Play!

XCIII

His eyes carried distress and something else. Something Brett couldn’t read as Eddy’s head turned towards him and Brett wasn’t blinking, didn’t dare to in fact for it could all be an illusion, vanishing into thin air as soon as he dared to cut sight. But he wasn’t dreaming when their gazes met, when Eddy started to eye him up and down and turned paler the longer he was looking at him. 

What? Was Eddy so disgusted by him he turned gaunt? Or disgusted by Brett’s playing, appalled that someone like him had beat him in a competition?

Brett was certain his sight defied him when Eddy opened his mouth, but then…
“Brett!”
Both jumped so much their violins nearly hit the floor. Brett’s initial instinct was to snigger but then he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk to Eddy anymore despite the glances. Mr. Thames practically leaped towards them and another second later Eddy along with whatever he wanted to say, if there ever had been something, was gone. 
Mr. Thames wasn’t exactly furious, but it was a close thing. 
“You go back to the hotel, freaking get something in your system- nah!”, he hissed when Brett’s lips opened, “I can see, and most of all hear, from half a concert hall away that you still haven’t eaten yet, change into some clean stuff and if I still see you shaking and looking as fragile and white as a snowflake at seven, I’ll personally escort you to the nearest restaurant, sit there and watch you eat all the items on the menu, have I made myself clear?”
Brett gulped while he stared into his conductor’s wild, grey eyes. 
“Clear”, he said because what else was there to say? And after his crappy playing all day, he guessed he deserved it. 
“Cole!”, Mr. Thames yelled and ordered a concerned looking Cole over, “Make sure he eats, changes and makes it on time! I’m sorry I have to declare you as his babysitter but since you’re his roommate, this makes most sense.”
“Of course, no worries, Sir.”
“All right! I see you both at seven!” 
He gave Brett another stern look before he jumped off stage to find Mr. Jones. 

Cole’s unfazed expression was impressive when he dryly meant, “You heard him. Let’s go!”
At least Mr. Thames’ rant woke Brett up some and they made it back to the hotel through the rain without him falling asleep or faint halfway. There, they quickly threw their by now huge pile of dirty clothes into the hotel wash. Eddy’s white shirt was in that heap too and Brett spent a suspicious amount of time looking for it, prompting Cole to question his sanity. 
“It’s still good”, Brett just commented when he pulled it out, Eddy’s distinct scent bringing up a storm of memories and butterflies, some with sharp blades attatched to the tip of their wings.  
“Wash it anyway, no?”
Brett shook his head, briefly pressed the piece of clothing against his chest before putting it on one of the armchairs he’d occupied with his stuff when they’d gotten the hotel room.
Eventually, he would have to give it back. Did he want to? Or was he going to cling on it like some desperate ex without even having been with Eddy? Would he ever have the chance to give it back without the other biting his head off? This thought depressed him so much he only ate like two leaves of his greek salad at dinner, unable to gobble down more no matter how strongly Cole insisted. 
“Damn it, Brett! Are you on a hunger strike or something?”
“Hmm”, he just shrugged and proceeded to stare out the window. Explaining how every bite he swallowed was scraping his closed up throat wasn’t gonna do much for anyone. No need to pull poor Cole down further with him, was there?
“Dude you need to eat! You heard Mr. Thames, he’s gonna kill me if you die of starvation!”
“Hmm.”
Cole gave up with a mumbled “Should have gotten hotpot for you…”, tone much like a parent when their kid refused to eat veggies.

They had just about enough time to throw their laundry into the dryer, put on some still damp button-downs and dark jeans right after and storm towards the Sydney Opera House, the seam of their pants getting soaked by the rain. The ten minute jog drained Brett completely, the dumb salad unsurprisingly doing nothing for his energy level and when they arrived, he slumped down on the floor in front of the iconic building a bit further away from the group of con students waiting by the entrance. Eddy wasn’t there yet. He’d checked. Of course he had.

“Bro, you alright?”, his great friend wanted to know, hands propped up on his knees and his by now default worried features inspecting Brett.
“Yeah, just in bad shape.”
“Brett I swear, if you faint on me-”
“I won’t!”, Brett exclaimed and manifested at the same time, “Sorry I’m worrying you all the time. I’m fine!”

They had no time to argue further. Mr. Thames was coming over with long strides, wearing a perfectly fitting dark suit and with eyes so narrow Brett wished he’d forced himself to at least swallow an olive or two additionally. 
“Did he eat?”, was the first thing he asked Cole. 
“Barely”, Cole ratted Brett out, eliciting a protesting “Hey!” out of the smaller.
Mr. Thames crouched down to meet Brett’s eye level despite the dangerous puddle underneath the conductor’s bum. “If you don’t feel up for the concert or don’t feel well at any time, you go back to the hotel and get a good night's sleep, understood? Under one condition: You come to my office first thing in the morning and tell me what the hell is wrong with you!”
Brett blinked dumbfounded. What the hell happened to I understand if you don’t want to talk to us about whatever’s bothering you?
And what the hell was he going to tell Mr. Thames tomorrow?
“And if I sit through the entire concert, I don’t have to?”, he tried meekly. 
“I’m not going to waste my, Mr. Jones or an entire orchestra’s time for you to play like you have this morning. And I’m sure I don’t have to add an adjective for you to know what I mean”, Mr. Thames stated, tone neutral, a dangerous, underlying tension very much tangible however, “We are going to rehearse Korngold in the afternoon. I expect you to be well-fed, well-rested and all the wells there are by then and if you’re not, there is the simple fact that we would have to consider removing you from the soloist spot.”
Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to him. The worst thing had already happened anyway. But he nodded, got another nod from Mr. Thames in return before the latter shot up again to return to the others. 
“You know it would be incredibly dumb to lose the spot over an unrequited crush, right?”, Cole whispered when Brett stood up and carefully leaned against the glass wall to avoid falling.
“Cole damn it! I can’t help it and you know it! I told you. It’s not I deliberately don’t want to eat or whatever.”
“I know”, Cole sighed, grabbed Brett’s arm and together, they trod behind their peers into the building.