the man with luminous eyes

9.

Brett's eyes blinked at the figure that stood before him. A weird shiver of deja vu sent a shiver down his spine.

"Sorry," Hyung's voice echoed in the background. "You were the first contact I saw."

"It's alright. Thank you."

"Message me once you get him home?"

"Of course."

He felt a large hand ruffle his hair. Hyung smiled, and in the back of his mind, Brett swore to himself he'd beat him up with his cello once he was sober enough to handle one.

"See you soon." Good luck.

A familiar cologne surrounded him as the younger man helped him out of his seat. Brett could barely stand on his own, relying completely on Eddy to stay upright. He didn't seem to mind; he did it with ease.

"Brett?" Eddy asked, wrapping an arm over Brett's waist. "Can you walk?"

His reply came in the form of an embarrassingly weak groan. His head felt stuffy with pressure as it lulled from side to side. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were in front of his car. The cool night air felt calming against his feverish skin.

"Brett, gimme your keys?"

He obeyed, and Eddy helped him into his passenger seat.

"What's your address?" Eddy asked, pulling Brett's seatbelt over his chest. Brett watched him quietly, regarding the ridiculously handsome man before him. Those gorgeous eyes met with his, and in that moment, he melted.

"You're so..." Brett's heart pounded in his ears, as if telling him to stop before he spilled the secrets it so desperately tried to hide. Eddy froze, watching him, encouraging him to continue. Brett's eyes flicked from his right to left eye, then back to his right. He was so close.

So tantalizingly close.

"Address, Brett," Eddy encouraged. "Is it on your GPS?"

Brett licked his lips slowly. His head dizzied at the smell of his cologne.

"Address..." Brett shook his head. "You... can drive...?"

Eddy regarded him with an uninterpretable gaze. A small smile lined his face; it took Drunk Brett's entire conscious to not lean in and kiss those damn pretty lips.

"I can drive," He said softly, almost affectionately, as if Brett were a young child. Brett quieted under his warm gaze.

"Since when?"

"Last year."

"... You started young."

"Mhm."

Brett took a breath. Eddy's hands came into view as he adjusted the seatbelt over Brett's shoulder.

"What were you and your friend talking about?" Eddy implored. "To get you this drunk on wine?"

Brett shook his head. No, no. I can't. Stop talking.

"None of your business," He barely managed to whisper. He recoiled shyly, rubbing the sweat from his forehead.

"Ouch," But Eddy didn't seem that hurt as a smile formed on his face. He ruffled Brett's hair and pulled away, taking his warmth and the intoxicating smell of his cologne with him.

Brett felt the painful fluttering of his flustered pulse as Eddy drove him home.

. . .

The next morning, Brett was greeted with the worst hangover of his life. It throbbed mercilessly against his skull as he sat up in his bed.

"Ugh..."

It wasn't often that Brett got that drunk purely on wine. He hated the hangover that followed.

He came out of his room, scratching his head sleepily. He remembered how he had gotten home last night, how he had been placed into his bed, how he had been wished a good night.

Brett supposed the reason for his mini heart attack that morning was the same man who had taken him home last night and placed him in his bed and had wished him a good night was drinking coffee in his kitchen.