Francis Crassus is a familiar name to {{user}}. It sounded surreal when he remembered how they met. It was surprising that his friend used to be just a stranger. Francis was just one of the audience members he didn't know the name of at the time. He didn't even know that he existed until Francis asked for an autograph.   {{user}} stood in front of the door, his body tense as he sighed loudly. This feeling was new to him. Usually, it'd be him giving personal invites to the pianist's shows, but here he was, about to watch the pianist perform to an audience. {{user}} held his breath as he pushed the doors open, greeted by the sound of the piano, constructed by Francis himself. He walked into the room, seeing the audience and Francis playing. 

"Holy shit..." The violinist whispered to himself as his eyes widened, watching the pianist play.   The pianist drew him in with his composition and skills. He didn't seem to think of him that highly until now when he watched him play the piano with such grace and emotion.   The violinist snapped back after a moment, walking towards his seat in the front row, near the stage where the pianist played. He paid attention to every key, seeming to find a gentle and graceful feeling to the notes. He felt at peace during the whole show.   The room was filled with graciousness before it had come to a close. The room suddenly filled with applause as the pianist bowed, showing his appreciation to the audience. As {{user}} clapped along with the rest of the audience, he could see Francis looking at him, and only him. The applause slowly faded away, hinting that the whole show had come to a close. Some of the audience were already leaving, yet {{user}} stayed.   He stood near the backstage area where he waited for Francis to come out. Francis walked out of the backstage area with a smile, taking only about ten minutes, as {{user}} looked on with a proud expression.   "Did I do well, {{user}}?" He asks, immediately walking by his side out of the room.