The morning sky today is cloaked in a somber shade of grey, as the rain begins to grace the earth. Those around me bid their farewells, leaving me in solitary contemplation before a gravesite adorned with the photograph of a 40-year-old woman, elegantly framed above it. The rain dampens my attire, mirroring the bleakness of my heart, yet my indifference remains unwavering. I persist in standing there, gazing upon the woman captured in the photograph for as long as I am able, for I fear that one day I might forget that very smile.

"Mother…"

It has been one month since the passing of my mother, and for a month now, I have refrained from laying my hands on the piano. More accurately, I find myself unable to do so. I am still grappling with the acceptance of my mother's departure. She was, indeed, the sole family member with whom I shared the closest bond. My father, uncle, aunt, and all other relatives reside distantly from my presence. The loss of my mother has rendered me bereft of the individual closest to my heart. And that object, the piano, unfailingly serves as a poignant reminder of her presence. Thus, over this past month, I have consciously avoided any locale housing a piano, including the music room within my school. I have even foregone attendance in several academic sessions that necessitated my presence in the music room. Regardless of the admonishments proffered by my instructors, I remain steadfast in my resolve to abstain from entering the music room.

However, it appears that my rather expansive school values my inherited musical talent, which stems from my mother, without considering my sentiments. No, they indeed appear rather indifferent. For instance, presently, Mr. Landers, the instructor of the music arts at Weston College, is compelling me to rendezvous with him in the music room. What is even more vexing, I am not alone in this, he is also summoning other students with raven-black hair. He stands next to Mr. Landers, wearing a rather annoying smile.

"Faustus, I am aware that the departure of your late mother must have left a profoundly deep wound in your heart." Mr. Landers conveys his greetings to start the conversation.

"I am impressed to hear that you evidently care about my feelings, Sir." My response is quite succinct; I do indeed wish to promptly exit this room.

At first glance, Mr. Landers appeared somewhat affronted by how I responded. However, he subsequently bestowed another smile upon me, all the while continuing his discourse. "But you mustn't persist in lingering within such sorrow. It has been a month already, you know."

I took a deep breath and, regardless of manners, promptly interjected Mr. Landers' sentence. "I do apologize, Sir, but I am quite certain that you summoned me and compelled my presence in the music room I've been avoiding for the past month, along with the student by your side at present, not solely to express your concern towards me. So, let us get straight to the point. What is it that you wish to discuss?"

The warm smile on Mr. Landers' countenance vanished, and his expression promptly transformed into one of solemnity. Mr. Landers turned his figure around and proceeded to approach the window.

"Faustus, I require your participation in a competition to represent the name of this institution."

"Why must it be me?"

Mr. Landers once again turned his body to face me and the other student before responding, "It is only you who possesses an extraordinary talent in playing the piano, capable of embellishing the reputation of this institution and securing triumphs for it."

Amazing. For a school of considerable size with a highly renowned reputation, to have only me as a student with extraordinary talent in playing the piano worthy of advancing in competitions is truly exceptional.

Are the other students fucking stupid, then?

I sighed deeply, another heavy breath I took, I lost count of how many times. I decided to agree to it, for this one time only. This will be the last time I play the piano. After this, I will truly never touch the piano again.

"Very well, I shall participate in this competition. However…" I directed my gaze towards the student with the annoying smile earlier. His eyes, the shade of orange akin to the sunset, subtly glance back at me. "What purpose does he have for being here?"

Mr. Landers walked towards the two of us, then stood between me and that student with a smile on his face. "His name is Sebastian Michaelis. He is adept at playing the violin, and I would like you and him to be partners in this competition."

"PARTNER?!" I widened my eyes as Mr. Landers introduced the student with that annoying smile to me. As if Mr. Landers wasn't content with making my day worse by forcing me to play the piano again, now he's compelling me to participate in a competition paired up with this student.

"Quite right. This competition shall be held in Paris come December, and each school from every country must send forth two students gifted in the arts of the piano and the violin to play in harmony. I do hope you two can forge a closeness so that your performance might be more cohesive and pleasing. For now, acquaint yourselves and endeavor to practice playing your respective musical instruments independently. Around five o'clock later, after my lessons, I shall return to guide you through your rehearsal." Mr. Landers remarked, promptly exiting the music room, affording me no opportunity to voice any objections.

I sniffed. What to do, I must endure for approximately five months with this student.

I turned my gaze back to that student named Sebastian. He once again offered that annoying smile while extending his hand toward me, "Although Mr. Landers has introduced me to you, it would be rather splendid for us to become better acquainted on a more personal level. My name is Sebastian Michaelis, delighted to make your acquaintance, Claude Faustus. Kindly consider a harmonious collaboration over the forthcoming five months." He uttered with a tone that exuded warmth, gentleness, and sweetness akin to milk and honey.

Wait, what am I thinking? Moron, forget it! Focus on the competition, and end this issue as swiftly as possible!

I did not reciprocate that smile, yet I still responded to his handshake without uttering a word, merely for the sake of formality. As I shook his hand, he closed his eyes, tilted his head slightly, and maintained a smile toward me; a few strands of his hair, neatly combed backward, fell onto his soft cheek. The sunlight streaming in through the window behind him remade him appear... beautiful.

What?

We practice only until half past six in the evening because Mr. Landers doesn't want his students to return too late. As it happens to be the weekend tomorrow, Mr. Landers will guide us in a more rigorous practice session with an extended duration so that Sebastian and I can deliver a highly polished performance on the day of the competition.

I am relieved as I can finally leave the school building, which has grown predominantly dim due to the extinguished lights in most of its rooms. I am also relieved that Mr. Landers did not compel Sebastian and me to practice until the late hours. You see, many eerie tales unfold within the school premises during the nighttime. I am not afraid; I am merely not in the best mood to confront such entities. I am so fucking exhausted.

As I was approaching the school gate, a voice called out my name from behind, causing me to come to a halt. I turned towards the source of the sound and found Sebastian running towards me. Dear Lord… what again?

"Claude, would you care to join me for supper? I have a delightful and reasonably priced restaurant recommendation, merely two buildings away from this school," he inquired with a genial smile on his face. Does his smile ever wane, one wonders?

Well, I've just realized that my stomach is feeling quite famished at the moment. And that invitation instantly reminded me that ever since my mother's passing, I've had to tend to all the household chores myself. My father is engrossed in his work in Germany, and my uncle, aunt, and other members of my family live far from London, so there's no one available to assist in looking after me at home. Father also has no intentions of relocating me from London, as he wishes for me to continue my education at Weston College, renowned as the finest school throughout all of England, with a plethora of successful alumni.

Back to the present, I am contemplating accepting Sebastian's invitation to dine together. My physique has grown exceedingly weary from this practice session, and I am confident that upon arriving home, I shall have no remaining energy for cooking endeavors. It seems I am inclined to proceed directly to slumber.

"Very well," I responded to Sebastian, which he promptly met with a bright smile. I couldn't fathom why he appeared so pleased that I had accepted his invitation to dine together.

Sebastian and I dined in tranquillity, with scarcely a discourse exchanged between the two of us. It appeared as though Sebastian comprehended my inclination towards reticence. He ordered the Fish and Chips, whereas I ordered the Lancashire Hotpot. Precisely at seven fifteen, we concluded our dinner. It was rather expeditious, indeed, it seems both of us were quite famished.

After completing our dinner, I observed Sebastian, who was extracting a small orange -or brown- bottle from the inner pocket of his school blazer. Might that be medicine?

"What is it?" I inquired, which left me astounded three seconds after I had posed the question. It is not customary for me to allow my sense of curiosity to impel me to articulate inquiries within my mind, unbeknownst to me.

Sebastian appeared silent for a moment, whether due to his perplexity over my uncharacteristic inclination towards conversation or the sudden revelation of my curiosity, prompting me to initiate discourse, yet thereafter he chuckled softly and responded, "These are vitamins."

I merely nodded my head, albeit with some uncertainty regarding the veracity of her response. I possess a few vitamin products aimed at maintaining health and stamina during the rigors of academic pursuits, yet I have never encountered a vitamin product presented in such a bottle. It bears a semblance to medications one might find within a hospital setting. Nonetheless, I am disinclined to exhibit any overt curiosity in his presence, and nor do I wish to inadvertently convey an impression of prying into his personal affairs. Thus, I have opted to extend my trust in his words.

After we had finished our dinner, Sebastian and I stood in front of the restaurant where we had dined earlier. I awaited a taxi to take me home, while Sebastian... I neither knew nor wished to know.

Not long after, a Rolls Royce Phantom, adorned with its distinguished emblem, came to a halt before us. An elderly gentleman, his hair adorned with a silvery hue, appearing to be in his early sixties, stepped out from the passenger door, dressed akin to that of a butler, and graciously left the door behind him ajar.

"Tanaka!"

I promptly turned to Sebastian, who appeared quite delighted upon the arrival of this elderly gentleman. The elderly gentleman smiled at Sebastian and then proceeded to bow before him.

"Young Master, it is time to return home," spoke the elderly gentleman. I, who am still struggling to process this information, found myself involuntarily alternating my gaze between Sebastian and the old man. I am quite certain that my current facial expression closely resembles that of a complete imbecile. Does this young man possess a butler? How fucking damn rich must he be?

Sebastian walked towards the open car door but did not immediately get in. He turned his face and gazed at me with the gentle smile that always adorned his countenance. "Claude, would you care to join? I can give you a ride home if you wish."

Hell no. I do not wish to spend any more time with Sebastian, so I chose to shake my head and reply, "No. I can go home by taxi."

Sebastian's smile instantly vanished. He appeared disappointed as I declined his offer, but then his smile returned. "Shall we meet again at school tomorrow?" he said.

Of course, you fool. Mr. Landers has requested our presence at the school tomorrow for a reprise of our practice session. I merely provided a brief nod in response to his rather stupid question. Would you be so kind as to leave at once? Your presence of how rich you are is causing me discomfort, as all eyes are currently fixed upon us.

"Promise?" I narrowed my eyes at the question. Blast, did Mr. Landers instruct Sebastian to ensure that I wouldn't escape from this fucking competition or something of the sort?

"Yes," I responded curtly, hoping that the answer would promptly dismiss him to leave. And, thank the Lord, he finally stepped into the car followed by his butler, then departed from this location. It is quite a relief to witness his departure, as I am no longer the center of attention here.

But I do miss his smile a bit.