Fantasia

All the things he said

"I experimented a little today with asparagus and soy sauce," Brett hurriedly pushed a lunch box into Eddy's arm. "There is a custard pudding I packed separately for a dessert. Make sure you finish it and let me know if you liked it, ok?"

"Brett, you didn't need to-"

Before Eddy could finish his sentence, Brett was already running to his violin classes in a dash. This has been going on for weeks now; Brett shoving boxes of homemade food into Eddy's hand and running away before Eddy could protest. Not that Eddy didn't enjoy the food. It was the exact opposite. Brett's food was one of the few things Eddy could tolerate. The man knew exactly what Eddy liked from childhood, his personal safe foods that he didn't share with anyone.

"That was Brett Yang, wasn't it?" Aaron glanced at Eddy suspiciously. "Is there something going on between you two?"

"Of course not," Eddy shook his head.

Of course not. As creepy as it is, Eddy was eating so that they don't have to meet in his dreams anymore. Several nights, Eddy did end up in the gingerbread house once again, but he never once touched the house for binge eating. Eddy only went inside the cookie house to retrieve the chocolate violin that he could play in his dreams for comfort.

Brett didn't enter the gingerbread house at all after their first meeting although he did whine before that it was boring in the forest. However, Eddy knew the phantom was listening on his thorn branches whenever Eddy started playing the violin. The forest bent and swerved when the music flowed from his violin and beyond the thorns and the leaves, Eddy could sometimes make out the faded silhouette of a dark cloak and a silver mask, staring at him.

"Maybe he likes you," Aaron snickered. "Careful though, I heard he is a player."

Of course not, Eddy knew better. It was just a bloody coincidence, an unfortunate series of events that led to these weird dynamics.

"Shut up," Eddy grumbled.

***

Maybe Aaron was right. The part that Brett Yang was a player.

It was the end of the mid-exam season. All the violin performance majors have gathered up in the college commons for celebration, and the instant Eddy walked up to the party, his eyes landed on Brett Yang surrounded by a huge crowd of people. Even in the dim lights, Eddy could make out the flirtatious motions directed toward the young Tchaikovksy - the touch of the arm, a little flick of a hair strand, a pat on the shoulder.

Understandable, Brett Yang was the rising star, the known prodigy of the city. Not to mention the guy was not bad looking. The man probably needed more advice on fashion but that was an easy fix. When Eddy took a couch in the corner, Brett's eyes flickered toward Eddy for a second but they immediately resumed toward bouts of laughter and conversations boiling in the middle.

I mean, what did he expect? Brett Yang telling the world that their dreams are connected and that he is babysitting Eddy Chen the entire time?

Eddy sipped a glass of water, searching for familiar faces in neon party lights. Everything was too loud, too dark. Suddenly, a brunette girl slid next to Eddy with glasses of drinks.

"You won second place in the competition, right?" A girl chattered excitedly. "I saw your performance the other day. I actually couldn't decide who was best, you or Brett Yang."

"Thanks, that was very nice of you to say," Eddy nodded stiffly, smelling the breath of alcohol on his neck.

The smell of vodka made his stomach spin. He remembered the days when he came back from school, there would be strewn bottles of vodkas rolling on the floor. His father will lazily rise from the couches, mumbling something incoherent like - "It was for inspiration," or "Life is too difficult, Eddy. Too difficult." The empty bottles increased in numbers closer to the dates when his father decided that enough was enough.