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I used to hear a simple song
That was, until you came along
The first time Eddy notices the boy, it’s because he hears his melody.
Not the melody he’s playing on his violin, his deft fingers dancing across the strings, skillfully coaxing a tune out of the instrument. No, it’s the melody Eddy hears leaping out of his heart, the one that spins and dances gracefully with the violin’s music, while still remaining its own.
Everyone has their own melody. Like a signature; distinctly unique to them. It’s a beautiful thing, to hear the orchestra of melodies blending together in a group of people, or just the simplicity of one.
Eddy can’t. He’s never been able to hear them.
He can only hear one melody, on repeat, which he takes to be his own.
It’s a cruel form of torture. To be locked in your own head, only able to hear your own voice echoing back at you.
That’s why Eddy was so desperate to learn violin, an escape from his own riff repeating endlessly, to perhaps experience as close as he could come to what others described.
Which is why it was such a shock when he looked at the boy with the violin, the glasses and the slightly messy dark hair, and heard his melody.
Eddy thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.
Now in its place is something new
I hear it when I look at you
The boy’s name is Brett, it turns out. Eddy had run up to him afterward and introduced himself, if a bit shyly. He’d returned the gesture, and happily settled down to chat.
Brett’s friendly, with a warm smile that makes Eddy’s heart flutter, just a bit. Through some more conversation, he finds that Brett’s one year older than him and has a birthday in March too, is also from Taiwan, and shares his love for bubble tea.
“We must be soulmates or something, y’know?” Brett laughs, leaning back on the fence. “No way it’s just chance that we’ve got so much in common.”
His laugh is like his playing, clear and resonant. It finds its way to Eddy’s heart, rooting itself there and leaving a soft feeling behind.
(it’s nothing. Just the excitement of making a new friend.)
Eddy smiles back, happiness spreading through him. “All that sappy romantic nonsense, hey?” he teases. But in truth, he thinks the idea has some merit. He’s never met anyone like this before, someone who just matches so well.
Brett chuckles again, and it’s as if the sun’s gotten brighter, the light shines warmer, and his eyes glint with a joy Eddy’s never quite seen before on anyone else.
What an interesting person.
And so, Brett and Eddy became friends. Not just the casual associate, but the kind where you feel inexplicably drawn to them, know them in a way no one else does. Perhaps, Eddy muses, Brett was right about the whole soulmate thing, which Eddy still remembers fresh in his head. Perhaps they were always destined to meet.
Brett talks, a lot. He’ll talk about everything and anything, the weather, stray dogs, violin, Pocky, lamingtons. And whatever it is, Eddy will listen . He doesn’t need to say anything in return; he’s quite happy just listening to him.
They tell each other everything. It starts out as small details, their favorite bubble tea flavor, what they think of their math teachers, but eventually Eddy finally has the courage to reveal his greatest secret, for the first time telling an outsider.
He stumbles over his words, nervous of what Brett’ll think, when he’s missing such a fundamental part of himself— just how weird is he —but it’s okay. Brett knows what he means, and he tilts his head to the side when Eddy explains how his melody is the only one he hears.
“Hmmm, that’s strange,” Brett says thoughtfully. “Wonder why that is.”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter much, does it?” Eddy points out. “That’s why we met, that’s why I first went to talk to you.” He smiles at Brett, a little hesitantly.
Brett thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs and gives Eddy a small smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He turns his head and stares off into the distance, contemplating this.
Eddy looks at him, and once again hears the beautiful melody he’s come to love so much. Simple enough to not be difficult to comprehend, but complex enough that he can appreciate the virtuosity of it. A smile slowly forms on his face as he reflects on his sheer luck, at having the best best friend anyone could ask for.
With simple songs I wanted more
Perfection is so quick to bore
It’s not love at first sight, no. Of course not.
But as the years go by, the summer when they first met flying past into the realm of distant memory, Eddy’s not sure how to describe his relationship with Brett anymore.
He certainly wants Brett as a friend, he knows. But is it just that? Is it still just platonic?
Eddy doesn’t know. He’s noticing things he never felt the need to point out before, the way Brett ruffles his hair on the back of his head when he laughs and how it makes his heart flutter ridiculously, the angle of his jaw, the way his smile just lights up Eddy’s entire world and shines light into corners where it hadn’t been before. It scares him, truthfully, how he’s now fixated on these things, which weren’t a problem before, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.
He’s forced to endure the pain he feels, how he has to grit his teeth and force a smile whenever Brett introduces him as “his best friend”, how a demon seems to growl in the pit of his stomach whenever Brett talks with someone else, and laughs the way he does with Eddy, and it’s honestly ridiculous and why do I feel this way and I have to stop it and a million other things run through his head, but every thought just stops and vanishes, leaving blank, empty space whenever Brett so much as just says hi to him. It’s stupid, but he can’t make it stop. For the love of God, he doesn’t even know if Brett likes guys.
He cherishes their friendship like nothing else, but it’s not enough, it seems. It’s already perfect. It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s happy for both of them. He should be satisfied. And yet, he can’t help but want...more.
And it’s a ridiculous want, Eddy knows. He can’t risk destroying their friendship, the careful castle they’ve built up over the years, because even if it’s just as a friend and nothing more, Eddy needs Brett, and he can’t risk losing him. He’s the one thing I can always count on to be there, and what if...if I feel this way, might I be doing the opposite?
So he ices it over. He pretends he doesn’t feel it, the pang that hits him in the heart when he sees Brett laugh and smile with someone else, when Brett treats him no more than a friend, than the rest of his friends, when Eddy lies awake late at night agonizing over every cautious step he takes, because the smallest breath could knock over this house of cards and bring everything down with it.
And he cannot do that. He’ll do anything, anything at all to preserve this friendship.
(He can deal with a bit of heartbreak. It’s fine. The other option isn’t worth it.)
It all appears perfect on the outside, yes. They look like the happiest friends there are, like the waves on the beach, ebbing and flowing, giving and taking. But this balance is gone now. Eddy’s falling apart from the inside, and Brett doesn’t even know.
You are my beautiful by far
Our flaws are who we really are
And so, it continues. Eddy pines after Brett, who’s blissfully unaware of the former’s affections. They continue their studies, playing violin, and simply being together.
It makes Eddy’s heart hurt.
They both date around throughout the years, but Eddy always finds it hard to really commit himself to a relationship, when his traitorous heart is always saying they’re not Brett , making things overall rather awkward.
He also finds it hard to be happy for Brett when he’s found someone, as well. He’ll see him, with some girl, and his chest will tighten, reminding him that you wish you were her and he likes her better and you’re just a friend to him, but she’s his girl friend and his hands will shake and his heart will twist because god, he’s fallen so badly in love with his best friend and there’s nothing, nothing he can do about it.
Because Brett is like a flame in the darkness, burning bright, flickering at times, but still remaining, and Eddy is but a mere moth, drawn to what it knows will kill it, but powerless to resist the pull of something greater, brighter, and more beautiful than itself. Which is why he has to force himself to turn away completely. He can’t keep dancing around it.
And as Eddy tried, to no avail, to distance himself and his feelings from Brett, someone else slipped in, and waltzed her way to Brett’s side, replacing Eddy, and making him curse himself out because now look at what he’s done.
She’s close to perfect, as far as Eddy can tell. Sweet, kind, funny, smart, amazing at the cello, everything he knows Brett cares about. She’s close to perfect, and nice to Eddy too, she’s never done anything to him, and yet he can’t help but despise her all the same.
(He can’t help but wish she were...dead. He hates himself for even thinking that, but oh, how he wishes he were in her place, and she were gone.)
She and Brett stay together for longer than anyone has in the past, and in those irrational flights of fear Eddy has late at night, the shadowy wings of his thoughts enveloping and blinding him, he wonders if they’ll even get married. It sounds stupid even to his own ears, but the fear is very much real, even if it’s unfounded.
Consequently, Eddy gets the shock of his life when he comes back to his dorm one day to find Brett huddled on his bed, face stoic and deadpan, but still clearly distraught, and when he asks what’s wrong and gets a she broke up with me and okay what. What.
Maybe now he has a chance.
(He immediately hates himself for just letting that thought cross his mind. What a horrible person he is. )
“I—I’m sorry, oh my god,” Eddy stammers out. “Are you—how are you doing now? Is there anything you need me to get?” He’s awful at comforting people, but this is Brett and what terrible friend would he be if he didn’t at least try?
“No, it’s okay,” Brett says, his voice slightly muffled. “Just—could you stay here with me for a bit, you don’t have to do anything, it’d...just be nice if you could be here—” He cuts himself off, his face closing down, back to its expressionless mask.
Eddy knows Brett, understands him after all the years they’ve been together, and so he knows that Brett will pretend to be okay, force himself to be okay until he simply can’t be okay any longer and breaks down at last, the walls he’s built up crumbling away.
And so Eddy’s standing there, not quite sure what to do, standing there like a complete idiot, until he finally jumpstarts his brain again and responds hurriedly. “Y—yeah, I’m—I’ll be here, I’ll stay here, don’t worry,” and that’s when Brett starts to cry.
Out of the two of them, Eddy’s always been the more emotional one, or at least expressed it more. He’s only ever seen Brett cry a few times before, but he never really got used to it because it’s just so un-Brett-like. But this is possibly the most emotion Eddy’s seen from Brett, a great king, brought to his knees because in the end, he’s really just human, and he gets hurt by all the things everyone else does.
Instinct finally kicks in and after a bit of hesitation, Eddy sits down by Brett and reaches an arm for him. “Hey mate, it’s—it’s going to be okay.” Desperately, he searches through his brain for the right thing to say. “It’s not your fault, people still...still care about you and—and love you.” I...still love you.
(But no. He can’t say that.)
Instead he says, “I care about you. You’re my best friend, right? I’ll be here for you,” Eddy repeats.
And he will. Oh god , Eddy realizes, he really would be there for Brett, forever. He’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he had to, stay with him till the end of time. It’s only more painful, that he doesn’t even know if Brett would want that, if maybe he’s destined to walk the path of life with someone else at his side, Eddy merely an interesting passerby he met once. He doesn’t know, and he hates that.
Brett doesn’t respond, still curled up, quietly crying. It physically pains Eddy to see him like that, a real ache in his chest, and once again he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do.
So, being the clingy one he is, he wraps Brett in a hug. He doesn’t know if it’ll help, but that’s all he can think of right now. He’s certainly hugged Brett before, and he’s used to physical contact with him, but this time he’s uncomfortably conscious of how Brett’s smaller than him, and how he buries his head in Eddy’s shoulder, tears staining his face. He’s aware of how soft his hair is, and he’s thinking that he’s like a koala until his brain reminds him that okay now is really not the time for this —
“I loved her, I really did,” Brett whispers at last, his voice trembling, stopping Eddy’s train of thought, who blinks and reddens at his own insensitivity. “And I know she did too, at least at the start, but what happened? Was I...was I not good enough?”
“No.” Absolutely not. “That—no. You did the best you could have, you were enough,” Eddy says firmly. “Don’t start blaming yourself, you were good to her, I know. You didn’t do anything wrong, anyone would be happy to have you as their boyfriend,” he blurts out without thinking. Oh no. Did I overstep, oh my god oh no —
“If I’m so great, then why would she...I feel so bad, you know?” Brett spits out bitterly. “I feel like I failed her somehow, because we did...really love each other at the start, but I don’t know what happened, and I think it’s my fault, there must be a reason for it, right? And honestly I—toward the end of things I...didn’t feel as much for her either, and I feel so terrible, because I wasn’t there when she needed me, so it was at least partially my problem, and it was at least partially my fault, wasn’t it...” The conversation trails off into silence, Brett determinedly not looking at Eddy and Eddy lost for words.
“Maybe...maybe it’s okay that you two...separated,” Eddy says slowly, cautiously, testing the waters. “Maybe you weren’t exactly...destined to end up together forever. What—what I’m trying to say, I guess, is that she just...might not have been the one for you, y’know? Maybe you weren’t a perfect match, and that’s okay. We’re—no one’s perfect, it’s cliche I know and you hate cliches, but neither of you are perfect and it’s okay that it didn’t work out in the end,” he rambles, unsure how to express his thoughts.
Brett draws in a shuddery breath, long and quiet. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up for.”
Neither can I. “You don’t have to keep anything up,” Eddy says gently. “There’s nothing you have to prove.” Nothing to me, at least. You’ve already proven love is worth it, to me, so many times over.
Brett sniffles, then coughs, trying to pull himself together. “Thank you,” he says with a quaver in his voice that he immediately tries to stifle. “Thank you for—for being here for me, Eddy.”
“Of course,” Eddy says instinctively. “I’ll always be here for you.” Brett gives a watery smile.
I might not be perfect, and neither are you, Eddy thinks. We’re both flawed, and broken. But you’re perfect for me.
And that’s enough.
I used to hear a simple song
That was until you came along
And so it continues. The continuous dance around each other, circling around his feelings, wishing on dandelions and hoping on stars. Until it all comes to a stop.
It all comes to a stop.
“Are you shitting me.” It’s not a question. Just a statement. What the fuck.
“I’m sorry,” he barely whispers. “I’m sorry I have to put you through this.”
It blurs together. One day after another, he’s filled with terror, flipping through pamphlets and booklets, barely even playing, researching everything he can. And when he does, it’s out of a frenzied panic. He can’t enjoy anything. No heard melody, no written harmony, none of it stands out to him anymore. Why should it?
White lights, weekly visits. The smell of disinfectant, the thin soup the medics provide. The diagnoses, the therapy, the “malignant ”, “tumorous growth ”, “ T cells ”, the strings of letters and numbers that he so desperately wishes he could understand. Maybe if he’d listened to his parents and become a doctor instead, he thinks bitterly to himself.
It pains him so much to see Brett like this, a shadow of his former self. Only a shell of the effusive, bright, witty, warm person he knew. It pains him to see Brett after the rounds of radiation, destroying the body that multiplies and spreads anyways, and his soul along with it. It pains him to see Brett refuse bread, refuse soup, refuse even water , trembling with the chills that rack him.
He can’t stay away, but can’t bear to stay, either.
Eddy visits him again, one day. He’s been trying to stay away—surely it’s annoying for Brett—and he hasn’t spoken to him since he was rushed to the hospital, but his heart tugs him back, always.
He looks over at Brett’s sleeping form. He looks weary, as though used to the pain but still feeling it, even in sleep. Eddy can’t help but turn away.
His best friend, since thirteen, his hopeful, energetic companion, always and forever, like this. He can’t. He sinks into a chair, desperate, alone with the hum of the hospital.
“Hey.”
In alarm, Eddy turns around and jumps, shocked. Brett opens his eyes, and gives a weak smile. “How are you?”
His voice is so much fainter, without the warm charm it had before. But while he has to strain to hear it, Eddy can still hear a trace of his melody in his voice, for the first time in weeks. A hopeful sign?
“Oh my gosh,” Eddy’s voice breaks, and he’s suddenly aware of the tears forming in his eyes. “I was so scared, you don’t even know—I’m still so scared, I’m so sorry I didn’t notice anything earlier, why didn’t I do anything, I’m so sorry —”
Brett looks so pale, so tired, and so thin, against the white hospital sheets. But he smiles up at Eddy. “Don’t blame yourself. There’s—there’s nothing anyone could do anyways. I forgive you. It’s alright.”
Eddy stands there, with a stricken expression and streams of tears on his face, unreacting. Brett’s eyes soften, and reaches a hand to wipe the tears off his face. “Don’t cry for me. The doctors say there’s hope for me yet. I’ll make it out of here.” Brett’s features harden, and Eddy can see a bit of the fighting spirit that was there before return.
“Hey, do you remember that idea we had a few years back in uni? To start a YouTube channel together, and help introduce classical music to the world?” Brett mentions offhandedly.
Eddy remembers, of course. He remembers when they first got inspired, the nights excitedly huddled together, planning their future. Researching equipment, writing out video ideas. They eventually put a pause to the plans due to other projects, but he’d always wanted to pick it back up.
“Yeah, what about it? TwoSetViolin, yeah?” Eddy smiles a bit.
“Yes, that’s what it was. You know what, I’ll make you a promise.”
“I will get better. I’ll be released from this sterile hell with a clean bill of health before you know it. And then we’ll start the channel. I swear it.”
“I promise you, Eddy. We’ll do it.”
They didn’t do it.
He never got better.
The world starts blurring again, making Eddy nauseous. The call from the hospital, the tremor in the nurse’s voice, the shock that no, this isn’t real. This isn’t real.
The late nights, screaming, crying, punching pillows, because which fucked up world, which fucking deity took his Brett from him? The early mornings, drinking, returning to smoking, the vengeance served by hurting himself like this. The funeral, the way his heart froze over, the way his throat closed up.
His love for Brett was his own kind of cancer, rooted so deeply in his body for so long, that one became codependent on the other. There’s a gaping hole in Eddy’s heart now, the kind he cannot fill.
He’ll never find another Brett, that much he knows.
You took my broken melody
And now I hear a symphony
The world is dappled in shades of gray.
It’s an entirely different world from what Eddy’s used to. You never quite realize how much you need something until it’s gone.
Walking around in this monochrome world is like walking around in a barren, frozen field. No matter where you look, where you turn, where you run, it’s all the same blank, wide, expanse. You feel this urge building up in you, to scream out to the heavens in despair, begging for answers, ready to give up and break down completely, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.
When you open your eyes, it’s all the same, no matter how much you plead.
When you open your heart, you regret it.
One day later, Eddy stares out at the rain. The dismal gloom reflects his soul, and he relishes in the pain it causes him.
He’s always loved the rain. The smell, the silvery strands of sky, the gentle tapping on roofs always calmed him. But today, it irritates Eddy. It’s too loud, too much. But yet. Something’s missing.
He sits there, sipping his mug of hot coffee. It tastes like nothing. It means nothing. He’s not warm, he’s not cold, he’s just there, alone, there without Brett. It means nothing. Everything’s fallen away.
Eddy starts. That’s it.
His melody’s gone. Eddy can’t hear it anymore.
Eddy hasn’t gone outside in days. What’s the point, if Brett’s not there to go with him?
Belle’s flown to his house, quietly helping Eddy with cooking and other tasks he cannot muster up the internal strength to do. She stays away from his room, too, knowing Eddy doesn’t want her to speak to him, but is there, a comforting presence. Allowing him to grieve.
He spends a lot of time lying in bed, honestly. Looking up at the blank ceiling, Eddy does his best to avoid the memories that flow through his brain like a river of tears.
When they had their first concert with the youth symphony orchestra they joined together.
When he was promoted to concertmaster, and Brett was there, cheering him on, never jealous or selfish.
When they switched orchestras, but remained close as ever.
When he would wander back alleys with Brett in the hot, arid Australian summer, petting stray dogs and eating Tim Tams.
When Brett left for uni, when Eddy joined him a year later.
When they laughed, and performed, and drank bubble tea, and played, together.
When Eddy loved Brett.
Sometimes he blinks, and he thinks he can see a ghost of Brett, looking sadly at him. But then he blinks again, and he’s gone.
Sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he dreams, and sometimes he sees Brett. Tied up to IV’s, pallid after chemotherapy. Sometimes he turns, and in the dark, he sees a pale form. Glowing, fading, twinkling in and out of existence. It materializes, solidifies into Brett’s figure. A sad smile etched on his features, the slight tilt of his head Eddy loved so much. He opens his arms.
Always, Eddy runs for him. Always, he tries desperately to hang on to him, to grasp the ethereal being. Liquid sorrow runs from both their eyes, as Eddy screams, as Eddy tries to save Brett, protect Brett, keep Brett, like he failed to do in life.
Always, Brett fades away. The wispy fragments of his body blow away like they were never there, like Eddy’s pain and torture was never there. He sinks to his knees, desperation and resignation percolating through daytime into dreamland.
He wakes up, his pillow soaked with tears.
And now I hear
A symphony
Eventually, Eddy decides enough is enough. The dreams and hallucinations are nothing more than a figment of his imagination; he’s not getting outside air, Eddy convinces himself, and thus this torture is entirely his fault.
Bundled in jackets and a gray scarf, Eddy opens the front door, letting the cold wind blast him. He doesn’t move to close it, despite the chills running down his arms. Staring intently out at the gray of the sidewalk, Eddy doesn’t notice Belle’s presence behind him.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“It’s alright,” Eddy says stiffly.
Belle. A constant in his life. The older sister he could turn to for support, even after a heated argument. As they grew into adults, he never fully appreciated how much she did for him. And now here he was, a fucking wreck, and here still she was, shielding him, protecting him, comforting him, just like she’d done whenever Eddy was scared by the horrors of the world as a child. He never gave her enough credit.
Abruptly, he turns around and envelops Belle in a crushing hug. She’s taken aback, but reciprocates.
“Thank you- just- thank you so much for everything you’ve ever done,” Eddy whispers, tears forming in his eyes. When did I become so fucking weepy? “I honestly never thanked you enough, it means so much to me-”
“It’s okay, Eddy,” she whispers back. “I know.”
And that brings him so much comfort.
“I love you, Belle.”
“I love you too, Eddy.”
They stand there in relative quiet, with the occasional sniffle, until a quiet noise threads into Eddy’s mind. It gets louder, but not harsher, and then he realizes.
It has a unique tune, light and uplifting. It sounds like safety and spun gold, with clever, skillful structuring and a juxtaposition of clear, ringing tones like bells.
He draws in a sharp breath. “Belle- wait, I think I can…hear your melody?” He says it like a question, unsure.
Belle is just as surprised. “What does it sound like?”
Eddy hums the vague outlines of the melody, and Belle gasps, too.
“That’s…it,” Belle looks confused, but not unhappy. “Wait, but what happened? Why can you hear it now?”
“I- I don’t know, but let me go check something.” Eddy charges down the front steps, head spinning with shock. Why would I finally hear them now?
Running frantically, the cold wind bites at his face, drying the tears he didn’t even realize were forming in his eyes. What do Belle and Brett have in common? Eddy mulls over the thought. Their…names both start with B? The absurdity of the idea almost draws a laugh out of him.
I love them?
But in different ways, and besides, what about all the other people he loves almost as strongly?
Eddy dismisses it from his mind, concentrating on the steady drum of his feet on the pavement. The huff of his breath reminds him how out of shape he is, but that doesn’t matter now. He needs to hear. He needs to check. He needs to know.
His footsteps slow as he reaches where he needs to be, and slow further yet, as some part of him wants to draw back, to not reopen old scars, to block it all out and ignore all ties to this place. But another part of him refuses to let Brett’s memory die with him, refuses to move on, refuses to let this go unanswered.
Eddy looks up. He’s been here several times, back at this park, seen this fence and this tree and this bench, since meeting Brett here. But he looks at it with fresh eyes.
He sees two friends, a somewhat loud, brash, but kind-looking Asian guy around Eddy’s age and an elegant woman with hazel hair and a German accent. Merely walking their dogs, they wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. But to Eddy, they are.
He hears a bold, but not messy, violin solo. It’s passionate and fiery, but not violent, and Eddy can sense the dedication and effort in it.
He hears a graceful and technically incredible piano run, the impressively sharp and clean execution accenting the already spectacular melody and harmony.
There’s no way.
These complete strangers, who Eddy has never met, who Eddy knows nothing about, have melodies he can hear. He can’t love them yet, and he highly doubts both names start with B, so…what is this?
Eddy’s in shock. It’s overwhelming, once he’s realized, everything he can hear and nothing he can understand. Turning around, he almost can’t comprehend the beauty of the orchestra that surrounds him.
These random people. A gaggle of teenagers on their phones, young children running around, someone chasing after their dog avidly chewing a stick, an elderly couple enjoying the greenery.
All of them, every last one, has a melody Eddy can now hear. They blend together, overlapping like flower petals, soothing like honey, a symphony of individual stories and identities lived.
He can’t imagine this is what it’s been like. It’s so stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful , the way strangers’ lives intertwine to create this glorious, epic composition.
Senses flooded by this crescendo of music , Eddy breaks down. He can’t take this, and his shoulders shake as he buries his face in his hands. There’s so much I’ve missed out on.
There’s so much Brett has yet to miss out on.
But there’s also much he’s seen. He was happy with what he’d done.
Eddy slowly unblots the rest of the world from his mind, and he doesn’t realize right away that actually, one of the tunes he’s been hearing hasn’t just been in his head. But he notices.
There’s a kid, under the tree, with a violin. It looks like her first time busking, as she quavers a little.
She doesn’t remind Eddy of Brett all that much; her playing style is quite different. But there’s something in her, a little something that reminds Eddy of the two of theirs’ youth.
Eddy waits until she’s done with her piece to walk over and drop a 5-dollar bill in her case. She looks at him gratefully with a sheepish smile, and Eddy smiles back.
“Hey, um—this might be a weird question, but—could I borrow your violin to play something real quick? I’m experienced, don’t worry, I won’t drop it or steal it or anything,” Eddy hastily reassures her, realizing that he’d be weirded out too at thirteen if a random guy in his mid-20’s who looks like he’s been crying asked to borrow his violin.
She looks him up and down dubiously. “Um, yeah I guess, go ahead.” She hands it and the bow to him, slightly reluctantly.
Now that he has the feel of wood and strings and horsehair and rosin back in his hands, Eddy realizes how much he’s missed it. He’s missed the violin and music so much.
He was so busy missing something else, he’d forgotten about this.
Brett’s been here. He’s leaned on the same fence Eddy does now, taken a look around at the same leaf-studded branches Eddy watches the wind blow now, rested on the same bench Eddy remembers the cold stone of.
Brett’s not here. But it’s okay, Eddy thinks. It’s…okay.
Brett had experienced it. Brett had felt that joy, he’d done what he could while he could and made the most out of it. Eddy realizes, now, that Brett didn’t need to be with him every step of the way.
Eddy would have loved that though, so much. There were so many things he never did, so many things he wanted to do, that would never be reality. But he thinks, and he thinks it’s okay.
A symphony is a funny thing, a walking contradiction. If it never has a particular instrument at all, it feels lacking. Without the clarion whistle of a flute, without the sonorous rumble of a bass, without the vibrant notes of a trumpet, it doesn’t feel complete. It doesn’t feel whole.
And yet, it needs the absence of them. Different instruments come in at different times, and different instruments drop out, taper off, slip away at different times.
All, ultimately, help to carry the melody through to the end.
Brett was never meant to stay with Eddy forever, he knows now. For all their talk about soulmates, that didn’t include a clause of eternity. But it doesn’t make him any less impactful. It doesn’t make it any less worth it. He still meant something.
Eddy accepts this. He accepts who Brett was, and how he lingers in his mind like the silence haunts a hall in the seconds after a piece is done. He accepts his grief, and he accepts his loss. He accepts that he misses him, and that he won’t come back.
But he also accepts himself.
As his hand brushes against the chipping white paint on the fence, as he notes the green spots of leaves on the budding branches, as he observes the polished gray stone of the bench, Eddy feels as though he is truly alive again.
And this time, he feels no guilt for living when Brett is not. Only a tranquil peace, at having been able to share some of his life with Brett, and him the same.
Eddy lifts his hand, trembling, and touches the bow to the strings.
What he plays flows out of him, completely instinctively. He hasn’t thought about it consciously in a while, but it’s still there. It’s always been there.
The lilting, dancing, complex, and overall Brett melody sings from the violin. The colorful and powerful notes pull at Eddy’s heart, and he plays with every fiber of his soul, his being. He closes his eyes to prevent the tears from spilling out, but they are not of mourning this time.
Eddy plays Brett’s melody, and at last, lets him go.