Work Text:
He’s in the middle of deciding how to respond when Eddy decides, apropos of nothing, that they should go out for bowling.
At one in the morning, mind you.
“It’s not too late,” he reasons unreasonably, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a whine, in deference to the thin walls of the hotel as previously discovered yesterday in a standoff with housekeeping and Passacaglia, “and there’s, like, three bowling alleys that close really late, at 3 or 4 AM, says Google Maps. C’mon, let’s go.”
Brett glances at his lock screen. “It’s 1 AM, hey.”
“Yeah.” Eddy blinks at him. “And there’s three bowling alleys that close at 3. Or 4.” And that’s all he has to say on the subject, with or without pending approval, apparently, because the leather jacket’s already halfway over his shoulders.
As far as insomnia-fueled misadventures go, this is a tame one. Brett of all people would know. It’s not the reason why he drags himself out of the crisp, warm embrace of the duvet and into his sneakers and out the door, but it helps take his mind off the niggling thought that the lifelong dream Alan’s thinking of is, if he’s being honest, the wrong one.
Here’s the thing about a world tour: it involves the world, obviously, or at the very least a list of cities they’ve been able to meet their fans and perform shows. Exciting, is what it is. Exhilarating. Exhausting, sure, but that comes with the territory, and with a larger team behind them, the load’s easier to carry this time. It’s the stuff of dreams, the product of hard work and sacrifice spanning years and years, but it’s more than that.
Somewhere in his chest is a fourteen year old kid eternally longing for adventure. He had pinned a world map to his bedroom wall, just below the framed certificates and that one embarrassing photo of him smiling toothily while knee-deep in a mud puddle at age six. Amidst fledgling schemes to forge a path as a soloist someday, he had also promised himself that, as an adult standing on his own two feet, he would find as many opportunities for adventure as he could, anywhere. Could be everywhere, even, if he planned his future accordingly. Sights and wonders he would otherwise never see stuck at a dental clinic in Brisbane, music in his ears and his beloved violin always at hand. It’s a dream he could build a life upon. It's a dream he has since attained.
But also.
Somewhere in his chest is a fourteen year old kid eternally meeting Eddy Chen for the first time. And, well, no other adventure’s topped it since.
So a world tour is incredible in every aspect imaginable, especially in the adventure-seeking, dream-achieving department. Best of all, it leads to scenarios like this: sitting on a plush barstool in a bowling alley on the Lower East Side, nursing a craft beer as his best friend stares blankly up at the flickering light of the scoreboard.
"How in the fuck is that possible?"
There's far more tiny Xs on Brett's side of the board. He can't help the smugness coloring his tone. “I went bowling a few times with Oliver before we left. Might be the slight edge I have over you.”
“Slight?”
Brett shrugs. "He was a good teacher."
Mindful of the mug in his hand, Eddy playfully mimes throttling him. Eventually, the hand at his neck softens, travels elsewhere, and stays there. It’s probably a little pathetic that the alcohol-induced warmth has nothing on the one near his shoulder blade, but whatever. Brett reaches up to pat at the hand before suggesting, lightly: “You want two out of three?”
Eddy springs to life at that, predictably. “You’re on. Prepare to be demolished.”
“Like how I wasn’t last time we played Smash Bros?”
“Because you cheated. You tickled me.” Eddy pokes at him, gentle enough to convey he doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying, fucking softie. “Cheater.”
“If you say so,” Brett singsongs. “Go on, loser resets the pins.”
Eddy peels off him with a grumble, snatching a stray bite of pizza off their shared plate before strolling over to the pinsetter. He doesn’t take the warmth away with him or something cheesy like that. It doesn’t leave because he’s always there, always within reach — which sounds equally cheesy, shit. But it’s true.
Which is to say that, really, he’s already achieved his lifelong dream, which is to be with Eddy anywhere, everywhere, and whenever he wants, which is pretty much always. Even to fucking bowling alleys at godforsaken hours in the morning, so.
He sends his reply in the family group chat, adds an emoji he rarely uses just to fuck with Alan, and downs the last of his beer to go kick Eddy's ass at bowling again. As one does.