Four thirty-three

Chapter 26

"The Rieding's coming along nicely. You've done a good job on this."

Brett hummed noncommittally, removing his shoulder rest from his violin to put it away at the end of the lesson.

"How would you like to perform it in front of people?"

Brett turned his head to look at his teacher, eyes widened.

"As in... the Auditorium? With an orchestra?"

Eddy sniggered. "Well, actually I was thinking something along the lines of one of the chamber music rooms and an accompanying pianist, but hey, if that's not good enough for you, then..."

The boy blushed deep red. "No, no, no, no, no! It's alright, I... I didn't mean...!"

Mortification was written all over his face, and Eddy took pity on him and put him out of his misery. "Don't sweat it, Yang, I'm just teasing you." He sniggered. Then, a bit more solemnly, "you'll get there. Eventually. I think. But for now we'll have to stick to the pianist. It's a good way of starting to play chamber music, before you get into an actual ensemble, and the performance practice will do you good. So," he beamed at him, "what do you say?"

♪ ♪ ♪

The huge smile Brett had given him in this morning's lesson, when he'd agreed to playing the concertino he was currently learning in front of people, stayed with him for the rest of the day. There was a springiness to his steps, and not even a full day of lessons plus a very long meeting were enough to put him out of his good mood. His mind felt jittery and unsettled, a weird tingling sensation flowing in his veins, and as he closed the door of his bedroom after him he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep that night before his head even touched the pillow. After a good hour of tossing and turning, he gave up, got dressed, and left his room. He was starting to work on new repertoire, and he'd been putting off giving a listen to some recordings in favour of listening to stuff with Brett.

Brett . He wondered if he would already be there when he got to the practice room. They met there more often than not, so much so that, in Eddy's mind, it was their practice room now. He'd better not be, he thought. The boy would probably insist on listening to one of his damned Romantic pieces, some Tchaikovsky or some Bruch or heaven knew what, and Eddy would get nothing done.

Why was he hoping, then, to find him there, in their spot, where they could talk for hours on end without being disturbed?

Eddy shook his head, and quickened his pace.

♪ ♪ ♪

Brett was in fact lying on the floor when he got there, arms behind his head. A small smile settled into Eddy's lips as he gently closed the door of the practice room.

"Hey."

"Oh, hi! Come here, the Rach is just starting!" He gestured for Eddy to lay with him. The notes of the first movement of Rachmaninov's Symphony nº2 were already dancing around the room, enveloping them. Of course, Romantic repertoire, just as he had predicted. He rolled his eyes. The boy was so transparent, sometimes.

Trying to hide his smile, he lowered himself to the floor, the reason why he was there in the first place totally forgotten. "You're unbelievable. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

Brett shrugged. "It's just... I've been meaning to listen to this one for a while now, but I hadn't found the time with the Rieding."

Eddy hummed softly. "But you must have gone through more than half of the CDs available in this room already, and the other practice rooms with a CD player mostly have copies of these. You should slow down, or you'll have finished them all by the end of the year."