Bathtub

4. Couch

All the while, Eddy was calling out to Brett, each attempt sounding more and more weak, until he said, "I'm going to be dead by the time you find me Brett. Just go, I don't think you really care."

This broke Brett's haert. "No Eddy, I'm really trying, I really am, and I do care-"

"Save it Brett. I know how you really feel about me. You were my last hope, Brett. If even you can't find me, then I don't think you really love me, and you should go. I've given up hope."

Eddy was no longer crying now, and had a distasteful and disgusted tone to his voice. This was the final straw for Brett. His heart had finally cracked, a deep and jagged split right in the middle.

Brett couldn't talk anymore. He had started crying when Eddy interuppted him, and was now sobbing cold, hard tears into the cold, hard floor. He was laying down as well, no longer caring about things like getting cold, or getting a bruise on his hip because he had sat there for too long.

Tears stained his cheeks, and he lay there for an eternity, until he died of broken heart, right before he woke up.

Once Brett had finished writing everything down, he crumpled up the paper and threw it in his waste basket, hoping to forget this nightmare ever happened.

He looked at the time and groaned. He knew there was no hope of going back to sleep now, with his mind so full and his emotions so high. So, instead of heading back to his bed to lay down and think, he picked up his violin from his case and tightened his bow, and set his violin on his shoulder, ready to practice.

Well, it wasn't as much of practicing as it was playing any pieces that fit his mood. But still, nonetheless, he hadn't really touched his violin in days, being so busy helping and hanging out with Eddy, and anything was better than nothing at this point.

After a while of his so called "practicing", Brett set down his violin and looked at the time again.

Holy cow, it's already 5:30? How did that happen?, Brett thought, marveling at how much time had passed.

He packed away his violin and bow, and then started to walk towards his small apartment bathroom when he received a terrible migraine that caused him to almost black out, gripping the corner of his desk to keep from falling over completely.

Once all the dark spots were gone from his vision and he could stand up without falling over again, he flopped over to his kitchen area and took some headache medicine. He also took his temperature, just in case, and discovered that he had a slight fever of 99.7° F. So he took some fever medicine as well, and set off again to take a nice, long, 30 minute shower.

Afterwards, Brett got on some not-pajamas but comfortable clothes, and spent the next 20 minutes making and eating breakfast.

While he made his toast and scrambled eggs, he also made a mental list of what he needed to bring to Eddy's house later that day.

After breakfast was done, he grabbed an old sheet music paper off of the stack he had built up over the last year and a half, turned it around  so that the blank side was facing him, and began to write down the list he had built during breakfast.

In his own messy but readable hand writing, here was the completed list:

Pants,

Shirt,

Pajamas,

Socks,

Toothbrush,

Toothpaste,

Deodorant,

Book,