Work Text:
THE AMAZING YANG MAGIC SHOW
APPRENTICE WANTED. Must be willing to travel.
Please text to apply.
Eddy isn’t sure about the traveling part, but magic shows sound like fun. More fun than a retail job, for certain. Despite his shyness, he likes being on stage, and aren’t most magicians’ apprentices silent actors? That seems ideal to him, so he sends a text to the number on the advertisement and schedules an interview.
The magician doesn’t have time to meet him in person, but after hearing Eddy’s qualifications (stage experience as a musician, group performance experience as a violinist, curiosity about magic) he’s hired over the phone.
“Are you sure?” Eddy asks, surprised. “Don’t you want to take a look at my socials? Or have me send you a pic?”
“Nah, I don’t discriminate. Just show up for practice and we’ll roll.”
💫💫💫
Eddy arrives almost on time, a bit frazzled from the heat, humidity, and the stress of public transport, but Brett doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re here!” he announces, stepping back and allowing Eddy inside his air-conditioned flat.
“Hey.” Eddy pauses in the doorway to toe off his shoes while wiping his brow. “Sorry about the…” He gestures down at himself, unsure if he should apologize for the generals or the specifics.
Warmly amused eyes study him until Eddy squirms in discomfort. “Well. Traditionally magician’s apprentices are pretty girls…” He sweeps his gaze up and down Eddy’s body before coming to a rest on his face, “but you’ll do.”
“I don’t know any magic,” Eddy admits, figuring it’s best to confess right away.
“Anything you need to know, I’ll teach you. Mostly I’ll be the one doing the magic, and you’ll be the one having magic done to you. Are you okay with that?”
Yang studies him with almost physical intensity.
“…Yeah.” Eddy forces a smile. “Do I get paid for practice hours, too?"
💫💫💫
As it turns out, Eddy gets paid for all the hours he spends with the Magician Yang, which is helpful considering his financial circumstances. With wedding and bar mitzvah seasons over, he’s down to teaching a scattering of beginner students. Before being hired as the magician’s apprentice, he was so skint he considered a job in food service, an option that left him hoping magic was real and he could will himself out of existence.
“I told you, call me Brett,” the magician sighs when Eddy mistakenly addresses him as Yang again. ‘Brett’ just didn’t feel like the correct thing to call his boss, especially one who may or may not possess magical powers, but he redoubles his efforts to please.
To that end, he also agrees with Brett’s suggestion that he wear a wig, dress, and low heels to their performances.
“It’s not required,” Brett says, “although audiences appreciate a well-dressed assistant who looks the part. You understand, don’t you?”
Eddy does, but there’s a problem. “I, um. Don’t have a lot of extra cash. Things have been tight, and—“
‘Tight’ was an understatement; he’s late on his bills, and the power company is threatening to kill his lights. He’s even considered moving back in with his parents, which is the last of all possible resorts.
“Understood,” Brett replies in his breezy, off-handed way. “I’ll take care of it. They’re part of the stage production, so it’s only fair.”
At the start of their next rehearsal, Brett presents him with a cream-colored paper bag and motions towards the bathroom. “There’s some makeup in there too,” he calls as Eddy trudges down the hallway. “But you don’t need to mess with that for rehearsals. The other stuff is more important because the more you rehearse in it, the more comfortable you’ll feel on stage. Make sure the shoes fit; those are for when I cut you in half.”
Eddy nods like that makes perfect sense.
He has his doubts he’ll ever feel comfortable dressed like a girl, but he desperately needs the job and Brett is excessively nice about everything. So, he dons the wig of messy blond curls and tugs on the too-short dress and shoves his feet into patent-leather shoes. All and all, he doesn’t look bad, but—
“I’ve got awfully hairy legs for this outfit,” he tells Brett apologetically, and Brett lifts his brows as his eyes scan the problem area. “Do you need me to, uh…”
“Tights,” Brett says decisively. “I’ll buy some before you go on stage. Now, let’s get started. I’m gonna be pulling Mister Bun-Bun out of the hat today, and I’d like you to work on your gesturing. It’s more like this—” He performs the desired motion, “...and less like that.” He executes an identical gesture, then looks to Eddy expectantly.
Eddy nods. “Got it.”
💫💫💫
It’s a confusing job, and not just because he knows nothing and needs Brett to teach him everything. There’s a lot to remember, a lot to keep track of, and then there’s Brett himself.
Although endlessly willing to share the secrets of his magician’s repertoire, he’s singularly unwilling to reveal anything about himself. Questions are parried, ignored entirely or given a nonsensical reply. It’s maddening and, Eddy begins to suspect, intentionally so.
If Brett’s goal is to discourage him from asking questions, it’s effective. After weeks of being rebutted, Eddy gives up and accepts that while the tricks they perform aren’t mysterious, the magician himself is and will remain so.
On the other hand, when it comes to magic, it’s difficult to shut the man up.
“There’s eight kinds of magic stage magicians perform,” Brett lectures while Eddy takes a break to drink the bubble tea Brett buys for each rehearsal. “Appearance, levitation, penetration, prediction, restoration, transformation, and transposition. They all work in the same way, in that—”
“Penetration?” Eddy interrupts with a playful lift of his brows, but it’s impossible to bait Brett into distraction.
“Yes,” the magician continues, apparently oblivious to Eddy’s teasing tone. “That would be when I stick you into the box and stab it with swords. Or cut you in two, we’ll definitely do that, audiences love it…”
He prattles on while Eddy listens respectfully. The lectures sometimes grow tiring, but the snacks are deeply appreciated. When one of their early sessions was interrupted by growls from Eddy’s belly, Brett started welcoming him with milk tea, crisps, fruit, and pudding cups from the local Asian market.
Brett brushes aside his gratitude with a flicker of his small hands, like it's another trick.
“Now, as I was saying. All types work the same way, by manipulating your perceptions of reality…”
💫💫💫
When Brett realizes how much free time Eddy has on his hands, he expands their stage shows to include evening street magic on non-performance nights. Although Eddy has his doubts about how that’s going to work out, he shouldn’t have. Brett’s charisma is more than equal to the average pedestrian’s disinterest.
It doesn’t hurt that Eddy himself is eye-catching in his short skirts, brightly-colored silken blouses, and fetching blond wig. He also draws some of the wrong sort of attention, but Brett makes it plain to anyone who dare approaches that Eddy was his valued assistant and he will tolerate no harassment.
“No touching,” he commands mid stage-chatter to a hulking Aussie with ignoble intentions, and straying hands instantly return to their pockets.
If he didn’t witness it with his own eyes, Eddy wouldn’t have believed that the tiny magician dressed in an oversized coat and an enormous black hat could intimidate groups of drunks, but Brett handles them as confidently as he does everything else.
When Eddy asks for his secret to crowd control, Brett responds with a mysterious smile.
“Believe something strongly enough, and they’ll believe it, too.”
Eddy takes a moment to contemplate. “That sounds like real magic. Like, mind-controlling magic.”
Brett laughs. “It’s all a matter of perception. When they look at me, they don’t see what you see.”
“Yeah?” Eddy leans closer, interested. “What do you suppose I see when I look at you?”
Brett grins. “Exactly what you want to see. Come on, let’s get back to work.”
Once again, Eddy surrenders without pressing for more.
He’s come to accept that as charming and generous as Brett is, he’s also utterly maddening.
💫💫💫
If anyone asked, Eddy would say that his favorite part of being a magician’s assistant was all the compliments. No one has ever complimented him as often as Brett does, and absolutely no one has ever complimented him publicly before. Naturally shy, he never dreamed he’d enjoy it, but hearing Brett fawn over him during each performance warms his heart and blood along with his cheeks.
“...The lovely Edwina!”
“Now if you please, another round of applause for my assistant, the beautiful and talented Edwina.”
“…And of course, the reason I’m able to bring you these shows—my dazzling assistant, Edwina!”
“The one, the only, the irreplaceable… Edwina! Put your hands together and celebrate the bravery displayed here tonight…”
He’s nervous at first, thinking people might snicker and mock a dude in a dress doing work typically done by attractive young women, so far no one has laughed. Odder still, they barely seem to notice that Eddy is anything other than the alluring acolyte Brett presents him as.
“It’s because I’m so good at makeup,” Brett explains when Eddy works up the courage to ask how crowd after crowd is so accepting. By numbers alone, they should have encountered a few nasty drunks with harsh assessments of Eddy’s appeal.
“Yeah?” Eddy sits patiently in the washroom while Brett experiments with swooping eyeliner and sparkly shadow. He doesn’t mind the foundation that covers his spots, it leaves him feeling less exposed while on stage. Left to his own devices, he’d probably ditch the goop around his eyes. He considers mentioning it, but Brett clearly likes it and enjoys applying it, so he keeps his mouth shut. “Is it a sort of magic?”
“Makeup?” Brett pauses the sweeps of his blush brush to give Eddy’s face a critical stare. “Yup. It falls under appearance and illusion. Uh, one assumes. This isn’t the sort of thing they teach in magician classes, you know.” By the time he finishes speaking, his cheeks are so flushed he looks like he applied the blush to himself.
Eddy preens a little. “What were your magician classes like?” he asks, hoping to trick Brett into revealing something about himself.
The look on Brett’s face makes it clear he knows what Eddy’s agenda is. “I was kidding! I’m self-taught. No self-respecting magician teaches his tricks to a competitor, and you don’t think I’d get lessons from a magician with no self-respect, do you?”
He doesn’t think it a real question, so he closes his eyes and falls silent as Brett reaches for another utensil.
“Do you?” Brett repeats, nudging him lightly. “Open your eyes. I can’t mascara you with your eyes closed, silly.”
Eddy does as requested, although it’s not easy.
Brett is so brilliant, it sometimes hurts to look.
💫💫💫
It’s one thing while they’re on stage, but when Brett starts calling him Edwina in private, Eddy begins to worry.
He lets it go the first few times, especially since he can’t tell if Brett is in character or not. He ignores it when Brett is practicing their act, because of course he needs to keep his stage chatter consistent. That isn’t an issue.
After their first few months together, they start hanging out on their off-days and celebrating after performances. Even when he’s out of costume, Brett calls him Edwina almost half the time, and Eddy grows concerned. Is it possible that Brett is deluding himself, or worse, wishes for a female assistant?
“So um,” he poses over their half-drunk pints, “you know I’m not actually a girl, yeah?”
Brett looks up from his deck of cards and scoffs before returning his attention to whatever he’s doing to them. Ordering them in some clever way, Eddy assumes. Brett hasn’t taught him anything about cards yet, that’s an interaction that takes place directly between the magician and his audience.
“I mean… I don’t mind the wig or the clothes or the shoes, but I’d hate to think I was, um. You know. Tricking you.”
That gets Brett’s attention. He lowers the shuffle of cards to the table and meets Eddy’s gaze. “I’m a magician. I do the tricking, I don’t get tricked.”
Eddy doesn’t quite know what to make of his tone.
“I’m not saying I could trick you,” he begins, selecting his words with care. “Or that I would. I was more wondering if you were … you know. Tricking yourself. It’s like you said, people see and believe what they want to, and if you’d prefer I were a girl…”
Brett makes a face. “I prefer you as you are. In joggers or a dress, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll be more careful about the name thing though, Eddy.”
What more can he ask for? Eddy finishes his beer before offering a woozy smile. “Thanks. Need help with your card trick?”
He winds up staying well past midnight as Brett uses him as a stand-in mark.
He never does figure out the trick.
💫💫💫
Eddy comes by earlier each day, hanging out while Brett practices magic that doesn’t directly involve an assistant. He’s amazed by how much work goes into it, and how much practice it takes to perform at Brett’s level. Even knowing how the tricks are performed and the clever diversions Brett creates, most of the magic looks seamless to him.
“You need glasses,” Brett replies when Eddy tells him, only to produce a bouquet of flowers from his hat a beat later.
Eddy makes appreciative noises, and Brett presses the bundle into his hands. “For my lovely assistant,” he says with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Without whom I’d be lost, bereft, and unable to perform.”
Blushing, Eddy accepts the gift. “They’re pretty,” he murmurs, giving each flower a sniff. “Are you going to show me how you did that?”
“Absolutely not.”
💫💫💫
The following week, a show is canceled due to the sudden closure of the venue, so they go out for dinner instead. Eddy expects Brett to be disappointed; he’s prepared some new material for the night and was eager to show off his hard work, but he shrugs when Eddy asks.
“Another week to perfect things sounds good to me,” he says, turning his attention to the menu. “And so does all the food here. Order what you like, it’s my treat.”
“Are you sure?” His bank account is doing better these days, between their regular performance schedule, an uptick in his students, and the start of wedding season.
“‘Course I’m sure. I asked you, that means it’s my treat.”
Eddy returns his attention to the menu; it’s pricier than he anticipated. “Thanks,” he says before a second thought occurs to him. “Wait. Does you paying mean this is a date?”
Brett triple-blinks. “It’s dinner. Noodles and chicken. Maybe a cocktail too, do you feel like a drink? I feel like it. Let’s try their fancy fruity things.”
Eddy lets Brett order drinks for them, smiling as they clink glasses together.
“Cheers,” Brett says before lowering his voice. “It can be a date if you want it to be.”
“I—”
“But no pressure. Just noodles and chicken are good, too. Hey, how about their fancy wonton things? Let’s order some of these, after all, we’re celebrating.”
“We are?”
“Yeah. An unexpected night off, I think that’s a thing worth celebrating, don’t you?”
Eddy’s not sure, but he’s certainly not going to say no.
💫💫💫
It should be good news when his quartet is in demand again. After months of almost no interest in their talents, they’re suddenly booked for a series of weddings and a conference in a posh hotel.
Unfortunately, Eddy can’t share his fellow musicians’ excitement. Half the events overlap with Brett’s performances, and he’s no longer sure where his priorities lie.
With his music, the other violinist tells him, seeming puzzled by Eddy’s confusion. He makes good points, reminding Eddy of the years he invested in lessons, practice, and a hard-won uni degree.
“I’m going to ruin everything, aren’t I?” Eddy asks Brett in a moment of weakness. It’s his problem, not Brett’s, and he has no right dumping his woes on his employer.
Brett’s brow furrows. “No, not at all. You confused yourself during your off-season, is all. You’re a musician, so naturally performances with your quartet come first. I’ll find a substitute to work when you can’t.”
He’s not thrilled by that idea, but what else can be done? Absent real magic, he can only appear in one place at a time.
💫💫💫
The first wedding he performs at while someone else fills in as Brett’s assistant is a miserable affair. It’s held outdoors during the hottest part of the day. Humidity sticks his dress clothes to his skin and he finds himself longing for Edwina’s light, breathable fabrics. There’s no food for the performers, no one thanks them for their efforts, and they’re replaced by recorded K-pop at the reception.
Eddy staggers home in a daze, wondering how his dreams of playing with an orchestra in concert halls devolved into endless renditions of Canon in D played to yawning wedding guests.
He’s still stewing when he arrives at Brett’s air-conditioned flat the following day for their rehearsal. Brett has a plan for something involving doves and silk sashes, and Eddy’s excited to see what comes of it.
There’s a delay after he knocks, and someone he doesn’t know opens the door.
“Yeah?” He’s greeted by a bored-looking young man with messy hair. The new assistant, Eddy thinks, only to step inside and see her.
She’s a little shorter than Brett, a comparison that’s easy to make because she’s standing entirely too close to him. They’re practically touching as she gazes up at him in naked admiration. Long blond hair cascades over her shoulders, her complexion is flawless without visible makeup, and a glance at her feet reveals the worst part.
She’s wearing Edwina’s shoes.
Eddy must have made some sort of sound, because they both turn towards him, eyes wide with apparent surprise.
He forgot I was coming over, Eddy realizes as the breath freezes in his lungs.
“Eddy,” Brett greets a half-beat later. “It’s good you’re here, I wanted to introduce you to Jasmine, she’s the back-up assistant I’m working with.”
The two of them move a step closer to him, in tandem like something out of a nightmare, and Eddy stumbles backward.
“Great,” he flounders, eyes on her patent-leather encased feet again. “It’s um. Good. Fine. I’ll just—” He takes another step back, stumbles, then turns and rushes out the door.
He gets lucky with the public transport, arriving at the bus stop just in time for him to board, and for once he’s grateful to be alone in his tiny flat. It’s hot, cramped, and messy, but there’s nothing likely to hurt him here.
He’s just settled onto his tiny couch with his phone for some doom-scrolling and sulking when something thuds against his door, followed by rappity-tappity knocking.
Curious, he opens it—and Brett nearly collapses into his arms.
“Eddy,” he wheezes, leaning against him for support. “Listen.” He pulls himself upright, large worried eyes fixed on his face. “I’m sorry about that. I should have warned you she’d be rehearsing with me today. She’s the one who needs practice, so… Eddy?”
Eddy manages a low croaking sound. After wiping his eyes, he tries again. “How did you know where I live?”
Brett’s eyebrows arch upward. “The employment paperwork you filled out. Don’t freak out, but I’ve also got your tax identification number. And your birth date. Aries… I’d say it’s fitting if I believed in any of that.” His voice shifts, gentling as he reaches forward. “Hey, why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” Eddy chokes.
“...Okay.” After closing the door behind him, he leads Eddy back to his couch by the elbow. “Let’s talk, then. I sent Jasmine home, let her know today wasn’t a good day to rehearse after all, so you have me for as long as you need me.”
If he wasn’t crying, he’d probably laugh at that one.
“She’s a sub,” Brett continues as he gets them settled on the couch. There isn’t much space, but he doesn’t seem to mind being pressed against Eddy’s side. “She’s not your replacement. Her brother made it clear to me that this is a temporary arrangement, just until his own shows start taking off.”
“Her brother?” Eddy wipes his face with the bottom of his shirt, trying to pull himself together.
Brett’s eyes linger on his temporarily exposed belly before returning to his face. “The guy who answered the door. He’s another magician, although he mostly does children’s parties.” He wrinkles his nose, and Eddy understands; Brett considers himself a serious magician. Performances for children are beneath him.
“Oh.” Eddy squirms, embarrassed. “Um, sorry. For all the drama over nothing. I bet you’re wondering if you’ve picked the right person to work with after all.”
To his surprise, Brett gives a soft laugh, but when he speaks, he sounds entirely serious. “I never wonder about that.” He waits until Eddy is looking at him with watery eyes before offering a sweet smile. “You’re exactly what I always wanted in a partner. How many times do I need to tell you that?”
Blushing, Eddy looks away. “A few more, I guess.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
Eddy shifts around, unable to find a comfortable position. “She was wearing my shoes,” he says at last, like that’s an argument. “Edwina’s shoes, I mean.”
Brett gazes at him steadily. “She has to? When she fills in. Otherwise how do we swap them out for the fake ones without anyone noticing? I can pull off a lot of deceptions, but entirely different feet sticking off her chopped-off lower extremities might catch a few eyes.”
Eddy grimaces. “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.”
“Uh-huh.” Brett pats his arm. “So, anything else you want to talk about?”
Eddy shakes his head. “No, I want to die.”
Brett chuckles, his hand lingering, warm. “I’d really prefer that you didn’t. Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to do some card tricks so you can amaze and delight your friends and family.”
They spend the next few hours perfecting a few tricks, and by the time they finish, Eddy’s feeling much better about everything.
💫💫💫
It’s impressive, just how many shows Brett performs.
The mainstay of his business are the stage performances, and he’s far more in demand than Eddy’s quartet ever has been. Eddy had no idea how Brett conjured up so much interest in his performances. He has multiple bookings every single week, sometimes with competing offers. There’s private events, clubs, dinner theaters, wealthy people’s parties and one memorable weekend, they served as the opening act for a performer of international fame.
“How,” Eddy continues asking, although he would have had better luck questioning the rabbits.
Apparently magic acts are gaining in popularity, and they are the fortunate beneficiaries.
Eddy has a talk with the other members of his quartet to get a feel for how they’d react to replacing him.
He’s disappointed but unsurprised to learn that none of them think doing so would be difficult.
💫💫💫
Just as Eddy has mostly convinced himself that there was nothing to their “date night,” Brett ends one of their rehearsal sessions by asking if he’d like to meet his family.
“Your family?” Eddy echoes, blinking. “Why?”
Brett gazes up at him. “Well, naturally they’re curious about my partner. They’ve been asking to meet you for months now, and I keep putting them off, but they’re only getting more annoying about it.” He licks his lips. “Aren’t your parents curious about me?”
“Well, no.”
When hurt flashes across Brett’s face, Eddy starts to explain that the reason they aren’t curious is that they don’t know Brett exists—only to snap his mouth shut as he realizes that information won’t help matters.
“I’d be happy to meet your family,” he says instead. “Uh, assuming I don’t have to wear a dress.”
Brett gives a puzzled look. “You can wear whatever you like, they don’t judge.”
💫💫💫
Brett’s family are more chill and laid-back than his own parents, content to let conversation flow naturally rather than peppering him with questions. Brett introduces him with obvious pride, so much so that Eddy braces himself for suspicion, but he’s treated like an honored guest for the duration of the evening.
When he covers a yawn with his napkin, Brett rises to his feet and makes excuses for them. His parents don’t attempt to make them extend their visit, only suggesting they return again as soon as he and Brett have a break in their schedule.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Brett asks on the drive home, casting him a nervous glance.
“Nah, it was nice. Fun.” He watches the darkening sky while mentally reviewing the night. “So how do they feel about you becoming a magician? Wouldn’t they have preferred you become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer?”
Brett shrugs. “I don’t know. They’ve never really said.”
“They’ve never said?” Eddy boggles over the idea. His parents had plenty to say about his future career plans while he lived with them, and still have plenty of words left over now that he’s moved out. It’s one of the reasons he rarely visits.
“They aren’t really the direct-communication sorts. I mean they’d listen if I ever felt like talking about it, or telling them why I chose this instead of a traditional career, but they’d consider it rude to put me on the spot.”
“Huh.” Eddy takes another moment, because it’s so far from his own experiences that Brett might as well be describing the habitat and interactions of aliens. “Well, I guess that’s where you get it from.”
One of Brett’s eyebrows arches. “What do you mean?”
“The not-directly-communicating thing.”
Brett’s brow furrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know everything there is to know about me.”
Eddy rolls his eyes. “All I really know is that you like magic.”
A smile spreads across Brett’s face as he pulls in front of Eddy’s apartment building. “Magic… and you.” He pauses to pull in a slow breath. “Hey, Eddy?”
Eddy attempts to draw a breath of his own. “…Yeah?”
Brett slides closer. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
“Um.” He swallows, manages to breathe, and nods. “…Yeah. I mean, so long as it’s a real kiss and not a magic trick-kiss, that would freak me out.”
“A trick-kiss,” Brett repeats slowly. “I’d say that’s a good idea and I should work on developing one of those, but I don’t think it fits well with my plan.”
Eddy swallows again. “Your… plan?”
Brett bobs his head. “My plan to convince you to date me.” He arches a brow. “The kiss is the next stage of that plan, and I need to do it fast before I lose my nerve.”
“Well, then.” Eddy closes his eyes, leans forward, and finds his lips met with warmth and softness. It’s a nice kiss, perfect for a first attempt, and the fact that Brett is obviously nervous makes it all the sweeter.
“Well, then,” Brett echoes breathlessly as they part. “What do you think? Was that good enough to…?”
“To convince me it’s a good idea to date my employer?” Eddy licks his lips and chuckles. “That seems like the sort of thing people advise against.”
Brett’s nod comes easily. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. That’s not safe for you, and not a good look for me, either. Fortunately, I’ve got a solution in mind.”
Eddy frowns. “I hope the solution isn’t to fire me.”
“What?” Brett laughs. “No, just the opposite. I was thinking of making you my official partner. Business partner, that is. We make it all formal, legally speaking, with an LLC and so on. That way you never have to worry about being replaced, and I don’t have to worry about taking advantage of my employee.”
For a moment all Eddy can do is stare at him, stunned. “Sorry,” he says before too much time elapses. “That’s really nice of you, and I appreciate it, but it’s your act. Your show. I couldn’t possibly horn in on that.”
“You could, because I’m offering and think it’s a great idea.”
Eddy pulls away from him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m just your apprentice. I’m nowhere close to being worthy of what you’re offering.”
Brett seems ready to argue for the rest of the night, so Eddy slips out of the car with a murmured farewell.
“Sleep on it,” Brett calls after him. “Maybe you’ll feel differently in the morning.”
💫💫💫
Eddy sleeps on it, and wakes feeling the same. It’s far too generous an offer and as a mere assistant, he has no business becoming a partner in Brett’s business. He’s done nothing to deserve and, whether Brett wants to admit it or not, could easily be replaced.
He attends the quartet’s rehearsal in the morning, arriving on time and devoting his full attention to practicing even the most basic pieces. He says nothing about leaving their group and the others don’t mention it, either. He keeps his fingers crossed that he hasn’t ruined everything.
Time is short as usual. He rushes from rehearsal to Brett’s flat and arrives a disheveled mess. He expects to find Brett dejected or downcast, but instead Brett is in a chipper mood. Apparently not even flat-out rejection is enough to dampen his spirits.
“Hey, you brought your instrument,” he says, as if nothing uncommon had happened.
“Yeah,” Eddy agrees cautiously. “Is that okay? I didn’t have time to go home between rehearsal and coming here.
Brett beams a smile. “‘Course it’s okay. How would you feel about playing a song for me? I’ve been wanting to hear you play but keep forgetting to ask you to bring your fiddle.”
“Violin, and it's a piece,” Eddy corrects automatically. He almost declines, because he hasn’t specifically rehearsed anything to play for an audience of one, but his desire to show off overrides his lack of preparation.
He delivers a lively rendition of Vivaldi’s Summer, a sure-fire hit for people familiar with only a handful of classical pieces. It’s not perfect, but he’s happy with how confident he sounds and the way notes carry inside Brett’s flat. It wouldn’t be a bad place to practice, or even to perform.
When he lowers his bow, Brett is already clapping.
“That was amazing,” he enthuses. “You’re better than I thought you’d be, and I knew you were a professional.”
“Semi-professional,” Eddy says, his shyness returning. “Full professional would be a job in an orchestra, but—”
“But that would be boring, and you’re a forge-your-own-way sort of guy.”
Eddy clears his throat. “Something like that.” He expects Brett to shift into their usual rehearsal routine.
Instead, his eyes lock against Eddy’s violin.
“Can you teach me? You’re also a teacher, right?”
Eddy hesitates. It’s a hard instrument, and it takes a very long time to learn. People can play for years and still sound terrible. He doesn’t want Brett to feel bad when he makes a noise like a cat being tortured.
Brett grins, seeming to read his thoughts. “It’s okay, I’m a quick study. Just show me the basics, hey.”
Eddy agrees, demonstrating how to hold the violin, the correct grasp for the bow, and the movements he’ll want to use when pressing horsehair against string. “Just try not to get discouraged by your first few attempts, no one sounds good until—”
Brett proves him right by producing a god-awful screeching noise that could shatter glass. “Hey, here I go!” he announces, practically glowing with pride. “I think I’ve got some natural talent, don’t you?” Without waiting for Eddy to reply, he saws the bow across the strings again, creating a sound so horrifying Eddy has to lock his hands together or else he’d be plugging his ears.
“You’re… doing great,” he offers weakly. “Next time, try moving the bow straight— no, not like… Okay, that’s fine but…” He winces as the racket somehow gets louder and more off-key.
He’s never regretted anything more in his entire life.
“Damn, I’m good,” Brett says, drawing in a deep breath as he prepares for his next onslaught.
Eddy’s about to stop him—surely the neighbors will be pounding on the walls any moment now—but then Brett launches into the opening strains of Mendelssohn’s violin concerto, and he feels his mouth drop open at Brett's technical perfection and musicality.
“Ha-ha-ha,” he says when Brett pulls the bow back with a flourish. “Very funny.”
Brett grins. “I thought so.”
Eddy retrieves his violin to wipe it down. “So how long have you been playing?”
“Eh, since I was four. I don’t practice as much these days as I used to, but maybe I’ll pick that up again. I’ve actually been thinking…” He trails away, his voice turning uncharacteristically shy, and Eddy looks back to him, curious.
“Thinking what?”
Brett toes at the tiled floor. “Thinking that combining magic with music could be interesting. Having a magician randomly whip out a violin and play would be weird, but two violinists, both who can play well? That’s different. No one would expect their magicians to transmogrify into musicians. It’d be a cool trick, don’t you think? Magicians into musicians, talk about manipulating an audience’s expectations.”
Eddy straps his violin back into the case. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Since, um…” He clears his throat. “Since I found out you were a violinist. I didn’t want to push, but I’ve got all sorts of ideas about how we could combine the two. Maybe add in some comedy, too. What do you think?” His eyes are very bright.
Eddy laughs. “It sounds crazy… and also interesting. You’re right, I can’t think of any violinist who’s also a magician.”
“And I can guarantee you, no other magician is a secret violinist. We’ll be unique. We’ll be…”
Eddy takes mercy on him. “Closer to partners?”
Brett meets his eyes. “Let’s at least give it a shot before you turn me down again. I’ll plan out a show and we’ll rehearse it and see how it goes over. What do you say?”
Eddy isn’t about to turn him down again, and sits at the table to hear more about Brett’s seemingly insane and yet somehow brilliant ideas.
💫💫💫
By the month’s end, they’re performing sold-out shows and an agent is hounding them about other potential opportunities. Eddy’s surprised when Brett sends the man on his way, but he explains when they’re alone.
“He wants us to do all the work while he takes all the money. We don’t need an agent. We’ll grow through word of mouth, keep our overheads low and focus on social media.” He rattles on for a while and Eddy does his best to follow, although truthfully he’s a bit dazzled. Brett’s energy is sometimes overwhelming, as is the man himself.
He waits until Brett winds down before mentioning the thing that’s been nagging at the back of his mind for some time now.
“The advertisement I replied to,” he says once he can get a word in. “There was a line at the top. ‘Must be willing to travel.’”
“Oh yeah,” Brett replies without pause. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m working on a tour! I’m thinking just the major cities in Australia and New Zealand at first, and depending on how it goes…”
Eddy blinks at him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
Brett grins. “Since you replied to my advertisement. I’ve just been waiting for you to quit your jobs, become my full time assistant, and agree to be my partner.”
“How did you know that I would…” Eddy trails off into a sigh and shakes his head. “Oh, never mind.”
Brett’s eyes sparkle behind his glasses.
💫💫💫
Another nagging thought works to the forefront of his mind a few months later.
“You never did show me the trick with doves and silk scarves,” he complains apropos of nothing, earning himself a puzzled look from Brett.
“Huh?”
“The trick with the dove and the silk scarves we were gonna work on the afternoon I showed up and Jasmine was…” He trails away, making a face. They don’t talk about that period in their relationship anymore.
“Oh yeah,” Brett cuts in. “I remember now. Turns out doves are a pain in the arse to work with, much less agreeable and a bunch more flappy than rabbits. I took them back and ditched the whole idea.” He pauses, a smile spreading across his face. “But even though I’ve got a shortage of doves, I do still have the silk sashes…”
Eddy’s face warms. It’s only been a few weeks since their partnership progressed from legal to personal, and they’ve kept things tame to start. Still…
“Maybe you could teach me one of those escape moves. You know, where your scantily-clad assistant is tied to a four-poster bed, helpless and squirming…”
Brett’s blush deepens. “I dunno,” he says, his voice slightly choked. “Sounds like the sort of trick that would take a lot of practice to perfect.”
“I’ll wear the shoes.”
Brett’s cheeks turn incandescent. “To the bedroom, then. Uh, I mean- abracadabra!”