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The first time they pass by the uchiwa and accessories stall at the festival, Eddy stops and stares at one corner of the table.
They've been at the festival grounds for barely twenty minutes but Brett is already sweating under his happi coat and the crew socks he's wearing with his dad's old flip flops. Eddy is proudly donning his new gray jinbei and a plastic kitsune mask strapped to the side of his head (they sell out fast so wearing one is a sort of badge of honor for how early you got there), and he's stood there, blinking at one of the items on the table display, gazing thoughtfully.
"Which one are you looking at?" Brett manages to ask over the traditional Japanese music echoing from the stage across the grounds, moving closer to Eddy to get a better view of the table. But Eddy startles, as if coming out of a stupor, and starts walking away.
"Nothing," Eddy says, clipped, and then: "Hey let's see how long the okonomiyaki line is!"
Brett rushes to catch up to him, but not without stealing a glance at the table to see what Eddy may have been looking at.
The second time they pass the uchiwa and accessories stall, Eddy doesn't stop, but he does slow down as he walks, taiyaki in hand, slowly bringing it to his mouth as his eyes scan the display.
"Did you wanna check it out again?" Brett asks between sips of his Ramune.
"Nah, nah," Eddy is quick to reply. This time, Brett is the one who stops. He looks at the corner of the table, at the basket sitting there with ribbons piled inside, the kind that are part of Japanese school girl uniforms. Tied neatly into bows and with a loop meant to go under the collar, the ribbons are tasteful shades of maroon, blue, gray, dark green, even a few soft pink ones.
Brett looks back at Eddy, whose body is fully turned away from him, watching the stage in the distance where the emcees are making an announcement in Japanese. A part of Brett secretly believes Eddy doesn't understand as much Japanese as he lets on, but then again, who is he to judge when he barely knows any at all.
The almost-question dies on Brett's tongue. Instead, he says, "Hey, Eddy! Can we check out the goldfish? I wanna try to get one for my brother."
Eddy turns back around, grinning toothily. "Yeah, it's this way!" And they're off.
The third time Brett is at the stall, he's by himself with a folded ten-dollar note in his hand. He sifts carefully through the basket, picking up and inspecting different ribbons—plain, striped, plaid, some with little stars on them. He settles on a navy blue one, with white plaid stripes and a thin gold stripe detail.
"What's this?" Eddy asks, trying to be casual when he's presented with it, but Brett can see the quiet panic in his eyes that he's struggling to hide.
"Here," says Brett, grabbing Eddy's hand and depositing it there. "I just." He pauses. What did he just? "I saw you wanted it."
Eddy blinks down at the ribbon in his hand, and looks back up at Brett. He somehow manages to look both scared and defensive at the same time.
"I just wanted to get it for you," Brett explains, holding Eddy's gaze. "That's all."
Eddy looks like he wants to say something, but he's weighing the options in his head and hasn't come to a conclusion yet.
Brett continues: "You don't have to like, wear it when we hang out or something. Or ever, if you don't want to. I just. I dunno. Is this too weird? This is probably too w—"
"Thanks."
Brett stops when Eddy finally speaks, watches silently as he takes the ribbon in both hands and smiles down at it. There's a softness in his expression that Brett is certain he's seen before, but he can't quite place when. Maybe he should start paying more attention. Like he did today.
When Eddy looks back up at Brett, Brett grins at him, and he grins back.
"Can we get more drinks?" Brett asks, fanning himself with his uchiwa. "I'm dying."
"Me too," Eddy replies. He tucks the ribbon safely into the front pocket of his jinbei jacket. "Let's go."