Andante con Brio

XXX

He closed the door to his bedroom softly behind him, dropped on his bed and curled up underneath the comforter, pulling it around him, all the way up and over his head until there was nothing sticking out but his nose. 
Why was he even crying? The scalding tears flooding into his pillow, his chest heaving with the silent sobs, the pain seeming to come from a well he hadn't even known was in place... where were all of this coming from? 
And why did it even matter to him anyway? He knew where she stood, he knew what she wanted him to do, and yet her soft bitter words were there in his head, burning him to cinder, trapping him here in his bed with his tears and his sobs. 
I had wanted for you a life of success. 
He could feel the anger flood him as her words did, flood through his system and out with the water in his eyes. Did she really think he could not be successful as a violinist? 
Maybe that was the thing that hurt most of all. 
His phone had buzzed several times already, but he just couldn't bring himself to get up and grab it from his bag. No, he would just have to lie here forever, stay there in the purgatory of his own making, locked in space and time. 
She would never, ever accept him for who he was, would she? 

The door creaked softly. He didn't turn around. He had nothing to say to his mother right now. 
The door was closed and the bed moved with the weight of someone sitting on it. A soft, gentle hand pulled the comforter away a little. 
He turned around in a flash and squinted. 
"Bretty! How? You had a rehearsal until late!"
Brett smiled softly. 
"It is late. I texted you. You didn't answer. I figured..." He stroked Eddy's cheek with his right hand, wiping away the tears that had fallen. "I figured something like this may be going on. Did it not go well?"
Eddy blinked as the gratitude washed over him. Brett was here, he was really here, and he had brought with him his peace, the peace that was starting to spread in him like aquarel paint swirling into water. His eyes were dry, now, although there were so puffy he could barely see out of them. 
Brett had known, and he had come. The thought almost made him cry all over again. 
"I know it's a stupid question, but are you okay?" Brett whispered. 
Eddy nodded. 
"Yeah. I'm okay. Look, I don't even know why I'm this upset. She just doesn't believe I'll ever make something of myself if I don't go to med. I don't know why I let it get to me."
Brett smiled a half, wry smile. 
"She's your mum, Eddy, that's why. She can get to you like no one else. But she'll come around, I promise. In time, she'll come around, and you'll show her just how successful you're going to be. I'm sure you will."
Eddy breathed a deep, shuddering breath. Brett's easy confidence in him went a long way to erasing some of the wounded pain that had put him under the comforter. After a moment he nodded again. 
"Yeah. I like that plan."
Brett's hand was still resting gently on his shoulder. He grabbed it with his own and squeezed it tight. Then he sat up. 
"Thanks for coming, Bretty. I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts."
Brett raised one eyebrow. "'Course. So... are you going to tell me what you scored?"
His thumb pointed to the piece of paper that was now lying discarded on the ground. Eddy took another deep inhale and when he spoke again his voice was ironic. 
"Ninety seven percent."
Brett laughed curtly. 
"Well, that'll do it, right?"
Yeah, Brett was right. That had done it, all right.