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CXLII

It was as if Eddy knew saying something wouldn’t help, so they just walked next to each other, Eddy having Brett in a sideways hug in fact, half carrying him so Brett could spend his energy keeping himself as upright as possible. The night was calm despite the relative early hour, a soothing breeze surrounding them, carrying away some of the sting of this cruel day. Soon enough, Brett’s hotel came into sight and Eddy was quick to rush him past the reception into the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly like it would bring them upstairs faster. 
“I’m okay, you know”, Brett croaked meekly, him failing at reassuring Eddy painfully obvious even to his clouded brain. 
“Nah, you’re not!”, Eddy simply stated and amazed Brett by straight up bringing him to the right room. 
“You… you know our room number?”
“Of course! I like you, remember? Key card?”
Brett dutifully rummaged for the desired object and seconds later, the door opened with a beep. Eddy took Brett’s case off Brett’s shoulders and the smaller just so managed to convince Eddy that he was still capable of taking off his own shoes.
“Alright! Brush your teeth and under the covers you go!”
“Yes, mum”, Brett murmured but Eddy was too worried and occupied with getting Brett to bed as fast as possible to retort and Brett wasn’t complaining. By now, his head felt like it had been jackhammered the whole day and he couldn’t wait to close his eyes and the world out for the night. So when Eddy started to tuck him in, made sure he was all covered up and even put his glasses on the nightstand for him, he didn’t complain. Then, he sat down on the side of the bed, his big hand brushing through Brett’s hair comfortingly. 
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I hate to ask you to do this, but can you go through Cole’s stuff? There should be pain relief meds somewhere.”
“Damn! Making me commit crimes now, are we?”, Eddy jibed but he was over at Brett's roomies suitcase already, scanning the messy content like an eagle its hunting grounds.
“Good to know you would go to jail for me”, Brett breathed in deeply to calm down his stomach.
“There you go!” Eddy was back in a flash, a glass of water and two bare pills ready. “You can take both. I checked the package insert.” 
Brett sat up with a muffled groan and quickly swallowed the medicine while Eddy turned off the lights and knelt down next to Brett’s bed. 
“I really don’t wanna leave you like this.”
“I’ll be fine as soon as I sleep. Don’t worry.” He pulled up the duvet until it covered half his face, praying the pills would kick in soon. When was there injected morphine when one needed it?
“I stay here till you fall asleep then.”
This undiscussable tone again. Brett tried anyway because he was probably tired himself, no?
“You tucked me in already! I’ll manage falling asleep by myself, promise.”
“I know. Just let me, okay?”
A defeated grunt and Brett turned to his side, facing Eddy. “Thank you.”
“No worries. Sleep, my lovely Bretty.”
And at last, he let himself drift into slumber, accompanied by Eddy’s soothing presence with his hands holding his…

One would think he would be used to this at some point. To the adrenaline, the pre-concert nerves, the intrusive thoughts trying to throw him off his game, but no. His heart was still pounding like it was the first time he was about to go on stage, his hands were still clammy, covered with cold sweat he couldn’t get rid off no matter how often he wiped them off his dress pants. He took deep breaths. One, two, three, in; one, two, three, out. See? He was fine! He’d practiced his ass off and all he had to do was walk out there and show them.

He was gonna be okay!

“Mr. Yang?”
He gave the backstage person a nod, intensified the grip around his instrument and sent a command to his feet to carry him out there where everyone was waiting for him and what he had to present. 
Applause arose along with the thunder of hundreds of feet tapping produced by the orchestra as Brett strode to the front of the stage, the lights blinding him as usual so it was impossible to make out his family or friends in the audience. Never mind. All he needed was Eddy, sitting there at the concertmaster’s seat, waving his bow and carrying the proudest expression ever, beaming at Brett when they shook hands. A check of strings if they were in tune, another inhale and a nod to Mr. Thames to start the concert. He was ready. As ready as he was ever gonna be.
The first line soared beautifully over the orchestra and so did the next. Yes! He got this! He totally had this in the bag! He allowed himself a grin even and played without flaw until the tutti took over. 

Wait, what was this? Swirls at the corner of his vision started to blurry his sight, making everything fuzzy and uncontrollable. But nah! This was nothing. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his hands which were shaking like leaves in a harsh blizzard. Nah, Brett! Don’t let panic overtake you now! He positioned his violin but it was shaking so much the shoulder rest dropped with a merciless clonk on the wooden ground. He saw Mr. Thames flailing around in panic because yes, this was the part where he was supposed to come in! Shit! Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Brett picked up the shoulder rest but there was just no way he was able to put it on without scratching his violin. A miracle he managed eventually and half a bar late, he finally came in. 

He might as well shouldn’t have. A screeching sound brought out gasps and surprised yells from the audience and threw the orchestra into a tumble it was not able to recover from. Brett opened his eyes in a shock, unable to get back for the life of his and once again, his eyes searched for his anchor, his life raft, like they always did, only to find him staring at Brett in cold anger and disappointment…

A sharp pain shot through Brett’s head when he fell out his bed and hit himself at the corner of the nightstand just above his right ear. 
“Fuck!”, he hissed, rubbed the hurting part which also distracted him from the rising nausea and a second later, he had to take deep breaths to keep the rising nausea in check. Cole hadn’t woken up from his accident, miraculously and Brett stayed on the cold ground for a moment, considering if he should lay flat on it to lessen the panic clouding his brain. 
Fuck! Not again! He could tell himself and the world it was gonna be okay all he wanted, just like he’d tried in the dream and that had turned out great now, hadn’t it? That one fucking stupid part in the first movment messed him up beyond saving now and he had absolutely no fucking idea how on earth he was supposed to fix this. The night weight heavy on him, sitting on his chest and pressing all the air out, taking all the space Brett needed to stay sane and fuck! He hated this! He hated that he saw no other solution than to grab his phone, literally crawl to the bathroom on all fours and lock the door behind him.

A/N: Thanks for your patience, everyone ❤️. Got sick with stomach stuff as feared and it's NOT FUN, let me tell you this, so it took a bit longer to write it down and post it.