Minor Changes

Chapter Four

Brett looked up from wiping spilled traces of dinner off the counter.

"And you already changed your flight?" He blinked.

"Yeah," said Eddy. "I leave tomorrow morning. It'll be good. A couple of applicants are able to meet with me the day after I get out of quarantine." He put his index finger to his front teeth and bit lightly, as he always did when feeling uncertain.

Brett ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, but won't it mess up our recording schedule if I quarantine after you? I don't see why we don't just go together like we planned."

They had been looking forward to spending some time with the Two Set team in Singapore for months, and had kept their flight reservations despite relatively stringent travel guidelines.

"Look, I shifted two of the backlogged episodes into the upload schedule, so we're actually fine," Eddy said, pulling up the detailed calendar on his phone. 

"Besides, if you stay, you can rest up; see your parents," Eddy suggested. 

 Brett cocked his head skeptically.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see the family. Rest up."

Eddy walked down the hall and opened his suitcase, idly folding clothes and then taking them out and rearranging them.

Brett immersed himself in reading through applications while listening to Ravel: Music for Two Pianos.

After a while, Eddy rolled his suitcase into the hall and parked it by the front door. He strapped his violin case to his back. The evening sky changed from gold to pink out the window. Brett paused the music.

"Come look at this harpist's profile," he said. Eddy stood by the table and leaned over the screen with his hand next to the keyboard. Out of his periphery, Brett noticed the veins in his friend's forearm, which had developed quite a bit since he started exercising daily, but kept his eyes trained forward.

"She's legit," Eddy said, after scrolling through the details and photos, pretending not to notice that she was a total knockout.

"I'll schedule an interview," said Brett.

Eddy nodded and scratched the back of his head.

"I guess I'll head to my sister's place then," he said. "It's closer to the airport anyway."

"Alright, bro. I'll see you in a couple of weeks," said Brett, who pushed out his chair and walked to the kitchen. 

"Travel safe."

"Right. See you in a few," Eddy repeated. He lingered in the doorway, scanning his surroundings as though he was committing them to memory. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he silently rolled his suitcase out the door.

Brett yawned. His head was aching. He wandered into the bathroom and swallowed an ibuprofen. His mind conjured an image of Eddy sifting through profiles of Two Set Apparel applicants, each lovelier than the next. He imagined him calling and chatting, possibly flirting with the most "qualified" ones. 

Even though he knew Eddy would keep everything strictly professional, he also knew he had a weakness for those types. Women tended to swarm Eddy, but Brett knew that behind his swagger, he was a little afraid of them, and he looked after his friend like an older brother would. He bailed him out when his cringy pickup lines left him awkwardly twiddling his thumbs.

Sometimes it was refreshing to see Eddy put on an outgoing façade. He presented himself as cool, confident, and intellectual. Just underneath, however, was the other Eddy—the one who, as a teenager, had studied until his eyes wouldn't stay open; who had given himself over to the violin while staying at the top of his class; and had become a competitive tennis and soccer player in his "spare time". When Eddy decided to do something, he agonized over it until it was perfect. 

At the con, he had worked so hard that he'd bottomed out in a complete physiological and psychological collapse; unable to practice and bound to a wheelchair for months. Brett was thankful to have been there to bring the levity his friend had needed during those shadowed days. He had stayed beside him and made him smile again, see blue skies again.

He bent over the sink and splashed cold water over his face. Since dreaming about Eddy's touch on his hands, he couldn't stop thinking about how he would respond if Eddy actually touched him like that. Not like when they goofed around in front of the camera. Or like when they performed sharing one violin, which was intense in its own way. 

No, physical closeness outside of the public eye would be a different animal altogether. He looked up at his blurry reflection and resolved to not to let his mind wander there. There was just too much at stake.