Hello... This one's for Foxyrocky623 because I offended her by not choosing the Cat Spirit for Eugene. Lol.
My sincerest apologies. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧
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The school auditorium was filled with the mixed noises of both the applause and loud cheering of the audience as the last piano piece ended masterfully and flawlessly.
It was the first that Eugene has performed in front of a large crowd since the music festival of the previous year and he felt his heart swell at the realisation that more and more people are taking notice of and appreciating the wonder of his compositions. He was even approached by a conductor that worked as a professor in one of the universities that he was considering for his music career and promised him a spot if he would make an appearance in one of the events that the said university was preparing.
The night would have been perfect if it wasn't for one problem: you.
He doesn't like you and he never will - or at least that's what he says. And the way that he has emphasised that in more ways than one allowed you to know that he meant every last word.
You were popular at school because of your breathtaking beauty and because you came from a wealthy family whose influence stretched far across the nation. You were also smart and skilled and able to pass your subjects without even trying. Your dilligence in your studies paired with your appalling humility made you look so perfect in the eyes of everybody.
Eugene clearly had nothing to hate you about, and he had to admit that, at first, he liked you as much as the other guys did. But then he found out about your prowess in music that far exceeds any other composer he knew - including himself - and started hating you when you made it seem like such a skill and passion can only pass as a 'hobby' and nothing else.
Never has he been more insulted as the day you told him, "Music isn't for everybody."
You played for fun, sang for fun, composed for fun, and arranged for fun, while he had to work hard to hone his abilities because it was his dream to become a musician. He realised that you were a stark contrast of one another and started seeing you as this bratty kid who has no appreciation for the gift that most people would give everything to have.
The long and the short of it was that he hated you for wasting your talent and believed you were mocking him and every other person who dreams to pursue a career in music.
So why was it that for every single time that he would perform, you would be in the audience, at the front row even, watching him with a bright smile on your face?
Was that to ridicule him? To see with your very own eyes how futile his endeavors were? Or was it because you have ran out of exciting things to do at your fancy mega mansion that you've settled with watching him to pass the time? He doesn't know, but he hated seeing your face.
"What are you doing here, woman?" he asked once he stepped foot at the back stage and saw you with your usual devilishly beautiful grin that on any other occasion would have made him blush.
He passed you by without batting an eyelash, thus making it seem as though his question was just a form of acknowledgement to your presence, given that everyone gathered around you like you were a precious art piece as soon as your figure appeared from within the noisy crowd.
His coldness never ceased to hurt your feelings but you were determined nonetheless to get closer to him and possibly explain why you said what you said.
You sincerely liked the blonde and his taste in music, for he reminded you so much of your late grandfather whose style and genre closely resembled his.
"I was planning to give this bouquet to a very special composer because I really loved his performance tonight." you answered with a sad smile as you raised your slender arms to show an arrangement of various colored carnations - light red, dark red, pink and white to be precise.
The boy glanced back at you, surprise evident on his delicate features, before it shifted to a more relaxed, more indifferent expression not a moment later. "I'm surprised you even appreciated someone. I thought music isn't all that amazing for you? It's just a hobby right?" he deadpanned, the almost unnoticeable glint of irritation in his beautiful caramel orbs becoming more pronounced as the seconds pass by.
You frowned and groaned as a response to his statement. You had just about enough of his nonsense and decided to end the stupid misunderstanding once and for all. You were determined to make up with him and that night was the night that you will make that happen.
You grabbed Eugene by the arm, nails digging onto his skin to express your very own annoyance, and dragged him into the empty hallway connected to the auditorium.
He flinched and whined at the suddenness of your actions, and demanded for you to let go. But his words simply passed your ears like the wind and you refused to even loosen your grip until you were far enough from the crowd that no one would ever hear should you decide to slam his hard-as-steel head onto the concrete wall because of your anger.
"Listen, Eugene, I never mocked you and I never ever said that music is just a hobby. What I remember telling you is that I no longer want to play as much as I did before. But that doesn't mean I don't love it as much as you do!" You exclaimed, the volume of your melodic voice reverberating within the walls of the empty corridor.
"If you didn't see as just a hobby, you wouldn't give up on it so easily." He retorted calmly and coldly, eyes directed away as if seeing your face will make his stomach churn.
He has a point.
You remember telling your grandfather once, as you played a Mozart piece in the grand music room of your ancestral home, that you wanted to be a virtuoso pianist like him when you grow up. Back then you were so eager to live that dream. So determined that you studied so much to the point of exhaustion just so you could improve. You've had sleepless nights just working on your timing and flexibility, and exhausted days playing the same piece over and over again until your fingers start aching.
No one knew that except for you.
And you were fairly certain that the boy was the same way as you see him in the music room, before and after class every single day, practicing his skills as if it was his lifeline.
Anyone who was as passionate about their desire as Eugene or you, when you were younger, would never let their dream go at the blink of an eye. So why did you decide to give up?
"I decided to stop when I met you... Because I preferred to support your dream and be there for you." You answered sadly, tears starting to well up in your vibrant (e/c) eyes. "I heard the teacher say you have unrealistic dreams and compared you to me and I thought that if I'm not your rival anymore, they would start appreciating your music more."
"So it's out of pity?" He asked, the same irritated look not vanishing from his glossy eyes.
"No, you dense nutcase! Stop being hardheaded for once and think about it!" You shouted, jaws clenched and eyes glinting with great irritation. You wanted so badly to give him a physical example of the emotional agony he was putting you through that you dropped the beautiful flower arrangement on the crafted wooden table standing conveniently at your side and grabbed his shoulders with your now free hands. You squeezed his soft flesh tightly until he winced and whimpered and begged you to stop, but you just pressed him more against the polished concrete behind him.
"I fell in love with you the moment I heard you play because it reminded me of the simpler times with my grandpa. I liked your work so much that I've decided I don't ever want you to feel disheartened and give up on your dreams because of me!"
Your outburst surprised the boy so much that a look of sheer shock quickly washed over his gentle features. His eyes widened and jaw dropped, and a soft response of "What?" escaped his small lips.
Never in his wildest dreams did he think you would look at him in an adoring way considering that you were constantly surrounded by handsome young men that, for him, deserved you more. And never did he think that you would feel so strongly about his talent and dream either since you were always so cool and so calm it was like you don't really take things seriously. He severely underestimated your level of passion and this realisation made his heart thump strongly against his chest in such a distinct manner he wondered if you heard it given the silence of the surroundings.
You were surprised by your own confession as well, but you did not make an effort to deny it or even explain that it was a misunderstanding. What you said was the truth and you knew it had to come out sooner or later.
You expected Eugene to reject your feelings and push you away. After all, he's been the kind of boy who hides his awkwardness behind a cold facade or, at the very least, sarcasm. But to your pleasant surprise, he held your hands and gripped them tightly before smiling at you in a soft and somewhat playful manner for the very first time in such a long while, "Geez, you're really adorable, you know that?"
It made you blush to see him gaze at you so gently that immediately your anger dispersed and, in its previous spot, shyness settled. "Uh, thanks." you answered, looking abashedly at him from underneath your eyelashes. "But you know, what I really want is for you to appreciate my efforts to support you. Like for heaven's sake I even got you a bouquet!"
Your cute complaint earned a soft chuckle from Eugene before his formerly gentle-looking smile shifted to what seemed to be a reflection of either conceit or cockiness. "You're brave to give a guy flowers." he spoke, but you only frowned at him.
"Carnations have different Meanings depending on the colour, idiot." you retorted in such a sharp manner that the boy flinched and replied with a loud, "Hey!" but you ignored his whine and proceeded to explain as though you didn't hear anything, taking the arrangement from the table and shoving it towards his chest.
You then lowered your sight onto the flowers before you and began explaining one by one what each and every last one meant, talking with a slight smile as your hand held gently onto the petals.
"Pink carnation represents gratitude because I'm thankful to have met you. Light red carnation represents admiration because I admire your skills. White carnation represents purity because I think your intentions and passion towards your dream is pure, and..." you stopped on your tracks once your fingers landed on the dark red carnation and looked up at Eugene who was gazing at you expectantly.
"Hey, I'm not knowledgeable about flowers, but I know what a red one means." he interjected, seeing that you were beginning to feel shy again, and pulled out the single red carnation from the bouquet and handed it to you.
"What are you doing?!" you panicked, worried that the arrangement might fall apart. "Put it back in there! If you remove one flower it becomes loose–!"
"Don't worry about it, (Y/N)! Sheesh!" Eugene interrupted as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead, hoping that it will calm your unstable nerves. "This is mine now and I decide what to do with it! I want to give it to you since... You're my girlfriend now, right?"
The way his face contorted to a look of agony or unease made your heart skip a beat as you never realised how attractive he could be no matter what expression he puts on. You sighed and turned away, pressing the red carnation against your chest in an attempt to soothe your hammering heartbeat.
I didn't think you could affect me this much. I underestimated you, Eugene. you thought to yourself, not quite believing you could be so bashful and awkward in his presence.
"I suppose I am." you muttered back.
As though your confirmation was all that he was waiting for, Eugene grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together, and started walking out the now empty auditorium after hearing your reply. "I'm glad to hear that!" he spoke a moment later and although you weren't looking at him when he uttered the words, you were sure he had that gorgeous, cocky smile on his face just based on his tone.
The both of you walked in silence until you passed by the door leading to the main concert hall and your boyfriend stopped walking abruptly when his eyes landed on a photo of a piano.
You looked at him and asked in confusion, "What's up, Eugene?" as you squeezed his hand gently to get his attention.
The boy shifted his gaze from the photo to your face and sighed. "(Y/N), you should start composing and playing again." he said in a pleading tone and with a saddened look imbued over his features.
"Why?" was all you could ask in return, seeing how he looked so pained and so dejected over something that you have long decided on. "I told you I'll just support you."
"But we could make more beautiful music if we do it together. (Y/N), if you want to support me, then do it by being my partner and inspiration. I admire your skills as much as you admire mine. So please!" Eugene then held your shoulders and held your gaze so steadfastly and earnestly you were at a loss for words.
You weren't able to make any form of reassurance or response, but he was confident that you were convinced by the loving look that glimmered within your bright (e/c) the moment he made the request. He then lowered his face and kissed you gently on the lips - a gesture that you responded to almost automatically. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling of his mouth against yours and his soft and shallow breathing that mixed perfectly with your own as you snuggled closer to him than you ever thought possible.
"Alright..." you spoke once you parted and started dragging the boy once more. "You wanted to make beautiful music, then let's start tonight in your bedroom."
"Wait! Hey, that's not what I meant!" Eugene shouted, face blushing a deep shade of crimson as he tried pulling away, but you were already decided and you couldn't help but laugh inwardly at his adorable reaction.
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What is it with Germans and their elite musicians?
I love Beethoven, Bach, and Pachelbel's works because they sound so.... regal and heavenly. And recently I found out that Minuet in G major (something I've been listening to for quite a while now) was also composed by a German musician named Christian Petzold.