It was 8 pm, right after dinner...

XVIII

In the end, Brett managed to climb into bed, curl himself up and let the tears finding their way into the pillow. He drifted into sleep eventually, unchanged and teeth unbrushed, confused and sad.

The next day should have been a productive one. They wanted to film a video, where they learnt throat singing with a pro they were going to video call and had to get up early to prepare.
But it was 9 am and Brett didn't want to face today for the life of his. He wanted to stay under the covers, hidden from the world and Eddy, who should under no circumstances see Brett's blotchy and sleep deprived face. He'd just worry even more and Brett didn't want any of this. Why couldn't he keep his damned feelings in check? Brett didn't understand, where the sadness was coming from and his normally calm and analytical self, who'd get to the bottom of this, seemed to had yeeted himself out of the window.

He heard a faint knock through the blanket he'd thrown over his head to block out the stupid sun, shining on the world like everything was fine and wonderful... Yeah, he was losing it for sure, he thought bitterly.
"Brett, you awake?"
He didn't answer. He didn't know, how he could without giving away his messed up state of mind.
"Brett! It's nine. We really should start preparing the call and stuff."
Silence. Another set of tears pressed themselves against Brett's eyelids but he was so not going to let them flow.
"I'm coming in."

Brett heard the door being opened, soft footsteps coming closer and someone sit down beside him. A hand placed itself gently on where it's owner guessed Brett's head was.
"Hey", Eddy said softly and shaked him a bit, "you're still sleeping?"
Brett lightly shook his head, but kept his mouth firmly shut.
"Are you ok, Brett? Let me see your face, you're freaking me out!"
Brett could do nothing else but to turn his head left and right again, more resolute this time, hoping it would make Eddy leave.
But Eddy didn't. Instead, he slowly lifted up Brett's cover and peeled him out. Brett heard a heavy sigh, before he felt Eddy's arms around him, holding him firmly. Brett froze, as the storm in his heart turned up a notch.

"Brett, if you're freaking out, that's fine. But let me be with you when you do."
It appeared, like all the other things Brett could do from his repertoire of normal human interaction had vanished , so he shook his head again, this time with fresh tears being spilled all over his bed.
"Bro, are you crying?"

That was it! He could not handle it anymore! He started full on sobbing right into Eddy's arms and held onto him for dear life, as if he was the only thing that could keep him from falling into nothingness.
And Eddy was there, hugging him, making soothing shh-sounds and "Let it out." and "It's ok." and "I'm here." and "It's gonna be fine." while stroking his ruffled hair.

The sobs turned into soft sniffles eventually. The tears were still there, but not falling down like raindrops anymore, soaking his bed. Eddy had become silent, just patting Brett's head in 70 b/pm, still embracing him.


"It's so frustrating, Eddy", Brett croaked, his voice barely audible. He felt like he had to explain himself. To Eddy, but also to himself. After all, Eddy probably hadn't seen him cry since highschool, when he'd been left by his first girlfriend.

"What is, Brett?"
"All of this! I hate being weak and I hate being sick and I hate making you worry and that all of this is happening now!"
"It comes with being sick, I guess."
"And I can't control my ... God! I can't control anything anymore! Not my physical wellbeing, nor my emotions! I hate being so vulnerable and dependent on you!"
"You can depend on me as much as you want, you know that, right? I don't mind at all."
There was this warm, tingling feeling again, pairing itself to Brett's anger and frustration. It was a strange combo and once more, he was not sure what and how and when to feel. He let out a defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I still am."
"That's ok, too. You shouldn't be, though. Everyone has rough times. Remember, when I was sitting in a wheelchair and you had to push me around for half a year?"
"More like three months. It wasn't that long."
"Anyway, I was very sad and frustrated too, and you still pushed me up to strangers and just left me there by myself..."
"You want to do the same? Leave me with some strangers? That might be your chance for revenge."
"... Maybe, but not my point."
"I can't see your point."
"You still pulled your jokes with me, cheered me up by doing weird things no one else did in this situation and kept me sharp. You treated me like a normal bro, not like a sick person and I'm forever grateful for that."
"...Still not really seeing your point, bro."
"What I want to say is: You gave me what I needed back then. Not really what I wanted or thought I wanted, but what was good for me. I want to do the same now, maybe not leave you with strangers and laugh about it, but let you be able to cry like this and pat your head, even if you don't want me to do that."

The truth was, Brett somehow really liked being patted on the head by Eddy, but of course, he couldn't admit that. He would never hear the end of it.
Instead, he said: "It just sounds like I have been a terrible friend to you."
"Brett! Are you even listening to me?"
"Sorry, sorry", Brett chuckled a bit.
"See? I do you good! So you don't have to be sorry for crying or hide when you're feeling upset. I need to figure out what's good for you and if you tell me, I can... you know, practice."
"You don't need any practice, Eddy", Brett said and lifted up his head a bit, so he could look into Eddy's eyes. It resulted in Eddy releasing the hug and Brett kind of regretted his move.
"You're doing a great job already, getting me out of stupid situations and drag me home and stuff... I'm really thankful that you're here. And... I'm still sorry you have to see me like this. I know it makes you uncomfortable."
Eddy shrugged. "I'm getting used to it."
"Is that a good or bad thing?"
"Maybe both?"

Brett smiled. He felt a million times better, having, well, cried and all. There was something liberating about letting tears run and if he'd be really honest, it was just like Eddy said: he knew somehow, what Brett needed and gave him that.

Eddy slapped him on the back. "You up for some throat singing now?"
"Absolutely! You reckon my hoarse voice will help with that?"
Eddy laughed and went over to Brett's closet. "I bet it will!" He pulled out some merch and a pair of clean pants. Brett stared at him and blinked.
"What are you doing?", he finally asked.
"Getting you some fresh clothes. Go shower already! You look terrible!"
"You know, I can do that myself, right?", Brett said, but got up and made his way to the bathroom.
"I know", he heard Eddy behind him, "But as friend of the year, I have certain privileges like choosing an outfit for you!"
"You're ridiculous!", Brett exclaimed with a grin on his face, before closing the bathroom door.