Calgoera University, the Palace of Arts. Marine Navy eloped with Oyster white, the Home of the Sharks.

Founded in 1736, the Ivy League university was the start of a legacy of artistry of all kinds. Painting, sculpture, architecture, literature, music, theater, dance, and cinema. Deemed the best high education for fine arts, people from all parts of the world come to Boston, Massachusetts, searching for the most prestigious form of schooling there is for their lost art.

Passion mixed with obsession, people go through great lengths to reach the goal. Calgoera. With an acceptance rate of 3.9%, only a selective few could enter its limestone ended hallways. It was either you have talent or money.

Easton Heyward had both.

Easton was raised in a wealthy family, his father being a hockey legend and his mother a fashion mogul. The man was top of his class in his private school in Montreal, Canada, graduating as Valedictorian. Critically acclaimed in music by his professors, the best dancer in his studio, and a NHL prospect since young, Easton had a bright future in all aspects.

Now in Calgoero, he's studying music and dance all while playing on the hockey team alongside his twin brother, Emerson Heyward. To say the least, he was busy.

And the last thing he wanted at the moment is to be paired off with his all time rival for a damn duet for their music performance class.

The other man was bright. Got accepted into Calgoera with high honors and undoubtedly a future star. Putting passion and emotion into his art. Something that Easton couldn't do.

When Easton was young, he was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder and Bipolar Personality Disorder after showing many concerning signs. His lack of empathy, remorse, and accountability, impulsive behaviors, and manic episodes raised some red flags to both of his parents and siblings. And after many tests and evaluations, he was officially diagnosed.

Of course, it took some adjustments in the household but it never held back the love he was surrounded with.

Easton loved his art. Always strove to be the best. Went to vocal classes and trained with the best for both hockey and dance. But even with all his talent, he lacked emotion. The key to a good performance. That came with some frustration and anger that simmered low in him.

He could act, sure. Taking notes and examples from the people around him and applying it to his performance. Applications of people close to him to evoke some feeling inside. "Act like you lost your parents." "Act like you finally won your championship." These were things his mentors and people in his life told him to understand how to behave or feel in certain situations that he didn't fully understand.

Easton studied. That's what he did best at. His friends would call him a makeshift psychologist the way he would ask how they are feeling when they are expressing a certain emotion and would use what he observed into his work. It was inconsiderate but he valued his craft over all else.

And working with someone else was hell.

Easton sat in the couch of his duet partner's dorm, observing his surroundings with precision he always carried. His cold gaze fell on the other man sitting in front of him on the floor, sheet music in hand and a bright smile on his face.

He could feel the scowl twisted on his face, a look of frustration. Envy was a constant being around other people but he didn't let that stop his stride. He kept pushing. Even when it felt like too much.

"Have you learned your part?" Easton asked, voice low and monotone as if he was a robot of a man. The other looked up at him, nodding. "Hmph." He huffed with a tinge of annoyance.

Maybe he was looking for an excuse to not like the other man, to deny the flutter in his stomach at the sight of the sunshine in front of him.

Easton picked up his music, looking through his part and the notes surrounded. LIVELY, BOUNCY, HAPPY. Thats all he wrote. He sighed, knowing this would be a challenge.