Memoirs of a Failed Choir

Between Practices Four and Five

"Roderich, how are we going to manage without an alto?!" I paced the halls of my house, my fingers pressing against my temples, "What can we do?"

Roderich sighed and took my hands. "Eduard, calm down." he said severely, "Panicking won't help anything."

"I know..." I dropped my head to rest it on Roderich's chest. "I can't help it, though."

Roderich shook his head. "Eduard, breathe." I felt his hands starting to gently stroke my hair and I smiled slightly despite myself.

"Thank you, Roderich." I murmured. Somehow, Roderich's hands were calming, even if they looked wiry and cold. "...Do you really think that everything will be fine."

"I do. Things can't get much worse, anyways."

"That's true..." I smiled slightly at Roderich. "So the worst is over? Maybe things will look up now."

"I'm sure they will." Roderich assured, "Now, let's have some coffee. You need to take a break."

"Okay... Whatever you say."

Roderich squeezed my hand and led me downstairs. While he was pouring coffee in the kitchen, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down at the screen and my heart dropped.

"R... Roderich?"

"Mm?"

I looked up at him wide-eyed. "Gilbert isn't in choir anymore."