We don't like to put a label on it or, in other words, Twosetviolin one-shots

I'm sorry I slept with your son, or a story about Brett and two crying women

She looked like she was holding back tears again. Finally she sighed and hid her face in her hands.

"It's about grandchildren..."

Grandchildren.

She means... children.

His children.

Grandchildren.

Brett felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

How had he never thought that this might be a problem? He didn't think about such a distant future at all, apart from the fact that he generally didn't really want children.

"There's still Alan," he joked, and she smiled and shook her head again.

He told her the same when he confessed he didn't want to study medicine. From then on, it became a family joke - if Brett couldn't do something, he would say that there was also his little brother.

He stroked her shoulder.

"And even if not... There are plenty of other options," he added, not really convinced by the idea himself. "For example, adoption."

It was so weird to even think about it now. Raising a child with Eddy... They could barely take care of each other. Maybe they'll start with a dog. Actually, who needs a child, a dog was better. And of course, he didn't tell his mother any of those thoughts.

She calmed down, though the grandchildren thing seemed to be still bothering her.

"It's okay, Brett," she said. "It'll be all right."

Then she hugged him, and only then did he feel how tense he was.

"Thank you," he managed to mumble.

Then he pulled away and looked at his father. They smiled awkwardly at each other.

"You know..." Dad started, looking thoughtfully somewhere around the room. "...I always thought it's good you have a friend like Eddy. Just don't waste it."

"I'm not going to," Brett answered. He was sure of his feelings.

Dad nodded and returned to his newspaper.

Brett couldn't help but smile. They seemed sincere. And it may take a while for them to get used to it, but they're trying. It couldn't have been better.

He returned to his apartment, feeling nervous again. He wondered how it went for Eddy. Brett was afraid he'll find him in despair, but when he opened the door to the apartment, no one greeted him.

"Eddy?" he shouted into the apartment. Maybe he wasn't back yet. Maybe the conversation dragged on.

"In the kitchen!" a voice answered him.

Brett put his bag down and approached his boyfriend.

Eddy was pulling plates out of the cupboard and placing them on the table.

"I wanted to cook something, but then I decided I didn't want you going back to a burning house, so I ordered something from the diner at the corner."

Brett wanted to conclude that everything must have gone well. Eddy seemed to be in good spirits, his face showed no puffy eyelids or traces of sadness. Even so, Brett still had a bad feeling.

They both started to speak at the same time and fell silent.

"You first," Brett decided, sitting down at the table.

"You know what I want to know. How it went with your parents?" asked his boyfriend, sitting across from him.

Brett briefly described how it looked without going into too much detail. He wanted to know Eddy's story as soon as possible.