counterpoint

[nsfw] see the sunrise and your sins (just me and you)

blurb: when eddy comes for him, it's late at night. the whole world is asleep, dead to the knowledge that a wanted man has just scaled his way up brett's apartment building, has reached the windowsill of 23b without any apparent assistance, like a ghost.

→ criminal!eddy x artist!brett; late night visit

warnings: nsfw content

title from dusk till dawn by zayn ft. sia.

• • •

when eddy comes for him, it's late at night. the whole world is asleep, dead to the knowledge that a wanted man has just scaled his way up brett's apartment building, has reached the windowsill of 23b without any apparent assistance, like a ghost.

considering the circumstances, perhaps he is.

brett awakens to the soft tap-tap-tap of finger against glass, and when he finally manages to wipe the sleep away from his eyes, he sees him. and his lungs suddenly refuse to take in air.

"eddy?" he breathes the name, a little afraid to speak it lest this is all just a torturous dream, but then the man by the window steps forward into the faint light of the streetlamps, and there. there is the man he loves. there is the man with blood on his hands just to keep brett safe.

"brett."

all at once, it becomes all too much. brett sways forward, helplessly drawn to eddy's presence, and eddy catches him, hands on both shoulders. they're warm. they're the first touch of human brett's had in weeks, and it had been very easy to make that conscious choice.

it had to be eddy or no one at all.

brett's brain finally kicks into overdrive, and he glares at eddy: a poorly-made mask of annoyance to hide the growing worry in his stomach. "what the fuck are you doing here? they're going to—"

"i just wanted to see you," eddy retorts, lips pressed firm, determined. "know you're safe, after. after everything." he doesn't explain; he doesn't really need to. they both know what had happened all those weeks ago. what had forced them apart. "know that you're okay."

"i'm not okay, you bastard." brett thumps him on the arm, not too hard but forceful all the same. "i miss you. fuck, i miss you." he means to impress it into eddy's skin, eddy's very being: the weight of all this time spent alone. "i—i can't do this without you."

but eddy is just as obstinate, shaking his head vehemently at the words. "of course you can, brett; you're stronger than i am, you always have been, and i—"

"no, i can't," brett says decidedly, and then kisses him.

it's just as marvellous as the thousand other times they've done it: that afternoon after eddy had taught brett how to shoot a gun, that morning after brett had painted eddy for the very first time, the day eddy had showed brett all of his scars, the day brett had told eddy he'd marry him if he'd asked, all those moments in the city streets and the nightclubs and the ordinary days in between, the fateful night of the murder.

suddenly, inexplicably—brett begins to weep.

"brett," eddy chokes, panicked, taking brett's face between his palms. "i'm so sorry, god, i'm—"

"i don't want your apologies," brett growls, cutting that down by the roots before it has the chance to grow, "nor do i need them. i just—just kiss me. please."