color me in gold (lips like petals on my throat)

da capo.

The first time Brett writes a letter, he thinks it's absolute shit.

He's man enough to admit it to himself and to the world at large: Eddy's the writer out of the two of them. Sure, he'd done the Brettybang Show podcasts and he'd done his part with the Practice Journal back then, but Eddy's done more, written more, even if most of his works never see the light of day.

Still, even if he doesn't have Eddy's way with words, he's writing a letter.

(It is, truth be told, fucking difficult.)

What is it about love letters that moves us? The mark of a powerful emotion made tangible, able to be grasped and held between one's fingers? The permanency of the written prose, forever preserved on paper to be kept for years after? The act of creation that invariably follows the act of love? Whatever it is, it has touched the hearts of countless lovers and loved ones from time immemorial; so it too has touched the heart of Brett Yang in this day and age as lover and loved one both.

He knows he's probably been this happy before but he can't remember when the last time had been, can't even begin to imagine it. He wants to immortalize this feeling that's sparking up his insides. He wants to read about it years later and remember.

He wants to speak with Eddy in the language he knows best.

And so Brett writes, haltingly at first before he loses himself in the process, words flowing out of his pen like a river.

Do you remember the first time we met? I didn't hear the Fate Symphony when you turned your head to talk to me back in maths tutoring, but I did hear something. And that something - was nothing, because I heard silence. For the first time in my life, I couldn't hear the music in everything around me. The world and its sounds faded away, and all I could hear was the silence. And then your voice.

It was like the universe was saying, "hey, listen up, you idiot. This is important. He is important."

You won't tell me when you fell in love with me, and that's fine. I won't tell you either. Like you said, it doesn't matter. No matter how it happened, what does matter is that we're tied together, you and I. Call it fate or destiny, or call it an everyday choice: we're tied together.

And as long as you'll allow it, I'm never untangling myself from you.

You've loved me for years by coloring me in gold. All I ask is that I be allowed the place by your side for the rest of my life, so I can show you the way I've loved you for years: in silence, in perpetuity.

In the end, these are the only things I can say: I love you. Let me keep you forever.

The front door slams open with a loud bang, jerking Brett out of his reverie. "I'm home, honey," comes the shrill call from the hallway, and really, what a fucking moron.

"Be right there, baby," he calls out in reply as he shoves the letter under his underwear in the closet, because he can give as good as he gets, and also because maybe he too is a fucking moron, if only for love for this stupid man.

The thought is extremely cheesy. He is ruined for life.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Brett grins wildly, tucks away the thought of hiding the letter under Eddy's side of the bed for later. He'll have to remember when Eddy leaves the house again.

*

"I wonder if they've always known me—if every cell in your body has just been waiting for me to come home. I tell them I am here now. I let my bones sing with your bones."

— OLD SOULS by Ashe Vernon

*

ending notes ;

And here is where we say: The End. ;)

I'd like to thank everyone who read, voted, commented, and shared their time with me in reading this fic—you guys are incredible, and I am grateful for each and every one of you. Until we meet again! <3