distraction: you

chapter eighteen

it's been a few days, and brett still thinks of that night rehearsal in the concert hall. he reckons he'll always think of that night as a comfort of sorts, whenever the going gets tough for him in the times ahead.

mostly, he thinks he'll always remember that night for eddy chen. 

he'd seen the aftermath of eddy chen crying. he hadn't commented on it, but the dried tear tracks—possibly, hastily wiped away in the hopes brett wouldn't notice them—had still been all too visible on the taller man's skin. his eyes had been tinged red, too; there had been no other explanation as to why. but then—that's just it: why?

he'd played with eddy chen, just the two of them, for the very first time. it's almost unbelievable, how easily and how magnificently they blended together, but really, he'd almost expected it, in a way. they compliment each other as individuals, as friends; of course they're going to meld together in their music. it had been a bit strange, playing eddy's part and vice versa, but they'd made it work.

he can't help himself: objectively, brett thinks it sounds better that way. just a little bit. he's not saying he's better than eddy at playing brahms, but—well. you get the point.

"earth to brett yang, earth to brett yang," comes the sudden voice in his ear, and brett winces as cynthia lightly taps her knuckles against his skull, like knocking on a door that won't open. "is someone in there?"

"ah, sorry; i was just thinking something over."

she tilts her head at him, a questioning look in her eyes. "well, i sure hope it's the right bowing for this part, because your first violins have been walking around aimlessly for five minutes and they're annoying my cellos." she points towards the japanese twins making silly faces and squatting next to a mildly irritated man in the cello section, and okay, brett can see her point.

"sorry, sorry," he picks up his pencil and motions for the other musicians to get back to their seats in his section. "i'll get to it now."

as soon as brett lifts his hand to scribble annotations on the music sheet, the music director strides into the room, gaze locked on him. he doesn't mean to flinch at this realization, but he's not really looking to get scolded any time soon. has he done anything wrong recently—?

the director's voice is measured, giving nothing away as he speaks. "mister yang, i need you to join me and mister chen in my office, please."

as soon as the man's back is turned away to leave, cynthia whirls to brett with an incredulous raised eyebrow. "what did you two do now?" her gaze gets glassy as she meditates on the matter, and then: "did you two—"

"no," brett says immediately, because he now knows the cellist long enough to know exactly what she's about to say next, and definitely not. "whatever you're thinking, it's not that."

"oh? hey now, brett yang, what makes you think you know the inner workings of my mind?" cynthia smirks at him, and no, he doesn't have anything to say that won't sound incriminating. brett shrugs in reply and then hurriedly moves out of the room to whatever on earth he's going to face in the director's office.

if his heart's pounding wildly in his chest, well—that's just the coffee speaking.

• • •

"you boys are switching positions, effective immediately."

brett's mentally prepared himself for all sorts of possible confrontations, but this is something he hadn't expected at all. for a whole minute, he simply stares blankly at the desk in front of him, mind whirring. 

he doesn't think he's heard that sentence right.

"i'm sorry," brett sneaks a look at eddy standing beside him, who is unreadable at this point, before he turns back to the music director, "what?"

"you heard me, mister yang." the conductor nods at him to punctuate the declaration. "you two are switching positions for this concert. you'll be our new soloist, while mister chen here will be taking your place as concertmaster. i imagine you're ready for the task, yes?"

i'm definitely not, brett thinks distantly; his mouth's opening and closing like a goldfish's jaw right now, for crying out loud. "i don't understand, i—" he looks over at eddy. the man's smiling slightly, what the hell. "what—i mean—how—why, sir?"

the stuttering is so out of place, but thankfully, the director does not give it much attention, continuing onward without batting an eyelash. "it was mister chen's idea," the man waves a hand in eddy's direction, "and i deemed it agreeable. we've reviewed your performance in the auditions again, and this decision does indeed have reasonable sense to back it up." the man finally bursts into chuckles at the look on brett's face. he doesn't even wanna know what he looks like, right now. "i hope you're up for the challenge, unless you object to this decision?"

"i—" his breath catches in his throat. isn't this what he's wanted? isn't this what he's always dreamed of? it's on a silver platter right in front of him; shouldn't he take it with no hesitation?

brett looks to eddy, silent pleading in his eyes. the taller violinist smiles softly, jerks his head at the music director as if to say take it; i don't mind.

and so brett does.

• • •

"what did you do?" he almost screams it at eddy, but thank god brett's self-preservation instincts lower it down to a violent whisper instead. "what was that back there?"

"nothing," the taller man shrugs all innocent-like, and no no no, he's not getting out of this that easily.

brett tries a different approach. "then why did you," he cuts himself off, the words getting all tangled up in the net of his throat. he doesn't understand. "why did you do it?"

"well, sometimes, a peasant needs to know their place." eddy smiles at him, and god, brett finally understands why he's always been a little breathless at the sight of it. "an emperor needs his crown, after all."

brett's shaking his head long before the other man gets to finish his sentence. it doesn't make sense, this whole thing, and it's driving him insane. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"it means," eddy places a hand on his shoulder, and brett's never imagined that keeping himself from shaking at a simple touch would be difficult, but here he is, "that you're finally right where you belong, and thank god for that. i'm correcting a wrong, you know. i finally got you right where you're supposed to be, on that stage."

god, you've got me, brett thinks frantically, desperately, and you don't even know it.

with that parting shot and one last grin, eddy leaves, taking brett's heart and hopes with him. the man should be tagged illegal, really.