Broken String

XC

The silence resounds after the three boys leave. Is it quiet enough that John can hear his heart hammer? Like always when Brett leaves the panic is close, threatening to come over and consume him whole.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Um."
He takes a deep breath and tries to smile at John, who sits on the couch eyeing him worriedly.
'Yeah.' he wants to say. He wants to say it calmly, composedly. He wants to talk to his friend, who he hasn't seen in months, like an adult. But his heart hammers so loudly he can't seem to get the word out. He tries again as tears start to well.
"Shit." he whispers. "Oh."
John's features soften as his lips tense. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.
"You're not okay at all, are you?"
Eddy shrugs.
"No."

Oh, treacherous, treacherous tears, what is it with them, he's never cried as much in his life as he has the last couple of weeks, and they're spilling now, and his breaths are coming fast because Brett has left, and his heart pounds so loudly he's sure John can hear. He'll never live down the embarrassment of this, but he can't help anything any more as the sobbing starts and he has to try his hardest to stay sitting in his chair.
"Sweet Jesus. Eddy." John mumbles. He scoots closer and puts his hand on his arm. "What's happening?"
Eddy gasps for breath. Oh God, he's shocking him, of course he is. He needs to talk, he needs to give him something.
"Brett. Leaves. This. Happens."
"A panic attack?"
Something rushes through Eddy and he wants up, he needs up, he needs to stand, and walk, run outside into the sunny morning, he needs air, air! The fist grips his heart and squeezes until there's no blood left and he's faint.
"Up..." he whispers feebly. "Up!"
"Up? How?"
Eddy shakes his head and gulps in whatever air he can find. John's hand is heavy on his arm, calming the storm inside some. "Up..." he tries again, feebly, as fear and a bone numbing sadness pour in rivulets out of his eyes. "I can't, I can't. I want to, though."
"What do you want?"
John's voice is so calm, so kind, so patient. It invites oxygen into the room, it loosens the fist some, at least enough for Eddy to talk. To breathe.
"I want to run. Outside."
"Oh, Eddy, I get that. I do. But you can't, right now."
Eddy shakes his head.
The heavy hand squeezes his arm, undoing the fist more. Eddy takes a deep breath.
"Okay, so I can't say I can understand where you are, of course." John says quietly. "But I imagine that's very normal under the circumstances? Jeez, Eddy. It's not nothing, that's happening to you. Could you tell me more, about what led to this? Were you over-practising?"
Eddy looks up at him through the bottom of the pool. Another deep breath and he sags as he nods.
"Yes. I was. For the competition, and the Sibelius. I was trying to learn Pag four. I was failing... failing. I was failing."
As soon as the memories come his breath speeds up again, but John's hand squeezes his arm firmly and drags him back into the now.
"I'm positive you weren't failing. Um. Jeez, Eddy... are you sure you... I mean, are you sure you maybe didn't simply overdo it?"
"Overdo it?" Eddy's voice shoots up a sixth. "What, you mean like I've... burned out, or something?"
John shrugs again and he takes a long moment, almost as if to gather himself. Eddy's breaths are slowing, now that the room contains air again, and the fist is back in the corner it likes to hide in.
"Okay." John says then, quietly, weightedly. "So I don't know how pertinent this is or whether this is even what you need to hear at all, but I've been... well, not where you are with the not walking. But I've hit... rock bottom before, because of the expectations I had of myself. It... well, it looked a lot like this."
"You have?" Eddy asks, his voice shooting up again like he's thirteen and it's breaking, reforming, just like John did, apparently, way back when. It's impossible to imagine him weak, like this. This man he's known for years, so together, so calm, so strong, so at ease with himself. How could John ever be where Eddy is now?
"Yes." John nods. "It took months. I couldn't practise at all. If it weren't for Mark, who was my new boyfriend then..."
"Then what?" Eddy whispers.
"Then I don't know if I would have made it at all."
Eddy's heart is pounding again but for an entirely different reason, suddenly.
"Whoa."
John nods.
"Yeah. Um. Eddy... can I just ask you... why did this hit you right then? Was it something I did, or said? Or that I'm here at all?"
Eddy shakes his head. Look. He could try hide his weakness, sure, lie to him, but what's left to hide, here? He's seen him now, seen him in all of his ugly whimpiness. He knows the real Eddy, behind any social facade he's ever had.
"No. It's because Brett left."