We don't want to label it

XLV

"You up?"
Brett's voice floats into his consciousness from the door. Eddy opens his eyes and tries to focus on him, but he's already turning back to the living room.
"Yeah." he grunts and swings his legs over the side of the bed so he won't fall back to sleep. His whole body feels tired and heavy, overly warm, like he's moving through wallpaper paste. He knows why, of course. This is the first full night's sleep he's had in like two weeks. Of course he'll be knackered. 
He also knows what will help, even though right now he feels like it's the last thing he wants to do in the world. 
Running. 
He gets up and pulls on some shorts and a t shirt, then goes to find Brett. 

"Hey. How long have you been up for?"
Brett is in the kitchen, pouring some coffee into a mug, probably for him. Eddy smiles and takes it once Brett holds it out. 
"Nine. Don't start." he quips and Eddy laughs. 
"Wouldn't dream of starting. You've eaten?"
"Nah. Didn't want to before running. Wanna head out in a minute?"
"Absolutely. Wanna go have breakfast at that little place after?"
Wait. What's that shimmer, in Brett's eyes? Almost like he twinkles? Either way he nods and Eddy knows he likes the idea. As he should. Look, they may have gone out to the bar a couple of times this week but that's really all the free time they've had, so it's high time they relax a little. And they're making some money now, right?  They can afford a couple of breakfasts?

The metres pound away under his feet and he can already feel the blood pumping, dissolving the wallpaper paste with something much more fluid, much more vibrant. Brett's breath is coming fast beside him, because his natural pace is always just a little slower than his own. Shorter legs. 
He also knows he doesn't care, he's strong like that. Still, Eddy slows down a little to a half jog so Brett can catch his breath. 
There's no need to talk as the sun starts beating down on them, a slight breeze flowing past his bare arms, his feet hitting the pavement in common time. Left, right, left, right, and nothing is worth thinking about. 
Not today. 
He did check his phone, before they left. No word from Tory. 
Is he ever going to hear from her again?
Does he want to?
He shakes his head and speeds up a little again because he needs the effort. His forehead is wet now and he knows stains will be spreading under his armpits, he can feel hundreds of small beads gathering in the small of his back. Let them. Let him sweat out this week and all its stress. Today is a new day, after all, with new things. 
Very new things. 
They come to a stop at the same time. There is the little cafe they both like, about five kilometres into the circle they always run, half a kilometre away from the lure of Eddy's apartment, and it's a great place to sit, have an omelette, drink some good coffee. 
They also have an outdoor patio, which is the only place they could possibly sit down now, all sweaty from their run. Brett plops down on a chair in the corner by one of the small, faux wooden tables, his chest rising and falling violently, his breath still halfway on the route, out to be caught. He looks good though, even all sweaty like this. 
So good. 
"You order." Brett huffs. "Jeez. You were going fifty miles an hour today."
"Fifty, huh?" Eddy grins. "I should join the Olympics, apparently. Fine, I'll go order if you can't hack the pace. Omelette, flat white?"
"Yeah." 
Not that he really needs to ask. What else is he going to order? 

Brett seems deep in thought when he comes back, order duly in. He sits down opposite him and shoots him question marks. 
"What's up?"
Brett shrugs. 
"Did you hear from Tory?"
Eddy can't help it, he knows his face falls. He can also see the corresponding reaction in Brett, he can see him backtrack already. 
"No." he says quickly, before he starts feeling bad, before he loses this moment. "Um. I don't know, Brett. I have to mull too, I guess."
Is that a slight smile, on the face he knows so well, but is seeing so differently these last few days? Oh, he looks great like this, his forehead still wet, his chest still rising and falling with slowing breaths, his skin radiant in the late morning sun.  
"Sure thing. Alright. Let's talk about this afternoon, with... Janice." A slight flush creeps over Brett's face as he pronounces her name. "Wow. Still can't believe it. But we'd better be prepared."
"Okay, so let's prepare."