Con Brio: Todd and Ian's story

9) Ian

Ian is freaking out. Oh God, he's freaking out so hard he's barely keeping it together. They're in the hall watching the orchestra, and Todd is by his side, dreamily looking ahead. Easy for him to be dreamy. It all comes so easily to Todd. He practises hard, of course, they all do, but things line up for him the way they never have for Ian. He'll be principal cellist next year, and he's already getting lots of gigs outside of school. 
He's not jealous, though. Todd deserves these things, it's simple. Because he's great, he's the best. He can't compete with that, of course he can't. But he does want to do well here, so desperately. Mr. Davids was in the jury of the competition, and even though he came to him after he'd been kicked out and said he had voted for him... well, to be honest he doesn't believe him. He's just trying to make him feel better, right? Ian tries to take a deep breath and not show that he's shivering.  
God, he wishes he hadn't had those rice balls, because they're pressing up at him hard. He takes a deep breath and wonders if he needs to make a run for it, but the wave passes and he tries to sit still and look inconspicuous. 
"You good?" Todd whispers suddenly, and he nods straight away. 
"Sure."
Ian looks at Todd's hand, that's casually resting on his thigh. God, what he wouldn't give to have Todd move that hand, put it on his thigh, squeezing softly. 
He doesn't, of course. Why would he? 
Purgatory both ends and intensifies when mr. Davids dismisses the orchestra and invites them up. Ian hopes the orchestra leave, so it's just them and mr. Davids that can hear him fuck up. 
Because he's going to fuck up, right? He can feel it coming. He can feel how cold his fingers are, even though it's like a thousand degrees in the room.

"So, how was your first night in Taipei?" mr. Davids asks them as they've taken their seats. Ian's hands have become sweaty now, and he's finding it hard to grip his bow. 
"Awesome. I love Taipei." Todd says gregariously. Mr. Davids smiles. 
"The hotel is really good too." Eddy adds in his quiet, shy tone. 
Ian knows Eddy can be shy, too. But yet he always seems to know what to say. And he's so nice, so kind, that everyone loves him. See? Like now, mr. Davids, who has invited them only because he likes Eddy, winks at Eddy and picks up his baton. 
"Good. So, shall we get started on the first movement?"

It's show time. And he has practised, and practised, and practised this. He can play this. He can. 
Eddy gives them an A, and he tunes quickly. Please, don't let him be the last one left tuning. His heart won't take it. His C string resists, but it'll have to do. He can't be last. Eddy looks around the circle and smiles, which he always does to check they're ready, before he cues. 
And he wants to yell stop! No! Wait! I'm not ready! He doesn't, of course. He just takes as deep a breath as he can muster as Eddy starts playing. He has two bars of rest as the others start their semiquavers, just two bars. He tries his hardest not to panic and forces himself to start on his solo. 

It both feels like an eternity and a minute later when John dismisses them. And yes, he's fucked up plenty. His bow has shaken, he's been out of tune. But... it wasn't a total train wreck, right? Was it? He tries to catch his breath as he looks at Todd's sweet, beautiful face for cues, but he's already enthusiastically heading off to where Eddy is talking to the concert master who turned Ian down in Perth, back when he thought he was fully straight. He swallows manfully and follows him there. They're talking about lunch. To be honest, Ian would much rather go to the hotel room and practise, but that's not really something he can say, right? So he nods and manages a smile when he's asked. 
Lunch. With strangers. Fucking awesome.