It's just on the brink of sickening, how much he loves him; albeit in silence, compressed into a bottle ready and waiting to explode.
A glowing abundance of a violinist's prowess, of beauty, of sparkles in gorgeous eyes. Of a soft-melodied voice. Of all the beautiful little and big things in the world.
All Eddy wants is his lips pressed against his. All he wants is for their hands to be laced together. All he wants is for them both to be in eachother's arms.
All he wants is him. Only him.
If I was your love, I'd give you the softest of kisses and gifts and spoil you so bad. I'd hold you tightly in my arms every night. I'd tell the stars about you. I'd love you to the moon and back, with every beat of my heart.
Brett Yang, you have me at the point where I'll leave the entire world behind, just for you.
Because what is love without a little madness?
♡ ♡ ♡
If one were to retrace their steps all the way back to months before, they'd remember.
"We should make a violin version."
"Brett needs to blind-date eleven hot steamy violinists! They can be young, old, men or women, doesn't matter—as long as they play a stringed instrument!"
"On the next episode—"
Another unwitting promise, an abundance of moments to the collection of videos said promises have produced over the years.
Famous last words, as one might say. And so, months later, here they are.
Why did either of them agree to this again?
♡ ♡ ♡
Before Brett can undergo this situation Eddy's gotten him into, though, there's more pressing matters in front of them that need to be addressed.
"Brett, are you sure you're okay to film? If you need rest, get some rest." Eddy puts a hand on his shoulder. "Health before channel."
Brett's been falling sick, heading to the hospital quite a few times over the last few months, some trips resulting in his and Eddy's separate quarantining. Which sucked, since, of course, neither can function without the other.
Brett needs rest, every part of his body's screaming so, but he's willing to push through, and so— "It's alright. I'll manage."
"Are you sure? We can move filming to another day. Get some rest." Eddy says, reaching over and adjusting Brett's jacket collar.
"Really, Eddy, I'm okay to film." Brett replies, trying not to focus on the hands occasionally making warm contact against his skin in mere brushes.
"If you say so." Eddy lets his hands fall, albeit concern still tightening his features. "But if you do need some time off, feel free to."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Eddy." A smile spreads on his face. "You're lucky I'm nice enough not to fake sickness to get out of the blind-dating thing."
"You wouldn't."
"But I would. I probably should, actually, but I won't."
♡ ♡ ♡
And so, Brett's standing on one side of a large white screen, eleven musicians lined up on the other side, hidden from his view. Him and Eddy are both explaining the video to the camera.
"—Yes, and I'll pick—"
Brett makes the mistake of looking over at Eddy. They make eye contact, and Brett knows straight away; there's something going on behind those currently inscrutable eyes.
And trust his brain to push forward the most random, most out-of-the-blue thoughts, romantic in character, despite consciousness of the fact that Eddy Chen is his best friend, nothing more—
He picks him.
Wait. What?
Brett averts his gaze and directs it elsewhere instead. Not in love with him, not in love with him, not in love with him. He regains his footing. "—one out of those two. Alright!" Brett claps his hands. "Round one!"
♡ ♡ ♡
All the while, Eddy's taking his leisure behind the camera, laughing over how he made Brett do this alone, joking at Brett's indecisiveness, observing as Brett evaluates each musician's playing.
Deep down, though, is a different story.
He'd refuse to admit it out loud, but Eddy can't help but be just a teeny bit jealous.
Fine. Very jealous.
As each musician steps up to play their instrument, to have a conversation with Brett, Eddy wishes he was there in that line. That Brett would just turn his back to the whole blind dating thing altogether and run straight into his arms.
Not gonna happen, Eddy Chen. You aren't in a goddamn movie. Snap out of it.
Jealousy is wanting something—someone, in Eddy's case, that isn't yours. Being territorial is protecting something—someone, in Eddy's case, that's already yours.
How he wishes this was him being territorial.
The person you choose will be so lucky.
♡ ♡ ♡
As Eddy laughs over this situation he's gotten Brett into, Brett can help but soften inside at how jubilant Eddy looks, how his laughter rings through the room and how his smile brings out the sunlight.
He catches his gaze wandering over to him ever so often, despite however much he's trying to focus on the blind-dating.
And Brett can't help but notice, Eddy is as good-looking as most people perceive him; thoughts along those lines run free in his head amidst the small glances, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. But if he's really trying, that's the question.
I'm just trying to see if he's hanging in there, he tells himself with every look.
Because he hasn't forgotten the events up to this minute. He hasn't forgotten the fact that his best friend may or may not be in love with him, his certainty of it growing day by day.
Because he doesn't want to unwittingly break his best friend's heart, whether or not Brett himself feels the same.
Because, theoretically speaking, he wouldn't want to actually date any of the musicians on the other side of the screen.
Because the universe might just be setting him aside for someone else.
Someone possibly right in front of him, yet so invisible all the same in the romance circle.
But for now, he is so coming after Eddy for making him do this.
♡ ♡ ♡
The way Brett asks the question, albeit staring at him, Eddy, is almost enough to make him shiver, under both the gaze and the question.
"If you see someone you like and the only way to get them to have any attraction to you is to sing, and you only have one shot at it, what would you pick? What piece—what song?"
Eddy knows perfectly well what he'd play—and for whom.
He'd play the Tchaikovsky violin concerto, his love's most favorite piece, a piece that wrings out so many emotions from the notes alone—passion, joy, mourning, so many unnamed.
He'd nail every measure of all three movements, every single aspect, musical and technical, and he'd win him over, easy.
And for whom? Well—that's obvious.
If only it were that easy; if only it were like that in reality.
♡ ♡ ♡
"Are you more of an LA person or a Miami person?"
He was neither, Eddy knows perfectly well. He was a practicing Navarra next to a sunlit window in Australia with his best friend type of person.
For heaven's sake, Eddy Chen, stop sulking.
"Mmm... neither," Brett says, laughs.
See?
And so, after another million years wasted thanks to Brett's indecisiveness, Brett chooses between the last two standing; Likie, an Erhu player, and Syakirah, a singer. And Brett decides on Likie.
I feel you, Syakirah. I know how it feels to be overlooked by one of the most beautiful souls to ever grace this Earth. You seem to be handling it a lot better, though, so props to you for that.
Brett walks over to the other side of the screen, for a (very awkward) meeting with Likie.
As Eddy watches and laughs with them, he can't help but feel a bit more put-off than earlier. As to why, he has no idea; Brett was bound to pick one in the end, Eddy knew, and besides, only a YouTube video, only a YouTube video, only a YouTube video.
So why did he feel so down?
♡ ♡ ♡
As if the universe and the deities in the stars didn't think Eddy was put off enough by the whole Brett-blind-dating episode, Brett's gone out with Likie, just one sort-of trial date to get to know her a bit better, aside from the conversation in the video.
Just a trial date, just a trial date, just a trial date, Eddy keeps telling himself.
Brett's out probably having the time of his life. Eddy, here, has never thought of the walls of their shared apartment more confining as they are now, as he watches violin masterclasses on YouTube. Other than that, it's just pure silence.
Don't forget, you were the one who made him do the video, Eddy Chen. Get a grip.
He hears keys jingling outside, the door hinges squeaking.
"Hey Eddy, I'm back!" That beautiful voice calls out to him as its tenfold-beautiful owner walks into the room.
Eddy closes his laptop, nodding to the spot next to him on the couch. "Hey, bro." Brett smiles in greeting as he takes a seat next to him.
"So how was the date?"
Brett sighs, but Eddy picks up a hint of hollowness in it. "We just went for a walk around the area. She's a fun person overall, but the date—it was—I dunno. Could've been better."
To that, Eddy perks up. Oh? "How come?"
"I don't think she liked how I kept mentioning you and all of our shenanigans." A mischievous glint in his eyes, accompanied with a grin and wiggling eyebrows, makes its way to Brett's face. "Why? Are you jealous?"
"Of course not!" Eddy hides his heating face in his hands, as Brett's laughter fills the air. However, this time, the remark doesn't descend into awkwardness, surprisingly enough.
But oh, Eddy is so very jealous.
Really, though; How I kept mentioning you and all of our shenanigans. That one phrase ignites the little candle of hope once more within Eddy.
Doing his best to conceal the triumph it fueled, he settles for a shrug. "That's unfortunate, though. Better luck next time."
"Better luck for you next time, you mean." That mischievous grin spreads on Brett's face once more. "For the musician blind-dating? You're next."
"No!" Eddy shouts, throwing a cushion at Brett as he ducks, as Brett's laughter, that beautiful laughter he loves the sound of, lightens the atmosphere.
One galaxy, eight planets, one hundred ninety-six nations, seven seas, seven billion people. And yet, my heart still runs after you.
And that's how it'll always be.