Two Violins, One Love, BAE

Chapter 17 Beer and mints

Brett watched the maze of coloured beams that crisscrossed the dance floor in rhythm with the music. He breathed deeply and half-closed his eyes. He was alone again with his back against the pillar. He'd just had a good chat. The Twoset fans were nice, and he'd handled them quite well, considering he'd just had a marriage proposal. Almost. Aaah the lifestyle of the stars... he chuckled to himself. What would it be like if they had, I don't know, one million subscribers. Freaking hell...

"Hello Birthday Boy. You look happy." Brett opened his eyes. Eddy was standing in front of him, with beads of sweat on his forehead. He was still breathing fast from the dance. His eyes shone in the club's dimness, and Brett noticed how everything about him looked wet, especially his mouth.

"Hello, handsome stranger."

"Is that how you see me?" Eddy asked.

"Sometimes, yes... I wonder where you go when you dance."

Eddy came closer and brushed Brett's ear with his lips. "You like my dancing, Brettie-hyung?"

Brett put a hand on Eddy's waist, just above his hips. He felt his T-shirt damp with sweat, slipped his hand under the fabric and stroked the hot skin underneath. He felt Eddy's sharp intake of air, and for a moment just closed his eyes. "Yeah, I do," he said at last with a grin, "You're the Jungkook of the dance floor."

"And is your second name... Jimin by any chance?"

"God... Which one is that? You know I don't listen to pop music..."

"Jungkookie's bae. Well, according to me, anyway. I ship them."

Brett smiled and held Eddy more tightly round the waist.

"Would you like a cocktail, Brettie-hyung?" Eddy asked.

"Yes, please."

"Which one do you want?" Eddy asked, his mouth against Brett's ear.

"I'll go for the special. It's called My-Maknae-In-The-Nude."

"Oof. I so would like to oblige Brett Yang-sshi, but am not sure this is the right place... Er... can I suggest... just about anything else in the meantime, Sir?"

"That is a pity, indeed," Brett said, putting on his best British accent. "Never mind. I'll have the Snow-in-Taipei."

"Excellent choice, Sir. I'll have one too." Eddy pressed a small kiss on the side of his face and walked off.

Brett watched him make his way to the bar. There was a crowd waiting, and he regretted at once agreeing to his offer. Eddy would be ages before he would get his order through. Besides, wasn't it time they got somewhere together, just the two of them? Some of the gang were hopping about the dance floor. Yanis was making a fool of himself to amuse a circle of admirers. The rest was nowhere to be seen but having a good time he imagined. The night was young. Couldn't Eddy and him just slip away?

"Yo, man, do I know you from somewhere?" An American voice drawled into his ear.

Brett spun round. A blond guy not much taller than him but a lot wider was leaning towards him, one hand on the pillar, the other holding a beer.

"Sorry, what?" Brett asked.

The guy was standing well within his personal body space, then Brett realised he was likely very drunk, and was holding on to the pillar for stability.

"Dude, I know you! You're on that thing... Youtube thing. My brother showed me y'all's thingamajig, y'all's gig. Y'know..."

"Twoset Violin? Our channel?"

"That's gotta be it. Way cool, man... My bro plays the trombone... Lives in Taipei. Likes y'all's gig. Oh, hang on, soz... I'm Stan. Nashville, Tennessee." And he peeled two fingers off his beer bottle in the direction of Brett.

Brett shook the two fingers. "Hi, I'm Brett Yang."

"I play the guitar," Stan said.

"Well, that's interesting, I mean, very interesting," Brett replied.

Fancy that... To go all the way to Taipei to get buttonholed by Stan from Nashville, Tennessee, who plays the guitar and drinks beer.

"Do you prefer your Bs natural or flat?" Brett asked.

"Whatzat, man?"

"Never mind," Brett said. He wondered what it was with US guys, and why they always were such beefcakes. What do they feed them with? Mind you, he wasn't ugly. He had a shock of yellow hair and transparent eyes. He would have been attractive if he weren't so drunk and swaying so much. And drawling incomprehensibly in Brett's ear.

"Like I say, love music, Nashville, see whatta mean..."

Brett looked over Stan's shoulder towards the bar. Eddy, come and rescue me, now! Where the fuck are you?

"Y'know... you go to gee right... coz I go to gee... y'know..."

Brett held out a hand. Stan leaned heavily against the pillar, but swayed so much he was collapsing against Brett who pushed back with all his strength against the American's shoulder. Someone help me! Brett implored mentally.

"Gee-..."

"String?" Brett said, trying to slip from underneath Stan's weight, thinking the pillar would do a better job at propping him up, and would keep the conversation flowing just as well.

"Whaat? No, gee... y'know, round the corner, on Longjiang or whatever, if you wanna... I know the DJ. I can let you in coz..." But Stan didn't finish his sentence, choosing instead to embrace both Brett and the pillar.

Brett felt the back of his head knock hard against the pillar. His lips were forced open, and a tongue pushed down his throat. The taste of beer and mint filled his mouth. My luck, Brett screamed inwardly, my luck!!! The beefcake weighed a ton. Brett managed to bring his hands up and onto the American's shoulders, and focused all his strength there. After what felt like an eternity of minty beer sloshing, he wrenched himself off and shoved the American who slow-spun round the pillar. Stan disappeared in the shadow behind it and Brett heard over the music the crashing sound of body and beer meeting the floor.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he spat on the ground, "Fuuuck! What the...!"

His next thought was Eddy. Where was he? Brett marched over to the bar, scanning the crowd. No Eddy there. He turned round. Where could he be? There was only one bar, and only one path leading from the bar to where him and Stan had stood. He looked towards the small tables that lined the wall between the bar and the pillar, and there he saw them. Two glasses with a white frothy liquid in them. Two Snow-in-Taipei left on a table. And no Eddy anywhere.