the rhythm our heart plays {breddy; twosetviolin fanfiction}

11

The thing about having your best friend's face hovering over yours two inches apart is that your mind starts to shut down a little.

Eddy had tried to calculate the time signature of his heart rate in an attempt to distract himself. ¾ths? 6/8ths? God, he couldn't tell. It was probably doing jazz for all he knew. Eddy was too busy staring at how close Brett's mouth was to care about whatever crazy rhythm his heart was going for.

Eddy can barely recall what happened afterwards aside from colliding heads, watching Brett ungracefully tumble off the bed (–Eddy's fault, sure, but it's not like he asked to get headbutted either), and then a flurry of disjointed memories of helping Brett sit up, scrambling to get the door and politely declining the housekeeping lady who looked at him like he was a little crazed (Eddy was still in panic mode, sue him), before going back to Brett to make sure he was okay. They had an awkward exchange of words that Eddy doesn't really remember, and now...

Well, now here he is – lying on the couch from outside the bedroom door, contemplating on all his life decisions and possible retributive karma that led him up to this very point.

Was it because of all the viola jokes? Was his willpower and sanity being dragged through the mud all just because some angry viola god out there is extracting revenge for all the times he proverbially threw the instrument into the gutter? Or maybe it's all the lies and excuses he made up to escape from some of his lessons way back then...even though technically, it's not his fault that there were other priorities in his busy adolescent life to attend to.

Also...is it just him, or does Brett's lower lip look really plump and soft close up?

"..."

Eddy sighs, grabbing a nearby cushion from the side and promptly stuffs it into his face.

This is going to be a long night.

*

Eddy does eventually fall asleep at some point.

This time, there were no sexy dreams to wake up in an undignified sweat to, so that's a plus one for the guilty conscious. The only downer is that by the time Eddy does wake up, his body is aching and sore all over, clearly making a protest from his bedding choice. He didn't mean to stay out like this. It was just...he just needed to clear his head a little. You know, mentally prepare to face the one person in the world who's apparently insistent on giving his poor heart cardiac arrest.

Brett...

Eddy remembers it clearly. Vividly. There's a lot to unpack there and truthfully, he doesn't really want to think about it right now. At least, not until coffee.

With a tired yawn, Eddy combs a hand through his hair and gets up to prepare for the day. He flips his wrist to check the time on his watch, a quarter past six, so there should be some time to brew something before they have to book it for their flight home.

When he walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as the rest of his sleepiness ebbs away, Eddy comes across Brett, of all times, leaning against the kitchen countertop. Brett looks up and Eddy bites the inside of his cheek, unsettled. It's way too early in the morning for a confrontation. "Err," Eddy starts, trying to find words to suit the situation at hand. Maybe it wasn't too late for him to do a U-turn out of this place.

"Oh, you're awake," Brett chirps.

For a brief moment, Eddy is mentally thrown off and nods.

"Making some coffee right now. Want some?"

So he's choosing this method, Eddy muses, the one where they both pretend that nothing happened and resume their life as it was before that point. Press of a reset button. He supposes it's much better than awkward conversations that would result in them avoiding and tiptoeing around each other. This is the ideal way, in all honesty.