When a Man Enters the Shrinks Office...

12)

In the kitchen Eddy is making breakfast and hears Brett starting the first bars of Tchaikovsky.
Brett's Tchaik. His signature piece.
The sound new although also so very familiar.
Tears well up in his eyes again.

A few moments ago, he was unimaginably stunned when he suddenly heard the violin playing from the practice room.
How long had it been? A month? More?
At first Brett was too weak to even pick up his violin, so playing was impossible.
And then when he got his strength back little by little, he still couldn't play for reasons Eddy and the doctors still have no clue about. It was already thought that while Brett's stamina is still very weak, he should have been able to play earlier.

In the beginning when Brett fell sick Eddy had tried to play for him, but it seemed to make everything even worse.
So he had stopped trying.
Then even seeing a violin made him cringe as if being in pain, so he also tried to avoid that.
Also hearing music looked difficult on him.
It resulted that even he himself now listens to his own music now with his headphones on, because Brett seemed not to want to hear anything. Maybe want is the wrong word. It's more like he just couldn't.
Heck, nowadays he even tries to not make his own playing too loud.

Everything to make things better, easier.

But nothing really worked. It only became worse.
It's frustrating. It also looks like it has something to do with him.
That really his presence is wrong. At every casual touch they share lately, Brett jolts away, looking stunned and/or scared.
He still doesn't know why, but it had happened so many times, that he is sure it's not a fluke.
He did ask two times, but only got deadpan back.
In the end, it looked like his whole presence was so bothersome to Brett, he'd tried to give him space, hoping it would lighten it up a bit.
He has been trying to be as light and upbeat as possible the last couple of weeks.
Trying not to aggravate him in any way.
But it's been so hard, because he doesn't know what's the problem anyway.
So how on earth will he know how to help?
It's easy to also drift into somberness.

And now this morning he was working behind the computer doing stuff for TwoSet of course, and suddenly heard Brett playing!
He couldn't believe his ears!
How he'd loved the sound of Brett's violin, untouched after all these weeks, still sounding so sure and clean. It seemed as if all those forgotten hours of practice hadn't happened at all.
Slowly and very carefully to make no sound he had approached the practice room door, had laid his ear against it and listened.
At first he hadn't dared to open it, afraid to disturb and messing everything up.
But he couldn't help wanting to see Brett play.
He had slowly opened the door to finally sneak a look in and saw his black haired friend in the middle of the room, sunlight on his face, eyes closed, totally focused on his own beautiful playing.
He had looked truly majestic, handsome and so amazing.
Even with his bed hair sticking to all sides.
Maybe especially because of that.
He loves the image of Brett playing. Always had.
And now he finally had been able to see it again.

When the piece had ended, Brett hadn't look away but straight at him.
For the first time in weeks he had smiled.
Also he had been allowed to enter without him retreating.
Without looking away.
He didn't know what came over him, but he just couldn't resist to ask to hug him!
He didn't jolt away but walked into the embrace!
The feeling of their pressed bodies together had been so nice again.
He had missed this. Them. So much.
They had shed long stored tears together.
Healing.
Together.
Finally sharing something together again.

Eddy sniffs while making Brett's half-ass coffee, just as the doctor prescribed.

Must be his allergies, right?