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tearsofgrace · 4 years

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The Tchaikovsky Drop (a twoset fic)

30 minutes. 30 minutes and they were going live. 30 minutes until he would have to play for at least a thousand people, most likely more. There were no redos and that meant there were no mistakes. No memory slips, no starting over.

Brett ran a nervous hand through his hair and glanced up at Eddy. They had already set up the camera, framed their shot (or at least tried to), and checked their sound. Everything was ready, except him.

Eddy gave him a small half smile. He looked totally relaxed, confident.

He has to play to, Brett reminded himself. How can he look so composed, it’s not fair. How can he look so… perfect?

Brett shook his head sharply. Nope, now was not the time.

“You ready, man?”

Brett glanced up again. Eddy had moved to stand next to him, and concern was visible on his face. He gently pried the violin out of Brett’s hand and set it down carefully next to them.

“Hey, you’re ready for this,” Eddy said with a smile. “Besides, whatever you do, they’ll love it. They just want to hear you play it, it doesn’t need to be perfect.”

Brett turned away quickly, exhaling.

“Yes, it does,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Yes, it does. It has to be perfect. I owe it to them. I mean, two million, Eddy! Two million subscribers. I never thought we’d make it this far, and this is how we’re celebrating it. If I screw this up…”

He trailed off, ignoring the concern filling his best friend’s face. Ignoring the cute way his eyes closed and he leaned in closer to Brett to try to read him. Ignoring the warmth the rose to his cheeks when he met his eyes. Ignoring--

Nope, still not the time.

“You don’t have to play it perfectly for it to be perfect, Brett.” Eddy said softly.

Brett turned away, shrugging off the hug Eddy tried to pull him into, even though he wanted desperately to collapse into his arms.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Eddy said, giving Brett some space. “We still have time, okay? Just try to relax.” He flashed a smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Brett fought with his thoughts. Why did Eddy have to be so cute, so caring, on today of all days? He needed to be focused on the task in front of him. Playing this piece of music he had grown to love. It had become so much a part of him that sharing it with these fans felt like sharing a part of his soul. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

He hummed the first few notes, trailing off as his already high anxiety started to build. He just had 20 minutes left.

Eddy walked back into the room and handed him a hot mug of coffee. He wrapped his hands around it, the warmth melting some of the stress. A few minutes passed in silence while Brett stared into his mug, absorbed in his thoughts, feeling he was finally entering the mindset he’d been struggling to achieve all day.

Without looking up, he muttered, “A lot of great soloists, violinists way better than I could ever even dream of being, have played and recorded this. Why would they want to hear me?”

He glanced up and saw Eddy’s eyes fixed on him. His face was dead serious, which was odd. Eddy’s face usually looked carefree, like he was only seconds away from laughter. It only really got serious when he was discussing music, when he was playing, or when there was something wrong.

“I-- Listen, this really isn’t the time, but…” he started, trailing off.

Brett didn’t reply, but simply waited.

“Look, I don’t want to throw you off or anything. But, I know you’re going to do amazing, and nothing I say will stop that. So I have to tell you something right now.”

Brett looked at him curiously, but still didn’t answer.

The silence didn’t discourage Eddy, and he continued after a breath, “I think, I think I might be in love with you.”

Brett’s mind started racing. Was Eddy saying this to help him perform better? Because his own feelings were so obvious and he didn’t want Brett to be in pain? Was he actually in love… no it wasn’t possible.

Thoughts swirled through his head, and he realized after a moment that he hadn’t responded to Eddy. He hadn’t even reacted, his trademark deadpan was the only answer Eddy had received.

“Eddy, I… you’re… me? I’m… I’m nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you kidding me? Brett you are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. You’re caring, you’re accepting, you give me someone to fall back on. I trust you with everything I have because I know you will never let me down. You’re clever and witty and you come up with things, perfect things, on the spot. And um, you’re kind of adorable. But it’s not just that. You’re incredibly talented. You may not be a world-famous soloist, but you put your heart into your music. You play with so much passion. So, Brett, you ask why they would want to hear your recording. You ask ‘why me?’ Because they want to know your heart. I want to know it too.”

Brett stared at him speechless, grasping for words, grasping for a response (a skill he was apparently quite talented in). He had stopped shaking, and all the anxiety had left him, at least the anxiety about playing.

It didn’t have to be perfect, and he could share his heart with the fans, they deserved it. Eddy deserved it. He owed it to them, and he owed it to himself.

He opened his mouth to respond, but an alarm on his phone and on Eddy’s phone went off.

“We have to start. Listen, if you don’t want to think about what I said, don’t think about it. You’re going to crush this, alright?”

Brett nodded, wishing he could say more. They walked over in front of the camera, took a deep breath, and started the live stream.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Eddy started, “As you all know, Brett promised us--”

“Actually you promised them. I didn’t say anything.” Brett said with a small laugh.

“Fine, okay,” Eddy laughed along, glad his friend was more at ease. “I promised you that when we hit 2 million subscribers, Brett would drop his recording of the Tchaikovsky violin concerto. Well, thanks to our amazing fans, we hit 2 million!”

“Thank you all so much for your support,” Brett added, holding a hand to his heart, “you guys make this all worth it. We love you all!”

“So, without further ado, let’s get started,” Eddy glanced at Brett trying to gauge his anxiety levels. He looked okay, more relaxed then he had been all day. “So, I will be playing the orchestral accompaniment, or at least parts of it, and Brett of course will be playing the solo violin part. We hope you guys enjoy!”

Brett nodded at Eddy, and watched as his friend put his violin on his shoulder, checked the tuning briefly, and then closed his eyes.

The first lines of orchestral accompaniment flew by, and before Brett knew it, his instrument was on his shoulder, his bow was on the string, and his left hand rested in position. With only measures before his entrance, his throat had started to close up again. He closed his eyes, and pictured Eddy. His beautiful eyes, his confident smile, his steadiness.

His words echoed in his head, I think, I think I might be in love with you… they want to know your heart, I want to know it too.

His mouth curved into a smile involuntarily, and he sunk gracefully into the first notes of the beautiful concerto.

The 40 minutes flew by. He was completely immersed in the music, pouring every heartache, every joy, every fear into his playing. He didn’t play perfectly. He missed notes, he added accents where he didn’t want them, he shifted slightly too high. But it didn’t matter. He had never played with such passion, with such emotion. And as he and Eddy’s bows flew off the strings for the final note, an emotion he rarely felt overtook him. Pride. He could say without any reservations that he was proud of what he had just given the fans. Of what he had just given Eddy.

After letting the final note hang in the air, letting the music settle for a few moments, Eddy turned and faced the camera.

“Well, there you have it. Brett Yang’s performance of the Tchaikovsky violin concerto! Thank you all so much for watching, and thank you again for your support. We could not have done this without all of you.” Eddy turned to Brett to see if he wanted to add anything, but he saw Brett’s emotion hiding in the eyes of his deadpan face. They both waved to the camera, Brett breaking into a smile, and then Eddy stopped the livestream.

Brett walked over to his case, slowly packing up his violin. Eddy set his own instrument down and went to stand behind him.

“I told you you’d be amazing,” he smiled.

Brett closed the case and looked up at him.

“Did you mean it?”

Eddy paused for a moment, looking into his best friend’s eyes. “Every word,” he said, speaking almost in a whisper.

Brett took a slow step forward, leaving only inches between him and Eddy. He put his hands on the taller man’s shoulders, his heart racing. Slowly raising himself onto his tiptoes, he pressed his lips against Eddy’s. Softly, sweetly, but with passion.

Eddy melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Brett as Brett’s hands moved slowly into his hair.

Their kisses grew rapid and hungry. They pulled apart, locking eyes with each other.

“I think, I think I might love you back.”

#i know it's long i'm sorry #twoset #twosetviolin #breddy #eddychen #brettyang #tchaikdrop #tchaikovsky #tsv #not spn #my writing

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