Fantasia

LXXXVII

The piece ended, the last note floated through the hall. Eddy opened his eyes, around him the light had turned white, the mist slowly dissipating and the rows of empty seats finally appearing in front of him. 

Brett! His mind screamed! He swirled around, only to find the spot next to him where his duet partner had been playing empty. 

Empty. It was empty. 

Brett was gone!

So, had it worked? Did he wake up? Was he safe now?

"Brett!!?", Eddy yelled, but nothing than his echo came back. 

"Brett?"

That was a good sign right? If Brett wasn't here, it meant it had worked, right? He let his gaze roam the empty rows and when he found nothing, long, fast strides took Eddy backstage. 

Empty. 

"Brett?", he tried again, opening the heavy, wooden door to the hallway and started to run down the hundreds of stairs. If Brett had stormed off after realizing their performance hadn't been successful, he couldn't have gone too far. Despite him being torn between not wanting to find his best friend here in any case and kind of longing for the other's presence, part of him noticed that all the colourful lights had been replaced by a natural, warm, steady glow. Anything that had been remotely lively or had brought any kind of character into this place was gone. Downstairs, Eddy leapt into the long corridor where Paganini's and Bach's portrait had been hanging before.

They, too, were gone now. 

There was another place Eddy had to check immediately. He practically flew up the staircase leading to the bridge-like construction, not flooded with red light this time either. He made it to the end of the bridge, only to find the floor of it bare. 

The scores had vansihed too. 

"Brett?", he called again. 

He was not here anymore. For real! And so was everything that was tied to him. The scores, the portraits of the two composers having written some of the most difficult pieces in violin repertoire, the different colours of light. 

"Ha-", Eddy let out, an incredulous chuckle escaping his lips as tears shot up. 

"Ha, hahaha..." 

His cheeks were wet already when he let himself slump down on the ground, his violin landing next to him with a small, sacrilegious donk. And then, he sat there, crying silently for what felt like an eternity.

Now that Brett was gone, Eddy didn't really know what to do with himself. A horrifying thought shot through his brain, painting a way too realistic scenario of him dreaming of this place every night without having his best friend here. But even this, he then realized, was worth for Brett gaining consciousness again. 

Anything for Brett Yang to be awake again. 

God, he really hoped Brett was awake. 

What if not? Another one of those agonizing options of what might be caused Eddy to shiver. No, they had done everything that had been required and even though both of them had been doubtful, which was fairly normal under these circumstances, Eddy couldn't name a single wrong turn they could have taken. Adagio WAS their piece, proven not only by the processes it had started inside their very souls, but also by the score that had been written out so clearly. 

The score! Was that still around? Where did they put it anyways? Eddy remembered them having it in that giant walk-in closet with the thousands of suits, but he wasn't sure if they'd taken it to the dressing room. And it for sure hadn't been in any of their hands when they had gotten to the backstage area.

Eddy wiped half of his tears away, just enough so he could make out the few meters in front of him, picked up his violin and started moving. He took it slow this time, attentively looking for anything that could give him a clue to what happened to Brett. It was almost ironic, how he was the one who had to wait around by himself now, hoping with every fiber of his being that he'd wake up as soon as possible. Only now did he get a slight feeling of how it must have been for Brett, being captured here, locked up in this weird world, lonely.

Eddy was so spaced out that he only realized he'd reached his destination when he stood right in front of the wooden door on the third floor. Slowly, he laid his hand on the handle, took a deep breath and finally opened the door. 

One thing immediately caught his attention: the mirror in the middle of the room was gone, the thousands of shiny pieces shattered around an indication for what could have happened. Carefully to not get injured, Eddy entered the changing room, his eyes roaming the damaged suits and antique couch, where they'd placed their violins when they had chosen their concert outfits. And yes, there in the middle of the sofa, the blue cover score stuck out like the main part of a modern art piece. 

The shards gnashed under Eddy's soles as he tiptoed over. With two fingertips, he lifted up the treasured good and shook it for the shiny, sharp pieces to rain down. Luckily, the score seemed to be undamaged and there were no ripped pages as well when he flipped through the book. 

Suddenly, a surge of inspiration ran through him and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with the rest of his time here (which he still really hoped, wasn't gonna be too long). Eddy made his way out of the changing room and down to the vast hallway with the now empty walls and sat down on the bench which had been opposite of the two paintings. He closed his eyes, positioned his violin and breathed in deeply, before his bow drew the first chords of a different piece, a kind of lighter, more resolved one based on Brett's piece. A Rhapsody maybe, if his musical knowledge wasn't betraying him completely. And when he opened his eyes, he saw the first notes appear on an empty page, filling the staff dot by dot. The chords laid a colourful, dreamy base to which Eddy connected a single melody, a variation of Brett's main theme. This evolved into a wavy motif and Eddy could picture Brett and him flying through a set of clouds, floating through the night sky. More black notes materialized on the page, filling line after line after line. 

The melody resolved into the uplifting theme the two unknown musicians had once played and was finally brought back to Brett's main theme after a short interlude of long notes.

And when Eddy played the last note, his violin, the empty corridor and the score all blurred into a whirl of colours and shapeless lines and for the first time since he'd came here, Eddy left with a small, melancholic smile...

A/N: Sorry again for the very late upload! 😭 I hope I'll manage Tuesday around noon CET. Thanks guys for your patience! Love, Author-san