"Lianara, come on!" Gabbie whined beside me. I was annoyed for her loud complaints woke me from my deep sleep.
"Can't you shut up, Gabs? Someone's sleeping here, can't you see?" I yawned then shifted into a more comfortable position.
She let out another whine. "Really, Lianara? Right here, at an International Piano Contest? And the moment the first pianist performed, you were already swimming in your own saliva." She slapped my shoulder with disbelief and I quickly gave her my rolling eyes.
"Who told you to bring me here, anyway? You said we're going to London to attend an 'exciting' event! That's 14 hours away from home and I even have to negotiate with mommy just to allow me! And you brought me here! Here! When you knew exactly I have no heart for music!" I yelled at her, trying to be decent so as to not disturb anybody but I still managed to catch the attention of a few people within our radius.
"Shh." She put her index finger on her lips to silence me. And the 19th performer was called. "He's in." She said, smiling widely and pointing the same finger to the approaching figure.
A man of my age majestically walked towards the center stage. He brought a cold and distant aura and his eyes seemed to be pinning nowhere. It has no direction, quite empty actually. But something in him made my eyes glued. Perhaps it's his hair pushed back or his dashing black suit or his exceptionally gorgeous face that made me withdraw my breath.
I wasn't deprived of good-looking people in this life. My family has good genes too. I have handsome and pretty friends in my social circle. But never have I ever seen someone of this intensity. He was cruelly handsome that I felt he was impossible to touch. And even if I could, he would easily get out of my hold. I felt a slight wave of frustration that made my insides twitched.
"Who is he exactly?" I asked my cousin when I wasn't able to hold my curiosity.
She was also in awe and fascination when she answered me, "He is the highlight of this competition. Rallentando Yenary Isralia, our country's only qualified representative and the first son of the owners of the Isralia Music Industry which was globally known for producing and managing the most remarkable musical stars. Not only was his family five times richer than we are but he is also a phenomenal pianist. At the age of six, he won a piano competition in Macau. And never have I ever heard that he lost."
I watched him give a bow. No wonder his bow looked awkward. He might not be used to bowing to people but was trained to keep his head high all the times. Maybe the only times he hang his head low were in competitions like this, just to keep formalities.
He sat in front of the grand piano. His eyes burned with passion as he stared at the notes. His long, slender fingers gracefully touched the black and white tiles. I know in my heart that I hate music. It always disturbs the peace within my soul. While others are magically relaxed upon hearing something melodious, I have a reverse effect. I feel irritated and annoyed.
But why did my ears accept whatever he is making? His delicate fingers that alternately lands on the piano and flies through the air made me wonder why I am listening. And the longer I allowed myself to stare at his eyes, the crazier my heart behaves.
When the competition is not yet starting and Gabbie showed me our seats, I wanted to shout at her. Why the front row? That would only give me more feels of this musical event that I wasn't even interested by pinch.
Only now that this 19th pianist stopped hiding from the backstage, only now when he started playing that I suddenly want to thank my cousin for buying me a seat here.
Nobody dared to make a sound while he owned the stage. Everyone held their breaths just so they wouldn't make a noise. When his fingers came to a dramatic ending, everyone was still in shock. These music lovers might have fed their souls tonight. I know, because if someone like me who loves a cockroach more than music felt that his performance was beyond any adjective, these music lovers might have felt a greater satisfaction.
"Beethoven's." Gabbie murmured while drowning in amusement.
"What?" I asked, not able to comprehend what she said.
Still in deep appreciation of the man who silenced the whole auditorium, and now joining the crowd for a clap, she replied, "It's a Beethoven piece."
I know nothing of what it is. I don't understand how complex that piece is and I am completely oblivious of the technical criteria that his performance met.
But there's something that I'm certain. Despite confusions and unfamiliar feelings, I realized that my young heart couldn't accept that I won't meet him again and my solid pride couldn't admit that despite everyone branding me perfect, there is a man out there, who's still too much for me.