i broke the silence for you

x. molto allegro

i let go of the sunlight years ago
and yet you caught it
and held it up high
so i could still see.

     the next day was sunday, so brett didn’t have rehearsal. when he had woken up, he refused to get out of bed and pulled the sheets over his body, sighing in the warmth. he hardly slept last night, both cursing and admiring his own bravery as he remembered yesterday.

     and the best part? eddy loved him back. joy ricocheted inside him and he giggled, pulling the covers tighter over him.

     he finally threw the blankets off of him when he felt the bedside table vibrate violently. he picked up his phone (which he had put on vibrate, of course), staring at sergei’s name at the top of his screen. although he couldn’t hear, he answered it not to seem rude, putting it on speaker. even with the volume all the way up, he had no idea what was being said.

     “maestro—i’m sorry, can you repeat that? i can’t hear you,” brett asked.

     “i know it’s sunday, but we’re having a concert tonight to make up for yesterday. what happened?” sergei explained.

     “i. . . don’t remember,” brett mumbled. “i’ll get ready for tonight. i’m really sorry.”

     “it’s fine, just make sure it doesn’t happen again. have a nice day.”

     “you too.”

     brett hung up and placed his phone back on the table, running his hands through his hair. he understood the conductor's decision, but he was planning to relax today. he hadn't even fully recovered from all the stress over the past week.

     he stood up, got dressed, had breakfast, and headed out the door and to the library. the atmosphere of the place was so peaceful, the scent always soothed him, and the silence made him feel so welcomed; as if they had made that rule especially for him.

     he opened the door and stepped inside the library, the cool air saluting him and inviting him inside with an invisible gesture with its nonexistent hand. the scent of fresh paper soothed him as he headed over to the poetry section.

     poetry wasn't necessarily his thing, but he loved to see how people were able to weave words into silent symphonies. the way that the letters strung together in sentences the exact same way they would when he was talking could do the same and come out so differently amazed him. he pulled out the art of drowning by billy collins.

     i wonder how it all got started, this business
     about seeing your life flash before your eyes
     while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
     could startle time into such compression, crushing
     decades in the vice of your desperate, final seconds.

     brett wondered that if he were to drown, would holding eddy's hand be part of the long line of memories shoved into his very last seconds? his hand running through his hair? the laughter in the rain and how he sat on the counter like a cat, his soft skin gently brushing under brett's lips?

     eddy's lips touching his?

     brett shook his head in disbelief and slid the book back on the shelf. they'd barely known each other for a month. it was way too early for something like that. he strolled out of the library, shivering as the cold morning air hit him, and headed over to the coffee shop.

     brett began his usual routine; get coffee, practice, have lunch, practice some more, head over to the concert hall, practice, perform, have dinner, sleep, wake up, and do it all over again.