distraction: you

chapter twenty two

"you could try being a little less obvious, you know that?"

brett wrenches his gaze away from the firm line of his concertmaster's shoulders and meets cynthia's amused, knowing eyes. and yeah, well, of course, he's not surprised—she of all people would know exactly what he's doing. he's not about to give ground that easily, however. "sorry, what?"

"not very subtle, mister yang," she smirks, wiggling her perfectly manicured eyebrows at him. "you're like—ten seconds away from climbing him like a tree. turn your heart eyes elsewhere, please, for the sake of our virgin eyeballs."

"cynthia, oh my god," brett hisses, turning his head left and right to see whether someone had heard those words. after making sure the coast is clear, he grimaces at her. "you're crazy."

the blonde giggles, forms the peace sign with her free hand. "and you're the one pining away in silence, so i guess we're pretty even, huh?"

brett sighs, shaking his head as he moves to observe the sea of people around the lobby once more, half-hidden behind the potted plant he and cynthia have chosen to stand next to. he's not used to grandiose events like this opening night, fluttering around amongst the wealthy and elite of the city. he's a simple man; what can he say? what had been in the forefront of his mind all evening, aside from the persistent mental presence of one eddy chen, had really only been the music.

and god, what a dazzling dream the concert had been.

in the throes of frenzied notes and unleashed passion, brett had felt a little bit of what icarus must've felt: flying close to the sun and burning up in its intense warmth. he has things better than icarus, though—he has a brilliant conductor to follow and a fantastic orchestra to back him up. it had almost unnerved him, how easy it had been to streak through the whole concerto without once faltering. he hadn't thought it possible, once upon a time, but here he is: congratulated and admired for what's been hailed as a stunning performance of the brahms. 

the calm in the midst of the storm had been his concertmaster, of course. every time brett had the opportunity, he always, always turns to his friend to steady him. he doesn't think eddy had been aware of all the staring he'd been making, so he'll count that as a win on his part.  

brett had even gotten to hold eddy's hand again, and twice—which, okay, is pretty tame and all, but he's not denying the fact that it had made him just the teensiest bit happy. just a teensy bit. moving on.

and so in the aftermath of the concert, they've been tossed out into the fray of their adoring audience, and brett's eyes had immediately latched on to the one person in the glittering maelstrom who knows him best. and he's subsequently lost himself in eddy chen's charms, easy as that: again and again, like so many times before.

"how is he so good at this?" he asks cynthia, watching as the tall violinist moves around the room with an easy grace to his steps, on his lips a polite smile so convincing that it's almost unthinkable to call this man an ice prince. the music director looks on proudly from eddy's side as they parade through the crowd, no doubt trying to court more patrons to support the arts.

"brett, you're forgetting he's one of them," the cellist replies, sipping from her champagne glass as she follows brett's unerring gaze. "i mean, i forget too, sometimes, but really, eddy chen is just—wow. he's so far above our level, it's insane."

what a great way to encourage brett, that.

but there's no time to mope over their differences, anyway—eddy's coming over towards them, and oh my god, now is not the right time to get a heart attack over his damned good looks, brett yang.

"hey," eddy smiles, and brett's consciousness takes another mental tumble into the nether pit. "i finally got away from all the wolves." 

"ohoho! hey yourself, mister chen." cynthia grins widely at him in greeting, and strangely enough, eddy responds with an amused smile of his own. brett's half-tempted to raise an eyebrow at the sight. "we did super awesome, didn't we?"

"yeah, we did," the taller man says, looking over to brett with warm eyes, "and it's all thanks to our amazing soloist, of course."

life continues to be unfair to brett yang: he just barely manages to stutter out his reply. "aw, come on, man, you know i can't take all the credit."

"that's true, but like, duh, you were pretty much the star of the show, knucklehead," cynthia laughs, raising her glass to give him a tiny salute.

"she's right, yeah?" eddy curls his arm around his shoulders again, warmth seeping in even through thick layers of suit, and really, brett's not prepared for this, but he'll take it. "we did good, but you did great. i mean, come on, that was just—amazing. the director made the right choice, switching us around. i could never have done what you did in a million years."

brett and eddy stand there for a moment, quietly smiling at each other, before the taller violinist suddenly jolts, quietly removing his arm as if he had forgotten he had left it hanging around brett's shoulder. cynthia's eyebrows climb to her hairline, but she doesn't comment, and thank god for small mercies, brett thinks.

the crowd hushes around them for a brief moment. a regal woman clothed in shimmering dark approaches, graying head held high as she comes to a halt in front of them. brett doesn't realize that the tall man standing beside him has become unnaturally still.

"ah, you must be brett yang," the woman begins, voice creaking with age but poised as she extends a gloved hand to firmly shake his own. "i enjoyed your performance very much. looking forward to see you grace the stage in future concerts, eh?"

"oh, uh—yes, ma'am, i hope i could," brett replies, suddenly nervous. she is very obviously a wealthy individual, judging by her confident stance and impeccable appearance alone. her eyes make it feel as if any mistake made around her will be observed and dealt with all too swiftly, and it's kinda terrifying, if he's honest. "thank you, ma'am."

the woman smiles nevertheless, and then her gaze flickers to brett's concertmaster. "eddy chen." the spoken name alone bears weight. "i've heard about you two switching positions; it's become a rather infamous choice on the part of the esteemed director. how did that come about? i was wondering if any of you knew."

"well, ma'am, actually," brett glances at cynthia, who's gaping open-mouthed like a goldfish, and eddy, who looks back at him with unreadable eyes, before he answers. "it was the director's choice, but mister chen came up with the idea, and i'm still so thankful for it. i wouldn't have gotten this opportunity without him."

"oh? is that so?" her smile turns sharp for a flickering second—or maybe not? brett isn't quite sure. "very interesting." the woman hums in thought, and then nods at the three of them. "once again, a marvelous performance. thank you." and with that, she strolls away, leaving silence in her wake.

okay, that was weird. "what was that about?" confused, brett turns over to look at his friend—and then falters. he sees what he thinks is fear, in those dark eyes.

"excuse me," eddy mumbles, the words suddenly tumbling from his lips, and he suddenly leaves the premises, disappearing into the crowd. brett blinks in the invisible dust of his departure, a sinking feeling in his chest, and so he turns to his other companion for answers, anything at all.

"what—what just happened?"

cynthia finally shuts her mouth and shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed as she stares at the empty spot where eddy had been standing a few seconds ago. "i dunno, but like, i'm pretty sure that was elizabeth chen? y'know—eddy's mom?"