distraction: you

chapter twenty six

as the days crawl on forward, unheeding of anything or anyone, brett's life transitions into some sort of casual normalcy. the hectic rush of the opening night and the first few days after, the slew of emotions upheaving his equilibrium in ways he hadn't been prepared for, half adrenaline and half worrying for eddy's sake: these have all simmered down into a quiet ache in his stomach, almost imperceptible. within the second week of the concert season, he feels as if he's been doing this soloist gig for years by now. fancy that.

so when it all comes down to this, not much as changed since then—except, of course, for the direction of his thoughts, the way his heart pounds louder, harder than before in the presence of the one it holds most dear.

being in love, brett realizes, changes everything within and nothing without.

"watching you pine away is very excruciating, let me tell you."

he snaps out of his reverie, looking over to the blonde woman beside him and glaring at her. "you don't sound very supportive, cynthia."

"i'm being very supportive, brett." the cellist wiggles her eyebrows at him. "anything to put you and i both out of this misery."

brett shakes his head at her, a sigh "come on," she says, nudging his arm with a butterfly-glitter-nail hand. "you should ask him out on a date."

he almost chokes on his own spit at the very suggestion she gives him. "what?"

"you do almost everything together at this point anyway," cynthia defends herself, "so there's no reason why he'd reject you at all." she's not wrong, per se, not about the first half. brett and eddy are almost inseparable nowadays: they eat together; they rehearse together; they even shop together, which is entirely eddy's idea after the whole borrowing-a-suit thing from the opening night. cynthia's never gonna let brett live it down. but still—

"that doesn't mean anything." he tries not to frown at the words, but it's a lost cause when faced with the wingwoman queen herself.

"like hell it does," cynthia scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "honestly, brett—you might need better glasses to see the world with. he's into you as much as you're into him, so you gotta make a move, mister yang." she lowers her voice, conspiratorial as she continues: "before someone else snaps him up."

it's a testament to brett's frazzled mind that it's never occurred to him that eddy could possibly be interested in someone, whether in the orchestra or outside of it. but then: he remembers the fanclub, the once-dismissive eyes now adoring eddy's every step, the inquisitive and excitable looks, the whispers. and then: the cruel claws of insecurity find their way into his brain, digging deep to jab where it hurts the most.

"well, maybe he deserves that someone else. someone better, then," brett says, his eyes shuttered. of course someone as amazing as eddy chen would need someone just as incredible as he is, on par with his level. he needs an equal, and brett is—well. he's certainly nowhere near anything like that. how could he ever have thought that he could possibly stand by eddy's side at all—?

"brett, wait," cynthia backpedals, smile melting off her face as his mouth tightens, but then the love of his life is suddenly there right in front of him, and that's just—

it's all brett can do to stand his ground and not immediately run for the hills.

"i've come to take you away, emperor yang," eddy declares, an easy grin on his lips, sunshine in his eyes. god, how is he even allowed to walk around in public like that? brett's a milisecond away from a panic attack at the sight of him, for crying out loud. "hey, cynthia."

"h-hey yourself, hotshot," cynthia fires back at the taller man almost on instinct, still visibly worried about her previous words, but brett offers her a mild smile. it's not really anything she should be anxious about.

"mind if i take brett out for lunch?" 

he firmly ignores the pointed look cynthia sends him before she responds to eddy in the affirmative. "i don't mind at all; go ahead, mister," she laughs, flapping her hands like a mother shooing away her offspring. "take care of him for me, will you?"

"always," eddy says, and brett tries his best not to fall head over heels for him again. 

(he fails, as is the norm.)

• • •

the dark cloud follows him to the artsy bistro eddy's seen fit to bring him to for lunch. no matter what he does to throw off the bad aura, brett's mind still lures him back to the mental pit, shackles of insecurity chaining him down.

"is something wrong?"

damn, now eddy can tell that he's dejected. "no, nothing," he says, smiling, hiding gritted teeth. he doesn't like lying to this man, but letting eddy know that he's the cause—both sickness and cure for the heart in brett's chest—is probably the worst idea in existence, ever. brett's skin crawls at the mere thought of it. there is no way that's ever happening.

despite his best efforts, eddy still looks hesitant, and maybe that means something, that he can see through brett's attempts at covering up the issue. "you sure?" the other man reaches out, hand outstretched towards brett's forehead, perhaps to take his temperature—and he panics.

brett shrinks back, shying away from the potential touch. something withers in eddy's eyes.

oh, god. "sorry, i—" brett cuts himself off, his eyes glued to the plate in front of him. "it's just been a really long day."

a few moments of silence. "gotcha," the other man says, all quietly and low. brett thinks that's the end of it when suddenly, the spiel continues. "you know, after what you did for me that night," eddy pauses, and it's then that brett chooses to look up, and it's then that his breath catches at the sight of warm, honest sincerity lingering in eddy's gaze. "you know you can tell me anything, right? anything at all. i'm here for you as you were for me." 

you're not alone anymore.

"so if you're sad, i'm sad. if you're happy, i'm happy." eddy says it so matter-of-factly, like it's the cornerstone of his existence, and brett can't even begin to learn how to breathe normally again. "so yeah—let me cheer you up somehow?" 

and just like that, despite the doubt and the fear still curling insidiously in his gut, brett finds it all too easy to smile. it's the least he can do for this brilliant man before him; if eddy wants him to be okay, he can be okay. "yeah. you are, right now," brett says, turning his head to the side, suddenly bashful, "cheering me up. thanks, eddy. really."

"any time, your majesty." eddy tells him, and the world is bright again. just like that.

(the words are still locked away behind the prison bars of his teeth, but they are there. and they are waiting. the right time.)