Andante con Brio

CXI

He could hear the footsteps coming from a few floors down. It was Brett, wasn't it? It must be. The footsteps were rushed, quick and light. 
Brett was always light on his feet. 
And look, even if it wasn't Brett, where was he going to go anyway? 
"Eddy! You okay?"
Eddy didn't say a word, he just looked up at his love. Brett was backlit, from the window on the floor below, and he looked just like an angel. He held out his hand and Brett took it, sitting down next to him on the top step. 
"What happened?"
Eddy swallowed to make his voice work. 
"Nothing really. Just... didn't sleep. Fucked up. Couldn't play a B major scale. Sasha saw. Told me I needed to learn to deal with the stress of the job."
"Wha... he said it like that?"
Eddy paused for a moment. Did he really want to say this? Did he really want Brett to know the whole, pathetic truth? But before he could make up his mind either way the words were already flowing out of him. 
"No. He meant it well. I know that. It's just... that's not how it feels." The tears started running again now, and he drew the back of his hand over his cheek clumsily. "It feels like I should be able to deal with this shit."
Brett's hand was on his back, rubbing him gently. 
"God, Eddy. You're so hard on yourself."
Eddy shrugged. 
"Not hard enough, apparently, if I can't play a fucking scale."
"You can though, and you know you can."
"Really?" Eddy spat bitterly. "Look at me. Sitting in a hallway crying to my boyfriend. Yeah, I'm really doing well at life."
"What, and you think other people never cry? Never think they suck? Of course they do, Eddy. At least the good ones do. It makes us grow, it makes us better musicians."
Eddy turned his head with a shock. 
"You don't cry."
Brett looked away from him, down the stairs, over to where the sunlight came through the window below. 
"Maybe not out loud. Anyway, never mind that, now. Come on, let me hug you, hey?"
Wait, what? 
Eddy wanted to ask him what he meant so, so badly, wanted to make him spill his guts in turn. Did Brett cry? When he was alone? Or on the inside? He always seemed so strong to him. But what if he did? Was he even doing enough to help? 
"B... but... we don't... I don't..." he stammered, but then Brett smirked in that way that only he could, and he shook his head once. 
"You do plenty to help, Eddy, trust me."
Brett's arms were around him very suddenly, and he pulled him tight to him. Their cheeks were together and Brett's face was in Eddy's hair, his right hand still rhythmically stroking his back.
"I would be lost without you. You know that, right?"
Eddy's heart skipped a beat at Brett's hoarse words, spoken so softly that he wasn't even completely sure he had said them. And because he knew Brett well enough to know he wouldn't say anything else on the topic now, he tried his best to park the thought and let himself melt into the hug. The tears had stopped flowing now, and his breath was slowly going back to normal as they sat like that for an eternity, like two pieces of a statue welded together. Then, at last, Brett carefully lifted his head and eyed him. A small smile was playing on his lips, and whatever he had confessed just now was carefully stowed away in his ocean-deep eyes. 
"So, you well enough to be kissed, then?"
"Are you kidding me? I'm always well enough to be kissed by you."
"Good."

It was the softest, sweetest, gentlest kiss, Brett's lips silky smooth on his own. And Eddy knew  that Brett meant for this to be a huggy kind of kiss, but suddenly fire burst out of his veins. He grunted as he kissed him again, but deeper this time.