Can one truly get over a love that was lost? What happens when two broken classical musicians invade each other's worlds? Shamy AU, OOC

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"How dismal it is to have no one to go to in the morning to share one's griefs and joys; how hateful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know to what I refer. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you."
― Frédéric Chopin, Chopin's Letters

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she fervently played the keys.

"You intrigue me, Amelia."

She found herself becoming lost in the piece- becoming one with the piano.

"You need to start pouring your emotions into your playing. What are you scared of?"

As she recalled her precious memories, she poured her love, sorrow, and despair into the piece.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

The tears now cascaded freely down her face.

"I really like you, my darling Amelia."

The air was filled with tension as the piece crescendo-ed.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. Just please, promise one thing."

Sweat dripped down her brow as she tried to convey everything into this one piece of music.

"Promise me you'll love again."

The piece culminated and the last chords resounded throughout the concert hall, and with them, Amy's message.

Goodbye.

Amy was broken out of her emotions ad she stood and bowed. The audience was speechless at first, trying to understand the beauty of what they had just witnessed. How could so much be conveyed through a few notes. Slowly, people began clapping. Soon, Amy was receiving a standing ovation. She slowly retreated backstage.

Sheldon had begrudgingly agreed to come to dinner and later the recital in the University's concert hall with his friends. It was near Valentine's Day and his friends wanted to treat their significant others to what they had dubbed "a romantic evening." Penny and Bernadette had set him up with a colleague for this quadruple date, in the hopes he would "finally become a real boy." Like so many others, this woman was a bore. He supposed she could be considered conventionally attractive, but she failed to pique his interest in any way. Her inferior intelligence was just the cherry on top of the sundae of tedium that was this woman. He was unfazed, however, as it seemed the feeling was mutual.

He was in the cab with his "date" and Penny and Leonard; the others were sharing a cab as well. They had just finished dinner and were on the way to the recital. Sheldon was truly not in the mood to hear mediocre playing. Although his main focus was science, he knew how to play the violin. His music teacher had discovered his musical affinity as a child and encouraged him to learn to play the violin. At first, all he could get out of the instrument were a few screeching sounds; his parents were truly horrified. He had momentarily wanted to give up, but his father got him to change his mind. George Cooper had told Sheldon that everyone starts somewhere; if he gave up, no one would ever know what he could have acheived. Around this time, Sheldon's father had decided to quit drinking and turn his life and marriage around. It was during these years that Sheldon formed a deep relationship with his father. After his unexpected death, when Sheldon was 14, Sheldon was not able to play with the same passion he did previous. He gave up the instrument as he threw himself into his studies, obtaining his first PhD at 16 years old. Over the years, time had healed his wounds, and Sheldon was able to pick up the instrument once more. Unbeknownst to his friends, Sheldon sometimes retreated to an unoccupied room in the basement of Caltech to play his violin.

Broken out of his daze, Sheldon realized the cab had stopped. The group met outside the concert hall and headed inside to take their seats. Picking up the program, Sheldon decided to find out what prosaic music he would be forced to endure. It seemed a pianist by the name of Amelia Fowler would be playing today. The program included Rachmaninoff's famous piano arrangement of "Love's Sorrow." Interesting.

Suddenly, the concert hall went silent and everyone was made aware that the recital would soon begin. A few minutes later, a woman in a long and light purple-grey dress took the stage. Her brown hair was lightly curled and she wore glasses. She bowed, took her seat on the piano bench, and began to play. Sheldon was entranced by her astonishing accuracy and precision as her fingers danced on the keys. Not half-bad, he thought. Still, he decided, it's not an extraordinary performace; it's simply above mediocre.

Time flew by and the pianist was about to play the last piece. Largely unimpressed, Sheldon was hardly paying attention. Then, he heard it. He heard the true melancholia and sorrow as the woman played. She looked so graceful and passionate. Enraptured by the decidedly phenomenal performance, he continued to watch and listen with avidity. Seated near the front row, Sheldon realized the woman was crying. The tears flowed shamelessly down her features. As the last few notes reverbated through the hall, Sheldon heard the message the woman was trying to convey: goodbye.