Blood, Sweat, and Schradieck

Chapter Sixteen - Will

Will doesn't sleep a wink all night. He just lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing yet not really seeing in the dark. He knows his roommates are similarly affected by the events of that evening - the usual floor-quaking snores that come from Horace's side of the room are absent, and George continually tosses and turns. All three welcome the sun early the next morning as a sign that the long, horrible night is over, and maybe, just maybe, things can be better today.

It's all Will can do to drag himself out of bed when his alarm rings 9:45am. He throws on the first clothes his hands touch - a dark blue t-shirt and jeans - and shoves his feet into shoes. His coat went to the hospital with Alyss, so he swings the jacket Halt lent him over his shoulders. He grabs his sheet music, lets himself out of the dorm room, and trudges across campus to the Conservatory.

Halt is in his office when Will knocks at the door at exactly 10am. He opens the door to find his student, pale and dull-eyed, shoulders slumped within a too-large jacket. Halt sighs - this was exactly what he was trying to avoid - and ushers Will inside his office. He shuts the door, deposits Will in a chair, and plops a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of his student.

"Drink it," he says shortly. "It will help wake you up."

Will doesn't question anything, but obeys wordlessly. He takes a large gulp, almost spluttering. The coffee is painfully hot. He coughs a few times, his throat burning.

Halt sighs again, this time in resignation. He sits down across from Will. "Not like that," he says gently. "Slowly. It's hot."

Will obeys, taking a deep breath of the steam and exhaling across the hot liquid, before taking a long sip. This time, the heat soothes the pain in his throat, and even slightly loosens the tight, painful knot in his chest.

Halt waits, watching patiently, as Will finishes the coffee. "Better?" he asks, as Will sets the empty mug down.

"I don't know," Will says softly. "I don't think it really fixed anything -"

"I didn't say 'good,'" Halt reminds him, interrupting him gently. "I said 'better.' I don't think 'good' is going to happen right now."

Yet again, Will is struck by the depths of how much Halt understands him. It's a strange feeling, having someone know him this well, and still love him. It's not one Will is familiar with, but it's one he likes.

Halt stands up, dusting his hands together. "Right, then! The competition is tomorrow. Please make your way to the piano. This morning, we will begin with Hanon."

Will's mouth drops open in shock. "But Halt! I finished those exercises months ago!"

"That may be," Halt says evenly, "but it never hurts to review. And anyway, I think a second time through will be good for you."

Will has no choice but to sit down at the piano. Halt opens the Hanon book to the first page, and Will raises his hands to the keys.

It is ten minutes later, when he is fifteen exercises in and his hands are burning and tingling with energy and exertion, and his brain is caught up in remembering the patterns, that he realizes Halt was right. Those exercises, which he hated with such a passion before, are now exactly what he needs right now. Something to exhaust his mind and his hands, something else to focus on. Something to prepare him for whatever lies ahead of him.

After Will has made his way through the entire Hanon book, an endeavor he has only completed once, months before, and after weeks and weeks of preparation, Halt turns to his competition program, running Will through his paces over and over again. And in the music and the repetition and the sheer emotion of playing, Will finds himself again. 

It is late afternoon when they stop, and Will finds himself wide awake, wide-eyed, his heart hammering loudly in his ears and his hands and face bright with blood-blush. He is so painfully alive that it almost hurts to breathe. His eyes meet Halt's, and the two can't break their gaze - a generation apart, but linked by the same music. 

Finally Halt's speaks, breaking the unbreakable tension and releasing the moment. "I think you're ready," he says.

He takes Will to the dining hall - Will hasn't eaten since the hot chocolate the night before - and watches patiently as Will downs several slices of pizza, three bowls of soup, a hamburger, and four chocolate chip cookies. Will is just starting his fifth cookie when Halt's cell phone rings.

Halt excuses himself to take the phone call. It's a short conversation. Will's finishing the last bite of his cookie when Halt returns. 

"That was Mrs. DuLacy," he says. "They've moved Alyss to a general room, and she's cleared to have visitors."

They stop by the dorms to pick up Jenny, Gilan, Horace, and George, and they all pile into Halt's car for the short ride to the hospital. Halt leads them through the front doors, up three floors via elevator, and down several hallways. They stop outside a room.

"Let me go in first, and make sure she's ready," Halt says. The five students wait in a bunch in the hallway for several long minutes, until Halt opens the door. His face is drawn suspiciously closed. There is no hint of any emotion.

"You can come in now," he says.

Will and his friends file into the room and arrange themselves around the bed. Alyss lies on her back, staring dully at the ceiling. Her leg is covered by a bulky plaster cast. An oxygen cannula snakes across her cheeks and under her nose, and an IV is taped to the crook of her elbow.

She's battered, she's beaten, but she's alive, much more so than the last time Will saw her. It is the extreme relief that drives Will, almost without speaking, to reach for her hand.

And then Alyss speaks, but her words are perfectly flat, perfectly emotionless. "Get out," she says.

Will draws his hand back as if he's been stung. It feels like he's been punched in the stomach. He can't breathe, can't move, all over again. He doesn't realize he's moved until he's out in the hallway, crouched on the floor into a tight ball.

"Will." Halt kneels next to him. 

Will opens his mouth to speak, but bursts into tears. Finally, the dam breaks, and all the tears he was unable to cry last night flood out. Halt gathers Will into his arms and sits there, letting Will cry it all out into his shoulder.

It's not very long before Will runs out of tears, but he makes no move, sniffling as he leans against Halt. It's safe here, in his teacher's arms. Nothing can hurt him. Except Alyss. Those two words resonate painfully in his chest, restricting his breathing.

When Halt speaks, it's very soft, meant only for Will's ears. Will doesn't hear Halt's voice so much as feel it, resonating against the side of his face.

"It's going to be okay."