Broken String

CX

The alarm clock shrills through the silence and Eddy's eyes fly open. The deep, blissful peace he's been in all night breaks into a thousand shards and they seem to fly away one by one, taunting him as they giggle themselves out of the window like a flock of sequins.
Oh, crap. It's Monday. The whole 'is he going to the con? Am I going to the con? Am I going to be alone?' dance starts again. And as if that wasn't enough the feeling hits him. 
Oh, crap. Crap, crap. They must have fallen right asleep after... that. 
Oh, that.
He is disgusting, all sticky and crusty. He'll need a wash, or a shower. 
Oh, crap. 
He'll have to ask Brett, who also needs to leave. Soon. 
Brett wakes up with a sharp intake of breath and rolls over to turn the alarm off. He seems to shudder slightly and he gets up in one movement. 
"Um, hey." he says. He's naked, still, but Eddy doesn't dare look down. He's sure Brett doesn't want him to, not with the way he himself is feeling. Brett can't be any better. 
"Hey." Eddy makes himself say. 
He doesn't want to talk, he wants to hide under the quilt, he doesn't want to ask for help, but then he needs to know. 
Oh, crap. Was that too much? Too close? Too much like talking, maybe? 
Something flickers in Brett's eyes and he turns around like lightning. 
"Um. Imma take a super quick shower. Okay?"
He's already grabbing his boxer shorts from the bed, dragging them on and leaving, even before Eddy says yes, of course.
Why are tears threatening so soon? It was too much, right? Too much... romance, too much... sex.
Oh, God, the sex. 
Is he already over him? Has he had enough? Was that it? This most perfect of nights and they've crushed and burned already? The chasm from the other night opens up in front of him in its full glory and Eddy knows he can't ask him for help.
Not now. 

He rolls over in the bed and grabs for the kitchen roll on his night stand as the silence resounds through the room. There is a glass of water that has been there for at least three days. It doesn't matter. He dips the kitchen roll square into water and tries to clean himself up as best he can. 
Four crumpled up squares dropped by the side of the bed later and it will have to do. He finds and pulls up his own underwear and waits for Brett. He'll see what he's done, of course, he'll know where the squares have come from, but there's nothing he can do about that. 

He is just debating trying to get himself into the chair when Brett walks back in. He's got a towel around his waist and Eddy can't help himself, his eyes glide over him. Once white towel washed too many times, soft, luscious belly, and he knows how his skin feels now. Chiselled chest, with just a few stray hairs growing just above his nipples. And his face, his face...
Shit. He looks terrible. Wait. Has he been crying?
"You okay?" he asks instantly. 
"Yeah, fine." Brett tells him in his neutral tone.
No, fuck, please, not your neutral tone. You use that tone with everyone when you don't want them to see what you really mean. Not with me. Please, Brett.
Please.  
Eddy looks down and says nothing. 
"Do you... do you need any help?"
He sees Brett's eyes flick to the tissues beside the bed. Eddy shrugs. 
"Just... in the chair? Maybe?"
Brett nods as he moves over to the tissues, picks them up and throws them in the waste paper basket.  
"Um. I have violin lesson. Do you want me to cancel?"
A thousand daggers, a million bullets, a billion fists wouldn't get Eddy to the point where he'd keep Brett in the house. 
"No, I can text my sister. She's around, I'm sure she'll come. And if not I'll be fine as well."
"Text her first." Brett says, almost harshly. Eddy shrinks away as he takes his arm and swings himself into the chair. He blinks away the tears, for now, and takes the phone Brett hands him, typing quickly. 
"Will she be up?"
Eddy shrugs.
"Of course. She'll be up and she'll have been for a ten K run."
A slight, slight smile on Brett's closed, closed face. Where is the face he saw last night, contorted in pleasure?
Is it gone for good? Is the chasm going to swallow him already?
How will he survive?

She texts back within the minute, saying she'll be there in an hour.
"See? It's fine." he tells Brett, showing him the text. 
He nods, then turns around and gathers Eddy's clothes.