Denial - a Breddy fanfic

78.

Tuesday. Second concert. Dress rehearsal at 12:00, concert at 18:00.
Eddy quickly sat up in bed. Dress rehearsal at 12:00! What time was it? He fumbled for his phone and lit up the screen. 11:37. Shit.
"Brett!" he exclaimed, shaking him awake. "Brett, we're gonna be late, come on!" The grunting from the rolled up covers next to him indicated to Eddy he was about to wake up.
"Come on, there's just 20 minutes until dress rehearsal", Eddy continued while rolling out of bed. He absolutely had to shower after last night's lovely activities, which was not good when they had this little time to get ready.
"20 minutes?!" Suddenly Brett was wide awake as well and sat up quickly. "Shit, didn't we put an alarm or...?" He got out of bed as well, not caring that he was naked.
"Dude, you think THAT is what was on my mind last night?" Eddy asked, feeling the stress of running late. He should be used to it by now, seeing as it wasn't exactly the first time he wad late for something, but it felt extra bad as they had caused the poor orchestra so much trouble already.
"I'll hop in the shower, at least", Brett said calmly. "Wanna join me?"

They ended up running to rehearsal, only three minutes left as they passed The Blue Stone heading for the park. Eddy had felt a hint of panic build as the pavillion moved closer, and reached out to grab Brett's hand while they ran to make it. Fortunately, Brett gladly took it and they got to Grieghallen with a few seconds to spare.

Dress rehearsal went awful, honestly. At least for Brett. His finger was still bothering him and it made all his bowstrokes uneven and he had an awful case of shaky bow.
Proving you don't deserve to be here, are you?
He carefully watched Eddy, looking just as gorgeous as he had during the last dress rehearsal and concert. He wanted play as good as Eddy did in that moment, feeling more like he was tainting his godlike playing instead of playing a duet with him. Mr Gardner told them as he dismissed the orchestra after the dress rehearsal that he was sure the concert would be great despite some small troubles now. Brett wasn't too convinced, though, and Eddy was picking up on it.

Brett sunk down in the couch in their wardrobe and looked at his right hand. He had ran before Eddy to relax as Gardner wanted a few words with Eddy alone. It looked fine, but moving his ring finger hurt, sending what felt like lighting bolts of pain up his arm. That was bad, like really bad. No way he'd be fine before the concert. He groaned in annoyance. How was it possible that everything had to go wrong at once? Were they controlled by some kind of evil god writing out their lives for their own entertainmemt? Whatever it was, Brett was sick and tired of it. Couldn't they just get a break?