from the corner of my eye

because you know your desire

brett yang is sure of three things:

one: eddy chen is his best friend.

two: eddy chen is painfully hot.

three: brett is completely and utterly screwed.

oh, and something else:

brett's fixation begins with eddy's hands.

it's not that bad, he reassures himself. they're nice hands. it's understandable, brett tries to justify. who wouldn't admire them? nobody would be okay if they saw those beautiful goddamn fingers waving around and doing all manner of things every day.

not just the hands, brett realizes, which is either better or worse. eddy's... everything is nice. he's been working out recently, and it's been getting more obvious. the stretch of his shoulders is far broader than brett remembers, as is the building muscle on his arms.

holy shit, brett thinks. i have a thing for my best friend, what is wrong with me?

"hey," eddy says, snapping brett out of his reverie. "you okay? you spaced out."

"huh? oh, yeah." he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "just kinda had a rough night. it's fine."

eddy grins. he does that damn beautiful smile- the one where his eyes tilt up at the corners and his whole body fills up with energy. "rough night, huh? what've you been hiding?"

eddy's tone may have been playful, but no, brett's brain cannot handle those words in that order, so he makes like a viola player, stammers an excuse, and runs to the bathroom two minutes before leaving for a vlog.

(and no, brett did not jerk off to his friend in his own bathroom. that's so weird.)

-

the foot massage vlog was... interesting to say the least. brett feels relaxed and injured in equal measure. eddy feels just plain injured.

"dude," eddy groans, and lets his head loll back. "i think i'm dead. you'll have to carry on for me, brett. tell everyone that we're onesetviolin now."

"no way!" brett laughs. "it was okay after i relaxed and stopped playing. you were so tense, you know!"

"hrg," eddy mutters. he sighs, and stands up. "i'm gonna go... lie down or something. i'm injured, brett, you treat your poor best friend like this?"

brett licks his lips. best friend this, best friend that. "yeah, yeah. go rest. i'll forward the footage to the editors."

once eddy's out of the room, and brett has finished what he said he would do, brett finally lets himself slump over in his seat.

he's pretty sensitive.

"dude, i wonder," brett sighs. "do you have any idea what you look like when you arch your back and make illegal sounds? on youtube? in public? right beside me?"

i can't deal with this.

he opens instagram, and smiles at the barrage of notifications he gets the moment he clicks the app icon. he scrolls through his feed - smiles when he sees eddy's icon pop up - and decides, fuck it, and clicks the eddychen hashtag.

a boatload of memes hits him in the face first, but as he scrolls, he starts to see more pictures that are actually twoset related. he sees things he wouldn't have noticed on his own- edits that emphasize the way they look at each other, their height difference, their hand sizes.

the pictures don't get any worse (besides the odd piece of fanart) but the captions and comments get racier. people admiring him and eddy. sometimes they talk about the smallest things- the speck in his eye, the highlights in eddy's hair - but they become increasingly extreme. they voice the things he would never dare to say- i'd pay for eddy to step on me, i wish he'd strangle me with those hands, he looks so good-