Eddy. Eddy Chen.
His name brings a smile to Brett Yang's face every single time. It looks like sheet music splayed out on a desk by a sunlit window. It tastes like bubble tea pearls. It sounds like Sibelius 1st movement. It smells like vanilla and honey and morning coffees. It feels like the entire world.
When Brett was a child, his mother would tell him, "The Earth is everyone's world. One day you'll find someone who's your world and your world only. Someone you can talk to the stars about—someone who'll talk to the stars about you."
And he lets that concept stick, but for now, he shares his world with millions of other people.
He's 14 when he first takes a seat next to Eddy at math tutoring; a 13-year-old boy sitting in the second row. He had a mullet haircut back then, Brett remembers, and he was fingering a piece on his wrist.
"Do you play violin?" Brett asks, starting it all, binding them together side-by-side for their whole lives, unknown to both at the time.
Next day, they run into eachother again at youth orchestra, and just like that, their friendship forms a seal of diamond; unbreakable.
They strayed from their thought-to-be inevitable med career paths together to pursue music. They studied at music con and played in orchestra together, their shenanigans to become stories to tell to their future fans.
Years later, they'd set out on a mission to make classical music relevant to the modern world. They toured the world and brought their personalities to the stage lights.
It's been seven years of them content-creating together about the thing they love the most, the thing that bonded them together in the first place, reaching and surpassing milestones together, gathering an incredible community of musicians and non-musicians alike.
And notice the word together.
It depends on the way one decides to take the word together in the context of Twoset; it could mean how they've been side by side for more than half their lives now, how it's always has been and always will be Twoset Violin and never Oneset Violin.
Or, one could choose to understand it as them being in a secret relationship behind the scenes, and one would be surprised at how many choose to believe it as Option B.
These are the thoughts that scramble unhinged through Brett's brain as he looks at a reddit post that suggests so with Eddy, his best friend, nothing more, thank you very much.
But what do you say when you and the person you're most comfortable with suddenly lapse into awkward silence when someone suggests that you and them are more than friends?
You make a joke that's attributed to your YouTube channel, of course. And so Brett saves them that way.
"Yes, gotta practice. Are you practicing? No, you're not! So practice—when this video finishes." He does a small head bow. "Thank you."
And they move on, but Eddy's still tense and quiet next to him. Brett chooses a post by a talented tuba player to view next, to get Eddy back to his usual spirit.
He wouldn't feel that way towards Eddy in a million years. They're friends, nothing more.
• • •
Brett can read anyone like a book. Especially Eddy.
Sure, they have conversations alone together where they share their deepest secrets and vulnerabilities with eachother like it's no big deal; we're talking Brett Yang and Eddy Chen here, an unbreakable bond ongoing for the last decade and a half.
They tell eachother almost everything, that is. Not necessarily everything, as Brett has gathered over the past few days.
Eddy's been acting completely off lately. Brett can't quite place a finger on it; Eddy hasn't said anything to him about it just yet. Of course, he could just be overthinking things and nothing's wrong with Eddy after all.
For the time being, though, Brett's left to wander aimlessly in the shadowed territories of unenlightenment.
Brett respects Eddy's privacy, yes, but he's been down like this longer than he's been down for in the past, and it's getting to Brett, really. So it doesn't hurt to check in, Brett figures.
Right?
Brett knocks three times before opening his door, peering in through the edge. "Eddy?"
Eddy's lounging on his bed, back against the headboard, an inscrutable expression on his face that Brett assumes is hiding the Shostakovich symphony beneath. The chilling melody of Sibelius violin concerto, the opening of the first movement, wafts from his phone.
He doesn't need to hide his emotions. He doesn't need to suffer unaided. They tell eachother everything for the sole purpose of knowing eachother like the backs of their own hands, so they can help eachother out, don't they?
Eddy glances up from his phone upon hearing Brett's voice, and promptly readjusts his position so he's sitting upright. He sets his phone down. "Oh hey, bro."
An uncomfortable silence fills the gap between his words and Brett's next words. They've never had to go through uncomfortable silences together, and to Brett, it's quite an odd feeling, around Eddy especially.
"What's going on?" Brett sits down next to Eddy at the foot of the bed.
"What d'you mean, 'what's going on?'" Eddy acknowledges, then draws back. "Sorry, that came out more aggressive than intended."
"Nah, it's alright." Brett waves it off, then restates. "What's going on? You haven't been acting your usual self lately."
"Apologies, I forgot to tell you the pitch of the microwave timer earlier today," Eddy replies sarcastically, and Brett rolls his eyes.
"Really though, I'm fine," he continues.
To Brett, though, his head sagging and his toes scrunching up are a dead giveaway.
(He can read anyone like a book. Especially Eddy.)
The silence alone that follows tells Brett everything that Eddy's not saying.
"It's the shippers, isn't it?" Brett proposes. "That reddit post?"
Eddy flicks his gaze up, and their eyes lock, perhaps for a moment too long. And it abruptly hits him, how close together they're actually sitting, face to face, no less. Brett could've leaned clos—peered straight through him, had they not directed their gazes elsewhere awkwardly.
Whoa, hold on a moment, where'd the 'leaned closer' thought come from?
"Don't let it bother you, dude," Brett says after a few moments. He claps Eddy's shoulder. "You know we're just friends, right?"
Eddy looks up again, an unreadable look in his eyes. But he smiles, seemingly tight, Brett observes, though he chooses not to let on this time. "Yeah. Just friends."
Brett smiles back, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Eddy for a comforting bro hug. He seems to take it the wrong way, though.
Eddy jolts away hastily, startling himself as much as he startles Brett. They sit in shocked silence for a while. It takes an eternity for them both to regain their footing. All the while, Eddy avoids his gaze.
Why the hell? "Eddy, you alright?" Brett asks.
"Yeah." Eddy answers as he recovers, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'm alright, bro. Sorry 'bout that."
The fact that the tips of his ears are reddening and he's scratching the back of his neck immediately shouts to Brett that no, he's not good.
They sit through yet another painfully awkward silence, trying to concentrate on the melody of Sibelius and not on the other person adjacent to them.
Brett's the first to stand up after a few minutes. "I'll go prepare dinner." He pauses, his hand on the door handle. "You coming?"
"Be there in a sec," Eddy mumbles as Brett nods and retreats from the room.
Brett hasn't even shut the door completely when he hears Eddy call. "The microwave beeps in F, by the way!"
Despite the sky-high tension between them less than thirty seconds ago, Brett can't help but laugh.
Still though, as he prepares dinner in silence, as he thinks of Eddy's inner dilemma, the way he reacted to his perfectly platonic hug, that odd tension between them, taking it all into account, he can't help but wonder.
How does Eddy Chen truly see Brett Yang?
And is he truly ready for the possibe answer that's currently nagging at the back of his brain?