Dangerous Fellows (Imagines)

eugene - symphony

"Y/n and Eugene?" a voice calls, a woman appearing in front of you and the said boy.

"That's us," Eugene says casually, standing up and stretching his limbs.

He seems so laid back and chilled unlike you. There is a lump in your throat and a knot of nerves in your stomach. You rubb your hands on your pants to get the sweat off.

The woman motions for you to follow her, you timidly walking behind her and Eugene backstage.

"Get ready," she says, "after this band's song's over, it's your turn." With a nod of her head, she's gone.

And you're left there standing, with a clear view on stage, supposed to wait until the band's performance is over so that yours can start.

The grip on your violin tightens and you take a deep breath, trying to ease the shaking of your legs and the nervousness in your stomach.

You have been waiting so long for this moment. You've practiced so long you'd be damned if you haven't mastered the song to perfection.

I know the notes. I know how to play it.

Your attempts at reassurance are feeble, but hey, at least you're trying. You know there is no way you'd forget the song - it just always comes naturally to you when you hit the first note.

You take another deep breath when the band starts thanking the audience. Soon, it's your turn to shine.

"You good?" His voice makes you snap back to reality, you have almost forgotten he's there next to you. Looking over at Eugene, you see him eyeing you worriedly. "You look a little sick."

"It's fine," you grit in between your teeth, your voice strained and hard and avert your gaze.

The boy doesn't turn his head away from you, though. "Don't worry, you'll do great," he states and when you look at him again, he gives you a smile.

He doesn't smile often and the way it makes his face light up takes your breath away. You have only ever seen him smile when you'd sneak glances at him while he played the piano, but those smiles were always lopsided, faint. Now, he genuinely smiled at you.

The gesture makes you smile back, his smile is just too contagious, practically beaming with joy. You feel your muscles and the tension ease with the simple movement, lips spreading wide to reciprocate the smile.

He seems sincerely happy about this and you can't help but admire it. He's looking forward to this so much he might as well start flying, you think. Unlike you, he cannot wait to finally get on the stage to perform.

The band leaves.

No, not yet. I'm not ready yet.

"Come on," the boy puts his hand on your back, pushing you. The warmth radiating from it is able to pull your thoughts away from the anxiety a little, you focus on the way he leads you there rather than the fact that you are there.

There is a chair for you to sit down on and a big black piano slightly away from the chair. Eugene immediately heads to the piano, seating himself on the small bench in front of it while you reluctantly sit down onto the chair.

I'm here. I'm here.

I'm fucking here!

You aren't sure anymore if the negative emotions swirling inside you aren't getting mixed up with those of happiness and joy. Eugene's beaming happiness must've somehow rubbed off on you because the longer you sit on the chair, the happier you feel to be there.

There is a nervous tingle inside your fingers, eager to start moving the fiddlestick on the strings of your violin.

You and Eugene glance at each other, nodding subtly.