Denial - a Breddy fanfic

91.

Brett had gone off immediately after the rehearsal, not wanting to deal with being around Eddy. Everything felt heavy. He didn't care about the rain and the thunder over his head. He wandered to the other side of the small pond they had seen many times before.
He sunk down on a bench just as the rain picked up its pace. The bench was already wet when he sat down and the cold water was quickly absorbed by his dark jeans. He placed his hands in his pockets and felt the silky box brushing against his fingers.
How stupid you were, thinking he'd ever want to marry you.
He sighed. It was stupid. Of course that would never happen.
He took the box out of his pocket and studied it for a second, but just looking at it made him feel sick.

"Did he say no?" a familiar voice asked from next to him on the bench, and he jumped in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone sit down.
"Oh gosh, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, young man", the sweet old lady who had helped him find Eddy after the concert that time said with a smile.
"No, I just didn't see you there",Brett said, trying to put his brave face on. "And I never got to ask before he broke up with me." He sighed and moved his gaze back to the stupid box in his hands. It was so tempting to just toss in into the pond, so it would stop mocking him.
"That's a shame, he's missing out on a great boy", she said and patted his arm assuringly, but Brett just shook his head.
"I appreciate that you think so, but you've gotten it wrong", he said, pulling some of his rain wet out of his face. "I'm having some... Problems? I don't know how to explain, but I'm just too much for anyone to deal with." He wasn't really sure why he opened up to this lady he didn't know. There was something about her calm and soft presence he just couldn't put his finger on.
"Oh what nonsense, I've seen you two together." She got up from the bench with her little purse hanging from her arm. "Come on, boy, I'll make you some dinner. You look like you need it."

The next thing Brett knew, he was sitting in the lady's apartment on the fourth floor of a tall apartment complex. Apparently her name was Berit, and she was currently in the kitchen making some kind of thick vegetable soup.
"Lapskaus is food for your soul", she had said as she placed the large pot on the kitchen table after calling him in from the living room.
"You're too kind, Berit. Thank you", he said as they sat down. It felt so normal to sit down at her table with her, not awkward like eating at a stranger's house should feel.
"Oh it was no trouble, you looked like you needed it", she said in her sweet Norwegian accent and took some of the lapskaus onto a plate for him and handed it to him.
"Still very grateful", he said, taking some of the thick vegetable soup on his spoon and blowing on it so he wouldn't burn himself. He tasted it, and honestly it wasn't bad. A bit bland, but definitely edible. It was hard to get a proper home cooked meal while on tour.

They ate in silence, and Brett was astonished at how filling this food was. He had only had a small bowl, but was completely full.
"Thank you for the meal, Berit. You were right, I did need it. Let me do the dishes, that's the least I could do", he said, standing up.
"Aren't you sweet, such a good boy", she said all grandmotherly as he went to the sink with the dishes.

After dinner , Berit offered him some coffee and a few hours later he was still sitting in Berit's living room with the flowery wallpaper and family pictures on the walls. A very grandmotherly house, all in all. He took a sip of the black coffee from the tiny flowery cup and placed it back on the saucer.
"You know what I think, Brett?", Berit said, putting her cup down on the coffee table. "I think you should talk to him, and if he stays by his decision you take care of yourself first. But if he changes his mind, make sure to make each other strong." Brett nodded, taking another sip of the coffee.
"I don't think he will change his mind, though. I don't even know what I did wrong..." Brett sighed, but Berit interrupted him.
"That's what you have to talk about. Communication is the key to both friendships and relationships alike. Take that from a woman who was married for 50 years!"

When Brett walked home from Berit's apartment that night, he felt a lot better, even though nothing had changed. He had promised to come visit her before going back to Australia, and he intended to keep that promise.