Four thirty-three

Chapter 13

Hello! Christmas chapter for y'all, a bit earlier than I intended for it to appear, but oh well. It's never too early for Christmas!! Enjoy <3

The morning of Christmas Eve, as he was putting on his shoes to go get some breakfast, it suddenly hit Brett that it had already been eight months since he first came to the Con. Where had the time gone, he couldn't say. It was easy to lose track of time down there. Everyday felt a bit the same, one week melting into the other, with only lessons, his work at the library and endless practice to keep him occupied.

Still, all this time devoted to the violin had been paying off well. He was slowly learning how to practice more efficiently, and Mr. Chen had seemed so sure of his progress (though his playing was still abysmal, in Brett's eyes) that he'd deemed him ready to tackle some heavier repertoire.

Besides, true to his word, the teacher had been doing an evident effort to be nicer to him in his lessons.

Brett found this improved his own mood immensely.

He'd also spent every second of his free time going to concerts. They were an almost daily thing at the Con, with the bigger ensembles performing on the weekends and the smaller groups scattering throughout the rest of the week. Sometimes these performances were given by the teachers or by musicians who had already graduated, but more often than not it was the more advanced students who did them.

That was the beautiful thing about the Con: everybody got to perform once in a while, even students.

Mr. Chen had promised him he would, too, eventually. If he kept up the good work.

Brett couldn't wait.

♪ ♪ ♪

"What are you wearing tonight?"

"Uh?"

Ibo rolled his eyes. "Tonight. At the party."

"What party?"

Ibo rolled his eyes. "The Christmas party." They were at the library, Brett having to cover the morning shift, but it was empty, so they didn't bother whispering. "You're not wearing those old jeans you have, the ones discoloured at the knees?"

"Why not?"

"They're garish."

"Hey! They're comfortable."

"They are awful. And about two sizes too big for you."

"What do you want me to do about it? They only gave me two pairs of pants, and the others I haven't washed yet."

Ibo sighed dramatically.

"All right, leave it to me. I'll see what I can do."

♪ ♪ ♪

Ibo stormed inside the practice room just as Brett was unwinding the bow.

"Fucking finally. I've been looking for you everywhere." He unceremoniously put in his arms a bundle of clothes. "I didn't know your size, but I think these should fit you alright. Maybe. Maybe not? Wait, were you this small this morning?"

Brett ignored him and unfolded the clothes. Ibo had brought him some formal, black pants and a white button-up shirt.

"Where did you...?

"Don't ask. But if by any chance Jason comes asking where the fuck are his concert clothes, well, you know nothing and neither do I.Oh, also," he rummaged through his pocket and took out a necktie. It was bright orange, and for some reason somebody had decided that it would look good with a bread print all over. He handed it to Brett with a big grin on his face. "I got you this. Thought you might like to wear it."