We don't want to label it

XXI

"Hey. You okay?"
Brett's face, around the door, and Eddy almost visibly relaxes. He's been on edge all day, all through Prok rehearsals, this time with the soloist, who is great. All through the early evening of him, on his own, practising and editing. Not a word from Tory. 
"Um. Yeah."
"Eddy." Brett sits down next to him, his face serious. "What the hell is going on? What happened last night?"
"Nothing."
He can't tell him that, even though he can already feel his cheeks start to burn again. He can't. No way. There are certain lines you just don't cross. But Brett's eyes probe his and a hand goes on his thigh. 
"The hell nothing. Did you have good sex, at least?"
"No." The word is out before he can stop it, and he sounds way more petulant than he wants. 
"Huh? She didn't want to?"

Fuck it, why does Brett know him so well? Why are his eyes open, and understanding, even though he can't possibly know why yet? It must be the eyes, because the words bubble up in him like bile and he knows he could still tell him to leave it alone and he would but...
"I couldn't, alright?" he almost yells.
Brett stills beside him, clearly taken aback. Silence descends loudly around them and it's like a dagger to the chest. Eddy cringes into the couch. See? He is going to mock him too. Oh, God, he can feel the laughter coming and then...
"Eddy. You... couldn't? That's what you're worried about? Bro, come on! Name me one guy that's never happened to."
"Me." he retorts instantly as relief washes over him. Because he can see it in Brett's eyes, hear it in his sincere tone, there's no mocking. Fuck. There's ... understanding. Eddy's heart softens and calms. He takes a deep breath, then another as the shame swims through his stomach.
"Um." he manages then. "It... hm. It hadn't happened to me. Before. Jesus, Brett, I wasn't drunk, which I know is what you're talking about, no, come on. A pretty girl like that, standing in front of you in black lace. And nothing? What the hell?"
"A girl who called your mum on you." Brett retorts in a harsh tone Eddy has almost never heard him use. "Eddy. You can't discount that. You're not a machine."
"I wasn't sick." Eddy admits despite everything he'd been planning all day not to say. Because now he's said it, he has to say it all. Lay all the humiliation in front of him, see what he does with it. But Brett just smiles.
"Well, I'm really glad about that . Because I need your head in the game. Hey. You good?"
"And I woke up... well, you know. Like normal." Eddy adds as his cheeks burn off his face. Brett grins.
"You did, did you? Eddy, don't you see? It was just what had happened. Nothing's broken about you. I mean... I love you for being so forgiving but it's not weird that that had an impact."

They are quiet for long minutes as Brett's words sink in. Could it be that he's right? Being hard is something he's always counted on. Something that's never failed him. Okay, so what she did was a dick move but was that really enough to break that? And how can he now trust it again?
"Um. You think?" he whispers at last.
"I know." 
And he means it, Eddy can see that. He takes another big breath, because something that's been wound tight is relaxing inside of him, something unexpected that he didn't know had been with him all day. Probably just because he woke up like that and he could do nothing about it because Tory was right there and he wasn't about to risk trying anything with her. The shards of dreams are suddenly playing in his head again now. God, he was turned on, and it's like somebody has flipped a switch and all those feelings are flooding back. 
A hand, around him. 
Brett's eyes in front of him are round, and large, and floaty like they get when he really means what he's about to say. When it's just them.
"Hey. You frustrated now?"
How does he know? Has he seen what's happening in Eddy's jeans, suddenly at amazing pace now that he's said that? 
"Maybe." he admits.