After an eternity of longing and loving in silence, from a distance, at long last, here he is. Here they are.
It's been confirmed, engraved in firm stone and encased in tough diamond; Brett Yang is in love with him, Eddy Chen—a requited love, unbelievable as it is.
And here he is, even now—however many times Brett kisses him, however many times he says "I love you," Eddy still can't wrap his head around the once-impossible, the now-unbelivable.
Yes, friendship is beautiful, he knows—it only takes one person to bring rays of sun to bleak rain, bring love and magic to mundane.
But what would the further-beyond bring? What would love, pure, honest-to-goodness love bring, if not even greater, if not cozy warmth to a snowfall, if not a home in this vast, vast world?
And—hell, he still can't believe it.
Now, all those beautiful things that were once within his reveries of the impossible are given voice, carried into action, with sweet words and gentle kisses and a softened heart now free on his sleeve.
And their love for eachother laces the pure song of their violins, as the clear notes meld together beneath warm sun rays, as the music they make decorates the silence of their own little world.
And somewhere in the distance, rows among rows of roses are blossoming, splaying out silky red petals beneath the sunlight. Somewhere in the distance, birds meet and fly two by two in the skies above, of one feather.
Oh, yes—something has definitely changed.
And here and now, two lovers like sun to moon—this, this is what Eddy's always wanted.
Thoughts along these lines build vast cities in his mind as Brett leans down and kisses him, slow, sweet, soft, as they hold eachother close, vowing to never let go. As they look into eachother's eyes, as tender endearments are finally given voice.
And it leaves him in awe every time, the way Brett now looks at him so fondly, with a fondness Eddy never thought he'd ever see in those gorgeous eyes, all for him and him only, no less.
As the days pass, all so beautiful, so loving and soft and meaningful, it's as though Eddy almost loses his footing beneath the weight of it all, beneath the weight of this thing that is love, love that raises pristine stars high into their night sky.
This, this is what Eddy's always wanted.
When he tells Brett so, he's returned a small shake of Brett's head as he says in an undertone, "freaking sap," but the hint of a smile quirking up on the corners of his mouth all the same says more than enough. In plain language, it's all Eddy needs.
They get to work on running through and practicing for Sibelius 3 Mil, together this time, at long last, side by side. Thus, after a few tweaks in eachother's phrasing and the like, they both have an idea of how to get their parts to not only connect together, but also to blend together flawlessly, Brett's orchestra accompaniment and Eddy's solo in perfect harmony. Just like the two themselves.
Predictably enough, Sibelius third movement plainly isn't painless child's play—Eddy's eyebrows fly up merely by looking at the clusters of notes knotted and scattered along the staves alone. He attempts again and again, struggling to perfect the chords and articulate the fast runs that send his left hand flying up and down the fingerboard. It's incredibly difficult to keep the notes consistent and smooth, difficult for his right hand to keep up with the left.
The official livestream is in a mere few weeks—would he even be ready by then?
"You expect too much of yourself," Brett remarks, disquiet flickering in his eyes at the sight of Eddy struggling. In his concentrated state, Eddy only vaguely has a sensation of Brett's warm hand gently placed on his right arm as he crunches a chord, face contorted in frustration. "Take it easy and just keep going. You're already talented as you are—I'm sure you'll do incredible on live."
To which Eddy rolls his eyes and says, "you're only saying that because you love me."
But really, those words of affirmation, however small they are, every letter and syllable untangles strings of doubt and worry within him, carrying the weight of everything beautiful in the world into his ears—even more so when voiced by Brett.
"You're right—about the fact that I love you, I mean." Brett rises up slightly to kiss Eddy once, before gently taking his violin and bow from his hands and setting them on the table. "but I meant every word."
Eddy's ready to throw a retort, but it's all lost in the clouds when Brett pulls him close and presses his lips to his again, and Eddy can do nothing but let himself get lost in a sheath of light.
♡ ♡ ♡
The remaining of the daylight passed across the sky, with nothing but pure love and affection between the two. Now, they're both sitting on the couch, sheathed in comforting silence as the night looms outside, as the cold rain pelts down on all the unprotected.
Sometimes when rain streams down heavy like this, Brett can't help the steadily escalating sense of foreboding that shadows a portion of his mind, the worry that bolts of lightning will rip through the sky at any given time. He can't help the way his ears habitually listen for any thunder growling in the grayness.
But the warmth of Eddy's leg up against his, of Eddy right next to him, to Brett, it's a sort of fond comfort, a quiet reminder that makes known to him an I'll always be here and an I love you alongside eachother.
But then his ears do pick up a loud boom of rolling thunder above, unrelenting, a percussion section of its own. And his eyes do discern jagged streaks of lightning cutting through the sky beyond the window.
At the sound and sight, something within him startles in alarm, and he can't do anything about the way his hand acts with a mind of its own, promptly darting out to Eddy's.
Crap, crap, crap—he hears the unpleasant voice of the orchestra in his head as it falls apart, falls in defeat before fear, as that fear wedges its way into his and Eddy's little world. As the fear called lightning reigns the sky.
Eddy's hand is warm and welcoming, a home for when he needs shelter; he takes Brett's hand in his, properly lacing them together and holding on unyieldingly firm.
Eddy smiles softly, though the way his eyebrows crease have sheer worry scrawled plain across. "Still afraid of lightning?"
"I guess—just a little bit," Brett replies, averting his eyes. "I guess the childhood fear's still there."
Back then, Eddy would do everything he could to avert Brett's attention from the chaos outside—they'd play melodies at fortissimo on their violins, as loud as humanly possible, all to drown out the booming thunder outside. But even then, his fear would creep out onto his bow and force it to stutter on the strings.
It's called fear, the thing that saps the comfort from the things one finds a home in.
He's averting his eyes, but one softly uttered "hey" in Eddy's voice is all it takes for him to look up into those beautiful eyes again. Those beautiful eyes, too, glinting with worry, but also with love and care that remind Brett of why he's in love with him.
Eddy reaches his free hand over to cradle his cheek, gentle warmth meeting fear, resisting it. "D'you want to head to bed?"
"I'll barely be able to sleep through all that," Brett replies, gesturing at the chaos outside, and hell, but right that second he visibly flinches at the sudden bolt of lightning outside that entails his words.
Eddy most definitely saw his reaction to the lightning, with the way his thumb gently, consolingly, rubs Brett's own, a tender caress saying, everything is going to be okay. "I can stay with you, if you want."
Brett takes a moment to search Eddy's eyes, but really, what is he searching for, if worry and care and love are plainly right there?
Brett nods quietly, because he needs comfort, however small the fear may be, however little of it is left; thus, the small smile returns to Eddy's face at his nod. Both get up, and both still holding hands, he lets Eddy lead him to his own room.
Love—it's a warm hand to hold when one is trembling of fear; it's a shelter for the afraid.
Eddy, please take care of him, be there for him whenever. You two are eachother's worlds, you know that? Don't let that change.
Eddy lets go of Brett's hand and props up some pillows against the headboard before climbing into Brett's bed first, shifting around to come by a comfortable position.
Brett takes off his glasses before following, settling on top of him, head laying on his chest as Eddy cages his arms around him, a devoted shield made of all the unwavering—safety and comfort and love.
"It's okay," Eddy says softly, pressing a kiss to Brett's head as Brett makes himself comfortable against him. "I'm here."
Throughout the fourteen years they've known eachother, Brett's made headway at hiding his fear. Years and years ago, tears used to fall from widened albeit gorgeous eyes as he hid from the expanse that was the raging sky.
Even still, throughout the fourteen years they've known eachother, Eddy's since known where to look—right this second, he can recognize traces of fear in his eyes, at the corners of his mouth, in the way his frame tenses with each sound outside.
Eddy moves his hand to the back of Brett's head, fingers threaded among the soft strands of his hair. "Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that."
All the while, he holds Brett close, offering all the warmth and comfort and love of the world in his embrace, all only for him—because he's a comfort, a refuge, only for Brett.
Another startlingly loud round of roaring thunder accompanied by jagged lightning controls the sky outside, as a gust of wind violently rattles the window panes.
As the storm's fearsome timbre of unrelenting rage goes on mercilessly, Eddy senses Brett's figure further tensing against him, feels his hold on him grow firm, all driven by fear. He hears the tinge of dread, the unmasked quavering, of Brett's voice as he says, "it's hectic out there."
Eddy, please take care of him, be there for him whenever. You two are eachother's worlds, you know that? Don't let that change.
"Shh..." Eddy runs a consoling hand up and down Brett's back as he says softly, "don't worry, my love. I'm right here."
He lets his hands slip beneath Brett's shirt, fingers tracing gentle patterns on his spine. His mouth curves into a small smile when he feels Brett ease up slightly more beneath his touch.
The following span of time beneath the downpour of the sky carries on, heedless of one lover's utmost efforts to comfort the other. Eddy gently runs a hand up and down Brett's arm or back, carrying hushed words of comfort into his ears, prefixed with the soft presses of kisses to his head few and far between.
All with one purpose embedded in his mind—be here for Brett, because he needs him right now. Ever since the very moment Brett asked him, "do you play violin?" at math tutoring fourteen years ago, he's been the only one meant to catch Brett when he falls.
All the while, Brett curls closer into him, into comfort as Eddy holds him close, not letting go until the only thing the two can hear is the mezzo-piano drumming of rain against the window.
Eddy smiles down at him, running a gentle hand through his hair. "Better?"
"Yeah." Brett cranes his head up to look at him, smile matching his. "Thanks, Eddy."
That damn smile—it means the whole world to Eddy; brighter than Mozart's music, greater than the moon, was once the bane of his existence. Now, he has the privilege to openly admire that beautiful, beautiful smile, a privilege he's dreamed of, forever-waiting for these days to come.
"Anything for you." The corners of Eddy's mouth lift again, before he leans his head closer to Brett's, ignoring the awkward position as he plants a soft kiss on his lips.
They lay there together in silence, save for the now-gentle pitter-patter of the rain, no longer an enemy to them both, now that the thunder and lightning have packed their things and left them alone.
And especially after the merciless fear that was wild in Brett's eyes mere minutes ago, his smile after the lightning comforts something within Eddy tenfold, knowing he's calmed down now.
Brett's faint yawn is a subtle hint for Eddy to look up and notice his drooping eyelids. He reaches an arm to his nightstand and lazily feels around for his phone. Turning it on, he blinks away the momentary harshness of the bright screen as he glances at the time.
It's getting late—they should probably be sleeping right about now.
Eddy brushes Brett's hair aside and tenderly touches his lips to his forehead in a brief kiss. "Brett, love, you should go wash up and get changed." He pauses, before adding, "I'll tuck you in."
Brett looks up and smiles again—would Eddy ever get bored of that smile?—and cradling Eddy's face in his hands, he kisses him, short but sweet, putting on his glasses again before ambling sleepily to the washroom.
Eddy makes use of the time to head to his own room, to wash up and change as well, while his thoughts wander to nowhere, to Brett, to them both as lovers.
Once Eddy gets back, his eyes involuntarily wander to Brett before anything else; he's already seated on his bed, adjusting the pillows, taking off his glasses and rubbing his weary eyes.
At the sight of him, the smallest of smiles quirks up on the corners of Brett's mouth, and no, Eddy won't be bored of that smile any time soon. However small the smile may be.
(It's the beauty of the smallest but sweetest gestures; sometimes it's the smallest things that say the most. The smallest things that say the most genuine "I love you.")
Brett breathes out a reposeful sigh, letting his weight fall in a heap onto the bed, drowsiness crossing his features. Eddy hauls the blanket over him before perching on the edge of the bed.
The two lovers linger alongside eachother in easing silence. A silence in which words are replaced by actions, whilst Eddy's hand threads through the soft strands of Brett's hair, tracing his jaw with a feather-light touch, trailing a finger up his neck and into his hair again.
It's recognizably written among the touches and loving gaze, like the defined print of music notes scrawled across staves; Eddy's so in awe of him, so utterly in love, it's like his touches are to a treasure, as he looks at him with a sort of love fused with wonder.
And in a way, Brett is a treasure to him, one he'll unequivocally cherish and think the world of evermore; Brett is his one in a million.
"I should probably head to bed," Eddy breaks the silence after a few minutes, but hell, he undoubtedly does not want to leave—it's moments of fondness between them like these that tie every fiber of his being to his place near Brett, in a vow to stay till his last breath.
He leans down to briefly touch his lips to Brett's, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, gazing into his eyes. "Night, Brett. I love you."
He gets on his feet to leave, though he's stopped short by the warmth of a gentle hand latching onto his wrist, inclining him to turn and look at Brett again.
Brett's soft tone is overlayed with the sleepiness that comes with the darkening sky outside. "D'you want to stay for the night?"
And how could he refuse what he'd been hoping Brett would ask, say no to the person he loves with all his heart? Eddy lets a small smile eclipse his face as he leans down to kiss Brett again, this time a small brush of his lips to his forehead.
Brett lifts the blanket for him, beckoning him in, and so without a single grain of reluctance, Eddy slides into bed next to him.
He removes his glasses and lets his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes albeit still very much awake. His limbs ease up beneath the zephyr-like material of the blanket, a form of relief after numberless hours of restless violin practice, a warm embrace enclosing him after a long day.
"Just don't hog the blanket." Brett's voice carries through the silence, somehow serious and yet with a lighthearted air to it. "Or you might just find yourself being kicked off the bed in the middle of the night."
"I can't make any promises." A grin spreads on Eddy's face as Brett laughs.
Eddy can feel the warmth of Brett's arm only just brushing up against his own, and the comfort of a familiar person, the familiar feeling called love, is so near in the moment. The thought of pulling Brett impossibly closer, to hold him until morning, fights its way to the front of his mind, unrelenting.
And, Eddy thinks he knows the feeling of an embrace after a long day; at least, until he becomes conscious of a familiar pair of arms circling his middle and tugging gently, somewhere in the darkness that came with his closed eyes. Familiar, because those arms have wrapped around him so many times before, held him close as he was kissed softly.
"Eddy, get the hell over here, I'm freezing."
Eddy opens his eyes to see the owner of those arms turned on his side and facing him, those gorgeous eyes he's always loved looking back at him awaitingly, the request to be drawn closer crystal-clear in his gaze, too.
He has no means of fighting off the smile that grows on his face; and why should he? he thinks, as he turns on his side, closes his arms around Brett in turn and pulls him closer, fully unhesitating because hell, here and now, all he wants is to hold him near.
Eddy shifts a little, tangling their legs together, touches resuming by way of his hand gently running up and down Brett's arm, while Brett nestles closer to him, soft hair brushing against Eddy's neck. Eddy tightens his hold on him and welcomes him even closer, as though Brett would be wrenched out of his grasp at any given moment.
And just like that, they've both opened another door and stepped foot into such a beautiful reverie, engulfed by the comforting warmth of their closeness. The type of warmth that puts everything right in the world, that they want to remain within until the end of time.
The type of comforting warmth they could only ever find in eachother's arms.
They've fallen asleep in eachother's arms like this only once before, during their break. But that was purely platonic, save for the other end of Eddy's dangling thread made of then-unrequited love, with the person he loved not seeing it there, clearer than day.
But this, here and now, it's different. Closed in eachother's tight embraces like this while knowing the other requites their deep love, it's very different. Now, they can slip into alluring, blissful reveries like these hand-in-hand, with their love for eachother unconcealed.
Eddy's hand travels up with a zephyr-like touch, brushing along Brett's neck, then his jaw, thumb grazing his bottom lip and lingering there, all the faintest of hints for him to look up.
He looks into Brett's gorgeous eyes, outlining those picturesque features with his gaze—and it's amazing, the way his breath catches and how his heart beats almost irregularly, all by looking at Brett, so close within his arms; it's amazing how only Brett holds the power to affect him like this.
His gaze drops to Brett's lips, to those soft, soft lips that are practically calling his name, practically shouting to be kissed like there's no tomorrow—and so after glancing once more into those eyes, he pulls Brett's head closer to his own, and he does.
The feel of Brett's lips against his is familiar now, a simple but beautiful duet they both now know every phrase of by heart. The kiss is gentle, though barely skimming the very border of passion, stealing a portion of both their breaths away all the same.
They pull eachother closer into the kiss until there's no distance left to be pulled into, and for many eternally slow seconds, they're the only two people in existence, and as far as they know, tomorrow is never to come, the shining moment so beautiful in more ways than one.
At long last, they break apart, Brett's forehead falling into the crook of Eddy's neck as Eddy's fingers thread through his hair, both basking in eachother's nearness and warmth, both short-winded of air.
"I love you, Eddy," Brett breathes.
And there it is again, but god, Eddy won't ever get enough of Brett saying those three sweet words, be it with a smile, be it a whisper—an "I love you" Brett gives voice to will always be true, will always carry pure love and light.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that." Eddy pulls back slightly to look at him before pressing their foreheads together, hand cradling Brett's cheek. He smiles. "I love you too. So much."
They lapse into a comfortable silence, Brett's forehead falling back to its spot in the crook of Eddy's neck with a contented sigh, as Eddy strokes Brett's soft hair and runs his fingers through the strands.
Eddy pulls back slightly so, studying Brett's face for a few long moments, admittedly aware of the fondness that's most probably clear in his eyes. He takes notice of the way every one of his features are untroubled and at peace, his figure far from tense. He sees his closed eyes, the tiniest smile playing on his lips.
Eddy smiles as well, at seeing Brett so calm and content in his arms, the sight leaving himself, too, at peace. And that in itself, being happy when he's happy, at peace when he's at peace, might just be a testament to how infinitely in love he is.
He holds Brett close all the while, and for someone who said he was freezing, being so close to him like this in his embrace, Brett is incredibly warm. As though a cozy, fire-lit home in the middle of a heavy snowfall.
"Really though, you weren't actually cold, were you?" Eddy asks with a teasing grin; despite asking, he already knows the answer perfectly well.
Brett opens his eyes as he laughs, a blithe melody that easily unearths a matching smile on Eddy's face, too; it's the sound that encapsulates Brett's happiness perfectly—is that not why Eddy loves that laugh, loves that it's so familiar in his ears?
"Nah." Brett cranes his head up to meet Eddy's eyes before shaking his head, the lighthearted tone that comes with laughter still lacing his words. "I wasn't cold."
"Knew it." Eddy laughs in turn, pressing a kiss to his forehead before they fall into silence again, Eddy trailing his hand up and down Brett's back, both reveling in the feeling of peacefulness that comes with being in such close proximity with eachother.
A fermata above silence follows, sustained, creating a world of tranquility just for them, until Eddy's the first to speak. "Brett?"
"Mhm?"
"You know how I always say I can't function without you?"
"Yeah?"
"I didn't know it before...but maybe, when I always said I could never function without you—maybe that was a different type of 'I love you' that I'd say when I could never really say 'I love you.'"
"And now that we're together like this?" Brett asks.
At that, a fond smile grows on Eddy's face as he touches a soft kiss to Brett's forehead and lingers there. Then he says softly against his skin an answer, a promise encased in diamond, "even now, I'll never be able to function without you."
He expects an expression of a "that's so cheesy" or a shake of Brett's head at the very least, but neither comes—all he feels is Brett's cheek lifting against his skin, a hint to a wide and contented smile.
Eddy slides a hand up to the back of Brett's head, pressing his lips to his forehead again. "We should probably sleep," he says, stroking his hair. "Night, Brett."
"Night, my love," Brett replies, touching the smallest of kisses to Eddy's neck before burrowing closer into him, and soon enough, Brett's frame begins to slowly rise and fall in Eddy's arms.
Eddy can't help but smile softly at his endearment. He buries his nose in Brett's hair and breathes deeply, contented, as he relaxes within the feeling of their peaceful closeness in the moment.
Eddy from two months ago would never have believed that in the near future, they'd be in eachother's arms like this. He'd never have believed that they'd be in love with eachother like this either.
And he wonders, while they both were filming their "We're Bach" video, how would Eddy have felt, knowing that in only a matter of time Brett would be saying an "I love you too" for him and him only?
Even still, it all seems very surreal, the odds of Brett falling in love with him reciprocally, Eddy thinks as he lets his body relax into Brett's, holding him securely in his arms. He throws the blanket more snugly over Brett before touching his lips to his forehead one more time, vaguely hoping it would reach his dreams.
With the realization of his late-night reveries being turned reality leaving a faint smile playing on his lips, he lets the mezzo-piano drumming of rain against the window and Brett's quiet, steady breathing leave him in a state of calmness, although he's unable to bring himself to sleep.
And now that they've both found their places in eachother's arms, the stars in the sky have at last settled into place; though the expanse of the night sky is hidden by the ceiling he's gazing up at, it's written there, somewhere in the stars—Brett Yang and Eddy Chen, tied to eachother forever by a bond like no other.
It's clearer than a full moon, skilfully embroidered among gleaming stars—the two are very much infinitely in love, bonded for life by a deep, lasting connection laced between them.
And neither would have preferred it any other way.