Straight

XIX

Oh, this feeling. It's the best feeling in the world, this satedness, his love fulfilled for just a moment. He knows the pain that is waiting for him outside of this bubble, but is it so wrong to stay in it for as long as he can? 
He's already made his decisions, right? 
He rewinds the film until the point they stopped watching, sits, and basks in the afterglow. The backs of their hands touch as they rest on the couch again. Brett savours the touch, laps it up, stores it safely away. His face is calm, but his heart sings. 

Too soon the film is over, the credits roll, and Eddy springs up like he's been waiting for it. 
"Mind if I take a shower?" he asks, already starting to walk that way.
"No, 'course. Go ahead." 
"Thanks."
Within two seconds he is gone and Brett is left blinking at the closed door, trying his hardest not to start crying. What the hell is going on? He couldn't get away from him fast enough? The room around him feels empty, achingly lonely, like Eddy took all of the glow with him when he left, and the pain is already starting to lap up at him at the sides. He tries to breathe deeply, to calm himself down, to go back to the happy place he was in just a moment ago. Why does he feel like he'll miss Eddy so much? He'll still be there, right? Nothing will have changed from the way it was just a week ago. He could deal then, he can deal again. 

It takes a long time for Eddy to come back, too long, and eventually Brett gets up and starts pacing the room. What can he possibly be doing in there? Did he need a massive shit, or something? Or is he sick? He's not left, has he? 
He would check, but he knows he can't. Guys don't check on guys in the bathroom. 
Is he wanking? Surely not, so quickly after what they did during the film? He wanders around his room, puts some stuff back in its place mechanically, wipes off a bit of dust from his shelf, tries to stop himself from going stir crazy. 
He has just decided to sit back down when Eddy comes in at last, looking awful. He is only in a towel around his waist, but his eyes look so hollow, his cheeks so pale that there's no space for seeing his beauty, not when he's like this.
"You okay?" he asks urgently as Eddy starts hurriedly putting on his bedclothes.
"Yeah, fine. I'm just really tired. Mind if we turn in? Not too early for you?"
Eddy is lying, he is definitely not okay, he can see that clear as day, but fuck it sideways... he's obviously not wanting to tell him what's wrong. And he can't make him. So Brett bites his lip and says the only acceptable thing in the situation.
"No, of course not. I'll just brush my teeth, okay?"

He rushes to the bathroom. It doesn't smell like Eddy's taken a shit, or been sick. It just smells of his lavender and lemon shower gel, that lives there on the ledge with his own soap and shampoo. He glares at his reflection in the mirror as he tries not to picture Eddy washing himself with it, and brushes his teeth as quickly as he can. 
Eddy is already quietly lying in the bed when he walks back in, and Brett has no idea what to do, what to say. Where to put himself. How to fix everything again. So he just slides under the covers next to him without a word, and waits to see if he talks. 
He doesn't.
They lie in silence for a minute. What does Eddy need from him? Brett's head is reeling with it all, until he does the only thing he can think of to do. He leaves the choice to Eddy, by moving just a little bit, until he is partly on his half. Two seconds later Eddy turns on his left side, and puts his arm around his torso.
"Good night." he whispers.
"Good night, Eddy." Brett manages. 

Oh, Eddy's arm around him feels so warm, so safe, so heavenly. His hand, resting on his own hands, fits so perfectly. And Brett knows it's only the second time that they've slept like this, but it feels like it's been forever. How did they use to sleep side by side, never touching? How did he live without this touch? 
He would stay awake all night, just to feel it, just to store it in the vault of his heart beside all the other memories of the night. But the warmth pulls him under, relaxes him, and after just a few moments he's drifting off to sleep.