A/N: Ummm...yeah, I'd like to say sorry for this short and slow-boil update. My English Literature teacher in High School died this morning and affected my writing.
Thanks to lu, cheng, uvr-B1u5H'd, SnowyReverie and Property Of Eriol for believing in me and for bothering to review. And, yeah, I can't help but use "Mozart-kun" for the doll's name. I'm lacking creativity like that. LOL
Act 29, Winter
The preliminaries had his blood jumping in his nerves.
The alert judges sitting in the bleachers in the dark, the polished stage and the glaring spotlight, the handsome black Steinway, and the oppression of the dark suit he was wearing that afternoon weren't something he hadn't experienced before. In the contrary, he had done countless recitals and concerts, but these were performances that he didn't think were enough to make Clow Reed pay attention to because none of them were really his own. He was yet to debut if he would make it out first place of this contest.
Terada Yoshiyuki, who had flown to Fukuoka for his last few rehearsals and for this competition, had congratulated him in his waiting room, assuring him that he had remarkable interpretations of Mendelssohn's prelude and one of Ravel's most complicated pieces.
In this anxious state, he couldn't feel his fingers the moment he had pressed the last key.
"You really did your best, didn't you? You should be proud of yourself," his mentor said as he tapped the pianist's tense back.
He couldn't even feel that hand that was supposed to encourage him.
But is this best enough?
The pianist tried to return the man's pleased grin but he only got as far as a curt nod. This anticipation over the results had induced the bile to his throat and it was so much difficult to speak.
For the next five minutes, he would be holding his breath. The participants who should proceed to the finals had not been announced yet, and that was more important to him because advancing meant a step closer to his goal. This competition should determine his confidence in his skill. He was always regarded a prodigy but he never had enough determination to get into another competition after he had failed his father when he participated in a concourse in England years ago. And right that instant, when he was resisting the infuriating urge to recoil in too much stressful expectation, it was especially harder to draw out any strength from anything.
Eriol closed his eyes, trying to divert his negative thoughts to something more comforting.
A presenter had started calling the finalists who would be competing the next day in random while the judges remained in the dark.
"Is it alright if I go watch your final performance, Hiiragizawa-san?"
"Number eight."
Tomoyo's question just had to pop in his mind like a welcomed interruption.
"Number five."
This was a displacement of feelings he easily succumbed to. There was a slight blush on her cheeks when she had asked, but it was probably because of the cold. The temperature was dropping in a crippling degree then.
"Are you sure?" His surprise to her request had him saying his afterthought out loud.
"Number six."
He didn't mean to sound so confused but he knew he was anyway. Why was it a wonder to him that Tomoyo would want to see his performance?
"Number two."
The former heiress had also looked utterly stunned, as if she had just realized that she was asking her senpai a foolish question. However, she had nodded upon recovery, and he had felt a surge of warmth that filled his chest.
"Number two?"
He still felt oddly warm just thinking that she trusted him enough to get to the finals.
"Eriol-kun?"
A hand reached for his shoulder, shaking him to return to consciousness.
The lights flickered and his gaze returned its focus. Terada had a strange look on his face when he stared at him. The other contestants in the backstage were probably guessing he was pathetically breaking under this strain.
Where am I?
"Number two, Eriol-kun. They are calling you. You need to get up to the stage."
His hands shook and a new sense of respite spread over him like wild fire.
"I...made it." His voice had a skeptical note but that satisfied grin on his handsome face was slowly turning into a relieved laughter. He couldn't be bothered about other people's opinion because he was too happy to care.
He would have to personally tell the amethyst-eyed woman that she could definitely watch him play on that stage tomorrow.
A/N: I personally think this chapter is not needed for plot development. LOL
