Minor Changes

Chapter Five

"Destroy these immediately," with an emoji that resembled Edvard Munch's The Scream. 

Brett picked up photo of he and Eddy holding their violins, dressed in outlandishly bright colors and leaning against each other. He looked at it for a moment before carefully placing it in the folder with his sheet music.

When the plane touched down in Singapore, an unexpected sigh of relief escaped from his lungs. It had been pleasant to see his family, but he hadn't quite realized how life-giving it would be to have eight hours of air travel stretching between them. 

He quietly gave thanks for two whole weeks to catch up on movies he had been dying to watch, and while he was sure he would miss being around people, especially Eddy, he needed—deep in his bones—to get some sleep. 

***

The dining scene in Singapore was opening up, to some degree. Eddy invited a few Two Set team members meet at a restaurant. It felt lively and hopeful and bustling to be around friends for the first time in many months. The silverware clinked and a chintzy pop song was playing through the speakers.

He remembered the song from their first world tour, at a nightclub in Berlin. He had squeezed Brett's arm and pulled him aside. 

"Bro, we've got to be up so fucking early tomorrow," he'd said.

His tipsy friend had brushed him off, insisting that they stay out for "just another half hour." He ought to have known better—the half hour turned into four hours, and he finally gave up and took an Über back to the hotel while Brett animatedly entertained a flock of adoring girls and a couple of cute guys to boot.

In the clean and quiet of their room, he had fallen asleep. When  Brett had finally banged through the door, he'd rolled to face the wall. Brett had collapsed into the other bed without even taking his shoes off.

"Eddy," he'd said sloppily, flopping onto his side to face him. "I love going out. But I love coming back to our room. It's like our own private island." 

Even though Brett was clearly intoxicated, his words had reached a place that was very quiet and untouched inside of Eddy. 

Yes, he'd thought to himself. That is exactly what it is like.

***

After discussing the business side of things, the team fell off into casual conversation and dessert. Throughout the meal, their video editor had intermittently glanced over at Eddy. While her resting face was typically cool and aloof, she seemed agitated that night, and when she looked at him her eyes squinted as though she were interpreting an Ikea instruction manual. 

When the server came, everyone started clearing out and picking up their things, leaving Eddy with the check and his last few bites of dessert. He looked up from his last bite, which teetered halfway between the plate and his mouth, to see their editor approaching. She asked what he planned on doing for the rest of the evening. He brought the fork to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"I'm pretty beat," he replied, placing the fork down next to the plate. "I'll probably just crash out to Netflix." 

She eyed him carefully.

"It's too bad Brett's not here," she said.

"We do have lives apart from each other," Eddy replied curtly.

She gave a very slow, very emphatic nod, which was the long-handed form of an eye roll.

"Eddy. Why don't you just tell him how you really feel?" She popped an after-dinner mint into her mouth. "He deserves to know."

Eddy suddenly felt very small, like an insect under a microscope. She tended to have that effect on people. He bobbled for a split second before regaining his composure.

"It's really none of your business," he clipped.

She shrugged.

He thought he heard her cluck the word morons between her teeth as she left.

***

He walked all the way back to the flat, letting the heavy night air wrap itself around him like a damp towel. When he got there, he poured a generous glass of wine. He stared out the open window for a long time just listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. 

Who did she think she was, anyway, dropping a bomb like that? And in public, no less. What she had done was both presumptuous and wildly inappropriate. He should probably fire her. But her risk had taken courage, and he respected that. 

Not to mention she was right.

The wine was starting to go to his head. He found a notepad and ripped out a page. He thought it would be painful, but the words flowed out as effortlessly as wine from the bottle.

Brett. I came to you for friendship. I found love. 

You are everything to me. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out.

Yours, Eddy

When he read it back, he felt childish and nostalgic. He crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket. He sat up for another hour, emptying his glass and pouring another, until his eyes grew heavy.