Brett's smile was contagious. His gorgeous, bright smile was flashing at Eddy whenever he looked Brett's way. They were walking home from an orchestra performance, bubble tea in hand. Upon arrival at Brett's house, Eddy followed him inside. Sitting on the couch, they turned on a movie, but with no intention of actually paying any attention to it. They went over how the concert had gone, discussing the trouble spots and the nailing of hard passages. No matter what they discussed, Brett's smile never faded. He looked down at Brett's lips. They were a wonderful shade of pink. Eddy licked his lips, which caught Brett's attention. His eyes locked with Eddy's, and he leaned forward. Eddy followed suit, feeling their breathing mix, lips almost touching -

Eddy shot awake. He was sitting bolt upright in bed with a cold sweat. The sunlight was dancing around his room, taunting him. The sunlight shouldn't get to be so happy, carefree, and playful! Couldn't it see what was going through his mind?

He threw on some clean clothes and shoes, and without eating breakfast, headed. He needed some fresh air and some exercise, and he needed it right then. He locked the door behind him, then started jogging towards the park. He decided to run the entire greenway to clear his head.

Once at the park, Eddy realized he didn't grab his phone, or any water. He guessed he'd be running without music or rehydration today. That was just great, with no music, he was alone with his thoughts, which were already swirling around and haunting him.

The first two miles were okay. He was a fourth of the way done, and had managed to keep his mind away from anything impure. It wasn't until a man jogging the other way caught his eye. The man looked like Brett, and Eddy had to do a double take before continuing jogging. He couldn't believe that he had dreamed about almost kissing Brett. What's that saying? A dream is a wish your heart makes? He was not wishing that, he knew it. Why would he? That's weird, Eddy, don't be wishing that.

A tear fell from Eddy's eye. He was so angry, angry at himself for feeling this way. Another tear fell. He turned around, and started running home as fast as he could, he couldn't be crying in public, no way, especially not crying about this. A third tear cascaded down his cheek. Why? Why am I feeling this way? What would everyone think? What would...Brett think? At that the floodgates opened. Eddy was fully crying now, but thankfully was almost home. He was able to ignore the stares and questioning looks from people that he passed, all he wanted was to be safe inside the walls of his home.

He reached the door, panting. He unlocked the door and fell inside. He lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. When he had calmed down a bit, he stood up, walked into the kitchen, put ice in a glass, and filled it with water. He walked up the stairs while the ice was making the water cold, and grabbed the crackers. He spread peanut butter in between the crackers to give it some protein, and took a bite, the salt of his tears giving the confection a little bit more flavor.

Once he had finished eating and stopped crying, he went upstairs again to try and find his phone. It wasn't on the charger like it should have been, so he started overturning his bedroom. He looked everywhere, atop and in his dresser, in the adjoining bathroom, and in his bedside table. He resorted to grabbing his bedsheets, and flipping them up, so that his phone would fly out if it was in there. Unfortunately, it was not, and instead, the crackers he had gotten last night flew out. They landed on the floor, breaking, and making a mess.

Eddy groaned, and went to a closet to find the vacuum, forgetting the quest for his phone. He tried to sweep up the bigger pieces of cracker first, but he just managed to get it more engrained into the carpet, so he was forced to tun the vacuum to its highest setting.

It took him longer than it would take another person, but eventually he got the carpet cleaned. He had to vacuum the spot three separate times before it got completely clean.

He glanced over at his violin case, which seemed to be begging him to practice, but quickly looked away. He was not about to ruin yet another concerto with his mood. Instead, he stomped down the stairs, looking again for his phone. This time, he spotted it, lying on the couch, exactly where it was after the abrupt phone call with Brett last night. He picked it up, no charge. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? Because you were way too ready to dream something nasty about Brett, huh, Eddy? No! That's not it! Can't that voice just shut up for three seconds?

He fumbled around with the downstairs charger and got his phone plugged in. It made the charging chime, so he let it be and turned on the TV. It was still on the classical music station he had been watching the night before, but they were not streaming now. He found a channel playing good, old fashioned cartoons, and was quickly sucked in. He liked the way the corny jokes and the on-screen drama could make him forget about his problems for just a second.

After the cartoon he had gotten really invested into ended, Eddy reached for his phone. Forty-five percent of battery. Sixteen missed calls from Brett! Two from Mallory, and several text notifications. He slid the bar to open WhatsApp, and was quickly bombarded with messages from Brett. The first few were about the girl, which made Eddy's heart sting. Then, though, the messages took a turn.

'Eddy? Why aren't you replying? Did I say something?'

'Eddy, if I said something, I'm really sorry.'

'Call me'

'Call me'. Could Eddy bear to do that?