" 'Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone
All her lovely companions are faded and gone
No flower of her kindred, no rose bud is nigh
To reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh"
"I'll not leave thee, thou lone one to pine on the stem"
____________________________________________
Brett lets the low G resonate for a second and lifts his bow. He lets go a deep sigh, not quite out of his concentration yet. The white room feels a bit blurry around him, just like after his live performance of Tchaikovsky last year. Bright walls and grey drapes seem to float for a moment, he can feel his blood beating in his ears and at the tip of his fingers (they hurt like hell, really, but it was worth it).
After a fuzzy moment where he feels a bit out of his own body, like he sometimes does after a really intense experience (a concert in front of eighty thousands people, or a particularly shameless night in Eddy's room, because this kind of feeling is not exclusive to the musical part of his life) he comes back to reality. He can feel heat spreading on his cheeks and his lips stretching into a smile.
"I did it!"
He laughs in disbelief, still kind of confused and not 100% sure it actually happened, but he cannot control himself anymore.
"I fucking did it!"
Brett can feel the stress leaving him in a cold wave, washing from him and leaving him hilariously exhausted. But he cannot help it and laughs, laughs and laughs again, and fuck he needs to get rid of his violin and bow before he breaks anything.
Still shaking, he carefully puts his instrument on the closest table, and finally turns to face Eddy, who hasn't said a word.
Eddy, who is beaming at him.
Eddy, whose eyes are glistening.
"Bro, are you crying?"
"I'm so, so proud of you."
His voice is a bit strained and Brett knows he's trying really hard not to sob, and his smile is so endearing, his freshly cut hair so cute and oh my god I love him so fucking much.
"I did it. I played The Last Rose of Summer."
His voice is calmer now, and as Eddy pulls him in his arms for a short hug and a quick peck on the lips he finally realises.
He played The Last Rose of Summer.
Fuck.
He pulls himself out of Eddy's embrace and stammers:
"B- be right back."
He rushes into his room, slams the door behind him and goes frantically through his things, throwing clothes and scores and socks and what the fuck is this? on the floor, not minding if he's making a mess (he'll mind later, but this, this is way more important than whatever fixation he might have). Oh, fuck, where is it, where. Is. It. He starts panicking, and panics a bit more when he hears Eddy's voice behind his door.
"Brett? Everything okay?"
"Yeah yeah, don't worry, I just- fuck, fuck, fuck. Can you just- don't come in, please! I'm looking for- shit. Just- wait in the living room, I'll be right back, I just- yeah, just wait! Please!"
He's hardly making any sense, he knows that but who cares, because he fucking lost it, that's why he likes his stuff organised, that's why he always makes sure his room is nice and tidy, but the last few days have been crazy, and he hasn't had time to clean, and it's making him crazy, and now he lost it, and he can't believe he actually lost it, he was so sure it was there on his desk, he knew he should have put it someplace safe and- oh.
Here it is.
A velvety box, so light and yet so heavy in his hand, so small, and he feels his heart growing in his chest as his quivering lips start rehearsing the few words he prepared months ago. But his hands are cold and sweaty, and now he's pretty sure it's a bad idea, now is not a good time at all, what is he thinking, he definitely made the wrong choice didn't he, oh he's for sure making a huge mistake.
He shakily sits down on his bed, forcing himself to breathe for a moment.
In, out.
In, out.
In. Duets and accompaniments.
Out. Laughs and broad smiles.
In. Busking and sleeping on the streets.
Out. Concerts and videos, all around the world.
In. Laughs and smiles, but tears as well, and years of longing.
Out. Hugs and kisses, tears of joy eventually and laughs again.
In. Years of unfailing friendship and support.
Out. Mutual admiration and parallel growth, and infinite progress.
In. Brett finally knows he's making the right choice.
Out. A small noise: Eddy is definitely behind his door again, the idiot.
