The police woman had eventually left him on his own in the kitchen to listen to the C sharp from the fridge. Everyone had left, nobody stepping around their living room, nobody peeking worriedly over at him. They had taken Eddy with them. Eddy was gone. Brett hadn't really taken it in yet. It felt like he would walk through the door any second now and tell him it was all a bad joke. He wanted it to be a bad joke. Or maybe just a bad dream? He'd take anything, anything except for what seemed to be real right now.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting in the same position on the wooden kitchen chair, arms resting on the table. The candles had burned out long ago and it was getting dark. His mind was blank most of the time, just staring off into space. As time progressed everything started to sink in, even though nothing made sense. What would he do now? He was nothing without Eddy. Everything he did was centered around him, everything from eating breakfast to earning money to playing the violin. The police woman had asked him if they could call someone to come look after him and he had wanted to tell her to call Eddy. He couldn't think of anybody else. In reality, he didn't have anyone else. He didn't want anyone else.

Eventually Brett regained the sense of having a body and took a deep breath, realizing he had forgotten to breathe properly. His throat felt dry and he shook as the air filled him up. It felt wrong to breathe. Everything felt wrong. He looked at the now cold eggs and bacon he had prepared for Eddy on the other side of the table. They were still completely untouched, of course. He imagined him sitting there with him, joking about how cliché his choice of food was. Blushing when Brett mentioned he had made eggs because that's what he knew how to cook to Eddy's liking, except he would taste it and tell him it was over salted like he always did. He'd take that complaint any day.

Brett felt his legs slowly falling asleep. It was unpleasant, but it helped pull him back to the real world. He slowly turned his head to look around the now quite dark kitchen. It had been this dark when he came home last night too. Brett caught himself wondering if he was still alive then? If he had been just slightly more sober, would he have been able to notice something was wrong? Or maybe if he hadn't let himself be convinced to just stay for just a short while more. Would Eddy still be with him? Maybe if he just hadn't gone out in the first place?

Brett stood up slowly, but didn't know where to go from his spot in the kitchen. He wanted answers, but didn't know where to look for them. There were too many questions. He slowly made his way to the open door out to the living room and leaned against the frame of it. Everything looked like nothing had happened. The box of sleeping pills was gone, the unknown liquor was gone, and of course Eddy was gone. The only reminder Brett could find of him that was out of place was his phone lying on the table. He wouldn't have left without it. Brett wondered if it would have made a difference if he had called him? Maybe if he had just talked to him for a few seconds he would change his mind? If he'd sent him a short text?

He turned on the lamp next to the kitchen door with a click. He could remember the same click from the night before, when he had blown him a kiss and turned the very same light off. Was that one of the last sounds Eddy had heard? Or had he already left him at that point? That's the way to best describe how Brett felt, really. Like Eddy had left him. He realized he probably didn't mean for him to feel that way, but he couldn't help it. How was it possible for it not to have crossed Eddy's mind that he needed Eddy? Every waking second, and lately also the sleeping seconds had been spent with Eddy, doing something related to Eddy or thinking about Eddy. Eddy was Brett's whole world and now Brett's world had been taken from him like a rug was pulled away under his feet. Had he not been good enough to tell him so? Did he not hug him tight enough?

He didn't sit down on the couch. He sat down in front of the couch, his back leaning against the arm rest next to where Eddy's head was earlier. The pain in his stomach from the lack of eating all day was getting worse, but even thinking about food felt pointless. Everything felt pointless. He looked up at Eddy's phone still resting on the table in front of him. It was weird for him to leave it on the table like that, as he normally would keep it in his pocket. Maybe the ambulance workers had taken it out? He didn't know. Still he reached out to grab it. It was the first thing that was moved since Eddy left.

Brett knew the passcode to the phone, but didn't come further than to light up the screen. The background photo of his lock screen made Brett's tears flow like a river. It was a picture of the two of them, a selfie, taken a few months ago just after they had moved into the house together. There were boxes all over behind them and they had made a vlog about the move that never was published. It felt too personal to share. That prescious moment belonged to just the two of them. Just to Brett now.

Again he lit up the screen on Eddy's phone and typed in the passcode. He didn't really know why he was doing it. He felt like he was invading his privacy by doing it, really. He stopped once the phone unlocked and the camera app opened, facing Brett. He was tired, his appearance messy and eyes dead. He looked about as bad as he felt.

He noticed the tiny picture of Eddy in the bottom of the screen indicating the last photo or video taken. He touched it and a picture of Eddy popped up with a large white play button in front of him. A video. He swiped to the right and saw that the one before that was a video too with a similar picture behind the play button. Why had he recorded himself like that?

In total there were four videos all with the similar feel to them, all filmed recently. The last one only yesterday evening. Brett looked at the picture of him behind the play button on the most recent one. His face was calm, even though his eyes were red and puffy, likely from crying. His hair was messy and he was wearing the same clothes as Brett had found him in. The time stamp on the video indicated it had been filmed a couple of hours before Brett had come home, but after he had intended be home. Brett's stomach made a painful twist at the realization. For what felt like forever he sat and stared at the time at the top of Eddy's phone, only occationally moving his tired eyes to look at Eddy's face on the phone. Hesitanly he pressed the large white play button and watched what ufolded on the screen in silence.