Brett had never really liked weddings.

To be fair, they were a boring affair, back when he lived outside of the Con. The bride and groom usually just went to the town hall, signed some papers with some witnesses, then gathered with family and friends for a fancy meal and lots of alcohol.

It was very different down here, Brett soon discovered.

Weddings at the Con were a boisterous affair. Since there was not much to entertain yourself with, events like this were the highlight of the month. Everybody was always invited. The ceremony usually took place in the Conference room, up on the top floor, since it was the only room apart from the cafeteria that could fit roughly 7 000 people (although if you wanted a seat you'd better get there a few hours earlier, Brett learned soon enough).

Katie's wedding was no different. That Saturday, Brett got up early, like he always did. Usually the dorms were quiet at that time, but that morning there was a strange sort of buzzing in the air, some contained excitement for the day that was about to unfold. He grabbed breakfast with Phoebe, the only other early riser of the group, lingered a bit in the cafeteria waiting for Ibo, Shaun and Patrick to finish their breakfast once they finally got out of bed, then got back to his room and changed into the best clothes he owned, a simple suit with a white shirt that he'd borrowed from Eddy a while ago, and that Patrick had been nice enough to adjust for him. As he was finishing buttoning the shirt up, he found himself a bit fidgety. The wedding had been the talk of the Con for weeks now, but nobody had really stopped and explained to him how exactly it was going to unfold, and he was more than curious at this point. Ibo had said that weddings down there were a bit different, and he couldn't help but wonder what made them so special.

He soon discovered what all the fuss was about. It wasn't about the ceremony, that was only slightly different from the one conducted outside, nor was it about the amount of people attending, though that in itself was impressive enough.

See, it was the music.

When the ceremony started, a string quartet at the front of the room started playing Canon in D as a cue for the bride to come in. Then, to Brett's surprise, the crowd started booing and whistling. The groom sauntered towards them, laughing, and took a violin that was in a case at their feet. The crowd quieted down as he tuned, and then he began to play.

Elgar's Salut d'amour had never sounded sweeter in Brett's ears.

The whole room looked back to the door just as Katie stepped through it, her smile bright as the sun. The groom automatically turned to her, serenading her as she walked down the -well, aisle , Brett supposed was the appropriate term.

As the ceremony started, Ibo explained in hushed tones that it was customary for the couples getting married to play for each other, one at the beginning of the wedding, one at the end. It was a confession, of sorts: it meant your love for the other was so strong, it was important to prove it through your favourite piece, even if it meant exposing yourself in front of a crowd of hundreds of other musicians. It was sappy shit, Brett thought, the kind of nonsense you'd expect from a stupid romcom playing on a lazy Sunday on TV.

He found it oddly touching, nonetheless.

♪ ♪ ♪

When the ceremony was over, it was Katie's turn to play. The bright sound of the flute floated over them, Katie's tone deep and rich, fingers delivering a tune Brett knew by heart.

"Oi, Brett, what piece is this?" Ibo whispered next to him.

"It's Chaminade's Concertino ," a voice answered right behind them, so close to Brett's ear a shiver ran through his spine.

He turned his head to see Eddy standing right behind him, tall and very handsome in his black suit.

Had he been there since the beginning?

"Oh, yeah, that's the name. Thanks," Ibo said.

"No problem," Eddy quipped, but he wasn't looking at Ibo but at Brett, a small smirk on his lips. Brett felt himself blush and quickly turned his head back to the front.

Katie was still playing, and beautifully so, but for some reason, Brett's centre of gravity seemed to have shifted from the bride at the front to the man right behind him. He was surrounded by people, all squeezed together with barely any room to move, and yet he was acutely aware of Eddy behind him, like he was holding a lit candle in the middle of a dark room. It was only Eddy's body heat he felt, only his cologne he could smell. He was like a kite, up in the air, Eddy the only string tying him to the earth.

He was so afraid he would let go, and then Brett would be lost, forever.

The sensation was short-lived. Katie finished her piece, everybody clapped, and Brett got back to feeling the ground under his feet. A group of brass started playing Cielito Lindo , and the newlyweds left the room amongst the cheers and shouted Congratulations!!! of their friends.

♪ ♪ ♪

The reception took place at the cafeteria, which some volunteers had decorated a bit so it looked a bit more wedding-y and not as prison-like as it usually did. It was a bit depressing, if Brett had to be honest, but the bride and groom, lost in the world of each other's eyes, didn't seem to care at all.

It occurred to Brett, fleetingly, that, had it been him marrying the love of his life, he wouldn't have minded all that much, either.

The newlyweds were sitting not in a special table just for them, as Brett was used to seeing out there, but in one of the regular tables, surrounded by all their friends. People were louder and more boisterous than usual, and the meal was often interrupted by toasts and chants of "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", to which they obliged, to everyone's delight. Soon even Brett, at first a bit second-hand embarrassed about the whole thing, joined in the chants and cheers.

( Maybe the wine that was being freely distributed along the tables had something to do with his mounting dishinibition. Who knew ).

He couldn't help but notice, though, that Eddy, who was sitting near the end of the same table as Katie and her husband, didn't join in. He was nursing a glass of something he was drinking, and looked as if his mind was miles away, lost in some thought or other.

Brett wondered if he was thinking about his past engagement, about the wedding he should've had but never got. Cold stabbed his gut, and he shook his head. It was none of his business how Eddy dealt with his own grief, nor was it his responsibility to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. That was the man's job; no one could do it for him.

And yet, deep down, all Brett wished was to be good for Eddy. To be enough , so that he would not feel the sorrow of lovers past, but drown in the happiness and comfort Brett offered.

It was a stupid wish, born of wishful thinking. Sentimental nonsense that would get him nowhere.

And yet.

"The bride looks very pretty, huh?" Phoebe said.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I don't know."

"Oh, but you must have noticed, since you won't stop looking at their table."

"Oh! No, I was..." he sat straighter, scrambling for an excuse, but seeing Phoebe's knowing smirk, he shrugged. "Nevermind."

"Don't worry, I don't think anybody's noticed," she laughed it off. Then, before she ate another mouthful of chocolate cake, she added nonchalantly, "I don't even think he's noticed, and he hasn't stopped glancing this way since the meal started."

Brett couldn't bring himself to finish dessert after that.

♪ ♪ ♪

After they were done eating, the tables were pushed to the walls to form a dance floor. Some musicians started to play some waltz, and Katie and his husband started to slowly dance to it. Soon, more people joined in, a sea of music and swirling dresses. It was rather hypnotic, and Brett found himself drifting off, his full belly and the warmth of the room (and also, if he had to be honest with himself, the few glasses of wine he'd drunk) making everything feel heavy.

"It will never cease to amuse me how, in spite of sleeping eight or nine hours every night, you still manage to fall asleep anywhere." Brett jumped slightly. Eddy had left the table he was sitting at and had come join him in his. He had slipped unnoticed in the chair next to Brett's, now empty since Ibo had gone dance with some recorder player he was sort of dating. "You're not dancing?"

"Yeah, no, I think I'm gonna pass on this one. Musicians and exercise. Doesn't sound like a great combo." At that, Eddy chuckled lightly.

They remained there, sitting in silence, watching the dancers slowly twirl around the dance floor. At some point, people moved aside as some of Katie's younger students occupied the centre of the room. They started to play an arrangement of the swan's theme from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake . It was a bit slow and out of tune, but the kids really gave their best for their teacher, and it moved the bride. Then, after the students, a brass quintet started playing some famous Italian, upbeat song, and everybody started dancing again.

Apparently, anybody could play at the wedding if they so desired, as long as the piece of choice was upbeat enough to dance to. Over the impromptu stage made just for the occasion paraded hundreds of different musicians, each playing one or two pieces before being overtaken by another group of performers.

At some point, Eddy got up and left without a word. Brett watched him leave with puppy eyes. He pondered following him, but decided against it. If Eddy wanted him to accompany him back to his room, he would have said so. To say he was disappointed was the understatement of the year, but brooding over the whole thing would get him nowhere. He was at a party and he was going to damn well enjoy himself. He got up and went straight to the bar, where he poured himself a drink. He then lay his back against a wall and watched the people dancing, scanning the crowd for Ibo or any of his other friends.

Suddenly, the group onstage stopped playing. Brett looked up to see Eddy had gotten there with his violin and was talking to the - concertmaster?, he guessed. The group nodded and, to a sign of Eddy's, started accompanying him to Kreisler's Schön Rosmarin . The crowd cheered and started dancing again, but Brett felt time had stilled, thoughts of looking for his friends completely forgotten.

Eddy was smiling. He had a huge, wide grin on his face, his head leaning towards the violin, his eyes closed. He always closed his eyes when he played, Brett knew, and a frown of concentration settled in his face as soon as the bow touched the strings, lips slightly parted even though he never breathed through his mouth. There was no frown today, though, none of the deep concentration he usually displayed when performing. He looked happy, carefree, the flow of communication between him and the other musicians constant, and the few notes out of tune here and there didn't seem to bother him as much as they usually did. They launched into Sarasate's Zapateado next, and Eddy was practically dancing on stage.

Brett couldn't keep his eyes off him. He'd seen Eddy play a number of times already, and knew by now how his teacher always looked when performing. Focused. At ease, but deeply in control of himself, the violin, and the whole room. He'd never seen him like this, moving so freely, so thoroughly unpreoccupied. He was having so much fun up there.

Brett wished performing could always feel like that.

Eddy played some more after that, then left the stage to thunderous applause. Brett lost sight of him when he went to put his violin away. His mouth felt strangely parched, and so he headed to the bar. Just as he was grabbing a cup to pour himself his second drink of the day, the teacher joined him.

"How many of those have you had already?" he asked. He was out of breath, cheeks bright red, and sweat pearled his forehead. At some point he had shed his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves, and there was a twinkle in his eyes as he ran his eyes up and down Brett's body, licking his lips in an involuntary gesture.

The intensity of Eddy's gaze made Brett's face feel hot, and he looked away. "None of your business."

Eddy chuckled. "All right. Since you refuse to tell me, I'm going to assume I'm one drink behind you. So," he poured himself a drink and chugged it down in a few seconds. Seeing Brett's bewildered stare, he laughed. "It's alright, Yang. You are always so tense. You need to loosen up a bit. Here," he prepared him another cup.

Brett smelled the drink, wary of its content. It reeked of alcohol. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Chen?" he joked lightly.

Eddy stepped closer to him and grabbed him by the hip, speaking softly into his ear. "So what if I am?"

Brett gulped. Before he could say anything, though, Sarasate's Tarantella started playing. Eddy pulled his drink aside and grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on, let's dance," he said with an amused glint in his eyes.

Brett followed him to the dance floor, too dumbstruck by this new loosened up Eddy who drank and was happy and had fun to put up a fight. They awkwardly bounced up and down to the music, grinning madly at each other, and all thought seemed to abandon Brett as the alcohol, and the music, and Eddy's body heat so close to him drove him high, high, high.

They drank and danced the afternoon away, not once letting go or even losing sight of the other. At some point, Patrick came to fetch Brett so the whole group of friends could get a picture together. He agreed, and dragged Eddy along with him. If anyone found this weird, no one said a word.

♪ ♪ ♪

They ended up in one of the practice rooms. They were giggling and shushing the other, like two children hiding away from their parents after they pulled some prank. At this point they were so drunk it never even occurred to them to turn on the light. The emergency light cast an orangish tint over their faces, shrouding the corners of the room in shadows.

Brett sat on the floor, completely exhausted. Eddy stared at him from the door, his head slightly tilted, like he was mulling something over.

"Today, at the wedding. When the groom played Salut d'amour . It was very touching, wasn't it?" he finally said.

Brett shrugged. "I don't know. It's a bit cliché, if you ask me."

Eddy nodded. "Yeah, it's a bit cliché. But I liked it."

Brett hummed noncommittally.

After a pause, Eddy asked, "If it was your wedding, what piece would you play?"

Brett thought about it for a while, but his brain felt muddy and slow. "I don't know, man. Boccherini's Minuetto ?" he giggled.

"What???" Eddy laughed. "That's a shit answer!"

"I don't know, you just asked out of nowhere, what was I supposed to say!?" Now he was laughing too. "You answer the question, if you're so clever. What would you play?"

Eddy stared at him without offering an answer. Then, he moved to fetch some CD, plugged it in, and pressed play.

The soft notes of Gluck's Melodie filled the room.

"Huh." Brett's eyebrows rose. "Kreisler's arrangement?"

"Yep."

Brett nodded. "Is there any particular reason?"

"Nah. I just like it a lot."

"Huh. And here I was, picturing you as some troubled musician going through hell and back to bring back his dear beloved."

Eddy came close to where Brett was sitting. He squatted in front of him, then stared into the other's eyes with an intensity that made Brett's chest tighten.

"Maybe I'm the beloved trapped in hell," he whispered, "waiting for someone who loves me enough to bring me back to life."

He extended his arms and offered his hands to Brett.

"Let's dance."

"What?" Brett huffed, his answer coming just a tad too late, like a misstep in an otherwise perfectly executed dance. "You can't dance to this!"

" I can." Eddy retorted with a shit-eating grin, as if daring him to say otherwise. "Come here."

Eddy pulled the shorter man up, threw his arms around him, and started slow dancing to the soft notes of Gluck's piece.

Music faded in the background as all they could hear were the sounds of their wild beating hearts, a duet played thousands of times by all mankind, yet they were hearing it for the first time. They kept slowly dancing, Brett's head resting on the crook of Eddy's neck, and neither wanted to let go.

"Yang," Eddy mumbled in Brett's ear.

"Mhm?"

"I'm drunk."

"I know."

The piece ended, and Kreisler's Liebesleid followed. They stopped dancing and Brett laid down on the floor, tugging at Eddy's hand for him to join him down there.

They lay there, as they always did when they listened to some piece in the practice rooms. Eventually, the CD ended, and only their breaths could be heard in the small room.

"Eddy."

"Mhm?"

"Play another CD."

Eddy sighed, but got up to do as Brett said. He popped into the CD player the first disc he found and lay down again beside Brett. An orchestral version of Brahms' Lullaby started to fill the room. Eddy heard soft snores and looked at the other man. He had fallen asleep. He shook his head.

"You idiot. Your neck will hurt tomorrow from sleeping like that," he mumbled.

It always amazed him, how trusting the boy was. How he would fall asleep anywhere as long as he knew Eddy was keeping watch over the two of them.

He knew he should wake him. They should both head back to their rooms. But he looked so peaceful, so happy, that he didn't have it in his heart to wake him up. Instead, Eddy got his own jacket and made a bundle out of it to rest his head on. Then he carefully removed Brett's jacket and used it to cover them both, drawing the boy closer so his head was resting in his arm. He left a feather kiss on Brett's forehead, and closed his eyes.

Good night, Yang. Sweet dreams.