Another short one… but I wrote a page and a half of thesis today, so that counts for something!
He catches Trent alone in the choir room. The sassy Warbler is plunking out something on the piano that might be Schadenfreude, if the pianist was engaging in the titular emotion. It's all he can do not to shut the lid on his friend's fingers. It's that bad.
"Can I talk to you about something?" He hates that his voice sounds tentative, and young.
Trent shrugs, and stops torturing the piano.
"What Nick told you..." His voice trails off.
Trent smiles. "I've known for a while."
"You have?"
"Since that night that we played strip euchre," Trent says. "You took off your pump, and left it on your clothes."
His eyes widen.
"My best friend from growing up is diabetic," the Sassy Warbler explains. He pauses for a minute. "I know about shots and testing and stuff. Just so you know, I'm here if you need help."
He isn't sure what to say. He feels a lump in his throat. "Thanks," he says gruffly. He isn't sure why, but he feels tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.
He brushes out of the music room as Trent hits a particularly sour cord. He walks, almost runs, to the men's room and locks himself in the only stall. It's only when he's alone that he lets his shoulders shake and the tears slide down his cheeks.
For once, he lets his emotions take control.