Club - a Breddy Fanfic.

59) Outside

Eddy runs outside into the cold air, breathing gulps of air quickly, willing the nausea down. His head is spinning, a headache already splitting his head open. Breathe, Eddy! Don't let it get to you like that! You've been better! You can do this, calm down. Just breathe and everything will be okay. You shouldn't work yourself up to this. Breathe! He looks back at the Club's entrance. Images from inside are forcing their way to the surface again in full force. Breathe. Brea... Oh no, it's not working. He's going to be sick. He walks quickly to the closest bin he can find. His back arches as his nausea billows into the bin, gasping for oxygen between the waves of sick. He can't think anymore, he's only trying to survive this horror he had almost forgotten it existed.

The hand that is softly placed on Eddy's back startles him. He jolts up and looks straight into Brett's worried face.

"You okay?" Brett asks sympathetically.

"No." Eddy manages to say before he turns to the bin again, heaving the last bits of his dinner into it.
He stays there for a moment, leaning on his elbows above the dreadful box, deciding if he can let go. How humiliating is it that Brett has to see him like this?
Brett hands him a paper tissue and helps him up carefully.

"Eddy? Can you walk? Let's get you home, okay?"
Oh how sweet is his tone. It hurts. He doesn't deserve it, obviously. But will he be able to get home by himself? Not likely, and definitely not easily. He needs him. So Eddy nods weakly, his eyes filling up with the tears he doesn't want to show. So weak. Pathetic.

Brett smiles encouragingly. "Come. I'll help."
He holds outs his hand, but before Eddy can take it Brett's phone buzzes and pings a few times, clearly telling him some messages are coming in.
"One sec. Don't move."
Brett looks at his screen, frowns and types a quick reply.

Eddy swallows hard. His stomach cringes together once more, make him wonder if he should bend over into the bin again, but he knows nothing will come out anymore. How can he ask Brett to go with him? He has friends inside. He was having a good time before Eddy showed up. Who is he to ruin that?
"You should head back." Eddy manages to say, and meaning it too. Because who would want to go with such a loser like him? "I'll get home by myself."
Somehow he'll manage. He always has before, so why not now.

"And leave you? No way in hell."
Brett scoops an arm around Eddy's waist and starts walking him towards the bus station.

Great, more people, but now packed together in a moving vehicle to add to the fun. How on earth will he be able to handle a bus ride now? Even thinking about it makes him want to throw up again.
"Can we walk, please?" he ask feebly.

Brett looks at him, weighing him up.
"Bus too crowded?"
Eddy nods and takes a few queasy steps. Brett tightens his hold so he won't fall.
"Alright. No bus. I'll carry you if I have to. Okay?"

Eddy manages a smile.
"Right. Like you would be able to."
He coughs. It's a bad idea, his throat still hurts from the acid.
"I'll be alright. As long as I can get away from this hell hole."
Eddy starts walking, supported by Brett still. The arm around his waist feels heavenly, steadying him, both physically and mentally.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Brett speaks up.
"Eddy? Tell me what's wrong?"

Of course Brett asks the dreaded question Eddy really doesn't want to answer. He will have to though, sooner or later. He takes a deep breath, but the words get stuck in his sore throat. He can't talk yet. Tears fill his eyes and he looks helplessly at the man walking besides him. He shakes his head sideways minutely.

Brett squeezes him softly.
"Don't talk now. No worries. Let us get home first."

The relief floods over him when Eddy walks into the front door. He doesn't even bother to take his shoes off and crashes onto the couch in plain exhaustion.

Before he knows it he has a glass of water in his hands that Brett got him from the kitchen. He drinks it gratefully, with small sips, while Brett takes care of his shoes. The water is divine, but he winces all the same. God, how pathetic can he be that someone else has to take off his shoes?

"You want something to eat?" Brett asks caringly.

Eddy shakes his head.
No, he doesn't. He'll definitely throw up again. It's not like eating will help him become less skinny anyway, so why even bother.
Brett sets himself besides him and wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. Eddy is thankful that he doesn't ask the questions he is sure to have. He needs to collect himself first.
Brett draws circles with his thumb on his upper arm slowly, silently supporting him in his quietude. It helps to get him grounded.

After minutes in complete silence that seem to last an eternity, Eddy scrapes his throat and nods.
"I'll brush my teeth. Then I'll talk."
Because he has to, eventually, no? He can't leave Brett wondering.

The bathroom mirror shows a tired face back at him, dark circles under his flat eyes in his ghost white face. He brushes his teeth, glad he can rinse the foul taste and smell away. He grins to his reflection to see if they are clean. Yep, his teeth are clean, but also as askew as ever. After washing his face, he sighs deeply.
It won't get any better standing here, now will it?

With lead in his shoes he enters the living room. Brett sits on his couch, patiently waiting for his return, scrolling on his phone to pass the time.

"Feeling a bit better?" he asks when he notices him coming back in.

"A bit."
He sets himself beside Brett, who pulls him against him again.

"A week ago I had to spill my beans here on this exact same couch. I guess it's your turn now?"
He kisses Eddy on his head encouragingly.

"Why don't you think it's just something I ate?" Eddy wonders suddenly. "I could have food poisoning or something."

"Maybe. But I asked Timo to text me whether he knew what happened, when I ran after you. He did."

"Oh, bollocks. What did he say?"

"That you've been on the wrong side of your head since this afternoon. Because the performance didn't go as well as you wanted and..."

"Not go as I wanted? As I wanted?! I totally and utterly sucked! I screwed up fucking everything manageable!" Eddy interrupts him. Fire burns in his eyes, finally bringing some colour to his cheeks again.

Brett doesn't reply to that, but instead continues stoically. "And that you had encountered those girls before I did. Timo says they were horrible towards you."
Eddy nods. Can't disagree on that one.
"What did they say, Eddy?"

Now that's hard to forget. His brain won't be letting go of that mantra anytime soon. 'Too tall, skinny, teeth.' It's still there of course, repeating itself over and over again, although not that loud anymore.
Because now that he has calmed down some, he can see it in a bit different light. He's seen this before, been there before.
"They did what girls do when they feel threatened, I guess. They basically told me I'm definitely not your type and that I'm ugly. And you know what? They are right. Compared to them I am."
Eddy tries to shrug it off, play it cool like it's nothing. 'Too tall, skinny, teeth.' A tear emerges in the corner of his eye. Well, fuck, that's not helping with hiding how insecure he really feels right now, is it? Treacherous little bastards. He grumpily rubs them away with a hand.
"Fuck it."

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A/N: Wow! 10,1K reads!!! It's mindblowing that so many people seem to like my story. Every star and comment makes my day. Thank you so much!