Eddy wakes up with a start out of a chaotic dream he already can't remember anymore. He gulps in some air as he opens his eyes, then freezes.
Brett is here, on his bed, lying next to him fast asleep, his head on the same pillow, his body on top of the quilt Eddy is under. Brett opens his eyes now, which widen, then soften straight away.
"Oh. I must have fallen asleep here." he mumbles. "Fuck, I'm freezing."
"Jesus." Eddy says as guilt washes over him. Not only has he made his best friend come here in the middle of the night, he's made him cold, too. "I'm so sorry."
"What, that I fell asleep? Doesn't sound like something you did on purpose." Brett quips in his most gentle, deep timbre, making Eddy grin.
"You know what I mean."
"Not really." Brett shrugs and jumps off the bed. He's dressed in his blue, chequered pyjamas, which look thick enough.
Not thick enough to sleep in in winter without any cover though, obviously.
His hair is all mussed up and his eyes look large behind the glasses he's now putting on. His morning wood is standing proud in his pyjama pants, but look. That's nothing Eddy hasn't seen before, many times over. He still averts his eyes, though, even though he knows Brett doesn't care if he sees.
God, how he wishes he would have some of Brett's easy confidence.
"So, are you going to the con today?" Brett asks.
"Um. I dunno. I..."
"Just stay home. Seriously. The physio said to rest, right? Just watch some television, or something."
"It's going to suck, not playing." Eddy finds himself admitting. He sits up in bed and tries to prop the pillow under him without using his hand too much. "I have so much to do... and only a few weeks to do it in."
"I know, Eddy." Brett says gently. "Let's just take it one step at a time, huh?"
Eddy nods.
"Thanks, Brett."
"Yeah."
Brett opens the door and rushes to his own room, leaving Eddy to lie back in bed and stare at the ceiling.
By the time he walks into the living room he's got himself together a little. Todd is making eggs at the stove and Ian is warming up in their bedroom, like usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, just another day in their apartment.
Only one thing is different.
"Toddy, throw me some eggs in, will you?" he calls.
"Sure. You going to the con?" He's already reaching for the egg carton and breaks the first one into a bowl. "Omelette?"
Eddy shrugs and sits down at the table opposite Brett as Todd whisks his eggs around the bowl with a fork. Brett's dressed, now, in jeans and a button down shirt. His hair is still mussed up but it looks slightly more deliberate than before. Does Todd know where Brett slept? Probably not, right?
"Yeah, thanks. And I don't think so." he answers his great friend. "I've got solfege. Other than that only rehearsals. Seems a bit pointless. I'll go tomorrow, though."
The eggs spit and splutter as Todd slides them into the hot butter in the pan.
"Just take it easy. You'll be feeling better tomorrow."
"I hope so. So, you guys are rehearsing Shos, right?"
It's soothing, hearing Todd and Brett talk about rehearsals, about ideas, bitching about the guest conductor, who is apparently terrible.
It's normal.
Eddy likes normal.
He smiles gratefully as a plate of omelette with a couple of slices of toast is placed in front of him.
"You're the best, Todd."
"I know, I know." he quips and plonks down beside him with his own plate. "Just ask Ian."
Brett puts his fingers over his ears.
"Lala, lalala." he chants. "Can't hear a thing you're saying."
"Sorry if your ears are failing you. How old are you turning again next month?"
"Fuck off. I'm not talking about that."
Eddy grins.
"It's only twenty one, Bretty. Not fifty one."
Brett shakes his head definitively.
"Don't care. Still not talking about it."
He watches them all as they leave, their instruments piled on their backs, taking normal with them. He smiles and banters as if it's nothing.
But then the door closes behind Brett, who shoots him a weird smile just before it clicks shut. He sinks on the couch and buries his face in his hands.