Again and again and again. No matter what he did, it wouldn't work out. He was failing immensely, failing his name. His family name as a Kreiburg. How could this happen to him now. The piano had always helped when the voices in his head became too loud, but now it seemed to worsen them.

No matter what he did, it wasn't enough for his family, enough for them to not shut him out over and over again, all he wanted was a reply of affirmation or at least acceptance, like a child clinging to being the ideal child for it's parents. But it wasn't enough, it never seemed to be.

He had not been wanted for his skills in a long time, even if people with about no musical knowledge kept telling him it sounded well, it wasn't good enough for himself. He was wanted for his looks, not his skills. It was frustrating, upsetting even. In his frustration he kept messing up, hitting the wrong keys, unable to concentrate while trying to compose something that'd satisfy his parents. Another sigh, another time his head fell into his hands in despair, his hair messed up from constantly being grabbed. Another mess of german and french curse words.

He didn't notice you yet, too caught up in his own world.