopping her from taking another step, "Eren, do you know where Eren is?" you asked her, she raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Eren? who's Eren?" she asked turning towards you, "My professor, well, my friend he's meant to play the violin with me, do you know where he is?" you asked, "No.. i- i didn't get any information about an Eren playing with you?" she replied before turning back around and helping you out with the microphone.
And before you could process anything it was your turn, pushed towards the stage up the stairs by Mikasa as your name called out and the song you were planning to play. Hands shaking, you couldn't help but finally swallow the gulp of saliva building up on your tongue as you stepped on the stage, hands clapping as you walked towards the standing point where a microphone stood, with a small smile you bowed towards the watchers, before walking up to the piano and sitting down, a deep breath in, realising Eren wasn't there, realising he won't be in front of you playing his instrument, your finger pressed the first key tile, and so your hands automatically began playing the song, a tear sliding down your cheek as the hall began echoing with the beautiful melody.
And there it was, that faint sound of the violin being played, right in front of you, as if Eren was actually standing there, the light shining on the two of you as he wore a white button up shirt with a simple pair of black tailored trousers, except the reality was he wasn't even there, he wasn't even in the building never mind on the stage, you were so dreadfully tired you began hallucinating, wishing so hard he were there to the point you'd hallucinate him.
And once the song was over, crowds of people stood up, clapping for the song you had just performed, the song that probably inspired people to live, song that maybe touched their hearts, on a deeper level.
You had won the contest, you had gotten the golden medal, you even probably influenced somebody in the crowd to begin their own journey like you, but at what cost? without Eren the win didn't feel like a win in any way, tears streamed down your cheeks but, where they from the happiness of winning, or the sadness of the person that promised to be there, simply not being there.
And now you were alone, the golden medal wrapped around your neck still and the most expensive bottle of wine you could find in your hand, walking down the dark street near the bridge, you spun your head back, indulging with the bottle of sweet yet bitter sour drink, your eyes closing in response as you continued to walk, your phone buzzed, about once or twice, until you realised it was a phone call, with hurry you searched through the pocket of your jacket for your phone, Erens name displayed with a picture of him in the background of when you two where practising, him lean in forward on the piano you sat behind, the as usual cup of coffee next to him, his arms crossed with a smile at the camera, you accepted the call, hoping to hear his voice, hoping to hear his apology for missing such an important moment in your life.
But it wasn't him.
"Y/n, this is Carla, Eren is, he's- dead"
Silence, no, that can't be, she's joking.
A cry of hers was heard through the phone after the small silence, before she spoke again.
"I heard you won, saw you on the news, i'm sorry Eren couldn't be there darling, i'm so sorry"
She said, her voice breaking several times before another cry was heard, and the call ended, So that's what it was, that's why he wasn't replying, that's why he wasn't there.
That night, maybe there were four hands on the piano tiles, and maybe Eren did help you win, but in a different way.
______end.
WHEYYY, this chapter has been in my drafts for months, finally decided to finish it off.
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