Broken String

CXIV

Is he home? Eddy's heart beats faster and faster the closer they get to the apartment building. Will he be home? There's a chance, he knows that. He hasn't texted anymore, even though Eddy's checked his phone more times than is reasonable throughout the film. 
It wasn't like it was a good film, anyway. 
He hates the phone, by now, for being stubbornly silent. Does it mean Brett is still in rehearsal, running freakishly late? 
Eddy knows he's being too quiet, even though this is his sister and she knows him. He should at least be trying to make pleasant conversation but he can't, he can't. He sees the building and his heart is in his throat. 
Which Brett is he going to get, if he's even home? The weird one, from this morning? Or the sweet one, from the messages?
I'm so sorry, I handled that badly, he said. 
Surely then...
Surely?

The lift seems to take a year, today. He avoids looking in the big mirror, because he knows what he would see, and he doesn't need that. He doesn't even need to see his sister's worried eyes behind him. She knows, of course she does. Why else would she be putting her small hand on his shoulder, just as the lift finally pings? 
"It'll be fine, little bro." she whispers as she pulls him back and starts towards the door. 

A swarm of butterflies. A world, an ocean, a universe, a galaxy full of butterflies, but not all the good kind. They pervade the space and him as Brett pulls the door open and eyes him. 
Oh. 
He's looking... shit, he's looking terrible. And radiant. And terrible. What the hell?
"You okay?" he asks, because what's happening? Is he sick? 
Brett's eyes flit from him, to his sister, back to him, back to her. 
And he gets it. 
"Oh. Um. She um... she knows." he admits quickly. "She saw the second she walked in and she... well, she kind of guessed. I hope that's okay."  
Brett seems to take a huge, relieved breath and he's almost jumping forward and his arms are thrown around Eddy, pulling him in tight.
"Eddy..." he whispers hoarsely. "God. Eddy." 
He pulls the chair so he's in the apartment and before Eddy knows it Brett's lips are on his. Not for long, but enough so he can feel his...
Wow. So he can feel his need. 
"A-are... are you okay?" he stammers. 
Brett nods. 
"I am now."
He clears his throat and looks up at Eddy's sister.
"Do you mind if I just steal him for one second?" he says, instantly pleasant, instantly normal the way only Brett can be when on the inside he's obviously in a storm he hides. She giggles. 
Wait. Since when does his sister giggle? He has no space to wonder about that, though, because he can't keep his eyes off Brett's pale, pale face. 
"I can do you one better, I need to get going. Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Eddy. You two... I mean, have fun? I guess?"

He's too involved with Brett's face to even respond to the jibe. Plus he's way too grateful to her, anyway. 
"Thanks so much, sis. Will I see you before you leave?"
"Absolutely. We'll app. Bye!"
Eddy doesn't even turn around. Her light footsteps vanish down the stairs and Brett moves quickly. Eddy had thought the couch, but no, Brett is pushing him to the bedroom at speed. He closes the door behind them both and holds out his hand for him to swing himself on the end of the bed. Once he sits he's beside him and his arm goes around him again.
Keeping him safe. 
"Eddy, please tell me you're okay. I was an arsehole. I didn't mean to, but I was."
Eddy looks to his side, his pale, earnest face, and he knows he was wrong about which Brett he was going to get. 
Not distant Brett, not romantic Brett. No, this is one he's very rarely seen. 
Vulnerable Brett. 
"I am okay, I am." he says quietly. "Trust me. But Bretty..."
He pauses for a long moment. He knows what they've agreed, and he's sticking to that. But surely, just a little bit of talking is okay?

"Will you explain to me what happened?"