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Your hand clutched onto your instrument case and the other absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, picking a song to play while you waited inside of the train. The time is 6:23AM, the train car you're currently in is practically empty and quiet, and your phone is on 94%. It's times like this where you're able to relax in silence for once and not focus on your stressful and busy schedule, and even though you feel like your schedule is constantly bombarded with practice sessions and concerts, it's like they never existed in the first place whenever you enter the train station.
As you lean back against your seat and take a deep breath, your eyes finally close and your other senses automatically heighten, hearing the muffled noises of the wheels moving rhythmically against the railings through your music and the gentle rumbling inside of the train. From how perfectly relaxing your current situation was, you swear you were about to fall asleep when your mind finally comes back to reality as the train comes to a halt and the doors let out a “woosh”-ing noise as they open, a soft and displeased grumble escaping your lips before you stood up, the handle of your instrument case in hand and your phone inside of your pocket while you stepped outside the train, taking in the familiar view of the train station before you.
— —
Your shoes make an echoed sound while you maneuvered your way inside of the orchestra hall, your eyes eventually landing on the empty seats that were already unfolded and neatly placed in their usual order as the same every other day. But that wasn’t what caught your attention—it was the man who sat on String A, casually tuning his violin with a focused expression etched on his face. He’s dressed nicely; donning a black compression shirt that was perfectly paired with black trousers and black dress shoes, while his hair is neatly combed back that was a sharp contrast to his big brown eyes.
You could’ve sworn your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, your palms suddenly beginning to get all clammy and sweaty which caused the handle of your case to go moist. Letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, you eventually walk down the stairs and into the stage, catching the attention of the man. His expression shifted from a stern one to a confused and surprised face upon seeing you, not expecting anyone else to be as early as him since he was so used to being alone by this time.
Sitting in your chair that you’ve grown to memorize exactly where it’s located, you remove your headphones and shove them back in your bag, grabbing your music sheets that were neatly tucked in there as well before pinning them on the music stand in front of you. Your body is preoccupied with fixing your musical pieces, your brain is on autopilot that you failed to notice a pair of curious brown eyes watching your every move. Awkward silence ensued in the orchestra hall until the man cleared his throat, indicating he was about to speak.
“Hi.” He randomly blurts out after a few seconds of watching you withdraw your instrument out of your case, to which you hummed softly in response while looking up at him with a slightly perplexed look. “Good morning.” You respond in the same, soft volume before he nods in response and looks away once more—back to his music stand where a music piece laid there, waiting to be read. You couldn’t quite tell what song it was, but it consisted of two pages and it was most certainly not what the orchestra was practicing, however you chose not to pry further into his privacy and continued setting up your instrument.
That is, until you hear him play the piece with his violin, and your ears immediately perk up at the familiar tone and rhythm.
One baby to another says, "I'm lucky to've met you"
I don't care what you think unless it is about me
It is now my duty to completely drain you
I travel through a tube and end up in your infection
You take notice of the song choice he was playing right now, and you couldn’t help but smile a little soon after recognizing what song he’s currently playing. You turn your phone on, glancing at the music player on your lockscreen that has the same exact song that was paused before you swallow your pride and talk, piercing through the melody of the violin.
“I love Nirvana.” He instantly pauses after hearing that, putting his violin down from his shoulder as he glances at you once more with a curious face.
“Sorry?”
“I said I love Nirvana.” You repeat yourself, a confident smile gracing your lips the moment you notice the tinge of pink glowing in his face. When he couldn’t respond verbally, you take it as a sign to continue talking, taking the lead in the unexpected conversation. “I never knew you were the type of guy to listen to alternative rock.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah? Well, it’s just my dad’s music taste rubbing off on me, y’know.” He casually shrugged, trying to play it cool as he had absolutely no idea how to react to the compliment. The corners of your lips curve upwards even more at that. “Your dad has good taste, never thought I’d ever hear “Drain You” on the violin. In fact, I never thought about playing a Nirvana song with this old thing.” You sigh out, glancing at your instrument.
“You should,” He says, causing you to look at him. “I dunno if it would help you, but learning your favorite song on the instrument you play is like a stress reliever for most musicians. Plus, it’s really fun to play around with the ad libs while learning the song.” He beamed, a smile that could probably blind anyone from how adorable he looked. His face never really matched his usual attire, after all.
“Oh and uh… I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly yet.” The man points out, before hanging his violin against the music stand and looking back at you with his mouth split into a grin. “My name is Connor—Connor Anderson.” You respond by saying your own name, to which he finally relaxes and manages to calm his nerves down now that the two of you were immediately past the awkward stage of talking. Connor nodded thoughtfully as he tested your name on his tongue.
"Well," he says, adjusting his violin with a renewed spark in his eyes, "since you love Nirvana so much... maybe we should play a duet sometime. I know a lot of good songs to duet together." Your smile widens, heart racing at the invitation. Immediately nodding, you felt a surge of excitement you hadn't felt in a while. "That sounds like a plan, Connor."
After that interaction with the violinist, the orchestra hall no longer feels quite so empty.