Broken String

C

The tongue whirrs and whirrs, forcing him back into the machine, no matter how hard he thrashes against his restraints. 
"No!" he screams past shame, past social mores, past civility. "Brett! I want Brett!"
The gnomes are hammering all around him, they've come from the desert, they're coming for him now, digging for their gold, digging for him. The bands that have him tied to the tongue cut his ankle, his wrist, his stomach, but he's stuck, completely surrendered. He looks up at the camera in the roof right above his head, way too close. The nurse's leering face stares back at him, laughing, laughing. 
"You weak boy." she gloats. "You weak, pathetic little boy, who can't even take a simple procedure. You think someone is coming to help you? You think Brett wants anything to do with someone like you anyway?"
Eddy screams again as the gnomes come closer, surely they've almost got him now, they'll be coming to take their prize, they're already here...
And Brett is nowhere to be seen. 

"Eddy. Jesus. Eddy."
The voice comes through the clattering and his eyes fly open. 
"No!" he whispers feebly. "No!"
"I'm here. I'm here. You're safe. Hey. You're safe."
"No." he breathes again as he flings himself forward into Brett's arms, his face finding its place to nestle once more, his heaving chest against Brett's calm one. Brett hums and pulls him in, his left leg floating on top of Eddy's right leg like it's the most natural thing in the world, keeping him grounded, pulling him back from the brink of madness and onto safer ground.
"This not sore?" he breathes. Eddy shakes his head against Brett's t-shirt and chin. 
"What happened in the nightmare?" Brett asks him once he can hold on to his sanity. Gently.  Sonorously. Lovingly. 
Eddy takes a deep breath, then another. Wisps of gnomes are still in the room, he can feel them, the faint sting of hammering still in the air, but he's coming back to earth now, his heart is calming and his breathing slows. 
It was just a nightmare, just a stupid, stupid nightmare. 
"It was nothing." he whispers. "Just about the stupid tube. I don't know why it's got to me so much. I'm so sorry I woke you up."
Brett hums quietly. His thumb does that stroking thing again. Up, down. Up, and down. How could he even begin to tell him what that movement means to him? 
"Okay. So you don't have to worry about it, yeah? You're safe now. You can just sleep."
He nods and snuggles into him as much as he can, so he can allow Brett's gentle breaths to take him away to that place he knows and loves where there is nothing but relaxation, and peace. And a thumb, which gently rubs him, and a leg, which holds him in place. He sighs and closes his eyes. 
 
He's almost gone, in fact, when he feels it and in an instant his closed eyes fly open again and his heart starts beating erratically. 
Wait. Is that? Oh, fuck, it must be. Something is growing against his lower belly and he feels Brett shift slightly away from him. 
Oh my God. Wait. He is... whoa. But why is he shifting? He is... is he shy? No, no, he can't let him be shy. He lifts his head and smiles at him in the dim light from the streetlamp far underneath his open window, mixing mid-air with the moon's silver shine that floats in from above.
"Um." Brett hums. He is looking down, away...
Awkward. He's looking awkward.
Has he ever seen Brett look awkward before?
Eddy smiles again, he hopes sweetly, encouragingly, and he's moving forward, so his lips are right by Brett's, the movement a question, an invite. Brett's eyes are on him now, sober, infinitely wide.
"You're sure you're okay?" he breathes.
Eddy nods as Brett moves towards him.