Mediocrity

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Eddy's father was a mediocre man. 

He was a mediocre man who hated himself for achieving only so much despite years of dedication, a prisoner of his own limited talent without much luck or a hint of genius. 

Eddy's father was a violinist. 

He proudly said he became a violinist because he liked playing the violin, but Eddy never saw him smile when he was practicing. Rather, Eddy was used to seeing his father sigh, tear his thin hair, and finally throw the half-ripped music score to the wall with a frustrated cry. 

Eddy once asked his father. 

"Why do you keep playing the violin, if it only brings you misery? "

His father replied after a long silence. 

"Because I believe this misery will end someday."

"You can end it now if you quit playing." 

Eddy's father turned his head to stare at the empty music stand. 

"That is not ending the misery. That is ending myself." 

For several months, Eddy didn't hear a single note playing from his father's room. Then on one spring day, Eddy found his father standing in front of the music stand again with an excited smile.

"I have a good feeling about this audition," his father tuned his violin.

Eddy replied wholeheartedly he will look forward to hearing the new piece when he comes back from school that day. When Eddy came back though, all he saw was an empty music stand. 

And his father alone, hanging from the ceiling. 

Only a handful of people came to the funeral. 

It was that kind of death: mediocre. The kind of death that nobody cared about or questioned the name of.  

Did it end now, father? 

Did your misery end, finally? Eddy asked to the void, unsure if his father ended his music or the music ended his father. 

Maybe it was both. And regrettably, it didn't matter anymore. 

***

Eddy was a violinist, and an exceptional one. 

Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University in Brisbane is one of the top music universities in Australia that only accepts the best of the best young musicians in the country. Matriculated with a full scholarship, Eddy had only one goal in his mind to be the best soloist in his era. 

He knew he would have some real competition once he enrolls in Queensland Conservatorium. Of course, it would not be the same as easily crushing over mediocre dunderheads in his high school youth orchestra. This was the challenge that he anticipated, and it would start by beating this upperclassman called Brett Yang, apparently the new Tchaikovsky, himself. 

"There, he was the top winner in the Queensland Instrumentalist Competition last year," Aaron nudged Eddy. "Brett Yang, I heard that was his name. The school newspaper was calling him the young reincarnation of Tchaikovsky." 

Eddy glanced across the dining hall to spot a rather scrubby Asian man with dark hair and glasses, wearing a faded black long-sleeve shirt and old jeans. Eddy scanned his not-too-impressive-looking competitor. Eddy would give this man probably 3/10 max for his fashion sense, maybe 6/10 in his general appearance if he was feeling generous. Brett was laughing goofily as he loaded his place with fried rice, surrounded by his group of friends. 

"I never liked Tchaikovsky. A little out of fashion, don't you think? Personal preference," Eddy shrugged, putting his plates away. 

"Where are you going?" Aaron asked, his mouth filled with breadcrumbs. 

"Going to finish the rest of the music composition homework by tonight. Maybe go practice some more." 

"Aren't you hungry?" Aaron pointed to Eddy's plate containing one wilting piece of lettuce and tomato, nibbled just on the edges. 

"Not much," Eddy replied curtly, swinging his violin bag to his shoulder. 

Eddy's stomach protested with a growl when he walked up to his room. It didn't help that Queensland Conservatorium boasted itself of its food selection. Juicy fat chicken legs glazed with orange sauce laid on the grill. Hearty buttered toasts with honey and jam were the daily staple. Colorful assortments of salad bars with fresh vegetables and fruits, along with a rainbow of sauce choices and cheeses were on the other side. A delicious smell of fried rice and noodles wafted throughout the hall. To top it all, there were free dessert sections at the end where you could guiltily pick up everything your heart desired from chocolate cakes, tiramisu, and strawberry mousse to creme brulee and whipped cream. 

He could have eaten it all. He imagined sinking his teeth into the grilled fat, crunching the chicken to the bones. He could have stuffed the toasts laden with honey, been greedy on the carb, and loaded himself with some rice and noodles too. His mouth watered when he thought of the sweet cream on the chocolate cake melting on his tongue.

But no, he will not give in.

While he changed into his comfortable clothes, Eddy took a good look at himself in the mirror, his nightly routine. He shifted his weight left and right, turning around and grabbing any free jiggling fat around his belly and under the arm. He scrutinized his body from top to bottom, taking notes to work out extra longer hours after violin practice tomorrow. He counted his calorie for the day - a piece of bread, lettuce, and a tomato. Not bad. 

Eddy was a perfectionist.

He never accepted less than perfect for his violin performance, fashion, or looks. He practiced relentlessly until his fingers bled. He made sure all his brands were up to date. He had a gigantic makeup mirror in his university room to examine his minuscule deficits ten times magnified, picking on all the little pimples and whiteheads on a daily basis. He didn't slack up on his diet or exercise. He would control his appetite until he saw himself fit and appropriate. 

If it meant starving himself to death, then be it. 

Eddy went to bed later that night with a hollow stomach, knowing full well where his dream was going to take him tonight. 

To the gingerbread house. 

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<Author's note>

Thank you for reading! The story was inspired by Fantasia at first but as I built the plot, it became quite different in the end haha Comments and likes are always appreciated :) 

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