distraction: you

chapter ten

for all his jokes about being an emperor, brett doesn't feel that confident showing up at the first rehearsal all willy-nilly. he's a nobody in a sea of professional musicians, and the fact that he's risen to a top position without any warning will ultimately leave him scrambling for any sort of common ground with strangers he's supposed to be leading through the music.

his only saving grace are the two friends he's made: he has cynthia, who's known in many circles per section of the orchestra and who's taken up the position of principal cellist; he has eddy, who's known for being an ice prince but who's also the soloist for the concert they'll be rehearsing for. talk about opposite sides of a coin—brett's just the (un)fortunate soul sandwiched between the two extremes, but he is grateful for them.

"you don't have to look all that tense, you know?" cynthia nudges him gently, and yes, fine, he's been all wound up and stiff in his seat since he had first sat down on it, but brett can't really help himself. funnily enough, it's not the thought of meeting the rest of the orchestra that shakes him. it's seeing eddy again, face to face.

it's been two weeks since they've both gotten the news of their respective spots in the orchestra, and true to his word, the other man does not fail to deliver on his promise to make up for the prior texting mishap. they've kept constant contact, and just as before, brett is astounded at how well they fit one another. had he been a more fanciful sort, he would say they could have been—

the doors to the hall open. the scattered hubs of conversation all come to swift silence. his breath unconsciously catches in his throat.

a stout and bearded old man walks in, eddy chen hot on his heels looking like a fashion model yet again. if he hadn't been sure about his friend's higher socioeconomic status before, brett is pretty damn sold on the idea of eddy chen: rich kid by now. the first man introduces himself as the conductor, then introduces eddy as their soloist for this particular concerto. after a few murmurs roll over the crowd, the conductor gets to work chatting up the principals, and when brett returns to the concertmaster's seat, an overly familiar figure is there awaiting him.

"your majesty," eddy murmurs lowly as he comes near, the moniker spoken for brett's ears alone, and good lord, the man has no business owning that deep a voice. 

shut up, shut up, brain.

"peasant," he chokes out after a few stunned seconds, forcing out startled laughter to cover up the slip. "it's good to see you again."

"you too, bro," the taller violinist responds, a soft smile on his face as he nods at brett before moving away to take his spot near the conductor. brett has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself after that, completely missing the speculative look cynthia shoots in his direction.

• • •

no matter how many times he's played it alone in his run-down apartment or in a concert hall with other musicians, brett will never get tired of the brahms violin concerto. it is perhaps due to his own personal enjoyment of the piece that two hours fly by so quickly, peppered with conductor interruptions and sectional repetitions as they are.

in the short moments between working on the music, brett meets martin, the shaggy-haired principal oboist tasked with the solo part in the adagio. he acquaints himself with the giggly twins seated just behind him in the violin section, learns they're half-Japanese and ends up learning quite a few curse words in another language. but mostly, brett focuses on eddy.

from the first martelé stroke of his bow against the strings, their soloist streaks through the first movement like a force of nature, unflinching and unrelenting. eddy's interpretation is aggressive and furious, blazing through the arpeggios with crisp articulation. it's not the way brett would have played it should he ever get the chance, but that's fine: to each musician his own style. it's magnificent playing nevertheless, and brett's caught himself almost missing a few notes here and there with how thoroughly fixated he is on eddy's performance.

he tells the other man as much when they begin packing their instruments for lunch break. "that was pretty amazing," brett smiles, gently tapping eddy's shoulder with his own bow. "i see you've been practicing, hey?"

eddy smirks and salutes him. "yeah, yeah. thanks, man. took way too long on that cadenza, but hey, joachim's rendition needed more time to get those notes all right."

"i'm more for kreisler's cadenza, actually, but it's all good," brett grins. "hey, maybe you wanna—"

"now," cynthia chimes in out of nowhere and startles the two men, slapping her palms and rubbing them together, a cheshire cat grin clear as day on her face. vague disappointment simmers in brett's gut, but he pointedly ignores it in favor of raising his eyebrows at the cellist's antics. "while the violas are doing sectionals, i think we're free to escape for a little while. mister chen, i believe you owe us a meal, yes?"

a long-suffering sigh spills from eddy's throat, but he eventually shrugs and pulls on his coat. "well, i did promise, didn't i?"

"yes, you did," the blonde woman crows triumphantly, and really, with the promise of free food and good company, brett's mood lightens considerably. he follows the two out the door into the warm heat of the afternoon sun.

(agitation continues to rumble at the back of his mind: like distant storm clouds, like an imminent wake up call.)