If anyone ever asks or Eddy ever dares to tell anybody, how he ends up in this situation, wanking in the death of night, dreaming about the nimbly fingers of his best friend around his cock, his best friend's soft lips grazing on his fingers, Eddy would say, he has no idea.

Everything started somewhat innocently.

He.. or to be specific, Eddy and Brett, they have never been a normal pair of friends.

One, they are best friends who have been in each other's life for more than one decade, half of their time on earth, and have snuggled a big, comfy place in the center of the other's life. They started a Youtube Channel together, which has bloomed into something even bigger than themselves. In short, they are inseparable and bring each other to success.

Two, Eddy takes no shit about social norms and their constructed masculine toxic shits. Boys can be as intimate with each other as girls too. Boys can touch each other without being labeled gay or a "wimpsy". They can hug when they need emotional support, they can hold hands in public and tell "I love you" to each other, if they want. The only thing that matters here is what they want, not what this bullshit society thinks they should do or should act accordingly. That's Eddy's long-held believes and it took a while for Brett, being such a lovely soul he is underneath his tough amour, to wrap his mind around this concept. Brett came along eventually though and didn't give any shit too.

Three, they both love skinship. Eddy adores that act of intimation, when no sexual actions are being taken. Just two souls, two bodies, enjoy the closeness of each other, hands tightly wrapped, finger ghosting along the line of arms or maybe the outer of one's laps, shoulder slouched and touched, their hair against your hair, skins emitting and receiving the warmth to each other. It's the ultimate sign of love to Eddy,  without any taint of our carnal needs. It's his way to express love and support, and Eddy make sure to shower his best friend, one of his most important people on the world, with those small touches. On Brett's side, he seems to enjoy and understand that. It's Eddy who took the first initiative, but Brett always accepted and reciprocated.

"Took" – that here is also an important word. Because somehow the dedicate balance of their bromance has been tipped.

It started out innocently.

He swore.

They just met each other after a freaking long time of not being able seeing each other on whims (14 days! Can you imagine?! It's been 14 days! Eddy has freaking counted). Fourteen days of staying at each other respective house without any means but video calling to contact each other, which was not done enough in Eddy's opinion. Because bros didn't call each other for more than 2 hours a day, no matter how bored they both were.

Eddy can admit it now, in the safety of his own mind, that he was touch starved during that time and missed Brett to an okay measure. Because of that, when Brett first came back from his self quarantine retreat, Eddy made a lot of excuses to touch. He wanted to be assure that Brett was here, safe and sound with him. Eddy needed that proof to live.

It's just normal thing, really.

Casual arm slung over the back of Brett's chair, accidently slipped on Brett's shoulder and stayed there when they're quietly sitting side by side. Shoulders touched, then pressed, and heavily leaned to each other because Eddy was lazy and didn't want to sit properly. Whatever, it was cold outside (and inside, he has dropped the heater down a few degrees to save energy and hence, protect the environment. Being sustainable and all).

Brett didn't protest. He just hummed, rearranged his body position so Eddy's head can rest perfectly between his shoulder and head, too busily checking his twitter. Eddy looked up from his position, admiring the soft turn of his best friend's jawline and wondered how long could he steal this moment away.

Then it escalated.

Eddy just didn't know who did it first.

Their working dates seemed to stretch longer and longer. Brett would stay even after dinner and the movie nights became everyday activity. Brett would hug him from behind, or, to be more exact, put both his hands around Eddy's torso when Eddy blocked the fridge, the stove, or if Eddy stood in close proximity and acclaimed that he was too tired to stand up on his own.

Their touch lingered longer. It must not be accident touches anymore, because now Eddy would frequently catch Brett's fingers mindlessly caress around his wrist, and his hand warming up Brett's knee (how the hell they made their way to there, especially during the filming? Eddy had no ideas! Maybe he should check with his doctor to see if he is an early case of Alzheimer or something).

They went out too, for some jogging or something. This was the only silver linings of the day, when he can finally breath fresh air and felt like a functioning adult (except for when Brett came home, Eddy's home, their home, every morning, until he decided it better for him to stay by Eddy. It was logical).

Eddy was quite conscious of how smelly he turned after every jog. But if being smelly meant he can catch the hint of Brett's musky smell, a combination of his after-shave, Eddy's fabric softener, sweats and his natural scent, he would never pass up this chance. Especially when Brett clung to him on the way back home, his chest flushed hot and sweaty on Eddy's back, declaring that he was too sore to walk. He was the pureBrett musician, who didn't need to practice this way.

Brett didn't exactly complain about the smell either, when Eddy told him to not be so close, because he stunk ("hmmmm, not at all. I don't smell anything").

Eddy was okay with all of these touches. More than okay, he felt loved and appreciated and maybe somewhat bothered in an inconvenient way by this. But it was only a phase, and soon enough it would be back to normal, leaving Eddy to his miserable thinking of what-ifs and ghostly touches, missing warmth and the way Brett's body pressed alongside him, fitted perfectly to each other.

His mind conjured up the idea of whatever, but so far, he has everything in grip...

Until all of that broke. On the day Eddy silently decided to call out on Brett on their newfound intimacy and the need to stop.

They were watching movie together, an old Marvel action movie that doesn't need any brain but made Eddy jumped out of his skin every time something unexpected happened. They were holding hands, because, well, emotional support. Eddy has had a somewhat tiring day and was a little bit sensitive. Being a wonderful best friend, Brett accepted the act of hand holding as a sign of brother's support when Eddy silently opened his palm. Their hands slotted perfectly in each other.

They were placed first casually on Eddy's lap, then Brett's laps because position changes were good for blood flow. At some point, Brett leaned in and placed his head on Eddy's shoulder, which made them shift into the half cuddle position. Something happened in the movie and Brett laughed, voice warmly against side of his nape, body lazily stretching up along the arm he held captive to whisper face to face about some stupid things in the movie. (It was dark but the light their small Macbook provided was enough for Eddy to map out Brett's perfect jawline, his straight nose, big, chocolate brown eyes. Their glasses clicked together when he came near--- That would be an inconvenience when they kiss.. what should Eddy do about them?.....)

Anyway, turn back! No homo! Brett retreated, removing his body from Eddy's and settled down comfortably against the sofa. They focused back on the movie about some stupid muscular dudes trying to save the world. Eddy's favourite but right now his favourite was the one who's sitting beside him, mindlessly tracing around Eddy's fingers, holding his right hand up and down and holding it up high enough to loudly sniffed at it and used it to wipe his lips...

HOLY FUCKING SHIT? Was that Brett's lips?

It could be... he meant... his hands were brought to cover Brett's mouth, the things to pickled against his skin were Brett's scrubs, so the smooth and warm thing must be Brett's lips....?

Eddy's eyes were glued to the scene, but all his attention was focused on his right hand. "The nevers there must be flared up quite badly" – his mind provided.

A portion of his finger skin got sucked and nipped by something... warm, smooth and almost moist. Like a tease. His fingers were nibbled on, separated with the source of the actual sensual heat only by Brett's soft lips. Everything suddenly felt too hot. Eddy felt like his heart skipped a beat and all his energy were now reserved to keep his lower part in check and to not push his fingers in that sinful cavern. What the fuck was Brett thinking? .... Eddy tried to reason but can't bring himself to stop the act. Can he? He felt the suction on a small patch of his pinky. Can Brett be merciful enough to let him in? Maybe even grace him with his tongue? Please..?

But Brett released and the spell broke, explosion blaring through Eddy's eardrum in the F#.

The action was repeated again and again through the whole movie. Credit rolled. Movie stopped. Hands untangled and body removed. Brett bid his goodbye to go home for the first time in week, promised he would be back tomorrow morning to film the next video on their "roasting reviewing fan's play". Eddy laughed at the joke, showed him the way out and told Brett to say hello to his mother for him.

They didn't talk about it.

(the words "can you stay?" got stuck, like every fantasy and yearning things Eddy has kept in his chest).

So if Eddy slammed himself face first in his mattress, moments after Brett left to reminisce about the feel of Brett's lips on his fingers, how close they were from actually entering that heaven, how much Eddy dreamt about returning the favour, toying those talented fingers with his tongue and wrapping himself around that man, whispering sweet nothings into Brett's ear and grind the monster down there to life, slowly, surely, naughtily with each roll of his hip... until he was nothing but the mess under Brett's weight.

Well, that's Eddy's own business.

"Brett..." – The word dies on Eddy's tongue when the highly strung string breaks.