Notes

1

His eyes moved along the white and black keys before him, his hands scattering across it and emitting the most beautiful of sounds, the white sheet was no longer being moved, he didn't have the chance with how quick and difficult this song was. It was a good thing he had practised so much. He was sweating by now, his wrist and fingers moving at the most extraordinary speed. The amount of time it took him to get this far, he would've never guessed he would be here, in the college, in the room. This college was the best in all South Korea, only meant for students ready to give it their all, ready to lose sleep and practise until everything hurts.

Wonpil was ready for that challenge, he had promised his parents that he would graduate from here and make it to university, then go on to make them proud. He had always dreamed of coming here, ever since he first began playing the piano/keyboard. Since he was six, his whole life revolved around this instrument, it made him happy to hear the tunes he could make simply with just his hands and a sheet of music. It was tough for him when he was younger. His family didn't have the money to get him lessons, didn't have enough money to buy him his own keyboard. So his last resort was school. Everyday he would get to school at the earliest of hours and play piano from 6 till 9, when school started. And then, every night he would stay an extra 2 or 3 hours to practise some more.

By the end of each night, his fingers were almost bleeding, he played so much that his fingers became red with blisters, but he played through it, eager to finally be able to finish his course. He had printed off sheet music and learnt it himself, teaching himself every step of the way, sometimes with a little help from teachers or staff.

But it all worked out for the better. His dream had been granted and he was finally here, sat on his stool, playing for his life. Everything depended on this piece, his whole life decided from just one instrument. It was crazy sometimes, he used to stay up and think about it, hardly sleeping.

The piano rung with a beautiful sound, Wonpil's fingers doing everything, creating every little sound that could be heard. The three men watching him jotted down notes and watched carefully as he mouthed the notes quickly, and being absolutely stunned when he would close his eyes to breath and relax some more every so often, even as the music was still at its peak.

Wonpil had always made mistakes, every time he played before someone, he did something wrong. The teachers were on their last straw with him, never once had they seen him Finnish a piece without no mistakes. But today, Wonpil would change that. The pressure built up inside of him, butterflies swarming his stomach, making him uneasy and scared. He had stage fright, and that's why he practised so much for this, however no matter what he did, he couldn't help being nervous.

He hit every note perfectly, the teachers were surprised at how amazing he was this time.

But, not every story has a good ending. His sweat dropped onto his lap, his eyes stinging from staring so much, and so when he blinked, tears fell from his eyes, everything hurt, his fingers felt like they were being pricked by thousands of needles. He can't stop now, he's almost done, he's almost done. His tears dropped onto his hand, making him shake slightly, his long fingers quivering a little. His breathing began to build up and create an odd pace. Everything was going downhill.

And, of course, the shaking became too much, and his finger slipped, hitting the B chord, instead of the C.

He let go, his head falling downwards, his hands resting on the keys lightly. That's it, he's ruined everything. Everything he had worked too since he was six was shattered. His life was crumbling. Why couldn't he just get one thing right?

Tears fell from his eyes, he was sobbing now, these were real tears. His hair covered his red face, the teachers unable to see his expression. Maybe he would be let off, if they weren't so strict,

And the last words he heard, was "you're done, Kim Wonpil." And before he knew it, he was holding his suitcase, and stood outside to school gates, his eyes glistening with tears. He looked up at the tall, old building he once stood in, but now, he couldn't go back there, and he couldn't do what he dreamed to do. His fingers hurt so bad, it made him cry more, the pain was emotional and physical.

His felt as if his heart was shattered, or split into two. It hurt, it really hurt. All of that pressure that was built up had come shattering down like an avalanche on the worlds tallest mountain. His hands were curled into fists. Why was he so Nervous? There's no point in trying to get back in now, he was finished, and that was it. He let his eyes fall away from the place he used to dream of and stepped away pathetically, dragging his suitcase behind him, stepping down the path to no where.

What would he do now?