(love)birds of a feather

chapter twelve

Sure, he's overthinking, and sure, he's definitely more extroverted than Eddy, but Brett just doesn't think he has the guts to say it first.

Besides, is he even sure Eddy loves him in that way? Or, if he confessed, would his heart just be stamped flat beneath a pulverizing fist?

Unbelievable, Yang, Brett thinks to himself. You have the guts to pull Eddy back for him to sleep in your embrace, but you don't think you can say three words? Not to mention you're now second-guessing yourself after a looong while of knowing Eddy's in love with you?

But that's another factor of love, isn't it? It's beautiful but destroying, with tons of confusion, overthinking, and second-guessing oneself.

That's love, I guess.

But Brett can't help but admit, he couldn't help but feel aflutter as Eddy's hands found his waist—it felt so much more different than the hug they shared on Christmas, when Eddy's arms were wrapped around his waist. No, this was on a much deeper level, so beautifully different.

He couldn't help but feel aflutter as Eddy moved closer, couldn't help his anticipation for what would come next, once the already small distance between them closed.

Because what would've happened, had Ray not walked in at that exact second, had Eddy just moved just a tiny bit closer, had Eddy's lips touched his?

That would've changed everything.

Because Eddy loves him, and he loves Eddy.

♡ ♡ ♡

Eddy's heart is still stubborn, unyielding, unattached a great distance from his brain. Because that's love, right?

So—well. He's still in love with him. With someone he'll, for sure now, never have.

God, why does he still love him? Does he still freaking think he has a chance, even after Brett brought the blade down onto Eddy's strings of love that tied him to the other, tied in a way completely against everything the universe has scrawled in the stars above?

He has to stop—this is getting in the way of their friendship. And so, every day since, he's been on his knees begging to his own heart, tears obscuring vision and drying on cheeks.

Stop. This is hurting both of us. This can't go on anymore. Just—stop. Please. Stop.

Love is a war—very easy to begin but hard to stop. A war that his heart refuses to admit defeat to, even after clear evidence that every corner of the universe is poised against it. And so, he's still in love with him.

Didn't you freaking hear him? It didn't mean anything. We're just friends. He'll never look at me the way I want him to. That's the truth I've always had to face in the end.

♡ ♡ ♡

"Maybe we should talk about it after all."

It's Brett who finally decides to give voice to this taboo topic that's leaving them both picking absently at their dinner plates, as the classic awkward silence weighs down the air on their shoulders.

"I know you know, Eddy. We both know we nearly kissed a few days ago."

Oh, freaking hell. It was inevitable—this was bound to come up at some point, wasn't it?

For the first time since they sat down, Eddy timidly glances up and meets Brett's gaze. "I know, Brett, I know."

"You know, hey?" Brett pushes forth unyieldingly. "We both know we're just friends but we nearly did anyways?"

And Brett's pulled yet another "we're just friends" card. How many of those does he have in his hand? "Look, I don't know how that happened. I was trying to stop you from tickling me and then—well—"

Brett glares, a look that Eddy never thought he'd be on the receiving end of. "And now we're having the time of our lives arguing here because of unresolved tension on our shoulders?"

"Goddammit, Brett, if you're so afraid to say the truth directly, then I'll say it," Eddy says. He takes off his glasses in feigned exasperation, but really, he can't say any of this and have a goddamn staring contest with Brett. "We're not just friends and you freaking know it. We both know it."

And well, that's another truth. They'll never be together, and they're not just friends—who said the two truths can't coexist?

And the silence that follows his words, follows the truth—it's changing something. It definitely is changing something, if not it had already changed. It prompts Eddy to push his glasses back on and look up again.

And he knows, there's something inscrutable going on behind those gorgeous eyes, something the silence has power over, something the silence is choosing to change yet again. God, if only he knew what.

Brett laughs softly, but it's not a genuine one, nor is it one of happiness. There's—Eddy dares say—laces of tiredness, even sarcasm, outlining it? "I think we've both known that for a long time now, haven't we?"

"I mean, best friends don't react to hugs the way I did, do they?" Eddy's voice is slowly forming a sharp edge; the little section of his brain that rarely comes into action, the section jam-packed with unbridled, unreasonable rage, is taking over. And that's dangerous. "They don't struggle to make eye contact with them, do they?"

He's greeted with a pin-drop silence from Brett's end, a silence that lasts for eons before Brett speaks.

"I guess—they don't, but I—but..."

Even more silence as Brett's sentence quivers and dies away. God, what did he even overreact for? He knows Brett hates seeing him angry; although it rarely ever happens, it always hurts something within Brett. Get a grip, Eddy Chen.

"I don't want to argue with you, Eddy," Brett says finally, voice almost strangled. "I want to talk this through with you. Because this whole ordeal is getting in the way of us."

Eddy has to say, he's right. He really is right. Eddy gets up and stalks over to the other side of the table. He bends down and throws his arms around Brett's neck, face buried in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for losing myself there, Brett." God, even he himself can't tell if he means when he raised his voice just now, or when he'd almost kissed Brett earlier then. "This whole thing is so goddamn stupid."

He feels the gentle weight of arms wrapping around him in turn. "I forgive you, Eddy." Brett chuckles, for real this time. "And yeah, this is pretty stupid, no kidding." And straight back to serious mode, "but I don't think we can just forget that ever happened, can we?"

"I think I've forgotten enough concerto movements already, thanks." Eddy grins, pulling back and walking over to the couch. "But I guess—we'll just have to deal with it, hey?"

"Yeah." Another infamous glint of cheekiness in Brett's eyes and smile uncloaks itself. "And you don't have to apologize. It's my fault for being so damn gorgeous." He wiggles his eyebrows. "You couldn't resist me, hey?"

Brett freaking Yang—in a feeble attempt to hide the growing flush on his face, Eddy grabs the nearest couch cushion and hurls it at Brett, who's scrambling away whilst howling with unrestrained laugher, the sweet melody drifting in the now-blithe atmosphere.

They'll never be together in the way Eddy wants them to be, but they have this. And this is better than anything else.

But even still—

We're not just friends and you freaking know it. We both know it.

I think we've both known that for a long time now, haven't we?

Does that mean nothing, like their almost-kiss, something Eddy's just overthinking—

Or does it mean everything, like their almost-kiss, a love so obvious yet so ignored?