Broken String

CXXIV

I kinda like it. 
The soft words Brett spoke don't leave Eddy alone all afternoon, and they are still with him now, now that Brett is pushing him towards the restaurant he has no idea they're visiting yet. Eddy called them, when Brett was taking a shower. It felt ridiculously stupid and awkward to do so but they're reserved, at least. Okay, so maybe hotpot isn't quite as romantic as tiramisu? But isn't it more about the company anyway? 
I kinda like it. 
Why does it mean so much to Eddy that he said that? The words have warmed something inside of him he didn't know was cold, erased a guilt he hadn't known he felt. The pavement calmly slides past under the wheels of his chair as he thinks back on the restaurant, the other day. Brett didn't care then that the waiter saw them hold hands. 
Surely, then? Surely?
"Where are we heading?" Brett's soft voice asks.
"Oh, left here." Eddy replies. He's checked Google maps more times than is sane, he knows where they're headed like no one ever did before. "It should be just at the end there on the right."

He recognises the front of the restaurant from fifty metres away. He's seen the pictures of course, online. 
"In here." he manages as the last metres of pavement slide past faster than they should. His heart pounds, because will Brett even like it? Isn't it stupid, to eat Chinese food like they always do? At least Lily wasn't exaggerating, he sees as Brett rolls him in, because the tiny restaurant really looks lovely. Red, of course, inside, with white satin draping off the tables. Dragons frolic in shades of blue and gold on one wall, chasing each other freely like they haven't a care in the world. 
Which Eddy guesses they don't, being mythological and all. 
There's no wheelchairs in mythology, as far as he's ever been told. 
The waiter approaches and looks expectantly at Brett. Eddy clears his throat and speaks up in Mandarin. 
"Hello, I booked a table for two? Name of Chen?"
One fraction of a second, and the waiter recovers and looks down at him. 
"Of course. Follow me. Will you be able to get through with the chair?"
Eddy smiles. 
"It should be just fine. Brett here has become a pro at pushing recently."
Where is this ease coming from? When has he ever bantered with a waiter before? It has the desired effect, though, because the man smiles slightly and bows his head. 
"Very good. I'll give you the table by the window."
"Thank you very much."

Brett sits down opposite him once he's been manoeuvred into the corner and eyes him in wonder. 
"Nicely done." he states with a hint of surprise as he smooths the napkin in front of him with his hands.
"Um. Thanks. I guess I was fed up with them talking about me as if I wasn't in the room."
A slight, kind smile.
"Good for you, Eddy."
And it would be a platitude, coming from anyone else. It's not, from Brett. It's a quiet celebration, in fact. 
"So, hotpot?"
Eddy smiles.
"I hope that's not too unoriginal."
"Seriously? I care about whether it's original? You know it's my favourite food in the world, yeah?"

Eddy smiles away his relief and settles a bit deeper into his corner. He can easily see through the window to the street outside from here. Cars and pedestrians float by calmly each at their own pace and the sun is thinking about setting. He almost startles when something pushes gently against his foot.
Wait, is that Brett's foot? Wait. His feet aren't on the floor, so he must have...
He must have raised it on purpose. His eyes open wide and he looks across the table into Brett's slight grin, a cheeky raise of the eyebrows. Another brow wiggle and Brett looks around himself.
"I like it here. How did you even find this place?"
Eddy shrugs. 
"Lily. I'm pretty sure she was here with someone she's not told me anything about."
"Oh?" Eyebrows shooting up again, but this time in genuine surprise.
"Yeah. Imma call her tomorrow or something and torture the truth out of her."
Brett laughs loudly.
"Torture? You and whose army? I've met Lily, you know."
"You're right." Eddy laughs. "Maybe I should ask nicely instead."
"You may get a lot further that way, yeah."
God, he wishes he could take his shoe off because Brett's foot is still there, resting on the foot rest beside his own. This is no accident, clearly. He smiles at him and deliberately moves his sneaker against Brett's. Something floods him hard, sitting here like this with this beautiful, beautiful man. He loves him, with all his heart, he knows now. He'll always love him. His hand moves over the table and his thumb rubs subtly against Brett's, easily fitting together just like their feet are. A soft, gentle smile answers him.