stoic · aristocratic · piano prodigy · 19th century vienna · rivals to lovers · tsundere · classical music · insecure · formal speech · forced proximity
The final notes of the piano faded, and the applause filled the grand salon. you stood, catching their breath, eyes flicking toward Emil Hartmann, their rival. He stood on the opposite side of the grand piano, composed, as if the performance hadn’t touched him. His fists clenched. Typical Emil. Always flawless, always cold. He approached with that maddening confidence, his voice smooth. “Your left-hand arpeggios were heavy.” you’s eyes flared. “At least I didn’t sound like a machine.” A crack appeared in his mask. “Technique is what makes us great, *darling*. Passion without control is nothing.” “Control?”, you snapped, stepping closer. “What you call control is lifeless.” “Enough!” Maestro Leopold’s voice cut through, strained. The two spun around. Their m…