breddy nocturnes

what's this brewing between us?

It's a partly sunny Saturday morning, and the cafe is lively with chatter, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee suspended in midair.

After around a year or so of Brett Yang voyaging the world as a soloist, now that he's back home in Australia, what better way to take a trip down memory lane than to start his morning at his favorite cafe?

When Brett strolls in, the delicate chimes ring out as he opens the door. The cafe still looks exactly as how he remembers it, still has the cozy ambience, classical piano music still wafting quietly in the air. A small smile finds its way to his mouth.

The chimes catch the attention of one of the people standing behind the counter; Eddy Chen.

"Morning, Brett!"

Brett hasn't seen Eddy in quite a while. They aren't exactly friends, but they aren't exactly strangers, either. Frequent small talk between them whenever Brett came in, often never complete without a twinge of Eddy's awkwardness, but it wasn't like they had eachother's numbers or anything (unfortunately).

As much as Brett refuses to admit it out loud, Eddy doesn't look half bad, really. And a thought of something along those lines wanders aimlessly through his brain as Eddy waves him over.

Eddy gets him his flat white ("it's been a year, how do you still remember my usual order?") and Brett takes his favorite table in the corner by the window.

Something was so beautifully different about the way this place made their coffees. Brett's loves the way the coffee high-fives his tastebuds, the way it sometimes had his tongue feeling a tad bit rough when the first sip was slightly too hot.
He's about to take a sip, but the words scrawled on the lower half of his cup catch his eye.

"Bretty." And written underneath it, "Did you know you're a V - I?"

What the heck?

So, the cafe shop employee (who Brett may or may not find attractive) just called him perfect, the musician way. Holy moly.
Brett never even was aware of the fact that Eddy knew music theory.
Screw you too, blush-that's-totally-not-rising-to-my-cheeks-right-now, Brett grumbles internally as he takes a sip.

The next few times he visits the cafe, a new cheesy musician pickup line appears at the bottom of his cup every time. "Are you a fermata? Because I want to hold on to you," among others. Along with his name continuously being spelled as "Bretty," which Brett assumes is a cheesy nickname of some sort.

Was Eddy flirting with him?

Things just escalate over the course of the next few days.

Eddy emerges through the hordes of customers and takes a seat in front of Brett, mumbling some excuse about how he was on break.

A few awkward questions here and there, including the classic "nice weather today," and all of a sudden, they're talking and laughing together as if they've known eachother since forever. Brett doesn't know how or why, but he finds that he doesn't seem to mind. They're both completely at ease.

They open up to eachother little by little, exchanging minuscule to huge facts about themselves. Brett did, at first, have some sort of acquaintance with Eddy, but this is the first time he's getting to know him to a greater extent.

Eddy even goes to refill his cup for him, free of charge. He gives Brett his cup, and their hands brush up against eachother for a fraction of a second, and it takes all of Brett's willpower not to visibly jolt at the warm touch.

Brett continutes talking animatedly about his soloist shenanigans. Eddy alludes to the messages he's been leaving on Brett's cups, grinning when he sees a tinge of pink on Brett's cheeks.

Eddy takes a sip of his flat white, the foam smearing his upper lip. Weirdly enough, Brett is overflowing with the unanticipated urge to lean over the table and kiss it away, which makes him raise his eyebrows at himself internally, because really, what the hell?

He settles with wiping it for him with a napkin, and although it's just the napkin wiping away at Eddy's lips, nothing more, Brett feels warm tingles and butterflies coursing through him that he can't quite wrap his head around. It's an odd feeling he's only felt a few times before.

Their eyes lock, hold for a moment too long. Brett doesn't know what, but it feels as if something was just ignited in the air between them. Something different.
Does Eddy sense it, too?

Brett becomes aware of the fact that he's staring (and smiling like an idiot) and averts his gaze first, and Eddy awkwardly follows.

Eddy finishes the rest of his coffee. "I should get back to work," he mumbles, and Brett's face falls. This shining moment ending in the blink of an eye, too fast. About fifteen minutes ago, he was somewhat shy when Eddy chose to sit with with him, but now, he doesn't want him to leave. Brett thinks of calling him back, but the pianissimo of his "wait!" would most likely fade among the fortissimo of the customers's voices.

He might just be overthinking it, because of course, maybe another day he'll sit with him during his break.

But there was something special about this first time really getting to know Eddy, more than just the small talk when Brett was ordering coffee. He wants this wonderful Saturday to be for getting to know everything about Eddy. But he knows that Eddy has to get back to work, no excuses.

Even Brett's surprised by his own clinginess.

Even as he watches Eddy slip back behind the counter, he wonders.

What's this brewing between us?