Parallel Lines

Point C

Then there was that.

Nothing.

The next day proceeds as if nothing happened that night.

Even so, Brett eagerly relished those thoughts, those dirty thoughts, those feelings, those yearning feelings. Those he shouldn't have had.

Those quiet sighs, sharp gasps, and breathy moans kept repeating in his head. Both his and Eddy's. Those he shouldn't have heard or mumbled.

Hands, large and calloused, that roamed his body. His chest, hard and broad, that felt so fiery. Those lips, plump and tasty, that made him feisty. And all the other things that shouldn't have...

One. Two. Release.

With a wet plop, it landed. He closed his eyes and grunted. After, Brett turned the shower knob to flush his mess on the flooring.

"Shit!" he mumbled as his eyes darted to the clear blob that slowly entered the drain along with the water. He bit his lip, "Fuck it!"

Not again! This was the nth time he did it with those wild obscenities running through his head. Their obscenity.

Breathing heavy, he carried on with his shower. To clean himself, to cleanse himself. Under the cold rain of water, he scrubbed strong, hard until his skin became red and angry.

Angry. Brett was angry. Angry with how he let it happened. Angry on himself on how he did nothing to prevent it to happen.

He wanted to cry. Really, he wanted to cry. But all reason just left him and only one thing remained. Though it seemed impossible.

'What if Eddy means it?'

---

There was something lurking at the back of Eddy's mind, something like a hazy memory, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.

He woke up in the morning with a sore throat and puffed lips, all cherry-red and slick. His muscles ached every time he overexerted himself; he almost cried out in relief when the hot spray of the shower kicked in to soothe his body. And so he stood there in the bathroom for way longer than was necessary, eyes unseeing as he reflected inward on the shattered-mirror shards of his memories. Those from last night were particularly opaque.

There was something lurking at the back of Eddy's mind, and it was decidedly sexual.

Flashes of skin against skin, feverish moans, the stirrings of longing and hunger in the pit of his stomach-there were echoes of something in his brain, and that wasn't even the strangest part.

He knew what Brett's mouth tasted like, and he didn't know how in the hell that happened.

Eddy stumbled out of the bathroom, fingers absentmindedly brushing against his swollen lips as he dressed for the day. Upon his nightstand, his phone vibrated. In one smooth motion, Eddy snapped it up, a smile spread across his lips at the sight of the caller ID. He placed it against his ear, "Yeah, babe?"

After a few moments, he was settled on the matter: this little dilemma could be dealt with later. He had a date to attend.

---

A cold early morning.

Brett, out of habit, brought himself to the coffee shop. Yawning while he walked like a zombie on a hunt for caffeine, yeah, coffee. He clutched on to his jacket, he should have worn more.

'Is Eddy up yet?' he thought. The two always go to the shop around this time of the day. Brett didn't get any message that he'd be on his way, he shrugged it off as Eddy would be sleeping in.