Fantasia

LVI

"That day, when you wanted me to come to your place and talk, what did you want to tell me?"

Some part of Eddy's curious mind had always wondered about what Brett had wanted to say back then. Of course, after what he'd pulled there had been no way to find out. But now, with everything laid out and them holding each other tight, remains of their tears still grazing their cheeks, Eddy suddenly found his mouth spilling.
Brett lifted his head out of Eddy's disheveled shirt and blinked.
"Why?"
"It sounded important", Eddy shrugged and drew the sleeve of his black suit over his face in order to look a bit more normal. "I mean, no need to tell me. I blew it, so that's on me."
"No, no... uhm, I can tell you."
Eddy's heart suddenly picked up the pace.
"Yeah?"
"Sure. I actually wanted to make sure it was your own decision to go to the con and not me pushing you. As I said, I was afraid I somehow talked you over."
"Oh", Eddy made. That was it?
"Yeah. I mean, what did you think it was about?"
"I don't know. You skipped class for it, so I guessed it had to be important."
Brett smiled, finally. The first time since Eddy had seen him trying to destroy this place with his own hands.
"It was important! Bro, everything involving you was important."

Oh, wow.

"Brett... I was an idiot to throw our friendship into the ditch to die."
"Poetic."
Eddy chuckled.
"No, but really. I was an idiot!"
Brett sighed. "I would have understood you taking this road, you know. You could have told me..."
"It wasn't about you", Eddy shook his head, "I never doubted I could tell you. Well, I guessed you'd be pissed. But I knew when I'd see your face of disappointment, mirroring my own, and hear what you'd have to tell me, I'd change my mind. Or it would have been a lot harder to do what my mother wanted me to."
"I would have tried to talk you out of it", Brett agreed.
"And I couldn't let that happen after what happened to my mum."
"You know", Brett said, letting go of Eddy to take a step back, "I thought about contacting you, when all this shit started at the SSO."
"Why didn't you?" Eddy felt a pain stinging in his ribcage. Right... when Brett had been at his low point, Eddy hadn't been there for him.
"I wanted to call you before, of course. But as I said, I wanted to respect your decision. When the pressure with my job slowly grew bigger, I nearly went for it though. Had already typed in your number and stuff."
You could have! Eddy wanted to exclaim. But it didn't feel like he had the right to say something like this to Brett.
"But I chickened out. Figured maybe you wouldn't even remember me anymore after so many years... and also, I didn't want you to see me as the failure I've become."
"Failure? Brett! You fucking made concertmaster! In whose eyes would you be a failure?"
Brett sniggered sadly and slowly made his way to the staircase where his violin was laying, his steps echoing through the hallway.
"I, who pushed you to follow your dreams, accomplished everything just to reach my breaking point at the top."
He stopped mid-way, his head hanging low.
"How pathetic!"

Eddy clenched his fists and caught up to Brett with long strides before he laid his left hand on the smaller's back.
"Brett, look at me." He waited until Brett's eyes locked with his.
"With that amount of pressure you had on you, anyone would have caved in. And how you tried to play even better just shows your dedication. I'm sure, that you're playing skills were good enough for everyone else, otherwise you wouldn't have made concertmaster."
"You've never heard me play in orchestra", Brett meant quietly while he started walking again.
"I don't need to", Eddy called at Brett's back, "I've heard you here!"

Brett stopped in his tracks. Right in front of his instrument. For a second, Eddy wasn't sure if he needed to storm over there and prevent the violin from being stomped on. He could see the tension in Brett's stance through the almost unnoticeable shivers pulling through the other's body, visible by the slight flutter of the fabric of his reddish shirt.
But then, Brett bent down and picked up the violin.

"I know I play okay", Brett said, turned around and sat on the very step his violin had been lying on, brushing a hand through his hair.
"I also knew once I've made concertmaster, it's not that easy to lose that position. Yet, there were comments, you know. 'He's so young!', 'Person x should have gotten the job.', 'Let's see if he's cut out for this.'. I heard it in the orchestra first, which was the worst. To be judged by your peers you're supposed to work with, by musicians you're supposed to lead..." He shook his head, his expression sad. Eddy quickly took the few meters to the staircase and sat down next to him, not letting Brett out of his sight for one second.
"And then, of course the classical world talked about it too. And eventually, everyone was. There were very supportive people too, congratulating me and encouraging me, like Hyung. But the newspapers with their critiques in the beginning... I simply couldn't fuck up. And I knew if I would, even later, when the gossip would have faded a bit and people were used to me, I'd be looked down on. They would destroy me, saying things like 'I knew he's not good enough to be concertmaster'. That's why I couldn't fuck up, like, ever! And that's why I practiced everyday, sometimes even more than back in my uni days."
Brett traced the tips of his fingers along the side of his violin.
"Dude", Eddy voiced eventually, his eyes following Brett's fingers, "that's more pressure than I ever had in my job and I thought what I did was stressfull."
"I'm sure it's too. Maybe I'm just weak..."
"I said it before: Everyone would break down by what others and yourself have put on your shoulders. What happened to you..."
Eddy wasn't thinking when he took Brett's hand into his. The one which was drawing the lines on that beautiful violin.
"...it would have happened to anyone. I can't even begin to emphazise what you have gone through and honestly, I'm not surprised your body decided to shut down."
Brett stared at their hands, at Eddy's almost covering all of his.
"You really think it's normal?"
"Others would have collapsed way earlier, Brett", Eddy answered, squeezing the other's palm.
"But a coma? A freaking coma? A burnout, fine, whatever, but this?", Brett yelled, throwing his arms in the air and yanking his hand away from Eddy's in the process.
"Maybe something else was wrong with your physical health to begin with?", Eddy suggested, eyebrows raised.
"Not that I know of. Or not that I remember."

They got quiet, each sunken deep into their own thoughts.
"It could be something else too...", Eddy said eventually. Brett glanced at him.
"Maybe all of this...", he made a big gesture with his arms, "... is meant to tell you something."
"And what would this mystery message be?"
"I have no idea", Eddy shrugged, "But maybe, I'm here to help you find out."

A/N: Hi guys :-). Finally managed to finish writing the short little story of "It was 8pm, right after dinner..." of the time before the Sibelius 3 mil livestream, answering a prompt of a dear reader ;-). You'll find it in my one-shot book and in the link in my comment below.  Have fun reading it!