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• • •
living together isn't that much different from living apart. the fact's not exactly unsurprising, not after more than a decade of friendship and two world tours, but still: it's a realization that sticks, like chewing gum clinging to your teeth.
brett can't quite put a finger on why that is, exactly, but when he's faced with an enthusiastic eddy, he decides it really doesn't matter.
"it's like a sleepover, but it's every night, permanently," eddy gushes, and brett just barely manages to resist rolling his eyes at him. so yeah, okay, he's pretty fucking excited too, but at least brett isn't being too obvious about it. because then, that'll be just telling, wouldn't it?
"it's just temporary," he ends up blurting out, if only to keep the bubbling feeling from showing itself clear as day on his face, but eddy is relentless, slinging an arm over his shoulder like it's nobody's business but his own.
"stop raining on my parade, mate. this is gonna be amazing," his best friend declares in that familiar squeaky tone, and yeah, it really can be. maybe.
• • •
living together isn't that much different from living apart. falling in love, however-that changes things a bit.
• • •
it's always the little things: matchstick flames to a forest wildfire. when brett looks back at it, there's never been a single point in time where he could say yes, this, this was the moment when i fell in love with my best friend. rather, it's more of a slow-dawning epiphany, years in the making. hundreds of memories, small but steel-forged.
eddy's hand as he reaches out to introduce himself in a math tutoring class. eddy's arms around him as they greet each other excitedly at the con. eddy's voice, trembling and joyous when they finally reach their fundraiser milestone after days of sleeping on the streets. eddy's violin, making sweet music alongside brett's own for every concert, every video, every piece. eddy's eyes, gazing back at him like brett means something—like brett's worth throwing away his own soloist dream to pursue this twoset violin thing together for, even when brett doesn't really deserve it.
in the end, it's not about when or how or why. it has always been eddy chen and only eddy chen for brett yang, in every lifetime he's ever lived. always have, always will be.
(it's only now, though, with eddy so near and staying, that brett can feel something changing within. shortness of breath, an ache between his ribs. if this is what love really feels like, then he should be in a hospital.)
• • •
the walls are bare, the floors are dusty, and there's a weird smell wafting through the rafters, but it's home for the foreseeable future. brett takes a look around their new flat and finds he doesn't mind at all. "here we are," he says to the silence, his words echoing across empty space, and receives no answer.
eddy's quiet, a little bit like reverence on his face as he walks around the perimeter of the room, moving his fingers over white plaster. something shifts, then: he looks considerate, focused. brett knows that look.
"this'll do," eddy murmurs softly, almost to himself, and then turns to nod at brett. "we just need more furniture, but we can build a home here. all cosy and shit, hey?"
build a home. brett has to gulp a few times to clear the sudden blockage in his throat; it feels way too tight for comfort. eddy continues chattering in the background, and he's never been more thankful for it. brett doesn't think he has it in himself to answer without spouting sentimental things.
• • •
"you've got way too many grey shirts, you know that?"
brett flings soap suds in eddy's direction, entirely unrepentant about it. they're doing laundry together by hand in the tiny bathroom because of some half-cooked brilliant idea eddy's apparently thought up. something about saving money before they can buy their own washing machine? whatever.
"so? don't you know einstein wore, like, the same grey suit so he wouldn't waste brainpower on picking out clothes in the morning?"
eddy laughs, disbelief coloring his next words. "you researched that, bro? come on, there's gotta be another reason besides einstein did it, so."
well, clearly, the option where brett confesses he wears grey just because eddy said he looked amazing in it isn't really viable right now, so fuck it. time for a diversion. "says the man who wore v-necks all the time back in the day. what, did you think they made you look hotter or something?"
eddy shrugs and continues scrubbing a pair of shorts in the basin, pointedly not denying it. attractive fucker that he is. "so do you need more clothes in other colors? i can buy you some."
"nah, i'm happy with my own closet, thanks," brett smirks, moving away both to hang his grey shirts on the clothesline and to get away from splashing range, "because i don't have fake gucci stuff in there."
eddy's high-pitched squawk is enough to distract brett from the fact that this, this feeling—it's the closest thing to home he's felt in a long while.
• • •
they go furniture shopping at IKEA, which is about the most domestic thing brett can think of, and it's messing with his equilibrium. there's something about looking at throw pillows and curtains with someone he loves that feels too intimate, too heart-pressed-full for a casual shopping trip.
eddy immediately takes charge over the entire operation, relegating brett to mere cart-pusher and bag-holder. though they agree on most things when it comes to the contents and preferred look of their new home, they also argue over the smallest concerns. like an old married couple, even.
brett doesn't think about that last one too carefully; he might just pop a vein in his head or something. he opts instead to trail around his best friend as they fit the pieces of their life together to make a new one out here in this strange new world.
and now, he's thinking about that. great.
• • •
they keep each other up at night, but not in a bad way, and certainly not in a sexy way. brett's checked, just in case. definitely not.
it's just like before, with a little bit more practice involved now. brett takes eddy to parties like he used to back in the world tour days, and eddy drags brett out of bed to practice his tchaikovsky. some nights, they drag each other out of shivering nightmares, and it comes to light that when you're not alone, a peaceful rest just comes easier.
"sleep, brett," comes the gentle whisper, all silken honey, "i'm here." and each time, every time: brett falls back to sleep with a slight smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
(they play lullabies for each other while pretending to practice their pieces. the tchaikovsky concerto might be his favorite piece to play, but the sibelius concerto holds a special place in his heart now too.)
• • •
brett's shit at making coffee. he knows this, eddy knows this, the whole world know this. it's why they keep going out early in the morning for some when there's a fully functional coffee maker sitting somewhere in a box in their kitchen. eddy makes good coffee, not brett.
but: again, they have a fully functional coffee maker sitting somewhere in a box in their kitchen, and quite frankly, it's driving him up the wall to see things lying around unused when they paid for it. and maybe he does want to do something nice for eddy, and he'll do a lot of things just to see that dazzling grin, so it's settled. brett's going to have to learn how to brew good coffee.
so he takes a few days to experiment whenever eddy turns his back on him for more than five minutes, and when belle takes her brother out for the day to tour around the city, brett finally nails it. he waits until eddy gets home—like a little housewife waiting for her husband to return, oh god—to let him sample it.
eddy takes one sip and his eyes light up with fireworks, or something. brett imagines there's fireworks somewhere within his fleshy eyeballs. very romantic. "oh my god," the taller man finally stutters, and shit, there's that dazzling grin he's been waiting for. "bro, how'd you make this? it's-i could fucking kiss you right now for this, brett yang."
it's kinda embarrassing that brett's first thought is yes, right the fuck now, please, but god himself must be smiling down upon him right now, because none of that makes it past the barrier of his teeth. "that's disgusting, so no thank you—"
and then eddy startles him into silence with a wet smooch on the cheek that feels more like a dog lick than a kiss, but god, if it doesn't kick brett's heart into overdrive.
"thanks for the cup," eddy mumbles before conveniently disappearing, bemused silence in his wake. brett blinks in the sudden stillness, and then slowly takes a wary sip from his own mug.
the coffee's pretty good, strictly speaking. he can understand why. yeah.
• • •
they've always been close, even back in the days when they'd been nothing but wide-eyed little kids with big dreams. but all these fleeting touches, all these long-drawn looks and precious time spent together—it feels different. more.
it feels like they're on the cusp of something, and it's only a matter of time until the penny drops.
• • •
eddy, as per usual, gets the inspired idea to make a christmas video on the twelve days of christmas, but with practice, because consistency is the name of the game here. ling ling would be disappointed if they suggest anything else.
it's a good idea, really. it's just—it doesn't explain what happens on the actual day of shooting.
they hire a cameraman to follow them around, and just when brett thinks they've picked a good location to shoot the whole video, eddy drags him off. suddenly, they're running around the city, playing with fake snow and waltzing through an arcade and spending an inordinate amount of time filming around a heart-shaped light fixture.
somewhere along the way, brett loses track of who's leading who around orchard road, and just when eddy pulls him close, grinning at the camera like he's won a million dollar jackpot prize, a lightbulb flickers to life in his brain.
is—is this what he thinks it is?
• • •
after:
"merry christmas, eddy."
"merry christmas, brett."
". . . so, i was wondering. is this a date or something?"
". . . if it is, would you allow me to do more romantic things tonight? it is christmas."
". . ."
". . ."
"maybe. probably. yes."
"then yeah, it's a date. are you enjoying yourself?"
• • •
as it turns out, they both might need to be in a hospital.
• • •
"happy new year, everyone," eddy tells the camera, ling ling 40 hours sketched on their faces courtesy of the instagram filter. brett zooms the camera in on both their smiles for a few seconds before ending the video and posting it up.
it's a silly thing, his grin; it must be. eddy looks over his shoulder at the mobile screen and hums. "why didn't you say anything? you're just smiling like a lunatic here."
what else can you say, brett wants to ask him, when you have everything you ever wanted laid out in front of you? how can he answer that when the words running through his mind are all i've only ever wanted in this life is my violin and you, and so what else would you have me say when i've already got both?
ah, fuck, but that's entirely too sappy. he clears his throat and shrugs. "just couldn't think of anything," comes the words; they're not entirely the truth, but they serve his purposes well. eddy tilts his head in consideration and then grins like he's heard brett's mental dilemma.
"let's go get some bubble tea."
• • •
the bay is alight with festivities, throngs of people gathered to celebrate the end of a decade and the coming of a new year. they find a good vantage point somewhere amidst the sea of bodies to watch the upcoming fireworks display.
eddy's hand finds his own underneath the folds of his warm coat. brett entwines their fingers and pulls him close, their sides pressed together tight and warm.
"do you think we had a great year?" eddy whispers against his hair, and the sensation sends a shiver down brett's spine.
for once, he gives in to sentimentality. "it'll always be a great year for me as long as you stay. it means you haven't gotten tired of me yet." it's half-truth, half-jest, but eddy, true to form, takes it all too seriously.
and so, when his partner whispers in his ear again, brett hears all sorts of soft declarations like these: i don't ever want to part from you. you're the only thing in my life that makes perfect sense. i love you.
he doesn't hear the explicit truth, but brett knows it, etched in every syllable. of course eddy will stay. of course.
ten. nine. eight. the countdown begins, and suddenly, eddy's standing right in front of him. seven. six. five. warm hands cup his face, cradling it like it's precious. four. three. two. that dazzling grin, sucker-punch bright, is on eddy's face again. one.
riotous color explodes overhead, the world continues to move on into a new year, and eddy's eyes are all on him, only on him. gazing at him like brett means something, like he's worth everything.
while everyone else is immersed in the fireworks, brett yang lifts up on tiptoe and kisses the living daylights out of eddy chen. this life, his life—it's the two of them here, together, and yes, yes: it really is amazing.