Play!

LXXXII

"Mr. Yang, Mr. Chen. First of all we want to congratulate the both of you for your remarkable performances we got to enjoy this evening. What you and the orchestra have managed to achieve in terms of sound quality, ensemble playing and tasteful interpretation of a not easy concerto once again proves the effectiveness of the Queensland and Sydney Conservatorium Orchestra Camp and its rehearsals. Of course, we have to thank Mr. Robert Jones and Mr. Johnathan Thames for their contribution and relentless refining and coaching of all these wonderful young musicians during this time and we are very much looking forward to hearing the final result in the Orchestra Camp Concert in two weeks."

Normally, Brett would be so irritated by all the formal and very typical jury-yapping every judge had in peto just to draw out announcing the results.
Not tonight however. All he heard was white noise as his brain tried to make sense of what in Jesus' name was going on with Eddy Chen. It might not have been the right time or place, here in front of the jury with an audience, which had just heard him play and the whole orchestra sitting in the back rows of the concert hall staring at him, but whatever. Not that he could help it anyway.

"Mr. Yang."
Brett jolted minutely upon registering his name through the fog.
"Your interpretation of the first movement was remarkable. Crisp, clean, good tempo and very musical, lyrical lines whenever the piece required it."
Brett nodded. He knew they were going to receive more detailed feedback later on, which the jury was going to pass on to their conductors. It was sad how little he cared though.
"Mr. Chen. I must say, I've rarely heard the second movement being played in such an emotional and sweet manner. Such an interpretation played by you was truly astounding, not to mention surprising."
Definitely a judge who'd heard Eddy before. The desire to steal a glance of him burnt Brett's insides, but he stayed frozen, head not turning an inch.
"Both of you have done a great job showcasing your talent and hard work and the decision we've reached wasn't an easy one. Given the nature of this competition, or any competition of course, the jury has to choose a winner."

Now this was it. The moment of truth. However, it wasn't the truth Brett was dying to know. There were a thousand scenarios playing out in his head about how he could pin Eddy down so that he couldn't run away again, down to throwing him over full body tackle style right here on stage after the jury would have spoken their last syllable.

The guy on the panel stood up, a thick looking piece of paper in his hand, all eyes on him and the two soloists. Brett felt his heart stop despite everything Eddy related occupying his thinking and he could swear Eddy was holding his breath as well.

Who was it going to be?

"The winner of the Orchestra Camp Competition and thus the soloist for the Orchestra Camp Concert is: Brett Yang!"

Brett's eyes went impossibly wide despite the deadpan firmly plastered on his face (or not?).

That must have been a mistake, no? No way in hell he'd played better than Eddy, right?

"Congratulations, Mr. Yang! We're looking forward to hearing you play the Korngold violin concerto in two weeks", the judge said into the raucous applause rising up in the concert hall, adding to the white noise blurring Brett's senses.

What on earth...

"That... can't be...", Brett's lips stuttered as he paled, the colour of his face matching the spotlights blinding him. He was so out of it he didn't notice Eddy taking a small bow, his features unmoved before retreating to the back of the stage, out of everyone's sight.

"Congratulations, Brett!", Mr. Jones beamed as he stepped on stage with Mr. Jones, shaking Brett's limp hand, "Very well done. Who would have thought... but yes. If anyone, then you! Good job!"
"Wonderful Brett! We definitely made the right decision by choosing you as our candidate! Congratulations and you played incredibly well!", Mr. Thames said, carrying the widest smile Brett had seen on him yet.
He didn't feel like smiling though. In fact, Brett felt so nauseous he feared if he couldn't escape right now, all those people would witness a very unappatizing scene very soon.
"E... Eddy...", he made and realized at the same time that it was too late for any of the resorts he'd been joggling in his head. Eddy was gone.
"Come again? Brett?", Mr. Jones asked, still grinning like all was fine and dandy while Brett's world was crumbling into pieces.
Mr. Thames was quicker. His features changed from looking delighted to concerned. "Are you okay, Brett?"
"Eddy... where..."
His feet didn't wait for their response or any sort of reaction. They carried him to the back, slowly at first, then picking up the pace and he ran. Ran out of the concert hall, into the hallway so similar to before to the same fucking result of emptiness and the absence of one Eddy Chen.

"Eddy!", he screamed, tears embarrassingly close to spilling over now and this time, he didn't wait for Cole to catch up or for Eddy to get too far. He kept on running. To Eddy's dressing room, which door was open, violin and its player missing. Upstairs to the practice rooms, which were locked and looked empty and dark. To the men's room to check every stall. To the cafeteria, scaring a few scattered students who hadn't attended the concert and finally out into the gardens, all the while shouting Eddy's name.
To no avail.

Brett propped up his hands on his knees, panting furiously.
He couldn't give up. It was either searching every corner of this damned ground or throwing up out of desperation and nausea and while the second option was looming over his head like a menacing, dark, thundering cloud, not ready to disperse, his mind started to form an idea.

Eddy's mum. She was for sure still around and there was no way, as a good Asian son, that Eddy would leave her to herself.

Brett shot up, turned on his heels and leaped back into the building.