(love)birds of a feather

chapter ten

Eddy rouses from the best sleep he's had in a while. He shifts, smiling softly as he remembers exactly where he is.

He's breathing on Brett's neck, a soft weight at the back of his head courtesy of Brett's hand tangled in his hair, other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. It's the closest thing to any form of physical intimacy he'll ever have with Brett.

Brett's still asleep beneath him, and his calmed demeanor shifts something within Eddy as he feels himself softening even more for him; he loves seeing him relaxed. It's a sight that relaxes Eddy himself, too.

He's vaguely wondering what time it is as he's about to get up and prepare breakfast.

Or—he could stay here until Brett wakes up?

No. He can't.

He can't just take advantage of this in that way. Not when Brett doesn't love him in that way. Not when he doesn't see this in that light, either. That's wrong.

He sighs, carefully extricating himself from Brett's hold, doing his best to not wake him up; it's definitely harder than it seems, with the way Brett's holding him as if he doesn't want to let go.

And so, Eddy starts yet another day wondering when Brett would ever feel the same way.

Eddy washes up in the washroom before heading to the kitchen to make some toast and coffee for him and Brett, thoughts recklessly traveling to the one person who's always on his mind.

He's setting plates and mugs on the table when he hears Brett shifting awake on the couch. And there's just something about Brett's mussed hair and bleary eyes that softens Eddy inside, something he can't quite place a finger on, though something about it is endearing in a way.

Eddy can't help but smile. "Morning, sleepyhead." He takes a seat. "How was your sleep?"

"Relaxing. And comforting. Extremely." He yawns, stretches, before facing Eddy and grinning. "And you?"

Eddy smiles wider. "Same. That was the best night of sleep I've had in a while," he replies. And truth be told, it was; a moment of closeness to Brett, one free of awkwardness, just comfort, a moment that meant the world to him.

"I can tell." Brett smirks. "Not every day you wake up before I do, all refreshed, hey?"

Brett would never let a morning go without teasing Eddy about his nocturnal-ness at least once; how could he forget? "You didn't have to remind me." Eddy rolls his eyes, but ruining the effect by joining Brett's laughter. "I mean, it's a start at least, isn't it?"

Brett hoists himself off the couch. "Says the one who called me a sleepyhead just minutes ago," he laughs, heading to the washroom.

Eddy laughs with him. God, he loves Brett way too much. "I could get used to waking up next to you, actually."

Wait.

Oh, crap. The sappy romantic side of his brain just took over for a split second. Why the heck did he say that? Awkwardness in three, two, one—

Brett stops, and Eddy knows, what he said is making its way through his brain; something's definitely going on behind those gorgeous eyes, the wheels in his brain most definitely turning.

Contrary to awkwardness, though, the corners of Brett's mouth quirk up. "Why? What am I, an alarm clock?" He dramatically places a hand over his heart. "Eddy Chen! How could you use your own best friend?"

Eddy laughs again as Brett goes to wash up.

Once Brett comes back, he takes a seat, and the morning passes with the two talking and laughing together, and the love in the room, be it platonic or romantic, brings the sun out of hiding.