Idris Elba is a talented cellist whose career was held back due to raising his younger brother alone.
Tom Hiddleston is a jaded Arts & Entertainment columnist who hates the Christmas concert season (thanks to the one horrid Christmas violin recital he gave during his university days – the recital that made him vow never to play in public again).
Idris has such talent and feeling and magic in his performance, though, and Tom finds himself feeling something again. After requesting an interview, he discovers that it isn’t just the music that has captivated him; it’s the gorgeous, brilliant man behind it, too.
Predictable rom-com ups and downs ensue, culminating in a public proposal at the end of and important benefit concert.
Tom writes a song just for Idris and plays it on the violin at their wedding.
They live happily ever after.
HeartStrings – Coming to theaters this December
Can I humbly suggest we add Aldis Hodge to the cast as Idris Elba’s friend from music school who made it pro:
*Please note that I have no knowledge of the cello and this is not Brit picked. Thanks!
“You’re restringing that wrong.”
Eugene hummed, still staring at a mop of curly blond hair just under the balcony. The mop was standing beside their conductor and the program director; both were smiling their most gracious smiles, full of teeth. They were clearly on their best behavior. Eugene’s fingers gave another gentle tug on his cello’s peg, just as it became clear the mop of hair was attached to legs for days.
“Stop pulling your G-string through the D position.” Someone sat down beside him with a thud, scooting the cheap metal chair back a few inches. “Unless you’re going for a ‘modern fucked’ sound, I’d really stop.”
Eugene nodded and tugged at the peg a little more, tight enough to feel the tension in his fingers. The legs for days were attached to an ass that he’d only dreamed about. Did blond mop run?
“Seriously, man. You’re gonna snap it.”
“Yeah.” He had to be a runner. Eugene caught sight of a smile, followed quickly by their director waving his hand animatedly in the air.
Eugene felt a gentle hand clasp his, makin ghim jerk slightly out of his fantasy’s runner-legs and a smile he wanted to lick.
“Sorry, what?”
Max grinned at him. “You really need to get laid.”
