I had finally finished bringing my boxes inside, and managed to even unpack a few. My neighbors were still unknown to me, but I was okay with that. Picking up my violin, I walked out to my porch. My new home was on the second floor of an apartment building in, New York.

It's not that I couldn't afford a house or some sort of lush mansion. It was more that I preferred living in much simpler places. Somewhere quiet, not overly expensive. Placing the violin between my shoulder and chin I closed my eyes, and imagined the notes to my piece.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and raised my bow before I began to play the tune. The notes seemed to flow evenly through the wind. As I played I had memories back to when I first played, how the instrument screeched and howled. Now the noises seemed to be quiet, yet loving. I always played with a passion. From such a young age, I'd always loved classical music.

Violin. That was always my favorite. Most children would be listening to heavy metal or modern pop, but me... I'd listen to violin solos on repeat. The angry, cursing pieces helped relieve my anger. The calm, sleepy pieces held me together.

Yet, when I put them together I create such a fury, such a piece. I never played by the notes, yet at the same time I did. I made my own chords, played my own tunes, and made a piece of sheet music come to life. People all around the world had come to see me in concert, not that I'm trying to brag, I could care less about how many people would come, how many people cared.

But I never felt truly alive without a sort of audience to come alive for. So deep down I appreciate it, but at the same time, I wish they'd all leave me be. As I finished my piece I notice the trail of sweat down the from of my face. I hadn't realized it, but I had been working harder now then I ever had for a practice run. Gently, I set down my instrument and whipped the sweat from my face.

There was a sudden, sharp clapping from down below me. I leaned over the edge to see a dark haired boy clapping, when he saw me looking down he grinned and placed a hand on his hip. "Hey! What was that... Fur Elise?"

"Your musical choice is clearly limited. That was Concerto No. 1 in a minor, Dmitri Shostakovich." I replied, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Well it sounded amazing. Are you the new neighbor?" He asked.

"(Y/N). Your professional violinist reporting for duty." I saluted, lamely. A grin appeared on his face, probably from my sarcastic tone.

"Well I'm, Gene."

"You seem very genuine."

"Genuine enough," he shrugged. "Mind if I come up? I can help you unpack a bit if you'd like?"

"No. I'm fine. I have to get ready for my concert anyways." My voice was brisk, drifting in the calm breeze, struggling to be heard over the sudden blare of horns.

"Concert? Well, mind if I come?"

"If you have three hundred dollars, and a tuxedo on hand feel free to accompany me. Maybe, then I'll consider your offer to help." Rolling my eyes, I picked up my violin and bow, walking back inside. After I set my violin in it's case I moved to my performance box and pulled out my white, ankle length dress. It had been through several concerts with me, and I almost never wore anything else.

Why should tonight be any different?

I put the dress over my arm, picking up my case and ran out the door, while putting my shoes on. Swiftly, I turned to lock the door behind me and jogged down the steps of the building and ran out to my car. After prying the door open to my 2001 Ford pick up truck.

Once again, it's not like I couldn't get a new car, but this had been my dad's car before he had died. So, I drive it to remember him... granted there are a few issues with the engine, the oil, the breaks, and the heaters, but that truck is the love of my life. I put the key in the ignition and turned it all the way and the truck roared to life, only to sputter for a moment a die out.

'Out of all the days.' I cursed myself silently. Throwing the door open I move to open the hood and see that a gage had been moved out of place. I moved it back in place and wrapped it in duck tape to make sure it would stay this time. Quickly, shutting the hood and getting back into the car I turned the key, and the engine roared again, this time not dying out.

I buckled up and backed out of the parking lot, then pulled out into the busy New York streets.

Gene's P.O.V.

I quickly dashed around my apartment, looking for my tie. That girl had been so stubborn about me coming to the concert, now I was determined to show up, just to see her reaction. Luckily, I had a lot of spare money sitting around, hopefully enough to get a front row seat. I wanted to see her reaction so badly that I was going to buy a front row ticket.

My tie was hanging on the edge of my messy bed. As I ran out the door I stuffed my money into my pocket, smoothed out my hair and put on my tie. When I got into the parking lot I watched that old pick up truck leave the parking lot.

I was going to be early!

Your P.O.V.

After being in traffic for almost an hour I managed to pull into the hall's back parking lot. I threw open the glove compartment and grabbed my pass along with my dress and violin. I ran up to the door where the 'bouncer', Ken was standing, wearing her casual suit. "Ah, Miss. (L/N). Nice to see you here again. Do you have your pass on you?"

I flashed the pass towards her, and she nodded letting me in. As I walked down the halls to my small dressing room I was greeted by my pianist, Mr. Davis. "Hello (Y/N)."

"Cohen Davis." I nodded to him as I hurried by, locking myself into the dressing room.

As uncomfortable as my dress was, I still traded it with my causal apparel. Running my fingers across my scalp as I looked into the mirror. My casual smile, my fancy dress and ordinary face. Of course I became a violinist out of anything. It's what my parents had always wanted me to be.

My hands moved towards my case involuntarily, taking the small instrument up to my chin, playing a soft melody as I stared at myself in the mirror. I lived to preform, but I hated it.

A few moments into playing I found myself thinking about that man earlier, Gene. As I thought about him my playing became less forced and more melodic. Startled by this I stopped playing, and closed my eyes taking breath.

"(Y/N), you're on!" Ashlee yelled, through the door. Quickly I smoothed out my skirt and left the room to follow Davis onto the stage. The lights blinded me every time, but not enough where I couldn't see the first few rows. I found myself slightly surprised to see that stupid smirk on Gene's face, as I spotted him in the front row.

He gave me a small thumbs up as I lifted the violin to my chin, and as Davis hovered his fingers over the keys. Then the magic began.

Davis' fingers glided across the keys in our piece's introduction. Silently, I counted the notes, the measures, rests... waiting impatiently until I could pour my heart across the stage. As the introduction began to reach it's end I raised my bow, and adjusted my fingers before they flew into action.

After two minutes of playing I was beginning to sweat, the moving no matter how gentle or rough I play I always work myself up too much. We finished, but quickly began to play another piece, followed by another, and another, and another until we'd played eight pieces. A huff escaped my lips as both Davis and I bowed and walked off stage. "Damn girl, you slayed!" Davis laughed, patting my back gently.

"Thank you. You seemed very determined tonight as well." He rolled his eyes at my formal compliment.

"Why are you so up tight? Just because we play classical music doesn't mean we have to be... classical... you know."

"Once again, thank you. You never fail to keep up with your own sense of humor." I patted his shoulder and walked out into the hallways to meet some people, teach them about the violin... when I ran into him. "Gene. What a surprise you showed up."

"I believe you saw me in the front?" A grin crossed his pale skin and a laugh actually escaped from me.

"You seem to be very... persistent."

"Well when I see someone I like, I try my best to be a gentleman... and persistent."

"Lovely," I rolled my eyes.

"Would you mind accompanying me on a night on the town?"

"This isn't going to turn into one of those murder stories where, they find my body in an alley way... is it?"

"Of course not. Do I look like someone who'd kill?" He struck a pose, grinning, with his hands on his hips.

"No, but you look like someone who'd be murdered."