Allegro con fuoco

LXXV

"A surprise? Huh?"
His mouth must have fallen open, and he must have looked stupid. Brett just chuckled, though. 
"Yeah, you thought you had the monopoly on them?" he said with a huge grin and waggling eyebrows. He got up from the bed in one fluid movement, wiping bao crumbs from his chin. "This one isn't as monumental as yours, though." he said then, as the grin faded and his features softened. "Well. Yeah. I guess nothing ever will be."
Eddy blinked and moved the quilt he was still sitting under aside so he could swing his feet onto the ground and get up as well. 
"Wow. Yeah. Of course. By the way, you've surprised me loads. I'm well aware I don't have a monopoly."
"Yeah, yeah. Get dressed, Mr. Monopoly, we don't have much time."
Eddy dragged his jeans on quickly and pulled one of his last clean shirts out of his suitcase. 
"You're not telling me where we're going?"
"Nope."
Brett was looking at him from his place by the door, his lips curled up like the cat who got the cream. He was clearly enjoying this. Okay, great. But where the hell was he taking him? 

Brett led them underground to the metro, still quite determinedly not telling him where to. Eddy knew they were on the Circle line, though. But he had no idea where that went to anyway, so it didn't help him much. They rolled into a station and he looked out of the window at  a large billboard sporting some boy band or other. They were cute enough, but they weren't telling him a thing about where Brett was taking him either.
"I thought you hadn't invited me in to shower with you because you were having the shits." he said, somewhat grumpily.
Brett burst out laughing beside him.
"Nope. I didn't have the shits. Sorry to disappoint. But I'm more than happy to invite you into the shower with me once we're back."
Eddy turned to look at him, his grumpiness already forgotten. 
"Oh. Um. Sure."
Brett leaned over slightly so he could talk under his breath and still be heard, but only by Eddy.
"See, this is where I'd love to kiss you."
"Y-yeah. Me too. Better not, though."
"No, probably better not."

Grumpiness duly faded it all became clear the second they rolled into yet another station, because Brett got up and Eddy's eyes shot to the sign outside. 
"Esplanade? Wait, we're going to a concert?"
Brett slung his backpack on his back and shrugged. 
"Maybe."
"Doesn't matter." Eddy said triumphantly, stepping past him to get to the door first. "it's written all over your face."
"What?" Brett ran to catch up with him. "What do you mean it's written on my face? I'm Mr. Deadpan!"
"Not to me you're not." Eddy smiled. "So, what are we watching?"
It was so awesome to see Brett's face light up. Clearly he was at least as excited about this as Eddy was. 
"Kavakos. Korngold. Lunch concert." he said shyly. "You know, 'cause you said, a while back..."
"That I love Korngold?" Eddy's heart leapt into his throat. "Brett! You're a freakin' genius! I can't believe it! How did you even get tickets?"
Brett shrugged again. 
"I just called the hall. I'd seen it was on. They had some cancellations I guess."
Eddy blinked hard to stop the tears that were threatening. 
"Wow, Bretty. This is the best surprise ever."

They walked into the concert hall, got their tickets stamped and headed down the long shallow steps to take their seats, red plush ones, of course. They were in a great spot, too, just close enough so they would be able to see Kavakos' hands, but far enough they wouldn't walk away with a sore neck. The auditorium was filling up quickly. 
"Good job you told me to hurry up." he whispered to Brett, who was settling in beside him. "We'd never have made it."
"I know." Brett grinned, as his hand found Eddy's under the arm rest. Eddy took it and smiled at him. 
"Takes me back to orchestra camp."
"I know, right?" Brett said gently. "Forever, you know."
"Yeah. Forever."

The concert was only an hour, but Eddy wasn't sure if he'd even breathed during it, once the final chord was played and it was all over. He'd always loved Kavakos, idolised him, even, but now that he was here, in front of them, bowing with a smile, having played so beautifully, he was simply lost for words. Or breath. His sound had been so pure, and even, soaring easily over the orchestra, his vibrato even and full, his tone rich and warm all the while reaching the furthest corners of the hall, every single note in tune. 
God, if he could ever play half as good as this he'd die a happy man.