Straight

IV

It's a very quiet walk to the con, the next morning, because what could he possibly tell him? Could he tell him how he knows that Eddy was awake, last night, because he couldn't sleep either? How the thoughts and feelings that whirled around his system were so confusing he didn't even know where to begin to process them? Could he tell him that he saw how Eddy turned away this morning, as he got dressed, clearly to hide his erection, but that he saw it anyway? How could he even begin to say what it all means? What could he possibly ask him? Whether he regrets it?
He doesn't think he regrets it. Well. He hopes he doesn't. 
Brett scrunches his eyes together and stares at the pavement underneath his feet. Does he himself regret it? He can feel the pain already, somewhere deep down, that's going to hit him when this inevitably ends badly for him. Yet he can't bring himself to regret what's happened, because he knows, he knows. Last night was the best moment of his life. Better than getting into the con, better than winning that competition last year. Better than life itself. 
How will he live without it? 
He braces himself suddenly, swallows hard and pushes it all away. He knows how, of course. He's had plenty of experience of pushing shit away, too much experience. So right now he's just going to go to the con, which is one of his favourite places in the world, and practise. End of. 

"Bro, you with us?" he says in his ironic tone as they walk into the building. He glances again at Eddy, whose mind has clearly been elsewhere too. He wishes he knew where. 
"Yeah, of course. Music history, right?" Eddy says quickly, too quickly. 
"Yeah. Unfortunately. Then orchestra."
Eddy nodds. "Yeah. I have my lesson too, later."
Is Eddy okay? Is he as confused as he himself is? He walks with him into the auditorium and they walk up the steps to the third row, where they usually sit. 
Words are bubbling up inside of him and he clears his throat before he has a chance to overthink this. He needs to give Eddy some reassurance that everything is still normal, right? 
"So, wanna come over and practise later?" he asks. "I had to work, but they canceled. Maybe watch another film, or play some video games? I have the new expansion pack."

The second he says it he wishes he hadn't, because he doesn't miss how Eddy stills, how his face falls. 
Shit. 
He's got it wrong, hasn't he? Eddy wanted to go home, didn't he? 
"Yeah, sure." Eddy says then, but his tone is off, somehow. 
Does he not want to be with him anymore? Oh fuck, does he regret it? 
"I would love to." Eddy adds in a more normal tone, but Brett knows, already. He knows he's got this wrong, and suddenly he wants to run to the bathrooms, to hide from the world and cry. 
He doesn't, of course. He just sits there in silence and tries to listen to the professor, who is saying something about renaissance. 
As if he cares about renaissance, like, at all. 
He keeps his eyes trained forward, his face neutral. He knows that that will save him, that no one will be able to see the thoughts that are racing through his head. 
Has he gone and fucked everything up for good? 
But when Eddy leans back for a moment his eyes are pulled to him automatically, and he allows himself the smallest glance. Black, soft, sleek hair. Chiseled profile. Flat, toned stomach under his shirt. 
And then his heart stops, because he sees, and it changes everything. 
Eddy has hidden it well until now, under the desk, but now he's seen it anyway.

Eddy is hard, clearly, completely hard.