Andante

CLXXXVII

His head was killing him when he woke up. He groaned softly as he blinked into the light that was streaming through the open curtains. He was on his right side, with Brett's arm still around him. 
"Hey. You okay?" 
Brett sounded like he had been awake for a while, already. Had he been lying there, letting him sleep? Eddy turned around with another groan and put his head on Brett's chest where it belonged. 
"My head hurts. How long have you been awake for?"
God, his voice sounded all gravely, like he'd been drinking an extra large of whiskey instead of Bubble tea yesterday. 
Brett smiled against his face. 
"A bit. It's fine, I like watching you sleep. You're so.... cute."
Eddy raised his head and his eyebrows all at once. 
"I'm cute?"
Brett grinned wickedly. 
"Yep. Sorry."
"Great." he grunted, and he buried his face back in Brett's t-shirt. Just one more moment, please, one more second of not thinking, of just being, of not facing... 
"We should probably get up, though, or we'll be late." Brett said quietly. "I think my mother has put paracetamol in my bag, so I'll go find it for you."
Eddy nodded. He pushed himself up on his elbow and sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed until his bare feet touched the faded carpet. 

God, what a night he had had. Had he really cried like that? Had he really bared his soul like that, in front of someone else? In front of Brett, no less, who he hadn't wanted to burden with all of this shit, who he hadn't wanted to see him so weak? It was hard to imagine he ever would have done, but yet he only had to feel his throbbing head and his swollen eyelids to know that yes, he had. And what's more, Brett had not seemed to mind at all. He had... well, in fact he had seemed to welcome the openness. 
Who knew? 
And then... what happened after? Well, he would take that any day. He would even quite happily bare his soul again to get that... because let's face it... he had never felt this loved in his life. 
He got up and plodded into the bathroom. A haggard face stared back at him from the old mirror with the chip out of the right top corner. Black hair sticking out all over the place, cheeks splotchy, eyes red. 
Well. Great. 
He decided to have a quick shower and he stood in the little cubicle with his hands on the white tiles, letting the hot water run over his face and taking all the remnants of the tears with it. By the time he came out and took the two tablets that Brett was offering him he was feeling a bit more human again. 

He listened to the shower coming on for Brett as he pulled on his jeans and walked over to the violin case. 

This really, really wasn't the preparation for the masterclass he had been looking for, was it? But he'd have no choice but to roll with it, now. He eyed the big white building in front of him in silence. Wow, how many memories had they made here? And what were the odds that the masterclass was in the very same building... or maybe this was where all the Perth classical music stuff happened? He shot a look at the grass field to the right, where they had sat in their circle and had all their impromptu lunches. It was strange, to be here without Todd and Ian. Not a bad kind of strange, though, per se. He looked to the concrete steps by the entrance and hopped quickly up. 
Game face: on.