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XXXIII

Mahler five was one of Brett’s favourite orchestral pieces, but god, the length of it was something else!
“I can’t anymore!”, he complained under his breath when they neared the end of the second movement and thus the start of a well-deserved lunch break. 
“Soon, mate”, Eddy encouraged, not looking half as tired as Brett felt. How did that guy do this? Playing the second movement of Korngold solo had drawn out more energy than Brett had realized and acting as the concertmaster for the rest of the morning didn’t exactly help. That’s why when Mr. Thames let them hop off to get some food, all Brett managed was sliding down the back of his seat like a bean bag quickly losing its filling.
“Hrrghhhh”
Eddy laughed while putting his violin away. “Old man!”
“Hey! Have some respect for your senpai!”
“Who told you to go to bed this late?”, Cole came over and very much DIDN’T help with his unnecessary comments.
“You alright, Brett?”, Katie, of course, had to add worriedly as she joined their circle.
“Can a man not sit unconventionally for one minute without being interrogated?”, Brett groaned, howled himself up and promptly felt a sharp pain pierce through his head. Great! Now his body physiologically started to shut down as well! Really not what he needed right now, thank you very much! Especially considering that he had to play solo again in the afternoon. 
Eddy’s formerly amused expression turned concerned as he watched his deskie put away his instrument. “You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah”, Brett waved it off while silently praying it would change for the better as soon as he’d have some food in his system. “Let’s head out?”

The blazing midday sun was tormenting to say the least and because they had a longer lunch break than normal due to some workshop in the evening, Angelica had convinced the group to go off campus for the best pizza place in town, or so all the Sydney con people claimed. Brett instantly wished he’d stayed back as soon as they’d exchanged the AC-air for the heatwaves outside. 
“You sure you’re fine? You seem off”, Eddy asked softly, both of them trotting behind everyone similar to yesterday evening. 
“Yeah. Just hot, I guess.”
“We can stay back if you want. I’m not that eager for pizza, to be honest.”
It was so goddamn tempting to follow Eddy’s suggestion. However, there was simply no way Brett would keep Eddy from an opportunity to get to know people. So he went against his body begging on its knees to not have to walk or speak or socialize and meant, “Nah, it’s fine. S’gonna be fun.”

The fifteen minute walk to the Italian place must have been the longest quarter hour in Brett’s life. His head was pounding in the rhythm of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring by now and a bunch of stars were suddenly within his grasp when they were mercifully led to a table by a waiter. 
“Can we get some coke please? Two for us, maybe someone else would like some too?”, Eddy ordered before their butts had the chance to touch the wooden chairs and Brett would have been surprised by Eddy’s action to be the first to speak for all of them if he wasn’t so preoccupied with not blacking out on the spot.
“Coke?”, he pressed out after a minute or two when everyone sat down and chatter arose around them. 
“You look like shit, dude. So I figured an instant sugar flash might help”, Eddy explained. 
“Oh, thanks”, Brett mumbled as a certain, by now kind of familiar warmth eased the pain in his head a bit.

Thankfully, the stars wore off and when the first sip of the black, sugary beverage ran down his throat, Brett felt a tad more like a human again.
“Better?”, Eddy whispered, clearly just for Brett’s ears to hear which he was very grateful for. Having a dizzy spell in front of everyone was embarrassing enough and he thanked God no one except for Eddy seemed to have noticed by now, although Cole’s glances from Brett’s right were quite frequent as well.
“Yeah! Thanks man.”
“Good”, Eddy said with a sigh and turned his attention to the menu in front of him. 

The pizzas were quickly covering the tables and Brett was one of the firsts to dig in, hoping some good old carbohydrates and fat would help him resemble less of a squashed potato both in how he felt and how he looked. It worked to some degree except for the headache, which got worse on their way back to the con. Eddy didn’t say a word the whole time as if he knew that any noise would aggravate Brett’s state. He just stayed close to Brett, walked right next to him, even shielding him from the relentless heat whenever his height and the angle allowed and Brett didn’t know if and how he was ever going to tell the other how soothing his presence was. However, he couldn’t help but feel bad about Eddy remaining silent instead of chatting with other people.

Only when they made it to the big hall where afternoon rehearsal was soon to start and Brett slumped down on the second chair, Eddy laid his big, warm, grounding hand on his shoulder. 
“Brett, do you need the afternoon off? You’re not fine, are you?”
“I can manage”, Brett tried to shrug it off. 
“The hell you can!”, Eddy hissed, making the smaller flinch at the sudden finality of his tone, “I’ve never seen something as white as your face and you’re telling me you want to rehearse solo with an orchestra?”
“Exactly my point!”, Brett glared at him with what little energy he had left, “If I’m not around, no fucking rehearsal for me and the orchestra and I’ll slack off. I can’t just take a day off like someone from the tutti section.”
“You’re allowed to be sick, you know that, right? What was that about someone saying we don’t have to be perfect all the time?”, Eddy meant with a raised eyebrow. 

And Brett knew Eddy was right. That he had every good reason to not show up this afternoon, but instead stay in bed and nurse out that awful headache or whatever cruel sickness this was which nearly succeeded in shutting him down anyway. Nevertheless, there was one thing in particular hindering him to choose the reasonable way (out): Brett Yang’s goddamn pride as a musician.

It was also this characteristic leading him to utter a “I know, but I’m good, thanks.” and snap at Eddy when the other added a “Are you sure?”, which Brett immediately regretted. The moment for a short apology passed though as more and more students filled up the hall and when Mr. Jones stepped onto the conductor’s stand to announce the afternoon’s program, Eddy’s slightly colder, reserved expression didn’t escape Brett’s attention, letting his insides scrunch together like a bunch of dry grass set on fire.