Wall of Disclaimers is up.
"Play for me." Roddy stared at Barry. He wasn't quite sure when but somewhere along the past year, the "toff" had insinuated himself into Roddy's life. He was less of an upper class twat and more of a grudging friend. He even attended the weekly Friday night meetings.
Roddy shook his head and continued working on the newest music box. "I don't play anymore."
"Please, for me?" Barry gave him the face, which Roddy dubbed the "wounded bear" look.
Roddy shook his head again.
Barry huffed. "Why not? I know about your hand." Roddy froze. He'd tried so hard. So hard to not let Barry know.
"How did you know?" Barry pointed to the glove.
"That obvious, Roddy." Barry grabbed his hands. "But, I don't care about it. I've heard about you from everyone. You've played for everyone, but me."
Roddy tried to extract his hands from the iron grip to no avail. "What does that matter?"
"It matters to me."
"Whatever. I stopped playing long before I met you." Roddy avoided looking into those eyes.
Barry's grip grew tighter, almost bone crushing. "I have a steel leg. I know what it feels like."
"But not what it means!" Roddy snapped back. "I lost my scholarship! I lost my love. I lost everything! All because some toff's thought it would be funny to crush my hand with a meat hammer."
He took a deep breath. "That's why I bloody hate them. They took everything from me. My father stole to get me this hand and got six months in prison for it! He was just taking back what was mine."
Roddy's voice rose. "And when I got my hand back, they pinned a murder on me and got me expelled. I faced a twenty years to life. Guess what? It wasn't one of you that helped me. It was the cop! He got me off without a charge! What did those people do? Nothing. And one of them was my girlfriend. She told me she loved me, hand and all. But, she threw me to the dogs!"
Barry growled, "I would never do that, never."
"What? Just wait. One day your friends are going to turn their back and you'll drop my like she did. And it'll be worse because now there's some thing for me to lose."
"What's that? What's so important you won't play for me?" Barry gripped him harder.
"You!" Roddy yelled. "I'll lose you!" All the fight went out of him. He went limp, on the verge of tears.
"And I'll lose you too! Have you ever thought of that?" Barry huffed letting him go. "The reason why I wanted you to play was so I could get closer to you. I want you. And I know you love me too. Just say so!"
He didn't reply and Barry's face turned into a mask. Roddy stared, glassy eyed, at the hulking figure headed for the door way.
"I'll just see myself out."
The sound of footsteps receded and the bell on the door jingled.
It wasn't until the shop was silent again and all the air had cooled that Roddy let himself cry.
For a week, Roddy confined himself to bed. He ignored all sound from the outside world. He'd told himself a long time ago that angst over one's sexuality was overrated and stupid. But, that didn't stop angst in general.
Holly came in and gave a rousing speech about chasing what you wanted. She really had gotten very good at English. She should run for mayor. Everyone would vote after hearing a speech like that. Hanson gave him a heart to heart, which honestly made him feel worse. Sally was still simpering as usual. Gracie was the only one to get him to eat. She clucked at him all the time. Monroe would grab his cello and invite Roddy to play, unaware that was what caused the whole ordeal. And, Nick was still Nick, trying to help in his foreign, detective ways. After the week was over, he went back to work still a little soggy.
"Your tunes are getting more and more mournful." Roddy stopped to actually listen to the music box. Yeah, it was very sad. He thought to title it the Requiem of the Heart rather than The Fae Queen. His work was more with securing parts but every once in a while, he would stop and work all night on a music box. Each sounded worse, by that more melancholy, than the last.
A month passed like that, in a haze. It wasn't until Holly pointed it out that he realized he hadn't spoken to Barry in a month.
"You need to make up with him. You look like road kill." Never one to mince words, Holly was.
He seriously considered it, but never did anything about it. He still wasn't sure. The past year, two months, ten days, and twenty seven minutes had been the greatest time of his life, rivaled only by the time when he had his real hand. Even then, this was still worth more than its weight in gold.