distraction: you

chapter four

to say brett's thankful he's met eddy chen would be an understatement. he won't go so far as to say he's happy he got turned down in that fateful audition that led to their meeting, but it's a pretty close thing.

it had been a glorious few hours spent in the other's company, if he is to be completely honest with himself. brett's social circle isn't as big as he'd once hoped it would be, and so any moments he'd actually enjoy spending time conversing with others are few and far between. eddy had been an anomaly, a fly in the ointment, but a good one; brett hadn't expected them to jive together well, but they had.

as it turns out, eddy chen also seems to keep his promises. within minutes of brett's first wary text in the other's direction, the man had sent him the details about the audition he had urged brett to try out for. he'd almost spat out his chinese takeaway upon reading the audition's venue: somewhere uptown, definitely not brett's kind of scene. nevertheless, he'd agreed to meet eddy there. what more could he lose at this point, anyway?

they've chatted back and forth for a while, but then eddy's texts had simply—petered out. for days after, brett had been half torn between anxious worry and forced indifference. the other man's probably fine. surely, if someone like eddy needed some help, they'd have a support group or something, and not chatting with some stranger they met only once.

the thought that something had happened to eddy still gnaws at him, though. he'd been distracted enough to accidentally swipe five bottles of wine in the cash register for a confused middle schooler who had only wanted a juice box.

yeah, not his finest moment.

sitting in a plushy seat in the waiting hall, brett checks his phone again: still no reply from eddy. he hadn't expected one anyway, but god, he'd take just about anything to distract himself from the nervousness creeping up his spine like ivy leaves up a trellis.

"hi!" a bright chirp from his left. brett looks over and smiles politely at the blonde woman grinning cheerfully at him. "you look kinda sick, are you nervous? i'm cynthia! you are?"

the rapid-fire sentences make brett's anxiety a little bit worse off, funnily enough, but he's not one to be rude to someone who's trying to strike up a friendly conversation. "i'm brett," he introduces himself, and after a few minutes, cynthia the cellist has showed off her instrument way too many times than is necessary. he doesn't mind, though; at least he doesn't feel like he wants to bolt at any given opportunity.

"eddy?" at the mention of that familiar name, brett's head swivels in the direction of the woman who had uttered it. "eddy chen? he's auditioning?" a murmur ripples through the crowd; it doesn't sound all that benign. is he just reading too much into this?

"what's up with that?" brett asks cynthia, whose eyes widen at the query.

"you don't know—? ah, well. he's got a reputation of sorts, see?" she begins to study her perfectly manicured fingers. "he's sort of—really cold. stone-cold. he barely talks to me, or to anyone, for that matter, whenever we see each other in audition calls."

brett raises his eyebrows, keeps his mouth shut to avoid gaping. that doesn't sound right.

"i don't know, i mean—he's sort of known as that guy. y'know, the prodigy who can't work well with others and only cares about 'the music', or whatever. kinda like sherlock holmes, i guess?" cynthia laughs, taps her cello case with a pink nail. "he nails every audition piece they ever give him, though, i'll give him that. damn prodigies, my god. his inbox must be bursting with people begging to play with him."

before he can even begin to absorb that information, the din of the crowd suddenly comes to a hush, equal parts awed and envious. brett instinctively hunches over, burrowing further into his hoodie in an effort to hide his face from whatever is coming.

"oh, speak of the devil," says cynthia, and well, what do you know? eddy chen himself strides into the building like he'd climbed straight out of a fashion magazine, what the hell.

brett can't help himself: his eyes begin to trail over that form-fitting suit, the way the fabric hugs those long legs and those muscled arms, and oh my god, shut up, brain.

eddy hasn't noticed him yet. does brett even want him to?

in his inaction, frozen in his seat, the decision is made for him. eddy passes by without even turning his head to look at anyone once, expression just as hard and unflinching as cynthia had explained. brett would feel a bit hurt, but he's already too shocked to feel anything else other than the sensation of white noise.

"see, what did i tell you?" cynthia shakes her head as eddy rounds the corner into the audition room without waiting like everyone else. "stone-cold."

brett has the sinking feeling that he is so utterly screwed.