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It took Edward Chen less than half a minute to realize he was in a completely unfamiliar place.
The window was closed, just the gentle moonlight seeped through the cream-colored silk curtains, and there was a sweet and pleasant scent he couldn't name that lingered around the tip of his nose. He couldn't hear the clock, nor could he smell the smoke that was supposed to linger in every nook and cranny of the bedroom - a smell that Edward couldn't get rid of no matter how much he cleaned or opened the door to allow the breeze in.
There was nothing but stillness, a sliver of moonlight, and an Edward.
Edward Chen didn't know where he was. But he believed he could sleep under that comfortable blanket forever, even if this was no longer reality.
“Hmm…? Why are you up so early?”
Someone's mumbling suddenly came from behind.
Edward was startled; not because of the voice itself, but because he had no idea there’d be another person lying next to him. The drowsy voice gently caressed his ear, sounded like a kitten purring when being petted, sluggish but pleasant; such that he somehow instantly thought of caramel melting on the tip of his tongue, with a tinge of coffee bitterness.
A shiver ran down Edward's spine.
Impossible.
“I…”
Before Edward could reply, warm arms curled around his waist, and the person behind him was hugging him already. He could feel the warmth plainly - a soft warmth that was passing through the thin cloth, a pleasant warmth that was flowing all over Edward's body...
The warmth he never dreamed he'd experience.
“Hm?”
As Edward had not finished the sentence, the other person softly rubbed his back as if to tell him to continue; hands unconsciously tightened, nearly sticking to Edward like a koala clutching a tree trunk.
For a brief period, Edward's shoulders trembled.
He didn't want to move while the other was so comfortable in this position, but he knew he needed to confirm something.
And Edward turned over.
Under the moon, Brett appeared to shine. The alluring light subtly outlined each of those delicate face features - a bit faded, but extremely pretty. It seemed that not being able to hug Edward made the sleeping koala feel a bit uneasy, so Brett’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, but then instantly relaxed as the other person caressed his cheeks.
Edward remained silent. His fingertips moved as though they were walking on silk. But he also knew that every time he touched a mole on Brett's face - in the corner of the mouth, near the ears, under the eyelids - those fingertips would burn. Brett was still not fully awake; half-closed eyelids cast a shadow in the moonlight, slightly fluttering as Edward touched the edges of his eyes.
"It's not morning yet. Go back to sleep, we have to practice for the tour tomorrow…” – Brett grumbled – “Hug, Eddy. So cold."
The hand that had been soothingly tracing Brett's earlobe suddenly froze.
Eddy. Practice tomorrow.
How long had it been since he'd heard something like that?
Eight years? Ten years?
How long had it been, since Brett had congratulated him on his medical school acceptance certificate with a reluctant smile?
"I'm sorry, I can't study music anymore. My family…”
"It's ok, Eddy. It's ok, I can understand. It's ok. You have a future.”
The day the two of them parted, and each moved to another city.
How long had it been?
Edward suddenly felt his chest tighten. Numerous shaggy thorns violently gripped his heart, ruthlessly drawing him back to the memories he thought he had buried so deeply.
Turned out he liked Brett that much.
He liked him so much that, despite the pressures of his job at the hospital, he still attempted to get an airline ticket to see Brett perform whenever he could.
He liked him so much that, despite knowing he had no chance, he still agreed to be the best man on the day Brett and his bride walked down the aisle that year.
He liked him so much that, when he turned thirty already, the only joy he got was from watching the other's family cozy together.
"Brett."
“Mmm?”
Edward looked at the man's face, attentively. Perhaps he would need to memorize every frown, even the faintest. Perhaps he would need to feel every touch, even the briefest. And perhaps, he would need to engrave this person's voice into his heart; so that when he woke up the day after, in a room smelling of cigarettes, that night would be the most beautiful memory to help him survive the difficult days.
He leaned closer, closer; until the tips of their noses touched. The hand that was calloused by the cutlery gently stroked Brett's hair; the knuckles that had been steady through so many surgeries now trembled uncontrollably – just like a poor man for the first time touching the most precious treasure.
Before placing his lips on the other's forehead in complete adoration, Edward quietly sighed.
"I love you."
"I love you, a lot."
…
As the cream-colored curtains slowly swayed, a pleasant sweet scent floated across the air. The moon continued to shed its usual soft, chilly light outside the window.
And perhaps that night, only Edward and the moonlight knew that - he had delivered an unfinished confession to a Brett Yang who did not belong to him.