It was 8 pm, right after dinner...

LIV

Going home had been okay, thankfully. But as they got back and Eddy forced Brett to lie down, he slowly started to experience the effects of the fever or whatever nasty thing was bugging him. The dizziness came on full force, his head started to pound and the switches between him feeling hot and cold came faster than the meter changes in Stravinsky's Rite of Spring.

Eddy transformed into his super nurse identity, got Brett some wet, warm towels to wipe his forehead and face, brewed tea and brought him ibuprofen to get a hold on his fever, which turned out to be pretty high with 39.5°C. He also called Dr. Han, Brett's Gastroenterologist, to see if they'd have to take any other measures.

And when all of that didn't really show any effects, Eddy decided to lie down next to Brett and give him comfort while being as physically close as possible. Brett would have deemed his actions counterproductive (with, you know, additional body heat and the fact that Eddy Chen was the one person on earth able to light his whole being on fire with simply hanging around), but by the time Eddy had lifted up the covers, Brett's mind was already wandering in and out fuzzy, disturbing fever dreams.

He dreamt of Eddy saving him on that beach in Brisbane and then laughing at him for being hit on by a guy. He dreamt of those big, warm, elegant hands, touching Brett's face, but then pushing Brett away, shouting "Disgusting!". He dreamt of himself, fucking up the livestream because for once it was HIM who forgot his violin.

He dreamt of a furious Eddy after being told that the only thing that really mattered in this world for Brett was his best friend. An Eddy quitting their friendship, Twoset, their lives...

And he would wake up from those dreams drenched in sweat, sometimes burning up and other times feeling so cold he shivered in Eddy's arms like the last few leaves of a tree in the freezing early winter winds.

But every time when he mercifully left those nightmares, he found himself held by the one who was tormenting him during his sleep. Eddy would brush through his hair and quietly mumble "It's all good, I'm here." or "It's just a dream."

Just a dream? Or a vision of what could happen if Eddy would find out? If he knew how Brett really felt, would he still be hugging him like this? Like he was something precious, someone worth caring for?
Brett wasn't so sure, both versions of his best friend felt very real. So the fifth time he woke up and Eddy whispered sweet, comforting words into his damp hair, tears of confusion and anxiety were welling up and Brett had to take deep breaths in order to not let them run down his feverish cheeks. Eddy had enough to deal with. He didn't need a wailing Brett to console on top of everything.

"Eddy", he croaked, after he felt like he had himself under control.
"Yeah, Brett?", Eddy sounded surprised and Brett didn't blame him. It was the first time in the last God knows how many hours that Brett spoke.
"Go to your bed and sleep. I'm gonna be fine." His weak voice was telling a different story though and Eddy must have thought the same, because he lightly shook his head. "Not going anywhere, bro. I'm resting too when you sleep, so don't worry."
Brett was too tired to fight, so he just snuggled deeper into Eddy's warm, comforting arms and once again doze off.

Brett's condition didn't improve the next morning.

Eddy had stayed with him the whole night and was trying to convince Brett to at least eat a little congee he'd made. But food was the last thing Brett wanted, so he just downed some tea and tried to usher Eddy away so he could rest properly and take a break from looking after Brett.
Eddy took a washcloth and wiped Brett's face for probably the thousandth time since they came home yesterday.
"Nah! Not leaving you here by yourself", he stated and put the cloth back into a basket with warm water.
"Eddy, you need to rest. We need you healthy and okay", Brett tried and shakily sat up a bit.

There was a moment of silence, where Eddy looked at Brett with soft and almost pitiful eyes. Brett didn't like that expression one bit. Pity was the last thing he needed.

"Brett, our break has to start now", Eddy declared, his voice firm, unyielding.
"What? We still have a few days left and some videos to film!", Brett protested.
Eddy raised an eyebrow. "Are you really going to fight against this?"
And Brett would have tried. He would have made sure they got through with what they'd planned and what they'd promised their team to finish before their hiatus, but he was so, so weak, that even holding Eddy's gaze was an almost impossible task and therefore, he just shook his head.

Eddy sighed. "There are still some videos left for the editor to work on, but I'm gonna make an announcement in time. For Youtube."
Brett nodded and let his upper body slump down on his bed again.

And even if they'd decided otherwise, Brett's sickness would have prevented any work that could have been done. His fever did fall eventually, but any strength that had kept his body somewhat functioning before had left the chat and all that Brett was able to do now, was to lie in bed, with the occasional visit to the bathroom to change things up.

He slept, most of times. When he was (half) awake, he listened to Eddy practising his Sibelius or typing stuff on the laptop next to his bed, for the other had more or less transformed Brett's bedside into an office so he could be close to Brett and look after him. Whenever Eddy wasn't busy with admin stuff for Twoset or letting his fingers dance across the fingerboard, he made sure to keep track of everything Brett was eating, drinking and doing (none of which was much anyways) and how he felt afterwards. He also took his temperature at least twice a day, which Brett deemed a bit too overly caring, but he was too weak to protest.

Of course, every attempt on understanding his best friend and analysing what had happened or what had been said was put on hold. The little energy that was left in Brett had to be spent on simply trying to survive. Brooding over complicated relationship and life matters was something a hopefully healthier future Brett had to do. For now, it was enough, that Eddy spent every free and unfree minute by his side, occasionally holding his hand with his unoccupied one while the other typed a message or scrolled through medical research papers related to Brett's possible illness on the phone. It was more than plenty, in fact, that Eddy chased his nightmares away by holding Brett every time he woke up, panting and sweating, because he'd seen another version of Eddy rejecting him for good, by whispering calming, sweet words, which slowed down Brett's heartrate almost instantly.

If Brett's health status wouldn't have been so fucked up, he would have found it astonishing, how real Eddy was able to slowly, but surely drive nightmare Eddy away, until all Brett encountered in his dreams were fragments of past travels and world tours. Maybe it was a way for his mind to escape, while his immobile body stayed grounded for the time being.