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He’s not sure why, but Eddy can’t stop staring at Brett.
It was just a day like another. Late afternoon, early dinner time. They’re eating at a new restaurant with old friends, sitting at a big table, feeling very adult.
Eddy is surprised by how well adulthood has suited both him and Brett. The transition from awkward, young scrawny adolescents to surprisingly competent 20-somethings, who wore watches and ironed clothes, paid for meals and bills, has been a more sound transition than they thought it would be. Adulthood looked good on them, and was much kinder than youth had been.
Brett doesn’t look any different than he usually does, so Eddy’s not sure why the sudden fixation.
Maybe it’s because this is the first time they’ve both left the apartment for the week, apart from getting the mail and late night convenience store trips? Maybe it’s because he’s not seeing Brett holed up in his room, drowning in an old hoodie at 2am, hunched over his laptop, trying to meet a deadline for their video, but instead he’s seeing Brett, in nice, clean warm clothes and good lighting, that makes his skin almost glow.
Is that why he can’t stop staring at him?
Brett has lit up eyes, as he enthusiastically chats with their friends. Sometimes, his friends say something stupid, and Brett will glance at Eddy out of the corner of his eye, which makes Eddy grin because he knows that means Brett will laugh or complain about it with him privately later.
Normal things that Brett does are starting to make him blush. Like when Brett pinches his arm lightly under the table whenever they know something their friends don’t, or when they’re deciding what to order, and Brett grabs a menu, nudging Eddy asking which meal they should split, and Eddy will live off this quiet thrill of being the only thing Brett is looking at, even if it’s only for a second.
And maybe it’s the way Brett’s shoulder will press against his whenever he laughs too hard, or maybe it’s the way he’s drinking out of Eddy’s glass without even asking.
Or maybe it’s because even though they’re sitting at a table with good friends, all Eddy can look at is Brett, and all he’s imagining is all the meals they can share together, how many crammed tables and corners they can sit against, how many days he can live like this for the rest of his life.
Usually when you fall in love, is it supposed to be slow or fast?
Eddy hasn’t been in love in a while, he doesn’t remember the steps. Are there steps to falling in love? Because if there are, he’s pretty sure they’ve already messed it up. Why is it only now that Eddy is starting to notice him? They say that love is something that is always felt suddenly. So has it just been lying dormant in Eddy for years? Has it always been there, and only now Eddy is just starting to realize it? Because the more aware he becomes of it, the worse his life becomes.
There’s no reason for it. It’s not like Brett got a new haircut recently, or suddenly became ripped, or something. He’s stayed exactly the same.
But it occurs to Eddy that Brett’s ‘same’ is actually really, really attractive.
Eddy has a crush. Which is stupid. And embarrassing. Because he’s 26 years old and they’re definitely too old to be having crushes at this age.
But once he starts, he can’t stop. He notices Brett everywhere. Whenever Brett walks by, Eddy checks out his thin frame, his slender fingers, his dainty hands whenever he hands Eddy something. Then Eddy has to try hard to not fixate on it for the rest of the day.
Every day he falls harder and harder. He’s noticing more things than ever.
Like, Brett has a really pretty smile, really pretty smile. Eddy loves whenever Brett is smiling when his eyes are closed, so blissed out and happy, and that’s all Eddy ever wants Brett to be.
He looks so cute whenever he wants something, and he looks even cuter when he gets what he wants. Whenever they accidentally brush past each other while warming up, it makes Eddy’s belly flop, and the brief touch almost feels like a burn.
Has his smile always been this cute? Why are his eyes so warm whenever he looks at something? Why is he so caring in everything he’s done? God, even his nails are pretty. Eddy complains.
Brett is just so pure. Just like everyone he’s ever liked or dated, he’s so polished, so spoiled and so sheltered—the type of innocence Eddy wants to continue protecting so bad. Is it stupid to think he's dated so many girls just to prepare to date a boy he’s known for his own life?
So, yeah. Whatever. Eddy is 26 years old. He has a crush on his best friend. But it’s not a big deal. Surely, the feeling will eventually subside, and this is only a phase, and everything will fall back to normal soon, right?
Not exactly.
But it doesn’t matter.
Eddy gets used to living with his crush on Brett. Eddy’s love for Brett follows him everywhere, from close places to the grocery store, where he insists on carrying the basket and carefully selecting all the things he knows Brett will like, to oceans away, to international places, like Norway, where they find themselves tonight.
They’ve just arrived at the National Museum in Oslo, fifteen minutes before closing (in Eddy Chen fashion) trying to get a peek at the painting of The Scream, before they left the following day.
“Fifteen minutes, boys.”
“Okay, Tusen takk! Thank you so much! Thank you.” Brett says over and over again, as he quickly follows Eddy who is already running to the exhibit, straight to the left.
“Dude, I can’t believe we got away with that.” Eddy grins, catching his breath, as they’re in the isolated room.
“Fuck,” he gasps, I really need to work out more.”
“Aren’t you the one that does cardio?” Brett laughs, as he looks up and low and behold, the painting itself—The Scream stares back at them in disbelief. The two of them gawk in wonder.
“It’s always so weird looking at old paintings, isn’t it? Look, painted in 1893. That’s so long ago…” Eddy throws his head back, in thought, “1893… Romantic Era, the year Tchaikovsky died, when Dvorak premiered Symphony No. 9… really interesting to think about how intertwined everything is, huh? Wish they taught you that in schools, how intertwined everything in life is.”
“It’d be way too overwhelming to the kids, I think.” Brett says, looking at Eddy instead of the painting. Eddy’s always been so interesting like that—he had an incredibly encyclopedic memory, remembering specific details about things he cared about. “But you’re right, there’s correlation between everything.” Brett says, “You disappointed?” he asks.
“No,” Eddy says, still staring at the painting. Whenever Eddy is interested in something, he always forgets about everything else. “That’s just the thing with art, right? Good art, anyways. Takes a while to set in.”
“Yeah,” Brett snorts lightly, “Except we only have fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah,” Eddy says, “How about you, you're disappointed?”
“Nah.” Brett says, “Paintings are always like this, smaller than you think.”
Eddy snorts, “Very poetic.”
“Bro, it’s true!” which makes Eddy snicker.
“Hey, remember when you saw the Mona Lisa without me?” Eddy says, “You want to go back with me to see it again?”
“I mean, you’re not missing out that much.” Brett laughs, “The painting’s very small, you’ll see more people crowding around it than the actual painting.”
“But its eyes follow you around the room! What other painting does that?”
“Okay and? You just want someone to look at you? I do that to you every day.” Brett says nonchalantly, which makes Eddy turn crimson. Does he realize that when he says things like that, they can be reinterpreted in a type of way?
Eddy grins, pointing at the painting, the figure holding its face in shock, screaming in agony among a swirling, blood-red sky. “Me, when I realize that I haven’t practiced for a lesson.”
“You, when you forget your violin for a concert.” Brett says, “Or,” he already laughs at his joke before saying it, “Actually! You, when you forget your violin before literally going to a camp specifically designed for playing the violin— ”
“Hey!” Eddy says, the over-sensitive youngest child in him coming out, “That’s not how the game works! You have to say something about yourself, not diss me!”
“Okay, sorry, sorry! Gosh, you’re such a baby.” Brett snickers, nudging Eddy lightly, “Hm, okay. Me when…” he leans his head to the side, exposing his neck, trying to think of one, but nothing is coming to mind.
He looks up to tell Eddy this, but he’s looking at him weirdly.
“Me when…” Eddy tries to think out loud as well, but his breath hitches.
It’s on the tip of his tongue: Me, when I’m around you. Me, if I told you how I really felt.
“Brett.”
“Yes, Eddy?”
“I think I’m in love with you.”
“What?” Brett says, and just from his tone alone, Eddy can already tell he’s fucked everything up.
It’s at times like this when he’s reminded how fragile everything is, how fast something can turn from familiar and fun, to cold and stagnant.
Brett’s neck is flushed bright pink. Eddy can’t quite piece out his face, it’s a mix between confusion, fear, and disbelief. “Are you being serious right now? Or is this a joke?” Brett asks, voice deathly quiet. He’s taking this so seriously.
Now it’s Eddy’s turn to be confused, “A joke?” Eddy’s face scrunches up, “Why would I be joking?”
“So you’re saying you like me? Like, for real?” Brett says, still not trusting.
“Yes, for real.” Eddy laughs nervously.
“How long have you felt this way?” Brett asks. Eddy snorts, he feels as though he’s being interrogated.
“It’s kind of hard.” Eddy says, “You remember that dinner?”
“We’ve had many dinners together, Eddy.” Brett says.
The domesticity of that sentence alone kind of comforts Eddy, and helps him steady his pulse. So much history they’ve built together, surely it won’t crumble from one awkward, failed love confession, right?
“The one with our friends from university? Zach said something stupid, and you pinched me on the arm? You kept drinking the boba I ordered instead of drinking your own, and I just let you because I like seeing you happy. And I don’t think you knew it, but you were wearing my flannel, and I could tell it was mine, because it doesn't fit you perfectly, and it drapes off your shoulders, which makes you look so cute.”
Brett laughs nervously. “Where is this laser focus memory whenever you have to show up to an appointment on time?”
“Brett, I’m being serious.”
“I know.” Brett says, looking away. “Sorry. This is very sweet, Eddy. I’m just… not used to people having crushes on me or anything.”
“What do you mean? What happened to Brett Yang from college who was with a new girl like, every weekend? So many people like you.” Eddy said, “I’m supposed to be the nervous one here, not you! You’re the older one with experience!”
“I mean, okay. Yeah, I was with people, but you were the one in actual relationships, with actual girlfriends, with like, intimacy.”
Eddy’s always been good at being a boyfriend. He knows how to do all the good things a boyfriend does. He's good at buying little gifts, good at lending his sweatshirts, good at saying pet names so casually, he makes corny pet names like babe or girl, actually sound really nice. Skills that always amazed Brett.
“Everyone I was with, they didn’t like me… like that.”
“What’s like that?” Eddy asks.
“Like, romantically.” Brett says, “All those relationships were so surface-level. Like, they thought I was cute, I guess, or maybe funny occasionally. But nobody’s really taking me seriously, or liking me like that. Nobody is making that long-term investment.”
“I've known you since I was thirteen.” Eddy says, “That’s a pretty long-term investment.”
“So? You didn't like me like that during all those years. How many girls did you have a crush on, or date during that time? Or, how many girls did you try to set me up with?” Brett laughs, and it pains Eddy to hear this.
“It’s just the truth.” Brett waves his hand around, “No one is checking me out, and it’s whatever. After enough tries, and failed dates, and putting yourself out there, you get tired. If it’s not working out, don’t force it, right? I’ll get into a relationship when the right time comes. It happens when it happens. And if it never happens, so be it.” Brett shrugs. “I can handle it.”
“Can you?” Eddy asks. Should you? Doesn't that seem so lonely? Just because you can handle something, does it mean you should?
“I've made it this long single, right? I've been pretty alright so far.” Brett insists.
“That's not right.” Eddy says.
“Don’t say something corny about how everybody deserves to be loved or some bullshit like that.”
“But they do.” Eddy says quietly, and he hates how corny he’s being, but Eddy has always been a corny person, he can’t help it. Eddy is just the type that believes everyone deserves a happy ending.
“Eddy…”
The pity is making Brett uncomfortable. So is Eddy’s big puppy eyes and his small pout, which is what he always does whenever he feels sad. He always shows his emotions so openly.
But Brett is used to it. That’s just the truth. He’s used to not being looked at—to the point where he forgets he can even be considered as something that could be wanted.
So many missed opportunities because of this. So many cheeky whispers and soft nudges from friends who insist, That girl was totally checking you out. She left her number on the receipt! And Brett shrugs, Nah, It's probably just meant for someone else. Can’t be for me.
Sometimes this mindset works out well for him. Not caring can give him this overwhelming sense of confidence, knowing that he has nothing to lose. This led to him getting with some girls way out of his league in college.
But mostly, this mindset resulted in serious apathy, which is what led to him not dating for years afterwards, because he didn’t even see the point of having a relationship.
But he’s looking at Eddy, with his nervous look and fidgety hands, playing with the cuffs of his coat, and right now Brett’s not sure what he’s feeling.
“Hey, what’s with the puppy eyes?” Brett asks jokingly, looking at Eddy.
“I'm sad, because you’re saying you don’t think anyone can love you.” Eddy pouts, “And that’s not right. Nobody should live like that. Especially you.”
“I never said anything like that.” Brett says, “I’m just saying, a relationship has never really been a priority for me.”
“Well, do you want it to be?” Eddy asks, looking at Brett directly, Brett looking away.
He can kind of see how so many girls fell for him. Eddy's so direct and easy, so plain and open. His bluntness is so refreshing in a world that can be so confusing and exhausting.
“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” Brett says.
“You haven't thought about being in a relationship?” Eddy repeats in disbelief, “Even for a second?”
“I don't know.” Brett says, “I haven't thought about it recently…”
Lie. Brett thinks about it every day. It looks like Eddy taking his coat off first when they get home, it looks like Eddy holding his hand through a busy crowd, leading the way, it looks like Eddy slumped over his shoulder on the train after a long day, because Eddy always sleeps in public, because he trusts the world too much, looks like Eddy, Eddy, Eddy.
“Well, think about it now.” Eddy says, “What would it look like?”
“It looks like…” But Brett doesn’t have to say anything. Even if he refuses to admit it, his eyes are giving him away.
Isn’t it funny how involuntary and little control we have over our bodies? How even if we insist on things, our body language can deceive us?
Brett’s eyeing Eddy from head to toe, and Eddy, cautiously but bravely, moves just a step closer to Brett.
“Do you like me?” Eddy asks, his voice so quiet, like he’s afraid of it. So rare from the usually chatty one.
When a person falls in love, is it slow or fast? Brett fondly recalls his mom excitedly telling him as a child, that love will be one of the greatest things he will ever experience in this life.
She always described love as something felt suddenly. Everything will just click, it’s this feeling in your gut, you’ll know the moment you feel it.
As though you are standing in the middle of a room—love will attack you from every corner, and overtake you before you can even react.
But there’s nothing sudden or fast about this.
To Brett, love has been methodical and slow and aching—filled with so much hesitance, yet so much want. Brett has loved Eddy for years.
“I’ve always liked you.” Brett replied back. “I just figured I wasn’t really your type.”
“And you were okay with just living like that?”
“Honestly? Yeah.”
Eddy can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“And then what would you have done? Just lived in pining for the rest of your life?”
“Wouldn’t be that different from now.” Brett says, and Eddy is in disbelief.
“Why are you so afraid to get into a relationship?” Eddy continues to press, “Are you afraid it’ll end poorly?”
“There hasn’t exactly been a great track record.” Brett laughs.
“You know how I love a good challenge.” Eddy says.
“I do.”
He’s always enjoyed being looked at by Eddy, but now he feels so overwhelmed under his gaze. He diverts his eyes back to the painting as he says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” Eddy says, resoundingly, happy that Brett is initiating. He’s remembering his incredibly fragile placement in this conversation. He’s still the one who started this exchange, the one who threw his heart out into the deep end, letting all his feelings be exposed.
“You said, I’m in love with you, right?” Brett repeats slowly, like he’s still trying to wrap his mind around all this, “Can you… talk about it more?” He’s so vulnerable right now, Eddy just wants to scoop him up so bad. His voice is so small and pleading.
In the back of Brett’s mind, he wonders if he sounds stupid. He’s sounded so stupid in front of Eddy so many times before, and has never cared. Why does it matter so much to him now?
“Well,” Eddy says, and he’s doing that voice he does whenever he’s explaining a concept to someone, soft and kind and so full of understanding.
“There’s a difference there, right? Different from just saying I Love You. You add the in and with.” Eddy says, “Like … you live inside it. I’m in love. Love is a home, and if I look inside, I’ll see you in it. I am in love. It’s a declarative statement. I chose to be there. A place I’ll always come back to. I don't think I ever want to leave. Consciously, I wake up and choose to be in love with you every day.” Eddy says, “Love is a practice, and you know how much we love that.”
Brett’s quiet, but Eddy can see how Brett’s whole face softens that he’s won him over.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Eddy repeats.
Brett pulls him lightly by the sleeve, pulling him down gently so Eddy’s at his height.
He goes on his tiptoes and turns Eddy’s face, kissing his cheek. The sudden red that spreads over Eddy's cheeks and nose makes him laugh, as he turns Eddy’s face so he’s facing him directly, and he kisses him softly, so careful, the way he’s pressing his lips against his.
Wanting to take control, Eddy tugs on Brett’s ears and hair, pressing in deeper, and Brett can’t help but whimper lightly.
He’s wanted this for so long—it doesn’t feel real, the way Eddy is brushing his thumb back and forth against his jawline.
Brett closes his eyes and sinks into Eddy’s touch. And for the first time, Brett lets himself be wanted.
When he pulls out the kiss, he smiles, gesturing at the painting.
“Me, when my crush for years admits he likes me, and then he kisses me back.” Brett grins. Eddy snorts, and Brett can feel his soft exhale of his laugh against his cheek.
“C’mon.” Eddy says, “We’ve definitely exceeded our time limit here.” Eddy says, as he takes Brett’s hand, leading him out the museum.
And who knows? Maybe they’ll take the train home, and Eddy will sleep on his shoulder like he’s always dreamed of. Or when they get home, Eddy will take his coat off first.
After all, with Eddy, the possibilities are endless.