Lovesick // John Wick

― 01. destined

                      HE DOESN'T notice her at first. She's one of what- a hundred plus membered symphony group? The music is drowned out, shadowed by the job he's here to do, but it's still beautiful background noise to his thoughts. John feels impatient and laser focused, that is until the spotlight shone to a corner of the stage. It's now the quartet's turn to showcase. As the piece begins, it's when John truly sees her; and the music makes him go weak. She looks special; clad in all black, her hair curled down past her shoulders— the only cello playing.

   Everything about her is the epitome of grace; no longer is she just another member of the orchestra to him. Each bow stroke is precise and strong, the amount of focus she has makes him see intricate perfection. He can see the passion in her movement, the fire that's in her eyes. The last time he saw such dedication had been within himself, but to the level he saw within her; he could only dream of. All the love in the world is what she's playing into that piece, and it makes John's head go hazy with lust.

   The piece ends too quickly for his liking; the crowd erupting into applause. John can only stare at her as she stands to bow, an elegant smile ironed on her lips. Then reality comes crashing down when Marcus's voice speaks in his ear.

   "Ready to do this?" Marcus's voice sounds muffled through the ear piece. He's off in a balcony scoping where their target is; and he can see the tenseness in John's body and the glazed-over look his eyes held.

   John can't find the will to answer because, he's not okay and he doesn't know why. His heart is beating crazily, palms sweaty, blood rushing, and his mouth dry as a desert. John can only nod before suddenly standing up much to the threats in his ear. Right now he has a job to complete but he needs air.

   John makes his way out into the hall before a new act can go on, and he quickly stumbles into a more secluded area to be alone. He's lightheaded, and his body is coursing with an unfamiliar feeling as the sound of the brass plays in the background. As a whole John is warm and feeling hard  from watching a girl play the damn cello. The sparkle in her eyes will surely haunt him and make him see possibility after possibility.

   It's then when he realizes he's been gripping a program, which is now crumpled and moist from sweat. His large fingers gravitate over the names on the pages, and he flips through desperately until he finds what he's looking for—

   One name, Kaitlyn Lee. He reads that she's the first chair cello for the symphony and more importantly the girl from the quartet. John's mind flashes with the picture of her, and he feels shaken up by the thought of the pretty girl with pale skin and dark locks. She had the prettiest, brightest smile as she took her bow; and he saw the deeper emotion her aura held- even from his seat.