I grew up surrounded by classical music, and I've always adored pianists, so this AU had to come into existence at a moment or another. I hope you enjoy it and sort of understand what's going on here. I've never been to a great musical academy like the one described here because I've always been mediocre, but I've got friends and teachers who have told me about it all, so things here should be relatively accurate. Please do tell me if you see any mistakes though.

Dedicated to brocsox on tumblr who encouraged me along with this idea and my pianist friend (A. M-L). Good luck getting that musical further education thingy!

Also, if you're wondering what the piece described in this first chapter is (or else if you want a soundtrack to listen to while reading this), it's Ravel's Concerto for the Left Hand. Notoriously difficult for pianists for obvious reasons, and a piece I like a lot (not because it meant I got nearly-full marks in that exam, no, of course not ;).

The jacket he was wearing was warm, there was no doubt about that. He had come here early today, and had set up hours before any of the other musicians had appeared, even the important ones; it was, after all, the first time that he was to play in front of a public so large. Of course, he would be indistinguishable apart from his bright shock of hair in the middle of the more general chestnut-brown and blond of the people surrounding him, but he was here. He was the youngest member of the Orchestra of the City of Newgate, and today was the day that this was going to concretise, an event that he will be telling the next generation when he was older.

However, this was not the real reason for the thrill that was currently heating him from head to toe in a full-body blush that made his suit even more stuffy than it should have been in the darkened theatre.

The strings had just about finished off tuning their instruments in the usual melodious cacophony that was truly theirs, when the conductor stepped up to take his place at the pulpit, and the room exploded into applause.

The man bowed, then turned to shake hands with the first violinist, a stout lady that the boy wasn't sure he had ever seen smile. The applause died down, then the one Sherwin had been waiting for, the one he had sacrificed so much for in the last few years, walked up the steps to access the slightly raised platform.

Jonathan, second youngest person to be playing in the formation today, even though every single leaflet advertising the event would say otherwise. Sherwin, as a humble percussionist, relegated to the very back of the orchestral formation, didn't count. But that didn't matter; the redhead happily let the mistake pass without comment. They were right to give Jonathan all the glory, because he deserved it.

Up on the conductor's stand, Jonathan waved at the crowd, probably flashing one of his dazzling smiles as he did. Sherwin couldn't see his face, but he still felt his heart stutter in his chest at the perfect, friendly movement that made the crowd's applause double in intensity. It was a breath of fresh air in the usually morose and antisocial world of the orchestra, a friendliness that everyone appreciated and that made Jonathan just that little bit more likeable, be it on or offstage.

He made his way down to take place at the immense grand piano sitting there for him, a spotlight having been directed his way by the light technicians. From where he was, Sherwin could now see half of his face, the harsh lighting accenting his chin, nose, and making the striking blue of his eyes stand out even more. Sherwin swallowed thickly, then, as if on cue, the conductor raised his hands and the music started.

It was a long piece, full of melancholy and starting out slow and nearly imperceptible as the lower register strings emerged from the void of silence. Then, the woodwinds joined in, offering up the first theme and one of the melodies that was going to be repeated throughout the piece. They exchanged, the horns, lower range woodwinds, in an indubitably dark sequence that sent shivers up and down Sherwin's spine. His eyes were still on Jonathan though; the light that had previously been illuminating him was now dimmed, but he could still make out the set of his face: it cramped in the painful moments, then relaxed when the music flowed more freely, easily, the darkness in it attenuated for a second before it yet again took on the post-war feel to it that was so characteristic of the composer.

It got to the moment when the music swelled, the intensity of it escalating dramatically, and Sherwin could see Jonathan let out a shuddering breath at the exact moment he himself did. It was his moment now. This was the time he couldn't mess up.

And he didn't. It was perfect. The four first chords sounded like gunshots in the silence that the orchestra had left behind it, and they indeed did hit Sherwin's chest like bullets would. Even if it had been his turn to play, he wouldn't have been able to. Right now, he was stunned, unable to move nor to tear his eyes away from the boy at the piano.

He played with his eyes closed. He had no use for sheet music, no use for a page-turner. He had incorporated every single note into his memory, etched into his very soul. He played with such grace, a passion that showed and vibrated through his entire body, waves coming off and capturing the attention of everyone in the room. He was mesmerising. He was perfect. In that moment, the brief time he was accorded to play alone before the orchestra came along and joined him and conversed in the way the ink and paper demanded they do, he was not an entity apart from what he was playing.

He literally was the music.

And Sherwin was unconditionally in love with music.

This may or may not get a second chapter, I'm not sure :/.