Andante

CXLVIII

Eddy stretched out on the frilly bedspread and adjusted the pillow in his back, making himself even more comfortable. He was a little tired, after last night's long bout of insomnia, but he'd had three cups of coffee and was feeling more jittery than sleepy now. 
Brett was starting their practising session, and he seemed to be settling on the first movement of the Debussy violin sonata - which he was also going to do on his audition soon - for the recording. 
"I love it, Brett." Eddy said when Brett had played the first bit and looked at him expectantly. "It's original enough that they won't have heard it a million times and it shows how good you are."
Brett smiled. "Thanks. You know, it's you who got me into impressionism."
Eddy raised his eyebrows. "For real? Cool."
It was true, Eddy loved the late 19th century, early twentieth century stuff. He couldn't wait until he had the technique to play the Sibelius violin concerto properly. But then again, didn't he himself absolutely love the Tchaik concerto now, simply because Brett loved it so much?
Brett carried on. "I also think Steven, my friend from school, has played the piano part before, so that will help. So, I'll just play through it? Start from the top?"

Brett raised his bow, breathed in and Eddy closed his eyes as the familiar opening line washed over him. Having Brett so close, playing so beautifully, the soft mattress supporting him so comfortably... he would certainly have fallen asleep if he didn't have all that coffee in him.
But he did have that coffee in him, and maybe that was why he couldn't help the direction his thoughts took now. He looked at his boyfriend through half-opened eyes, admiring him from top to bottom. The luscious thick Asian hair, flopping cutely over his forehead, the glasses, sliding slightly down his nose as he played, his lovely soft mouth, that had touched his so many times so sweetly, so passionately. The way his body moved with the music, his bow arm relaxed, his wrist bent just right. The softness of his belly underneath... Eddy shifted on the bed as he imagined resting his head on that soft belly, running his fingers through the little bit of hair that grew there. 
He cleared his throat softly, and Brett suddenly looked straight at him and smiled that special, special smile that was reserved only for him. 
"Enjoying the view, are we?"
Brett looked meaningfully down Eddy's body, and Eddy smiled, even though he felt his cheeks colouring with the feeling of being caught. 
If anyone in the world was allowed to catch him like that, it was Brett, right?
He cleared his throat again before he spoke, his voice suddenly slightly hoarse.
"Maybe..."
In one fluid movement Brett took the shoulder rest off his violin, put the violin down in its case and closed the lid. Then he turned around, suddenly strong, his posture firm and confident. 
"Well, maybe I should come and join you, then?"
Eddy swallowed convulsively as Brett walked to the door and locked it, and then sauntered calmly over to the bed. 
"Hi." he whispered as Brett sat down next to him. Oh, how he loved this side to Brett, and more than that; how he loved knowing that it was him that was giving Brett the confidence to be like that. 
"Hi yourself." Brett smiled as he kissed him softly, first on his cheek, slightly stubbly thanks to the rush this morning. Then he moved on to his forehead, kissing his other cheek, his neck, his earlobe, shifting around until at last he put his arms firmly around Eddy and claimed his mouth, and Eddy was lost, lost in his love, lost in his touch, lost in the two of them being like two halves of a whole.