(love)birds of a feather

chapter eleven

He didn't want to see fake appreciation. He wanted to see that beautiful smile. He wanted to see those gorgeous eyes light up the way they do whenever he's overjoyed.

And thank the deities above, because that's entirely what Eddy saw.

A faint intake of breath as Eddy looked on, as Brett's eyes finally shifted to the presents on the table.

And truth be told, Eddy saw the Northern Lights in all its enthralling beauty, saw a heavenly phenomenon—he saw those gorgeous eyes light up like a million stars. He saw that endearing smile unfurl and glow like the moon.

He'd been worrying, truth be told, over whether or not Brett would appreciate the gifts; but one look at his eyes, his smile, was enough for Eddy's shoulders to lighten, for him to smile and think, it's okay. Mission accomplished.

And as filming progressed, as Brett opened the gifts, Eddy wanted nothing but to melt into the total gratitude radiating from Brett, honeyed with cherishing tenderness; he wanted nothing but to be singed by the warm "thank you's" that laced his words.

The embrace they had shared once the camera was off, the fleeting, jittery warmth as Brett threw his arms around his neck, holding on unyieldingly tight. As his clearer-than-day words, "you're amazing, y'know that?" floated like a gentle breeze, a soft whisper in Eddy's ears, and freed a hundred more butterflies from their cages within him.

They often say the best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.

Brett Yang, you make me feel that most beautiful thing in this world; love. You drown me in relentless waves of it, and I willingly submerge myself beneath.

The waves crash over him, stronger than ever as he plays through the solo part from Mendelssohn violin concerto second movement, taking a short break from practicing Sibelius.

The first few lines; a phrase that sounds like falling in love. A phrase he fills to the brim with soft breezes, with comfort.

He wonders vaguely if Brett can hear him from his bedroom as he plays on.

♡ ♡ ♡

So this is what it's like to be in love with one's best friend.

It certainly is a Mendelssohn violin concerto second movement; it's beautiful, it's exhilarating—doves flitting about in flocks every time he thought of him, heart blossoming at every glance whilst pounding at their accidental little touches.

Brett's senses take in every inch of Eddy every time. They hear the sweet melody of his laugh, see his adorable smile, his beautiful eyes. They notice his kindness, his intelligence, his personality. There's no flaws in sight for miles.

To think Eddy has thought this way of him for the longest time—with pure love, all without seeing the flaws that Brett himself knows he has—is just so beautiful. Brett's in awe at the exhilarating entirety of it all; how has he not fallen yet, beneath the weight of such love?

And then there's also that deep longing to be close to Eddy—that yearning to be on the receiving end of loving solace in his arms, as he desperately hides the random urges to pull him down and kiss him breathless.

It's definitely not something he'd used to want with his best friend, and so that part of being in love took him by surprise, Brett admits.

Yet he can't help but want the physical closeness, with every day that passes, wanting them to fall in love together, not in their own separate silences like that of right now.