We don't want to label it

XXXVII

What the hell is he supposed to say to that? No? I mean... even apart from the obvious pain he's in, and how much a rub would help, it would also hurt Brett's feelings if he says no. 
Hurting Brett's feelings is about the last thing Eddy wants to do in the world even if he's really not sure if intimacy is the best thing right now, not with so many unknowns swarming through his system. So he smiles and nods, turns the fire off and walks over as he pulls his shirt off. 
"Thanks." he says. 
"Yeah, sure. Just sit down in front of me."
He does, crossing his legs on the floor between Brett's knees and he groans as he feels his strong, long fingers attacking the knot in his shoulder like he's done this all his life. 
"Ah! Yes, just there."
God, this is good. Only just the right side of painful the fingers work him like he's a ball of dough. Brett finds the spot, just above his shoulder blade, and digs down into it. 
Good, too good. Eddy blinks quickly as some parts of him start thinking about responding. 
Usually it wouldn't matter. 
Today, suddenly it does. So he blinks again and thinks about the concert tonight, about how yesterday went, how long the applause went on because the soloist really is one of the best. It'll be like that again tonight, surely, and he can live it vicariously with them, sharing the same stage anyway even though he never reached the heights he hoped to. 
Could he reach those heights a different way, one day? Maybe?
He shakes his head softly to rid himself of that particular thought because he knows that one will lead to spiralling. God, is there anything safe left to think about? But he's got a few hours off once Brett goes, at least. He'll have some space, maybe to get his head back in order. 
"Better?"
"Yes." He scrapes his throat and scrambles to his feet quickly. Too quickly, he knows. 
Danger, there's danger, because he can't show... space. Space. He promised himself he was going to give him space, which doesn't involve spouting any of this shit going through his mind. God, he feels like his head will explode. 
"Thanks, Brett." he manages to say like it's nothing at all. He moves his head from side to side again. "That's so much better."
"Yeah, of course." Brett mumbles. He is up too, walking towards the bedroom and studio even though Eddy has no idea why. "Imma just quickly answer some e-mails." he calls over his shoulder. "Call me when breakfast is done, wench? I need to leave in like twenty."
It only takes Eddy a fraction of a second to recover. 
"Yeah, yeah. I'll do it as payback for the rub." he calls back. Then he walks into the kitchen and for a moment he leans on the cool, stone surface. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's in so much trouble and he needs... 
He needs to talk to someone or he won't have a single hope of getting through this day without exploding. His phone is already in his hands and after a beat he calls his best girlfriend, Lily. She answers after two rings. 
"Eddy! Hey!"
"Lils. Um. Sorry to bother. Um. I was wondering, do you have half an hour?"
"What, like now?" her gentle, melodious voice comes down the line and takes him all the way back to high school, when they were young and so innocent. When he didn't have any worries, really, he just thought he did. 
"Um, like, half an hour or so?"
"Half an hour in half an hour?" she giggles. "Sure. I'll put Edlyn to bed first though. Forty five minutes, okay?"
He sighs in relief as he lights the fire under the pan at last. Lily will have advice, surely. And maybe he'll get a moment to see her little girl, Edlyn, his Goddaughter who he hasn't seen for way too long. 
"That sounds great. See you soon."