Twoset Endless Love: A collaborative Breddy

Chapter 14: Never Really Over by @_purpleh

Eddy's cacophonous thoughts nearly blocked out completely the bartender's voice calling him; his mind only thought of one thing: This is all my fault. If I hadn't run from my family, Brett wouldn't be out on the streets looking for me, and he wouldn't end up like this...

As soon as he'd run up the distance that the car had travelled from Brett, he threw himself on the ground next to the shorter violinist, urgently checking for signs that he was still alive. When Eddy felt the soft tickle of Brett's warm but weak breath on his fingers, he felt a slight tingle running through his body, so much that it brought goosebumps on his arm, and he exhaled a sigh of relief. Considering his and Brett's current situation, panic took over Eddy, and he was unable to make an appropriate decision that would put both him and Brett in a safe situation, although he thought it was rather selfish to consider escaping from the law as his best friend was in terrible agony from what he had done.

"Hey, Eddy! Hey!" Jim's hand on his shoulder and his familiar voice brought Eddy out of his trance. "Calm down, mate. I know how to handle this," Jim said, unexpectedly soothing Eddy.

"H-How?" Eddy couldn't really say anything more than that one questioning word with a stuttering, weak voice.

"Look, we can just call for an ambulance, and say that we found him here by chance," Jim suggested.

Eddy eyed the bloody tyres and tyre marks leading away from Brett's body. Following his glance, the bartender answered his companion's silent question: "Well, that... I'll take care of that. You better call the ambulance ASAP; the earlier you call, the less suspicious we will be."

The violinist nodded in response, gathering his thoughts and making his body function in such a way as to make him able to place a call without breaking down into tears or terror. Eddy sighed for the last time and pulled his phone out of his pocket, fingers still trembling slightly as he punched in the 3 numbers for emergency services.

"000, what is your emergency?" The officer on the other side of the line said solemnly, and Eddy could hear the slight boredom in his voice, a slight boredom that he envied. It took the violinist a moment before forming a coherent and understandable sentence. "Hello, yes. I'm at 5 Quay Street and I've just found my friend lying on the pavement here, bloody and unconscious."

"Is there any way you can describe your friend's situation with more detail so we can provide the most suitable help?"

"Uhh yes... he is lying here, unconscious... in a pool of blood..." Eddy felt his breath quicken, his mind fogging up, and unable to form coherent sentences; telltale signs that anxiety was once again taking over him.

Perhaps sensing this, the officer attempted to soothe and aid Eddy: "Calm down, Sir. Can you assess his injuries or tell me if he is struggling to stay alive? Like if he has an irregular heartbeat, or his breath is rattling?"

"Uh-huh... yeah, sure..." Eddy felt a lump rise inside his throat. "Uh... he seems to be pretty well alive, no irregular heartbeat or rattling breaths, and uh... his left arm and right leg, it seems limp, so maybe it's broken? There is a large gash in his forehead and in his left collar, and, uh..." Eddy felt the lump rise higher and quicker as he realised what damage he had done to his best friend and longtime companion: not only in the physical way, but also to his career and to his future. Brett's bright and glowing future, destroyed to ashes, barely even glowing, by his own hands.

"Thank you, sir." The officer cut him off. "We will send an ambulance here soon. Do you have any idea on who the culprit is, or are there any witnesses, suspects or leads for this incident?"

The violinist looked up to see a sweaty Jim rushing towards him, his silver Elantra gone. He mouthed the words "witness" as he pointed towards the bartender, who vigorously shook his head. For a moment a part of him wanted to own up, for it was only fair to Brett this way, but he decided against it because he wanted to stay with Brett. For another moment he also wanted to frame his mother, but she did give birth to him after all, even if she doesn't respect his decisions. So Eddy said, in his most convincing calm voice, "No."

"Thank you sir and feel free to contact us if you have any leads or enquiry." 

Beep. The phone call ended, and Eddy put his phone away.

Jim reached into his back pocket, producing a sleek, silver object Eddy recognised as a key.

"Here. Take this. Uhh... take the bus. 18. From the hospital. And get off at the 2nd stop. I live in Block 2. Flat 13A. Call me... Call me if you don't go to the nearest hospital and I'll uh... I'll try to pick you up, or uh... if you have any troubles." 

Judging from Jim's incoherent speech and disheveled look, the violinist, for once, realised what he had put the bartender through.

"Hey man, I'm sorry I had to drag you into this, uh... if you want to, you can report us - me - to the police. I don't really mind. Uh... yeah. Thanks for everything." Eddy nodded absentmindedly and stuffed Jim's key into his other back pocket.

Sirens wailed in the distance, getting progressively louder. "I should probably get going," Jim said, and, without waiting for Eddy's response, ran across the street and disappeared into the darkness of the nearest alley.

The ride in the ambulance wasn't easy; seeing the numerous amounts of procedures the paramedics had to put Brett through in order to keep him going: machines hooked up to him and drugs administered and bandages wrapped. And it hurt Eddy even more knowing that this was all his fault. He wanted to hold Brett's hand through all of this, as he remembered how he was afraid of needles, but the paramedics wouldn't allow him to.

Eddy was now on autopilot mode, since his ever-growing guilt was taking over him to the point where he couldn't really function properly, waiting for the doctors to call upon him to visit Brett after the plethora of procedures he would need to go through.

"I take it that you are Mr Yang's close friend?" A man with a white coat approached Eddy, the latter realising that this was the doctor he'd been waiting for.

"Ye-Yes. I am. How is Brett?" Eddy waited impatiently for the doctor's response.

The doctor sighed. "Well... he's fine in terms of being alive, but I have to prepare you, he doesn't look his best at the moment, and he's still in a coma. After he has awaken, however, we shall run him through another set of procedures; so be sure to tell us when he wakes up." 

The doctor continued to explain Brett's injuries to Eddy, who was growing more and more impatient and guilty by the moment.

When the doctor finally let him go, Eddy travelled to Brett's room and entered it, the lack of people reminding the taller violinist that he will need to call the shorter violinist's parents later. Eddy sighed as he saw the various apparatus his friend was hooked up to, the gauzes applied to his cuts, and the hard plaster casts on his arm and leg.

Eddy dragged a chair from the side of the room to Brett's bedside and held his right hand. He wanted to cry. He wanted to break down. He wanted to scream, to say a million things he normally would to Brett, but the only thing he thought was appropriate to do at that moment was the only thing he could do: saying I'm sorry, over and over again whilst rubbing his friend's hand.

Eventually, a darkness overtook him, and Eddy didn't fight back, for he was glad to have something to bring him out of this series of events only comparable to a fan fiction or an action movie.

"Sir. Sir!" A voice called out, waking Eddy up. "Visiting hours are over, sir," The nurse informed him. Eddy nodded, stood up, and mumbled a small appreciation. He looked at Brett for the last time, walking out of the building as he re-organised his hair.

As he followed Jim's instructions to head home, he wondered if Jim had reported him, or would he be home. With thoughts wandering in his mind, he soon found that he was outside of Block 2 of Hill Terrace, where he acknowledged the guard and proceeded to Jim's flat with a surprisingly calm attitude.

A turn of the key brought Eddy into Jim's warm apartment. He didn't even address Jim when his emotions, bottled up for so long, burst out. Eddy broke down in Jim's living room, sobbing loudly, and Jim allowed him to continue in this state for a while before suggesting to his companion a way to comfort himself.
Eddy was on his third shot of vodka when he heard the door knock.

"That's weird. Who knocks nowadays when there's the doorbell?" Jim questioned in a low voice. His question, however, was answered soon after, nearly making Eddy choke on his shot.

"This is the Brisbane police, open up!"

(Writers for next chapters: First we have BellaBella246, then AgustinaSWEG? and VioletPurple555?)