distraction: you

chapter twenty one

days fly by like blown leaves in the wind, and sure enough, the concert season is upon them.

the opening night of the concert is star-studded and bright: a black-tie event with the lobby decked out in full opulent regalia. eddy doesn't think he's ever seen so many sparkly things in one place at one time; he has the feeling his eyes will degrade the longer he tries to stay in the foyer and mingle with people, like what cynthia's doing right now.

so, being logical, he does the next best possible move: he flees to the depths of the concert hall in search of his soloist friend. 

eddy steps up beside brett where the man stands by the wings backstage, eyes fixed on the rapidly-filling seats in the audience, the empty chairs onstage ready for the orchestra to occupy. they gaze in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until brett finally speaks up. "well, here we are."

"here we are," eddy agrees, nudging his friend's shoulder with his own. the other man's skin looks way too pale to be healthy, and a flicker of concern flares up in his gut at the sight. "seems like a full house tonight, yeah? you ready for this?"

brett laughs anyway, his voice a little shaky. "oh my god—i'll never feel like i'm ready ever, but i just gotta do it, hey?"

"hmmh, dressed like that, you're not." eddy reaches out unbidden, hand moving on its own accord, to straighten up the crooked bow tie at his friend's neck. their eyes meet, the air charged and heavy and warm between them, and for some inexplicable reason, eddy's throat grows dry, his heart thundering loud in his ears.

i'm so happy i'm here tonight, but i'm happier knowing you're here with me too. 

brett blinks at him all wide-eyed for a second, and then breaks into a small grin. "thank you for this again, whatever crazy thing you did to get the director to switch us up. i can't thank you enough, really. it should be you on that stage, but for some god-only-knows-what reason—you chose to give your spot to me." the shorter man huffs a disbelieving breath, shakes his head as he stares up at eddy with a look of wonderment. "i mean, you gotta know—you're amazing, man."

eddy feels unsettled, like his insides got stirred around by a blender, but he manages to return the smile. "thanks, bro. it was my pleasure; no need to thank me." in the intimate lowlight of the room, brett's mouth looks a little bit too lip-bitten red, and no no no, stop thinking about colors or facial features, idiot! 

eddy clears his throat, flings his hand in the direction of the musicians gathering around the area. "shall we, your majesty?"

"yeah," brett smiles up at him, "i'll see you at intermission, bro." he walks away somewhere out of sight, leaving eddy five seconds away from collapsing against the wall like he's run a marathon.

god, what a mess you're in, huh, eddy chen?

• • •

everything happens fast—all too soon, the time has come for the concert to begin. eddy walks on, head held high and back straight, confident as he leads the orchestra through tuning. the conductor enters, followed by their soloist, and for the first time that night, the hall breaks into thunderous applause.

after he shakes the conductor's hand, brett then moves to shake eddy's hand with a smile. the very second their fingers touch, the taller man jolts minutely, sparks tingling against his skin. they've held hands before, eddy himself initiating that particular moment in the diner, so what's so different about this one?

before he can try to reflect on the matter, the other man turns away, bows to the audience, and then goes to stand on the soloist's spot.

after that, the world falls away, and there is nothing left but the music.

it's as if bodily instinct—like second nature—the way the orchestra moves and breathes around the music they coax from their respective instruments, and yes, eddy already knows by now what a tragic mistake he's made before, thinking his fellow musicians weren't good enough to be on par with whatever ridiculous expectations he once had. he knows better now, and so he plays with a full heart and a calm mind: safe in the knowledge that they're all working together as one unit, and they're working together spectacularly.

but really, for the most part, eddy watches brett soar on eagle's wings throughout the performance, outlined by stage lights like twinkling stars just as he'd envisioned his friend during their night rehearsal, and really, he has to pat himself on the back for that. his imagination hadn't failed him with this—brett does looks damn good under the limelight.

they blaze through the piece as an impassioned creature, every note played with emotion and expertise. conductor and soloist and orchestra move in tandem: synchronized and playing off each other, like gears in a well-oiled machine.

all in all, eddy thinks they would've made brahms himself proud. not that he's bragging or anything, but—well, okay, fine, maybe he's bragging a little bit. so sue him.

the music ends on that last triumphant, drawn-out chord, and there is stunned silence for a while before the riotous applause as the audience gives them a standing ovation. eddy would've given them more attention, but his focus has narrowed to the soloist walking towards him after shaking hands with the conductor once more. brett offers his hand for him to shake again, and this time, eddy doesn't hesitate: he wraps his fingers tightly around the smaller hand, squeezes it tight as he mouths you were amazing at his friend. 

it must be a trick of the light or something, but brett's cheeks color as he looks up at him. nevertheless, he grins, squeezing eddy's hand back and nodding firmly in recognition of the praise. the soloist and the conductor bow before the clapping audience, and then they sweep past the orchestra to leave the stage.

from across the distance, cynthia discreetly shoots him a thumbs up behind her cello. eddy rolls his eyes, but he gives her one back.