Club - a Breddy Fanfic.

120)

"You sure?" Brett asks. His frown creates a deep line in his forehead. They are at the bus station and he's just asked Eddy if he can go home with him, but Eddy told him no.

"Yeah, sorry. I would like to regroup for a moment. Have to digest all of this." Eddy looks at the ground. He needs to have some time alone to get everything in order again. It's difficult to face Brett, knowing he had a chance to play alongside him and now won't because he blew it. "I'll be okay. Don't worry." he adds, because he will, won't he? He just has to bury himself for a few days and then he can go on like he did previously. He'll be just a violinist that plays events for the rest of his life. Or will become a teacher. There is no shame in that. So why does his heart sink just thinking this? Probably because it's definitely not what he wants. He sighs.

"Just let me be. I'll call you soon." Eddy finishes their conversation. He knows he dodges the kiss Brett is trying to initiate by turning away and walking towards his waiting bus. He can't right now. He just can't.
As the bus rides away he tries not to look at Brett's face, full of worry. He fights back the tears lurking behind his eyes. He swipes at them angrily. Not now. Not yet.

He manages to get into his apartment without even noticing how. He sees the cardboard boxes from his favourite ramen store on the table in his living room, the food that was in it long gone. They are from yesterday evening. Back when he still had hope. It's all crushed now. He's good for nothing. How can he stand next to Brett like this? Brett deserves to have someone worthy by his side. He can't be with someone who freaks out every single time he has to perform for something serious. He lets go a shaky breath and almost runs towards his bedroom. He doesn't even bother undressing before he leaps into his bed and pulls the blankets far over his head. Sobs flow into the pillow in an endless stream of given up dreams.

"Timo, you've got to help me! What do I do?" By the time Brett is calling Timo he is desperate. It's the fourth day he hasn't heard from Eddy. "Eddy doesn't read my messages and doesn't pick up his phone. By now I'm sure he's ghosting me. Should I go to him and force my way in? Or should I give him more time?"

"He's not responding to my messages either. He only told me to find a replacement for tonight's gig." Timo sighs and Brett can hear the worry in it. "Look. It's not uncommon for him to be taken over by a dark mood after an audition. Previously when that happened he could vanish for hours or days. It's his grief time, with little bouts of depression. I think everything is too much to handle right now."

"But I want to be there for him. Cheer him up! It's not the end of the world, you know. And we don't even know he didn't get through. Maybe he was just too hard on himself."

"Hmm. I don't know. Are you free?"

"No. I've got rehearsals with the whole orchestra. Free after five." Brett grumbles into his coffee as he looks at the clock. Fuck. Still three, extremely long, agonising hours from now before he can leave.

"Go to Eddy then. Bring food, because knowing him he probably hasn't eaten anything. Just knock on his door and see if he opens it. You're his partner. You are allowed."

Brett jumps when a loud voice rings through the hall he is standing in. "Alright, folks! Breaks over. Let's get on with the second movement."

They hang up quickly and Brett takes his place with a deep sigh. Indira is already waiting for him.
"Heard nothing yet?" she asks in a friendly tone. She has been his rock ever since Brett came in with a mood that was way too easy for her to read, so he told her what had happened and she knows about Eddy's lack of communication. Brett shakes his head sideways and picks up his violin. She squeezes his upper leg to get his attention. "Go see him after rehearsal. Yeah?"

"Yeah. Got the same advice from a friend just a second ago." Brett grumbles, but he is grateful for her suggestion.

After an hour of Brett having a hard time focusing, the conductor asks them to stop for a moment.

"One moment, folks." he says cheerfully. "I want you guys to meet someone."

From behind the wings a man steps into the light, grinning broadly while he walks with a sure step towards the conductor to shake his hand jovially. Brett's mood instantly turns sour when he sees who it is. Harry fucking Benten. Brett turns to Indira. "That's the man I told you about. What the fuck is he doing here?" he bites to her from under his breath. She shrugs, her eyes turned to slits to see the man clearly.

"We all know Indira will be leaving us soon. I'm so sorry to see you go, Indira." The conductor addresses her. "But in Harry here," he slaps a hand on Harry's shoulder, "we might find a good replacement. He had a hell of an audition and we really want to see how he fits here. So we'll let him play with you for a movement to see how it goes. Indira, if you please." he gestures towards her, clearly asking to switch.

Indira gets up reluctantly, eyeing Brett helplessly, and Harry takes her place. He takes his violin out of his case, his stupid grin still plastered on his face. If looks could kill Brett would have offed him immediately. There is no time to kill someone though, because the conductor raises his baton and they are off.
Harry plays along infuriatingly easily. The bastard plays in tune from beginning to end as well and at the end of the movement Brett has to admit, to his horror, that he is a good violinist.

"That was fun!" Harry says cheerfully when the last tones float away. "Hi, there." he says as he turns to Brett and puts his hand out to shake Brett's. Brett takes it reluctantly, because he knows how to be a civilized person. The bastard squeezes his hand way to hard for Brett's liking. Doesn't he know he needs his hands to play?! "Haven't we met a couple of days ago?" Harry continues as if he's done nothing's wrong. Brett nods, but when he wants to say something back, Harry gets up, turns his back to him and walks towards the concertmaster, leaving Brett behind dumbfoundedly.

Indira is by Brett's side within a second.
"You ok, sweety?" she asks, all motherly and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"What a fucker!" Brett hisses. "Arsehole."

"He plays well though." Indira says with a frown. They both glare at the tall back of the newcomer.