Duet Partner

Chapter 3

One vulgar expression after another escapes Brett's mouth as he stumbles through the cold darkness of an Australian winter night and almost lands flat on his face again.

If he's honest, he sometimes asks himself why these kinds of things always happen to him, as if he wasn't in deep water already.

But no. Well, fuck his life.

So, Brett valiantly continues his way to the conservatory's practice rooms – because what else is there to do if one forgot to pack up their laptop after practicing but needed it to work on an essay? He couldn't just not finish his homework – he is on thin ice with Professor McCoy already – and he couldn't use Alex's computer because his roommate went out clubbing with their friends.

(Brett previously turned down the offer to join them to work on the mentioned paper but right now, he curses God and the universe for this decision.)

When he finally enters the heated building and the familiar smell of the receptionist's favorite air freshener reaches his nostrils, Brett manages to relax a little bit. Despite the lateness of the hour, the faint melody of Sibelius' violin concerto floats through the air and makes the whole scene somewhat homely.

Brett smiles to himself, greets the lady behind the counter and starts to make his way upstairs to the practice rooms. While the sweet sound of the violin progressively gets louder, Brett once again can't fathom how he – despite all obstacles – ended up here, on his best way to make a living out of what he loves. Every now and then, he has to remind himself that this is a privilege he should count himself lucky to have.

But the thankfulness quickly subsides as he reaches the third floor. How can it be possible that the last person working on their repertoire has to do that in his practice room?!

Seriously, what are the odds?

Brett groans annoyed but at this point, he's done with caring, done with being embarrassed. He just pushes down the door handle, mouth already opened and ready to form an apology and – holy shit.

The only thing Brett can do now is freeze because his mind can't comprehend the image it's confronted with. Of all the people who could possibly occupy a practice room at this late hour, Eddy Chen is the one Brett would have expected the least.

Especially because he plays beautifully. The way he coaxes Sibelius' most beautiful melody out of his instrument, yearning and fragile, yet with a strong vibrato and fiery bow strokes...

It's safe to say that Brett is mesmerized. He leans against the doorpost and just listens in wonder as Eddy continues to fly through the concerto – until he fucks up a run and breaks the spell.

Frustrated sighs accompany the music as Eddy repeats that part. His playing becomes increasingly unprecise and Brett continues to watch, this time in amusement. He learned the Sibelius before and yeah, that certain descending scale full of accidentals is far from easy. But maybe...

"I might have a better fingering for you."

At the sound of Brett's voice Eddy jumps in surprise and almost drops his violin. He turns to the door, looking dumbfounded and Brett can't help but smirk. He has the upper hand for now – for once – and he won't deny that he likes it. So sue him.

"What...?" Eddy still looks as if he doesn't quite understand what's going on and Brett is enjoying it to the fullest.

"I might have a better fingering for you", he says again, moves away from the doorframe and comes closer. "Try staying in third position until that c sharp instead of shifting down immediately... It'll be much cleaner with a string crossing."

(Eddy's still staring at him, posture rigid and mouth gaping.)

"At least that's how it was for me", Brett adds.

His words finally seem to get to the taller man. Eddy tilts his head slightly and breathes deeply before drawing his bow over the strings again. And there it is: a beautifully clean run. Well, it's not perfect yet but it's definitely much better now.

And Brett – Brett is genuinely thrilled. "Hey, that's it!"

A smile is forming on Eddy's face as he lowers his instrument and places it gently on top of the piano. Then he turns to Brett and they just grin at each other for a few seconds – until they remember where they are and who they are.

Eddy's smile grows confused and a bit dismissive again until it dissappears completely. Then he breaks the silence.

"Thanks for your help. But – what are you even doing here? Can't be good etiquette to just storm into other practice rooms without knocking, no?"

Suddenly, his cocky attitude is back, and Brett wants to punch something – preferably Eddy or himself. How could he have forgotten who is standing in front of him here? And that arrogant bastard just crosses his arms and waits.

On the other hand – he is kind of right, isn't he? You're not supposed to just enter other people's personal space unannounced. Brett has an inkling that if he himself was in Eddy's place, he would've reacted much more hostile. So, as much as it hurts, he brings an apology over his lips.

"That's true, I'm sorry. I just forgot something here earlier today and wanted to get it back."

Eddy's gaze follows Brett when the latter steps to the piano bench. His notebook is still there, thank goodness.

"I didn't know you were a violinist," Brett tries to lighten the awkward silence while packing up his laptop. Maybe he is a people pleaser. "Do you like the Sibelius? It sounds really good when you play it."

He is successful, Eddy's smiling again. It's a quiet, sincere smile, and Brett finds that he likes this expression, considers it rather beautiful – wait, what?

"Yeah, it's my favorite violin concerto. I'm a sucker for post-romantic and 20th century music in general, for example I really love Debussy. What about you?"

Wow, this whole thing is going in an unexpected direction. But Brett is not complaining. Who would've guessed one could actually have a decent conversation with Eddy Chen?

"I like the Sibelius too, but I got to say that I prefer the Tchaikovsky – it's just epic!"

"Isn't that the one you get to play with the orchestra now because you won that competition?"

And now, Brett is the one thunderstruck. How (and why) the fuck does this guy, captain of the basketball team, probably most popular student of the whole university, know that?

"What?" Eddy sniggers. "Don't look at me like I've suddenly grown a second head! Your little girlfriend told me this morning."

Brett isn't quite sure which part of that statement he should tackle first. In the end, what comes out of his mouth is: "Naomi is not my girlfriend."

"Really?"

"Really!" Brett affirms. If there's one thing he's certain about, it's that he will never get together with that little blonde barbie of a stalker.

Eddy hasn't stopped smirking. "Are you sure that she knows that?"

As Brett scoffs, he's already halfway out of the door, Eddy's laughter following him. "Bye, Yang! Sleep tight!"

Brett doesn't really feel the need to answer.

On his way back to the dorms, he recapitulates the last thirty minutes. That was by far the most bearable encounter he ever had with Eddy Chen. It was almost nice – until the conversation turned to Naomi. 

At the thought of her, Brett frowns. He despises the thought of asking her about the duet tomorrow but he has no other choice. Unless...

A ludicrous idea takes shape in his mind. And because he's actually that desperate, he spins on his heel and runs the whole way back, past the reception, up the stairs and into Eddy Chen's practice room.

It's almost a déjà-vu, seeing him flinch.

"This might sound weird", Brett pants, "but would you be my duet partner for a recital?"