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Eddy Chen wakes to the sound of his alarm—another repetitive start to another repetitive day in his repetitive late twenties life.
The time is 6 am sharp. He goes through the practiced motions of his morning routine that his body can do even with his eyes closed: grab a clean cup, start the coffee machine, brush teeth, shower. He yawns as he opens his closet, and then comes another part of his morning routine, one that he didn't voluntarily start. As he reaches his hand in to grab some clothes or whatever, his eyes will always travel to the dark dusty corner of the closet, where sits a smoothly varnished wooden violin case.
He looks at it, again, as he does every single day, and there is a painful pang in his chest, one that he also feels every single day but doesn't quite feel less terrifying even with time. Eddy hates that he is a sentimental person and that as painful as it is, he never attempts anything to get rid of this part of his morning routine. There's some weird psychological thing there, probably, Eddy thinks so, but the possible implications make him too terrified to even graze the thought with his mind. Instead, he lets it torture his mind every day like this, let his life be as it is, like this, boring and uneventful yet safe.
He shuts the closet doors and moves on with his day, already knowing what's going to happen in the next 24 hours.
Brett Yang wakes to the sound of his alarm—a brand new experience in his late twenties life.
The time is 6 am sharp. He rubs his eyes and yawns. It is the first time in a while he has gotten up this early and he hates this, fucking hates this, but he does it because if not he would probably get a beating. Like, an actual one.
Sure enough, soon after his mom bangs his door open, a floating broom and jug of water circling all around her like a menacing aura. Seeing Brett already awake, his mother silently nods and storms back out. Brett heaves a long, long sigh. He glances to the wall, where hangs a calendar with all the dates until today crossed out. A date in seven days is circled a menacing, thick red, an angry handwriting next to it reading "MAGICAL TRIAL DUE!"
Yes, young but not-so-young wizard Brett Yang has not finished his magical trial. Simply because he doesn't see a point in doing it—why go through an entire trial in order to be able to work alongside humans when he can just stay in his room and make money through music? Bet the wizard elders didn't anticipate the dawn of the internet when they made these trials mandatory. He's supposed to help a human achieve their dreams? What a pain.
"Our family has been working alongside humans for generations!" his mother would say each time he brings this up. He's seen the videos humans made about Asian parents—Asian wizard parents are not much different. "And I am not letting my child not pass the trials. You're either doing yours before your next birthday or you can say goodbye to all your equipment!"
Brett's next birthday is exactly that fucking stupid marked date. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The problem is, he still hasn't found a human interesting enough to make their dreams a reality. Most wizards would just grab the first human they see, but Brett is not most wizards. If he has to do this then it better be fun goddammit, and he has to want to do it. It has to be a good dream and not some crazy psychopathic dream. He has been observing humans in his own way, but he hasn't found that human he wants to help, and at this point he's convinced he never will. If by the final day he still hasn't got anyone, he'll probably just grab the nearest human like everybody does, but he hates that.
He grabs a plain black T-shirt—it's symbolic—then closes the closet doors to move on with his day, already knowing what's going to happen in the next 24 hours.
Today, too, Brett has been observing humans.
He moves his legs forward, and they're not legs. They're paws. He walks forward, paw by paw, traversing through the crowded street.
A little girl crouches down to pet him, and his vision fills itself with the sight of the girl surrounded by toys.
That's too boring, he thinks, then shakes his body to repel the human's hand away. Today, he drank a potion that allows him to see the thoughts of anyone he touches, and thought transforming into a cat to be a fun way to use it. Someone who would stop to pet a stray cat should be nice enough, right? And he could read their thought and see what they want. It's a genius idea!
...He thought that this morning. It's almost 5 pm and not a single human's thought has interested him. Most of them are only thinking about what to eat for dinner, or what to do at work tomorrow, or what homework they have to do tonight. Is a human's life cycle just work or school and food? This is why he doesn't mesh well with humans and have no desire to work alongside them.
Brett yawns, the action coming out of his furry body as a soft mewl. This time, a young man crouches down to pet him.
"Hey, buddy," he says in a tired voice, and alright, another guy tired from work. He'll probably also be thinking about some boring thing waiting for him at home—
A cozy little house enters his vision, walls all white and clean. He sees a little boy standing in the middle of it, posture straight and confident, his hands busy making beautiful music on his violin. Brett doesn't recognize what he's playing, but he's playing some sort of classical music, from what Brett knows by digging into human music history. The melody flows gently into his ears, going up and down and serenading him with a sweet yet fierce vibrato.
Next to the boy sits a little grey cat, just a bit bigger than Brett's current cat body, looking up at the boy, the cat his most loyal audience.
"He's a little skinnier than George," the man thinks to himself. "I miss playing for him. I miss playing."
And then the vision disappears all at once, snapping Brett back to reality like he's being harshly sucked out of a time travel tunnel.
The man walks off, and Brett watches his shrinking back for several seconds before trotting along behind him on his little paws.
Eddy opens his eyes, and he is surrounded by a meadow of grass. The grass reaches to about his waist's height, poking him from all directions. Thankfully he is dressed in a suit or he would've gotten badly cut—why is he in a suit outside during a hot day like this?
He wades through it, not really knowing where to go, when he spots a hill with a mirror perched right on top. Something about that mirror pulls him to it yet something about it also unnerves him, and he moves towards it like moth drawn to fire.
"What's your name?" A cheery voice then says, and when Eddy looks around, he sees no one. "Hey. Here."
Eddy follows the sound to its source, and it's the mirror that is speaking. For some reason, even though there is a talking mirror in front of him, talking to him, Eddy doesn't really find it odd.
"What are you?" Eddy asks back to the mirror, in full seriousness, like he's talking to a person and not an inanimate object.
"One question at a time. I asked you one first, human."
The human then shrugs. "Eddy."
"Eddy," the mirror repeats. "And to answer your question, I know what you want and I can show you."
Eddy furrows his brows at that statement, thinking back to his monotone life. He's not even aware if he has any wishes or desires in particular, living aimlessly. "How do you know what I want?"
"I just know, Eddy." Eddy can't physically see it, but he could picture the mirror smirking smugly as it says so. "Walk inside and you'll see for yourself."
Eddy stares at the mirror, and by now he's already sure he's dreaming, in the most literal and serious sense. He's sleeping and he's in his dreams. It's something he's completely aware of now. Thinking it couldn't hurt since it's a dream anyway, Eddy follows the mirror's instructions and begins inserting himself into the glass, starting from his hand which the mirror swallows immediately, then a leg, then head, then body.
He then finds himself in a grand building, decked in gold and decorated with illustrious carvings, lit with chandeliers and yellow lights. Paintings line the wall, and even from afar he could recognize them—Beethoven, Mozart, Bach. For a second, he feels like the paintings are watching him, or it might just be his imagination.
"Hello, Eddy." A young man, standing right in the middle of the room, greets him once he's taken it all in. "I'm Brett, the one speaking to you earlier."
"So," Eddy heaves a deep sigh before he continues talking, "mind telling me what I want?"
"Instead of telling you, how about I show you?"
Brett then turns on his heel and walks ahead down the dimly-lit corridor, just confident Eddy will follow without even telling him to.
And Eddy does, he does. He prepares himself mentally for not even God knows what, and he follows Brett down the corridor, steps wobbling ever so slightly.
The corridor is littered with torn pieces of paper thrown shrewdly all over the floor. As they walk, something begins to enter his senses that makes his heart race—music. Beautiful music, of cello and viola and violin, making a harmony of some piece he's never heard before. The source of the music becomes closer and closer the further they go in, and once they're close enough to see, Eddy realizes.
"Minjin? Hyung?"
Eddy waves his hands in front of their faces, but their focus don't budge from their music sheets. "They're not here to do anything but playing," Brett says then. "Because it's the only thing you want them to do. It is your dream, after all."
"Hold on, I have so many questions," Eddy's voice trembles the more he speaks. "So this is actually literally a dream? How do you know that? Are you actually real or are you just a figment of my imagination? Where am I?"
"You sure didn't lie," Brett chuckles. "Unfortunately my job here is not to entertain your questions."
"Then why are you here?"
"I believe I've already told you," Brett says as they both reach the end of the corridor, stopping at a double door that is equally as grand as its surroundings. He turns around to Eddy, and smirks. "To show you what you want."
Brett opens the door to reveal another majestic room, adorned with gold and pillars that remind him of ancient Greece. And smack dab in the middle is a majestic pedestal, shaped similar to the pillars all around him.
Floating on top of it, rocking gently like a baby in an invisible mother's embrace, is something that makes Eddy's chest nearly burst. It's not clear what makes him feel that way—there's some joy in there, some nostalgia, the feeling of being reunited with a long lost lover. But also: shame. Guilt. Fear.
Something furry sneaks between his feet then and it's his old family cat George, and then it's almost like he is back in his family's house, in the spare room next to his bedroom. He could almost visibly see the white walls form around him, the smell of fresh sheets that his mom keeps there, the way every stroke from his violin caused an echo around the room.
Yes, it is unmistakably his violin, the color on it still the same yellow-tinted brown. He could recall how every single nick in the delicate wood was formed, could recall how it fits just right under his chin. It is not anything expensive by any means, but it was his beloved partner for years.
The soft warmth between his feet escapes, bell on his neck ringing as George trots on his four legs towards the pedestal. Eddy follows him there, towards his long untouched violin.
Brett watches as Eddy walks towards the violin, thinking this is all too easy. He's heard warnings about magical trials, because humans are to its core, insatiable. Giving them what they want isn't easy. But he seems to have had this one in the bag.
As Eddy takes the violin in his hand, Brett prepares himself to leave the dream. He channels his energy within him and readies his feet to launch off—
When something materializes in his hands. It feels wooden and stiff, and when he looks down, he finds that it's a violin. And then he blinks, and he finds himself somewhere else entirely—a big stage, complete with lights, but with no audience in sight.
Brett finds Eddy across the stage, not looking as lost as he is, and he knows now Eddy has taken full control of this dream. This sometimes happens in magical trials where the human has so much resolve and determination that they take over the dream from the wizard through sheer willpower, something a wizard should try to avoid, but it has happened now and there's no longer any turning back for Brett. Brett is completely at Eddy's mercy, not knowing where this dream is headed. All he knows is he is there to fulfill what the human wants.
Eddy steps up confidently to the stage front, clad in a beautiful flower-patterned suit, and lifts his violin up to his chin in one practiced motion. Brett, too, finds himself stepping up, noticing that he himself is in a black suit, and his hands lift the violin up for him. One second later, he is engaged in an intense duet with Eddy despite never having touched a violin before in his life. His fingers slide and vibrate wildly on the fingerboard, bow moving up and down smoothly like he has been playing for years, notes peaking up and down with passion. The stage lights beam a bold red towards them both, a perfect representation of their fiery performance.
The piece suddenly becomes quiet and it ends on a solemn single note ringing across the hall. Brett finds himself drenched with sweat and catching his breath. When he looks across the stage, Eddy, too, is in a similar state.
And then their eyes meet.
Brett swallows a lump in his throat. Something is shifting. Something is there. He wants to look away but he can't, and this time it's not because his body doesn't allow him to. He just finds himself being absorbed in Eddy's gaze at him, and he wants more. He wants to know more about this and he just wants more.
Yet, his legs are planted to the floor as Eddy moves step by step towards him, foot by foot, the harsh way his heart beats in his chest starting to turn agonizing and painful. He knows what's going to happen. He knows where this leads to, and he finds himself almost impatient for it. But somehow he just doesn't have the strength to move any part of his body.
Eddy is mere inches away from him now, and Brett almost can't handle this. With what little strength he could muster, he manages to move his lips. "Just fucking kiss me."
And Eddy does, in one quick motion meeting his lips with Brett's, pressing and pushing as deep as possible. Brett places his free hand on Eddy's back, trying to get more, have more—
When Brett opens his eyes, it is dark. His body jolts forward, almost making him fall over from his standing position against the wall, and he realizes where he is—Eddy's apartment's parking lot, where he stood and connected with Eddy's dream.
He looks down at his hands, and there is a mark on the back of his right palm that wasn't there before, a mark that almost everyone around him has. A slash across his hand, at a first glance like a scar, but every wizard would know what it means.
The human got what he wanted, and he was launched out. Brett Yang has passed the magical trials.
But Brett doesn't like it. Heck, he fucking hates it.
When he came home that day, scar on the back of his right palm, his mother was so overjoyed she immediately began planning a family celebration for it. Brett gave her a wry smile and escaped immediately to his room. He's not happy. He doesn't like it.
In fact, it is currently said celebration, and he's still not happy.
"You don't seem happy," their family friend Syakirah says, approaching him with a glass of fruit punch. "Drink?" She asks, then lowers her voice. "I spiked it with vodka."
Normally, Brett would shake his head at Syakirah's antics, but this time he takes the punch without a word and downs it in one chug, the heat of the alcohol against his throat soothing his soul. "More please."
Syakirah takes Brett's glass, but doesn't move. "Brett. You okay?"
Brett meets Syakirah's concerned eyes, and the alcohol starting to pool in the bottom of his stomach is what makes him open his mouth. "I gotta tell you something."
And Brett does, telling her about the trial and how it ended.
"Bottom line is, I don't like it," Brett says. "I don't feel it's worth celebrating."
Syakirah nods. "No wonder why you needed that drink."
Brett answers with a chuckle, and is about to stand up to get another glass himself, but then Syakirah continues speaking. "But have you thought about why you don't like it?"
He looks again at her, piercingly, trying to coax whatever she's doing out of her. Syakirah answers with a shrug. "I'm just saying, maybe you can do something about it instead of just scowling like this."
And so this is Brett trying to do something about it instead of just scowling, because hell, maybe she's right. Brett doesn't usually think other people are right, especially when it comes to his personal shit, but maybe Syakirah is fucking right that he needs to figure this out or he just won't be able to live with it. Maybe. It's not like Brett knows any better about his own fucking feelings.
He wiggles his tail, back at the spot where it all began, right outside of a tall office building, impatiently waiting for the human to clock out of his job—should be any minute now. When the human does, all of his tall body and golden frame glasses in view, he enthusiastically meows. He didn't even intend to. It's just a knee-jerk reaction.
Eddy approaches him and squats down to pet his head. "Hey buddy," he says, the intentionally cute voice and pats to the head making Brett feel weird things. "You're here again."
Yes, I'm here again, I wonder why the fuck that is, Brett thinks. He now wishes he thought more thoroughly and drank the thought potion again to read Eddy's thoughts.
Eddy walks away then and that's when Brett notices that he's carrying a violin case with him. He follows the human from a distance, paw by paw, keeping a vigilant eye on the human's back.
Brett follows him to a shabby-looking building. A sign outside says "MUSIC ROOMS FOR RENT." Brett is impressed the human actually takes his violin dream seriously, going back to playing even to the point of renting music rooms. It fills him with a funny feeling, knowing that he played a hand in that, in Eddy's activities throughout his day.
No, seriously. A really funny feeling.
Brett seriously hates having to feel—sometimes he just wants to be an actual cat instead of a pretend one. He scratches his ear with his leg, hoping it'll magically turn him into an actual cat, even though he himself is a wizard and knows that it doesn't really work that way.
He expertly hops and parkours his way up the building, stopping at the second-floor window where—of course it has to be him—Eddy is playing. Brett recognizes the piece he's playing as the piece they played in that dream, the muffled melodies going up and down the way he remembers it when he played the duet with Eddy. He remembers his fingers sliding and vibrating, he remembers the—
Brett looks at Eddy through the window, his focused expression, his hands playing the violin. His movements are a lot rustier and less confident, unlike in the dream, but Brett could tell that Eddy is having a lot of fun playing.
He really did grant the human what he wanted, huh.
Including the—
Eddy looks just as dashing as he was in the dream, his fluffy locks puffing up, his posture perfect and elegant as he plays his violin, his lips glistening from being bitten through the nervousness of playing the violin once more—
Brett shakes his head violently, emitting a loud purr. Starting to feel embarrassed for watching a guy like this, like he's in fucking high school trailing a guy he has a crush on, he jumps and hops back to the ground and runs away on his four legs.
He is doomed. He is fucking doomed.
Wizards aren't prohibited from dating and marrying humans or anything—fuck, hasn't even officially met and Brett's already thinking of marriage?—Brett's own parents are a human and wizard couple themselves. It doesn't affect their lives whatsoever, same routines, same powers getting inherited, just maybe the fact that they need to hide anything magical in the house before inviting human friends over. Most wizards work alongside humans, their mission after being hunted in the past now being one to blend in with the masses and live as much as a normal life as possible.
Brett is fucking doomed not because he has a crush on a human, but he is fucking doomed because he has a crush, period. All his crushes in his life have gone terribly. Brett is just a big awkward bundle of meat and nerves when it comes to approaching his crushes, and surely this time it would be no different. Hell, perhaps it's even harder. How the fuck does he approach a complete total stranger like this? And a human to boot? Brett is fucking doomed.
"You're doomed," Syakirah's voice booms from the phone, and Brett really doesn't need this right now. Brett is about to hang up the call because he really, really doesn't need this right now, but he also needs advice.
"Can't you just give me advice?" asks Brett, hoping to get this over with.
"What advice? You think any of my relationships have worked out?"
"Fair point. But maybe you have something."
"And you're approaching a guy. It's not like I know how a guy thinks."
"Fair point. But maybe you have something."
"And this is a human, I've never—"
Brett presses the red button with red hot anger. It's so sad that he doesn't have helpful friends in a situation like this, but what could he do about it? Cry? Maybe. Maybe he'll cry. He's actually about to cry at this point, for real, genuinely, seriously.
The wizard sighs and prepares to head out yet again, grabbing his plain black T-shirt—it's symbolic—and he opens the door standing on two legs and leaves the house on four.
It's been about a week since the trials. Brett follows Eddy that day again, and only after several minutes does he notice that Eddy doesn't have his violin with him. He trails him to the subway and assumes his human form for a while to hop on Eddy's train, making sure to not miss Eddy's stop, and follows him again on his paws to—
The night life district. And when Eddy finally stops to enter a building, Brett looks up to find a sign with rainbows all over the logo.
Brett's tiny cat heart starts to beat faster in his tiny cat chest. This is his chance, right? People hit up strangers in gay clubs all the time. This is a perfect chance.
And it is exactly because it's the perfect chance that he's nervous out of his goddamn mind.
Brett finds a secluded spot to assume back his human form as well as do some breathing exercises—shut up, he needs this right now—before going back to finally enter the club. Brett is actually quite the clubber, especially in the wizard clubs scene, so he should be in the zone right now except for the fact that he isn't. He easily spots Eddy amidst the crowd, leaning back on a pillar and casually chugging down a bottle of beer. Brett thinks he needs a strong fucking drink before he does basically anything in this room, really, so he heads to the bartender to get a shot of whatever strong liquor is recommended today.
He's downing another shot of tequila when he hears someone plop in the seat next to him, and it's not who he wants it to be.
"Drinking alone?" this blonde guy starts to say, and Brett pays attention to him but also doesn't. He pays attention to him because he's thinking of a potentially very stupid "getting Eddy jealous" strategy, but he also doesn't pay attention because this strategy is potentially very stupid. He turns to the bartender instead to get another shot, because clearly his brain is still too foggy for this. The guy stops him then, says "I got you," and orders him a drink.
"Thanks," Brett says. He maybe should have turned it down if he wants to get away from this guy, but it's too late now. Guess he's going with the "get Eddy jealous" strategy after all. He takes a quick glance back at the crowd to see if he is within Eddy's vision in order for this strategy to actually be viable, but he doesn't spot Eddy at his previous spot.
Maybe he moved somewhere?
Brett shifts his position so that his back is facing the bar and gets a better look at the crowd, half paying attention to what the guy is asking him, but he doesn't see that familiar tall figure anywhere. Strange. He keeps scanning the crowd while giving half-assed answers. He knows he probably is looking like a dick to this guy who bought him a drink, but he kind of doesn't care right now.
Where is he...
"...so I've never seen you around in the town's gay sce—hey!"
When Brett turns his head around, the blonde guy is in confrontation with someone else to his side.
"What the fuck is this, huh?" This other guy says, and once the blonde guy stands up to clear Brett's obstructed vision, he sees that it's someone way too familiar to Brett.
It's him. It's Eddy. And in his hand is a very suspicious-looking packet.
"Give that back!" The guy yells, and Brett thanks the gods that Eddy's there and that this blonde guy is stupid enough to cause a scene. The bartender immediately takes notice and calls security to handle the rest. Once security has the guy with them, Eddy immediately goes to Brett. "Are you feeling okay? Did you drink anything the guy gave you?"
Brett is almost too busy getting overwhelmed by 1) the situation 2) Eddy's eyes 3) Eddy's hair 4) Eddy's voice 5) Eddy, to answer properly.
"I'm fine, don't worry. Didn't drink anything after he sat down. Thank you so much, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there."
"No problem at all. Are you with anyone?"
"No, sadly," Brett answers with a chuckle.
"Then I'll stay here to keep an eye out on you."
Brett's chest starts to actually hurt at this point. "You don't have to. Don't stop having fun because of me."
Eddy lets out a small laugh, oh God. "Nah, I'm alone as well and I'm just here to chill, so don't worry."
Brett nods then, thankful his small effort of courtesy didn't actually drive the violinist away. "Thanks a lot. I owe you one."
Eddy starts his small talk then, and Brett hears about everything that he already knows about Eddy—that his name is Eddy, that he works a boring 9 to 5, that he plays the violin. Brett gives vague answers just like he always does with humans, can't share anything magical, although this time the temptation to share everything about his life is so very real. He shares that he is also a musician making beats in his bedroom, which Eddy finds cool.
Despite the flowing conversation, though, something seems to be bothering Eddy. Brett was going to chalk it up to the events that happened earlier, but it all becomes apparent when Eddy then says, "Say, have we met somewhere?"
Brett is about to go into panic mode thinking something had gone wrong, but of course, it's possible Eddy still remembers the dream, although maybe just vaguely. "I don't think so," Brett lies. "Why?"
"Nothing. I thought I've seen you before. Maybe passed by you at the local gay spots."
"Yeah, maybe," Brett says.
Awkward silence. Eddy orders another drink, and this time Brett stops him. "Since I owe you one, can I buy you a drink?"
Eddy answers with a smile. "I'm down. Thanks a lot."
"I should be saying that," Brett says.
Another awkward silence washes over them as they wait for Eddy's drink. Brett is thinking that it is his chance. Do it. Do it, Brett. Do it.
"Hey—"
"Here you go, rum and coke on the rocks," the bartender says, and shit.
"Thank you," Eddy says curtly, then turns to Brett. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
"Nothing," Brett says instead, and curses himself under his breath. He actually wants to curse himself, if it wouldn't make Eddy panic instead. Or he could maybe just disappear. Teleport back home like nothing happened. Or choke on this drink right here. Do it the old-fashioned way. Whatever.
After around another hour of hanging out and doing more small talk, Eddy then gets on his two feet. Brett starts to panic at this point. Is he really just this bad when it comes to romance? How hard is it to ask Eddy out? They've been talking for a while, surely—
"Hey, I gotta go for now," Eddy says, and Brett nearly bites his own tongue to bleed. "Um—"
Eddy rummages around his pouch and produces a small notebook and a pen. He rips a scrap and scribbles something on it before handing it to Brett. "Here's my number," Eddy says. "Can you let me know once you're home safe? I'll probably overthink about it."
Brett looks at it, at that small scrap of paper, and he's pretty sure he could cry. His heart is beating so fast it's reaching presto. "Will do. Thanks a lot, again."
"Yeah, no problem. I'll see you around." Eddy turns on his heel and leaves with a wave.
What Brett doesn't notice is how Eddy's ears are tomato red as he left, and what Brett doesn't know is how Eddy almost got a noise complaint from whooping around his room with joy when he receives a text from Brett that night.
epilogue
"Sounds good!" Brett says, and Eddy lets out a sigh in the recording booth. "All done now."
Eddy exits the booth with a skip in his step. He sets his violin down in one of the sofas and immediately goes to let himself fall over onto Brett's sitting back, messily half-hugging him from behind. "Finally. I'm so tired."
"I told you you should've had a guest violinist for this one. It is a duet."
"And I told you, you should magic yourself so you have violin skills and duet with me. Everybody's happy."
"And I told you, it doesn't work like that, you idiot." Brett knocks on Eddy's head in the crook of his neck, prompting a small "ow" from the taller. With a chuckle, Brett caresses the spot he knocked and kisses it.
It has been about a year since Eddy met Brett at that bar, and by now Eddy has known all about it. All the magic stuff, how Brett entered his dream, how they played a duet there, and how the dream ended. And it is this same duet that he has been recording for the past few days—the duet that he wrote way back in the day. He's recording it to be released as one of Brett's singles, to restart his violinist career.
"Enter my dream again then and take a mic with you, maybe we can record while we're there."
"You're a dumbass," Brett says with a laugh. "Why do you really not want a violinist to record this with?"
Eddy knows the reason, he's just always been too shy to admit it whenever Brett asked in the past. But this time, with the recording done and how tired he is, he let himself put his guard down.
"Because the first time I played it was as a duet with you. I want this to also just be a duet with you."
"But I'm not dueting with you?"
"You are," Eddy says, and buries his head deeper into Brett's neck in embarrassment. "You're the producer. This is our piece. Our track."
Brett doesn't say anything for five seconds. "Can you say something, please?" Eddy says, not being able to take one second longer. "What are you thinking of? It's cheesy isn't it. I'm cheesy as fuck. Don't judge me."
Brett lets out a loud cackle at that. "It's just—I should have known, with the way your magical trial went."
"Shut the fuck up," Eddy says, letting go of Brett. "I hate you."
Brett, still cackling, turns his chair around and pulls Eddy back by the wrist. Eddy looks at him pointedly before sighing and sitting on Brett's lap, straddling him with his thighs. "How much longer are you going to keep teasing me about how my lonely ass had desires for dueting with and kissing another man?" Eddy asks.
"Oh, you poor man." Brett smiles and lands a peck on Eddy's lips. "Years and years."