Omnia Vincit Amor

XXX.

"Ammor magnus doctor est." -Saint Augustine of Hippo

Love is a great teacher.

To say that Brett Yang was not coping well was a huge understatement. He was always trying his best to forget, always drowning his sorrows in teaching and paper work. He was better than this, he was sure of it. It seemed as though everything reminded him of Eddy.

Brett laid down in his bed, holding on to the faint scent of Eddy on the left side of his bed. He held his pillow close to him and shed no tears. He was hurt, he was grieving, he was trying to accept that Edward Chen was not his anymore. Rather, Edward Chen was never his.

Still, he was stuck on the love they shared. No matter how staged and acted that love was, it still burns on Brett's chest. He is unable to forget, able to forgive even without an apology and he was still in love with Edward Chen. Brett Yang was still in love with Edward Chen.

A knock was heard from outside and the turn of a doorknob. His father entered the room and Brett sat up immediately.

"Papa, what is the matter? Do you need anything?" Brett asked as he composed himself and sat up straighter.

"No, my boy. Something is up with you. Are you doing well?" Papa Yang asked as he sat on the opposite side of Brett's bed.

"Papa, I am fine. I was just resting, that is all." Brett said, avoiding his father's eyes.

A moment of silence passed and papa Yang was the one to break it.

"I figured you needed the rest. It is hard to tend to a broken heart..."

"How did you know, Papa?"

"I have been there with your mama, you know? I should know what it might feel to lose the love of your heart suddenly."

"But all those years, you had a harder time than we did! You seemed too distant to her. I thought you despised her..." Brett argued.

"I could never despise her, my boy. Her and my family is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Now, Brett Yang, tell me what is bothering you."

"Papa, I... I do not know where to start."

"Start with what happened."

"He was the one who approached me, told me that he loved me while I was teaching him in his second year. He told me that he admired me and that he loved me. I loved him, too. I really, really do. We had moments where we had touched each other, slept next to each other, shared kisses, fears, intimacy. Father, I felt like I need not those physicality pleasures because loving him was enough." Brett said, stopping for a while and taking a deep breath.

"Everything was going right. Nothing was wrong, we had accepted each other and our flaws. There were no arguments nor bickering, he just told me that he loved me. Then, when his graduation came, he had changed... He introduced me to his fiancee and talked to me in private. We went to my classroom and he told me that everything was a lie." Brett said, tears still not spilling.

"He told me that... He n-never loved me. He told me that he needed to make me believe that I loved him too so that I could mentor him privately. So, I could touch him since he cannot feed his lust on his beloved before because they were not married. He told me that they had been together for two years..."

"Oh, Brett. Come here..." Papa Yang coaxed as he opened his arms.

Brett already fell in his father's open arms and held on to him.

"He said that everything was a lie. He did it to be a soloist... H-he told me that he c-could never l-love someone like me..." Brett added, but he could not cry.

"Brett, do not tell me you believe that. He is not good enough for you. You do not deserve this and do not convince me otherwise..." Papa Yang said, holding his son closer to him.

"It is quite unfair, papa. Of course I will defend him... You are talking about the love of my heart, after all..." Brett said, leaning more in the hug. "Papa, I will be true now. I do not know what to do. I cannot keep on going, not without him. It pains me. Quite ridiculous, is it not? Falling for a man who never felt anything for me in return." He added, smiling bitterly against the fabric of his father's jacket.

Papa Yang pulled away from the hug and looked at his son in the eyes.

"Think of it this way, my boy. Love is the best teacher of life. It hurts you, it brings you back up when you are down, it serves as the best and worst memory, the most patient and impatient thing, it is the enemy and the ally... Love is simply complex and simple all at once. Love is a lesson. It is up to you whether you let it teach you a valuable lesson or a bitter pang in your chest..." Papa Yang said, holding his son's hand. "I wish someone had taught me this sooner, too..." He added.

"I just do not know what to do, papa. I never felt this much before just for one person. I do not know how to cope." Brett admitted, growing weaker and vulnerable.

"Do what you did before when you were in love. Sometimes, we have to remind ourselves of the pain to forget it." Papa Yang said.

An idea sparked in Brett's mind. A book he has not opened in at least months. He lied back down and closed his eyes. A sharp inhale and a heavy exhale...

"Cry as if you will not be able to do so tomorrow, Brett." Papa Yang added, standing up from the bed and closing Brett's door. Leaving him alone.

December 19, 1862

The pain blooms in my chest and it never leaves tears down my cheek nor shirt. Everything reminds me of him, no matter how simple or grand. The initial shock still sits in the same spot in the empty space of my chest and I do not feel like I am home.

Every time I glance around the classroom, my eyes are trained to a seat in the corner. By the window, I still expect a beautiful man with obsidian black hair and soft dark brown eyes. I still look for the man I love. The man who never loved me back but had taught me how to love.

I used to live for love but now love left me alone and cold. I close my eyes and press my palm against my chest, I could feel my heart beat. The rhythm under my skin reminds me that I live in an empty promise of false love. A love conjured up to his advantage. I could only hope that he remembers me every time that violin rests under his chin.

The same way I thought I rested alone in his heart.

It turns out that I am the mistress. Who would have thought that loving could change my entirety in a matter of a snap. I knew that love was strong but I never anticipated the strength of hell.

I lie down in my bed every night and never occupy the space on my left. If I try hard enough, the shadow if his body is still present. I am quite scared that his scent is fading but it is. I try to pretend that I could still feel the warmth of his body next to mine.

I am not trying to forget anymore. Trying just makes me remember everything more. So, I will do what I do best. Relive the memory until the feelings become a memory, too.

I am still in love.

I cannot and will not lie. Music is the only thing that I do with a passion similar if not greater than loving him. Music is what revolved around our love but I do not regret it. There is an emergence of Bach and I want to revive the old.

I want to play solo Bach with the intent of reflecting. I have studied what his life was like and I understand what it feels to have lost the love of my heart. If I were to allow love be my life's teacher then I would rather learned a valuable lesson than a bitter pain.

Bach was religious and I could feel the spirituality seep in my bones the moment I play his Chaconne. Thank you, Mr Mendelssohn, you have made his music alive again.

Again, I am not the most religious man.
Yet, I would pray a thousand prayers in order to forget the feeling of these memories. Soon enough, I would need to move far away from the man I love.