Catalyst Encounters // Brallon AU

2. A White Piano and Gin Tonic

Dallon's keys scraped against the front door lock, taking a few attempts to slot into the keyhole. It was an aging building that lay on the outskirts of town, just far away enough that the authorities couldn't care to fix any of its issues. And as long as the landlady was getting paid off the rent, she certainly didn't care either.

No sooner than the ratty door shut behind him, Patrick stuck his head over the couch where he'd been watching TV. "Someone's got a story to tell," he teased with an arched brow. Dallon had always been transparent to Patrick, who'd somehow sussed him out already.

"Says who? You shouldn't even be up at this time, you have a morning shift tomorrow," Dallon tried to deflect the attention from himself.

Patrick rounded the sofa and moved to one of the dining chairs closer to Dallon. "Sarah wanted to swap shifts so I don't need to be ready until five." He let the silence hang out while he pretended to examine his nails, somewhat obnoxiously since he'd never been interested in their upkeep before. "Giving me plenty of time to hear all about why you've got a twinkle in your eye."

"I do not have a twinkle in my eye."

"At least give me a name!" Patrick begged, even having the gall to pout.

Dallon stood awkwardly slipping his large hands into his pockets to refrain from fidgeting. "Brendon."

Patrick lit up then, reaching out to gently punch Dallon in the arm. "Get in son! What about a last name? I need to Instagram and Facebook stalk him so I know he's not a mutant."

Dallon froze. He didn't know it. And suddenly the rare chance meeting seemed to be just that. Brendon was only using that laundromat because of a one-time circumstance, and without a surname to put to the face, the chances of seeing him again weren't looking brilliant.

To his credit Patrick seemed to notice the shift in mood and dropped the sly, teasing smile somewhat. "I mean, even if you didn't get one, you might see him about again. Maybe he's a student."

"Maybe," Dallon forced weak smile in an attempt to mask the disappointment and avoid pity. It didn't fool Patrick though, who looped a comforting arm around Dallon.

"You're still young and hot, I wouldn't worry. What's that saying again? Plenty of fish?"

Normally, the cheesy expression would have made Dallon gag and playfully shove Patrick away, but the sincere upturn of his lips was a comforting gesture. Really, he was the best friend that Dallon had the fortune to meet in his train wreck of a high school. And it definitely wasn't Pete who's atrocious screeching could be heard from his room, where he was most likely dying in some video game.

~

After a therapeutic sleep back home, Dallon was up again to continue the mundane cycle of life and get ready for work. He wore a standard bartender's uniform consisting of slacks and a white shirt, which thankfully didn't become too suffocating when the crowds picked up later into the night.

He'd been working in Gin 91 for the last three years, mixing up drinks for adults in the same age bracket as himself. It was deliberately placed in the uptown residential area to limit the number of college students descending on the place. Pete regularly jibed that it was aimed at the richer patrons in town, though Dallon maintained that was only because the place didn't reek of sweat.

When he entered the building Dallon was instantly hit with the signature scents of the lilac and wisteria incense burning on the bar counter. It was illuminated a deep blue under the overhead lights while air con units sat close by to ensure the incense didn't become too oppressive. Gin 91 wasn't a particularly sizeable establishment but its minimalist design created a false sense of spaciousness so customers could relax at tables without someone else dribbling down each other's necks.

After dropping off his jacket in the back room, Dallon came out and checked the small sign sitting atop the counter. Every second day local musicians would take to the small stage area and perform in the evenings. Tonight would be a piano performance.

Dallon smiled appreciatively as he confirmed the levels in some of the bottles behind the bar. The white baby grand piano was often shoved to the side of the stage and saw little use on performance nights. Even though the place usually got swarmed once it hit the eleven o'clock mark, Dallon found himself looking forward to it tonight as he missed hearing the feathery notes of the Kawai.

It was still going to be a while yet. Another five hours, but there were still a handful of regulars in, who'd be coming up soon for seconds. And at least they were good at tipping.

The time didn't pass either quickly or slowly but there was plenty of work to keep busy with. Dallon made light conversation while he mixed the drinks and when he felt confident, even threw the bottles around a bit for show. He was quite invested in one patron, Alex's, shenanigans that he didn't even notice a man walk through the backstage door until it was shutting after him. He would just have to wait until he was on stage then.

Some staff members were currently pushing the piano to centre stage while others not too subtly adjusted the lighting intensity and colours over the performance area. Dallon pushed Alex a Porn Star Martini over the counter and wished for the next orders to be as simple so he could pay attention to the piano.

Of course right then an entourage then burst in, ordering a plethora ridiculously demanding cocktails. The performance began while Dallon was shaking up a Ramos Gin Fizz, causing him to miss the entire introduction of the pianist until the first note was played.

The piece seemed like a song transcription rather than something written straight for the piano. But it was a complicated arrangement, sounding as if it required fairly dexterous fingers and hours of practice. The notes sang through the air with a bright but melodious tone despite the piano usually having a darker sound.

Once Dallon had took care of all the orders for the group (who gave one collective pitiful tip), he was able to direct his attention to the stage.

The chances shouldn't have been possible. It should have been against the laws of reality. Brendon sat on the piano stool with his hair styled perfectly once again and a crisp paisley shirt that was no longer sopped in blood.

Dallon supposed this was when his life transitioned from a film noir to a trashy romance serial, because of course Brendon would be performing at Gin 91 the day after they met. He'd never shown his face here before.

He sighed, debating whether he should try and flag Brendon up when he finished the show. On one hand, it could go exactly like college and Dallon was just leading himself to heartbreak. On the other, opportunities never presented themselves to Dallon like this before. It could be the universe finally giving him a break, and who was he to not take it?

The performance ended as gracefully as it began, rewarding Brendon with a flattering applause from the rest of the patrons, Dallon included. He disappeared backstage momentarily to change and sauntered back out the door next to the counter.

"Uh hey Brendon," Dallon started, "you sounded amazing up there." The words weren't especially eloquent and probably didn't mean much to Brendon, but they were true. Brendon turned to thank him before registering who he was.

"Dallon? Holy shit that's a coincidence and a half," Brendon smiled incredulously and took a seat at the bar. "And thank you, it's good to hear people like my stuff."

"You wrote those songs? Fuck, they were so good," Dallon burst out. "You definitely need to come here more."

The last sentence could be read as something more than just a compliment to Brendon's music. Which Brendon picked up on immediately.

"Well, it's not like this place is bad on the eyes," Brendon said amusedly. His coy smile flustered Dallon a little and made him rub the back of his neck. "When do you get off tonight then?"

"Another half hour."

Brendon beamed. "Great. One gin and tonic then."