World Tour

Singapore

It wasn't until plane started descending, that the difference in air pressure woke Eddy up. His hand was still intertwined with Brett's, and when he looked left he found Brett looking at him, smiling.
¨Good morning, sleepyhead!¨ he said, letting go of Eddy's hand.
¨Wow!¨ Eddy replied, rubbing the pins and needles out of his fingers, ¨I don't think I've ever slept this well on a plane. You okay?¨
He could swear Brett blushed a little.
¨More than okay, actually.¨ he said with that new, sweet smile.
Then Brett shook his head slightly and said: ¨We'll be touching down soon. There will be a transfer to the hotel waiting for us.¨

Brett had been the one in charge of booking all the hotels. He was definitely the better of the two at finding good deals, and working out what would be a decent place to stay from the photos he could find online, as evidenced by a truly afwul trip to Japan a few years ago, where Eddy had made the arrangements.
He smiled at the recollection of how they'd had to avoid the disgusting communal toilets altogether and had gone out to eat every few hours instead.
Eddy knew that, on their tour, almost all the time they'd be sharing a bedroom. Of course they would, they were on a tight budget and it wasn't like they hadn't been sharing rooms for 15 years.
But he sensed it may take on an entirely new meaning now, and he thoughts he'd stowed away a few hours ago came flooding back in like a swarm of bees drawn to honey.
Brett, straddling him, red-cheeked, clearly as affected as he was. He didn't imagine that, did he? Brett, taking his hand, and smiling that ever so lovely smile, his eyes shining.
Brett's comment this morning about being more than okay. He definitely didn't imagine that. Fucking hell, could it really be that Brett felt the same way he did? And if he did, what then? 

One thing Eddy knew, beyond any doubt: he didn't want to do anything to jeopardise their friendship. It meant everything to him. And if Brett did feel the same, and if they did get together.... what would happen if it didn't work out? Could they go back to just being friends?
He didn't know. But at the same time, he'd felt such profound happiness when his fingers intertwined with Brett's. He really couldn't remember a better moment, ever. Would he be able to let that go? Would Brett? Did they want to?
He realised full well that if Brett did feel the same way, he would likely keep it hidden, just as much as Eddy had, and for exactly the same reasons.

A thousand thoughts whirled around in his head, until he was pulled out of his reverie by a hand, waving in front of his face.
¨Dude!! You keep disappearing into the stratosphere on me!¨
Eddy grinned.
¨Some of us have things to think about, you know?¨
Brett snorted and jabbed his shoulder in retort.
¨Resorting to violence, are we, Bretty?¨
They both laughed, and just like that, they were back on terra firma. 

The plane taxied to the terminal, and they were finally able to stretch their legs. As they made their way out of the plane and into the arrivals hall, the transfer was waiting for them as promised, and soon enough they were walking through the lobby of a very nice looking hotel, with a key card in hand.

The room was nice. Two comfy chairs, two beds, about a metre apart. Eddy declined to look at those for now, or think about the implications. He dumped his suitcase on the floor, eased the violin case onto one of the chairs, and then he wandered into the bathroom.
It turned out to be clean, thank God, and it had some of those little bottles of shampoo and conditioner.
¨Look, Brett, you'll finally be able to tame those locks of yours!¨ he quipped. 
Brett didn't respond. Eddy turned around to face him, and found Brett sitting on one of the beds,  looking at him with the strangest look on his face. 

¨Bro, I think we need to talk¨