123.

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The following morning, Eddy woke up to the scent of freshly made eggs with bacon and the sound of plates being juggled around. He sighed and rolled off the couch in the studio, stretching his stiff back. Lying on the couch wasn't comfortable at all, but if that's what he had to do to get Brett to a therapist then that's what he'd do. He put on the sweater from yesterday and slowly went to the kitchen.

Brett was not in the kitchen anymore. He had left breakfast for Eddy with a small note that it was for him before retreating to the living room. Everything felt hopeless, like the only few strands of hope that kept him grounded was forcefully pulled out of his hands. He hadn't slept that night at all, making sure to wake himself every time he almost fell asleep by pinching his arm or slapping his face. He didn't deserve sleep, just like he didn't deserve the breakfast. And now he wasn't even able to use Eddy as an excuse to eat and sleep.
He listened as Eddy entered the kitchen and picking up the note. He heard him place it back on the table and shuffle over to peek into the living room.
"You gotta eat, Brett", Eddy said, sounding more like he was annoyed than anything else, which just pushed Brett further into the hole he had dug for himself. He shook his head.
"Why do you care, anyway?" he mumbled, looking away. "Enjoy your food, I made it for you."

Eddy sighed heavily before going over to sit next to Brett on the couch, but Brett just squeezed himself into the other end to avoid him.
"Go eat, I made it for you", Brett repeated, fighting his tears. He had cried enough that night as it was.
"I care because I love you, Brett. I want you to get help because you're obviously not fine", Eddy said while pulling his legs into the couch.
"I'm fine. Go eat", Brett mumbled, wiping a single tear running down his cheek. He still wasn't looking at Eddy.
"Brett, please, I..." Eddy began but Brett interrupted him quickly and loudly.
"You wanna fucking help me? Go eat the stupid food I made you. Leave me the fuck alone about that, I am fucking fine." Brett stood up and started heading to his room, but a large hand around his waist stopped him.
"Come eat with me Brett", Eddy pleaded, feeling his heart shatter at Brett's tone. Their eyes locked for a second, but Brett pulled his arm out of Eddy's grip.
"Stop fucking toying with me", Brett almost snarled before half running to his room and slamming the door behind him.

Eddy didn't move his eyes from the spot Brett had stood just a moment ago, his words echoing through his head, shattering his heart more every time they repeated. Was that how it looked? Like he was just toying with him? Playing around with his feelings?
Finally he blinked slowly and moved to place his head in his hands. All he wanted was for Brett to be fine, but it felt like he was the reason for everything. If only he had left Brett alone all those years ago, Brett would have been fine. Maybe if he'd accepted that spot in music uni in Europe instead, or if he hadn't chosen music at all and become a doctor like his parents wanted? Maybe even a lawyer?
All Eddy knew was that the all of Brett's problems started with Eddy, and that he'd do anything for Brett to feel better. He'd do anything for Brett.

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