concerto of a lifetime

i

Jordan Liang rolled up his sleeves and rosined his bow. He tightened it perfectly, flopped his wrist around two or three times for good measure, and then began to do his breathing exercises. He wouldn't begin a practice session without them; he felt they were essential.

With his violin perched delicately between his chin and shoulder, he took a deep breath in. He held it, trying to insert himself into the right mind space for creating magic in his music. It didn't happen often-- maybe once every two weeks if he was lucky-- but sometimes Jordan would become so totally immersed, so overcome with passion, that playing his violin was an out of body experience.

He knew it sounded eccentric. But then again, weren't they all at Dorian?

Through the small window in the door of the practice room, and across the hall, Jordan could see Elijah Kingston... or Eli, as he insisted to be called. Jordan listened closely to hear Eli playing the Sibelius Violin Concerto, then smirked to himself. Jordan and Eli were the two most advanced violinists at Dorian-- for this performance of the Sibelius concerto, which Dorian was heavily advertising, televising, and putting into it's recording archives, it was either one of those two boys that would be the soloist.

After three auditions, Jordan was chosen, Eli designated concertmaster. A reputable position; remarkable, even... yet he'd been beat, and Jordan couldn't help the quiet satisfaction he got from knowing Eli was still playing the piece he'd lost at.

Eli suddenly looked into the window, and Jordan made direct eye contact with him, which was blisteringly awkward. Sure, Jordan was gloating in his mind, but he didn't want Eli to think he was outwardly mocking him by watching his performance. He quickly finished his breathing exercises, then began doing scales.

Jordan had every minute of every practice session planned out. Every thirty second break, every time for a sip of water, every time he'd do five push-ups to keep his energy up. He always came in with a goal; today was the cadenza from the first movement of Sibelius, which he was already feeling pretty confident about but needed to clean up.

He played, and played, and played...

The euphoric feeling never came, but great progress was made. After three hours in the practice room, he packed up his violin, did his after-playing stretches, and left.

~~~

Eli Kingston, after an unusual five hours in the practice room, finally decided to call it a day. He didn't know why he was still practicing the violin solo of Sibelius, when he needed to be focusing on the orchestral score. But when he started, it was as if he couldn't stop, and he didn't realize he'd played for so long until he walked outside and realized it was dark and drizzly.

He shivered; it was always chilly at Dorian, and the light, misty rain wasn't helping.

Eli had come to Dorian his freshman year. His teachers had all recommended him to; in fact, he'd gotten six recommendation letters when Dorian only required three. His parents didn't really care about what Eli was doing so long as he was extremely successful, so they did not mind to pay the steep fee so that Eli could attend the USA's most prestigious music school. 

Dorian had been like a dream at first, but it slowly began to consume him. As he began to be recognized by students and teachers as one of the best in the school, he became more stressed than ever before. And, when he was chosen to compete against Jordan Liang for the soloist position of his favorite violin concerto... well, that was just brutal. 

He had spent the months preparing for the audition with little to no sleep, seriously lacking nutrition and even forgetting to drink water some days. His hands were almost permanently cramped, his callused fingers nearly bloody some days, his sheet music barely readable with the amount of notes he'd written. 

Remarkably, his love for the concerto never faded. And even when he went through a brief period of despising the violin, it wasn't the music he had any ill will towards. It was the competitive nature of being an advanced musician, how you were designed to be knocked down and down again if you weren't the very best. 

The day he found out Jordan got the soloist position, he was almost mentally resigned. He didn't scream, or hit anything, or cry. He didn't like Jordan. Nobody really did-- he was obnoxious and stuck  up, one of those guys that thinks they can do and say no wrong. When they said Jordan's name, he nodded, shook Jordan's hand, and went back to his dorm room for the most restful sleep he'd gotten in a very long time. 

He and Jordan would have to start communicating soon, though. As soloist and concertmaster, they had to make sure they were on the same page about the music. And because the conductor was also a student, they were all approaching this with little experience. It was exciting, yes... but if Eli couldn't be soloist, he at least wanted to make this the most memorable concerto performance Dorian had ever produced. 

Maybe that could be his legacy. 

On his way back to the dorm, he noticed he was walking behind Jordan. He observed the way Jordan walked; long, strong strides, a certain swagger that only comes from being the best at something. Eli wondered if Jordan had the concerto playing in his head at all times too. If Jordan inhaled and exhaled the music he was performing. If practicing was a sacred, private time for him, or something he just had to do. 

They'd never be friends enough for him to find out, Eli thought to himself, and slowed his pace so that Jordan's figure disappeared into the night.