#kingsten

mélomanie: an excessive and abnormal love and deep attraction to music and melody.

He watches Brian through the glass, only able to catch a glimpse of the side of his face once in a while. 

He’ll hear their voices too, just barely. Brian saying things like sorry, let me try that again, or do you think the drum line should be a little quieter here? And then him laughing, or smiling to himself. In just the couple of hours sitting here, he’s noted how to tell when Brian makes a mistake: if it’s a small one, he’ll scrunch his nose, and if a bigger one, look down then towards the right while grasping at the bass more firmly. Occasionally, (and really, on quite the occasion) he’ll turn around to tap at the glass, and Peter won’t be able to hide his smile from him. 

It’s strange to see him so focused on any one particular thing, more or less for longer than three, four hours. It’s a side of Brian that he’s not been able to see before, at least, not at this kind of length. 

“You must be Peter.” A stranger says to him, from the corner. When Peter realizes who she is, he holds his laptop a bit closer, as if to physically hold onto an excuse to get out of conversation. 

“Hi.” He replies.

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to meet you! I mean I feel like in a way I already know you, you know. Because Brian, well, he’s always writing about you. If not about you then because of you.”

“That’s romantic, I guess.” Peter says, because he doesn’t know what to say. Small talk is already difficult as it is, and it’s more of a struggle when it’s with the girl that’s blatantly at work, been hitting on the guy in question.

“You’re not... exactly how I imagined you.” He wants to ask what that’s exactly supposed to mean. Instead, he lifts his head, and then a smile towards her with absolutely no response at all. Instead of getting the hint, she continues. “For some reason I thought you’d be more interesting, you know. Because Brian is well. Really interesting and...”

“Gay.” Peter interjects, with the same smile still there.

“Well, yeah, I mean, he, yeah. Sure. Yeah, I guess.” The girl physically retreats, taking a step back towards the other side of the room, towards the door. There’s a full minute of uncomfortable silence between them before she gives him a wave. “Well, nice meeting you Peter, I think they need me in there about now, so I think I’ll get going.”

Peter reopens his laptop, and the first thing he sees is the alert on his lower right corner, seeing the low battery yell at him. He keeps it open, as his screen dims, then fades into a completely black and blank one.

“You look so focused, what are you working on?” Brian’s voice breaks him out of his daze, and before he can register where he is, he feels him jump to his side on the couch. It’s only a matter of time before he nuzzles up against him, before giving a big grin. “Wait, you’re not even working on any-”

Before he can continue, Peter throws his arm around his neck and pulls him in towards him. Peter feels the way Brian freezes to try to understand for a moment, before giving up and leaning into him just the same. They stay in the same position for a length Peter doesn’t time. Instead, he counts the number of times he feels Brian’s breath on his cheek, and only till he reaches somewhere in the two hundreds, does he pull himself out of it to meet his eyes.

“You doing okay?” Brian mumbles, voice quiet like he doesn’t want others to hear, even if everyone else is in the room next door to them and they’re alone. His brows are furrowed in towards one another, and he looks like a complete puppy, worried about something small or big just the same.

“You really love doing this.” Peter says to him, while burying himself by the other’s neck once more. "This music stuff.” He adds, because he realizes only after that he wasn’t specific enough. 

Brian gives a hearty laugh, one that Peter can even feel on his skin because of how close they are. “Yeah, I kinda do. Was that not... obvious?” Brian moves an arm around Peter’s waist, and Peter responds by slipping a hand through Brian’s hair. 

“You should go on the tour next week.” 

“What?” Brian’s hand stops stroking Peter’s side, and instead looks for one of his hands. “I thought you didn’t want me leaving because it’s the second time this month and it’s close to Christmas and whatever not.” 

“God Brian, you look at your bass like you’ve never seen anything more beautiful since fettuccine pasta and you want to passionately make love to it.” Peter grumbles, still speaking against Brian’s neck. “It would be criminal of you to not go when it’s all you can talk about. Even in your dreams. I’ve heard you mumbling about it since you’ve been back.” 

“Why, are you jealous of Goldie?” Brian pries, while trying to find Peter’s face with his own, starting to press flush against him a bit more.

“Fuck you. Whatever.” His response makes Brian laugh again, and this time, Peter can’t keep himself from a small smile either. He’s smiling against the skin of Brian’s neck, because he wants him to know. He finds Brian’s hands again instead, before interlocking their fingers together. 

“Are you going to be okay for five months?” Brian urges, even though they both know the real question is asked replacing you with we. When Peter doesn’t respond, Brian forces him to locks eyes again instead, their foreheads against each other’s. 

“Can you kiss me?” Peter asks.

b'shert: 'destiny'; the seeking if a person who will complement you, and whom you will complement perfectly.

“I’m talking too much again, aren’t I.” Brian cuts himself off, out of nowhere. He laughs, but it doesn’t leave him as lightly as it usually does. 

Instead, it’s heavy, falling in the space between them as soon as it falls from his lips. Peter looks to him, but Brian’s eyes are elsewhere, towards the sky above them. It’s a habit of his, to gaze up anytime he gets nervous. He waits till Brian’s eyes are back on him, while his gaze is the one to now look elsewhere. It’s hard to look him in the eyes for longer than a second, and he wishes it would come to him easy as it seems to for Brian. Everything seems easy to Brian, and he wonders if he’s the only one having difficulty with everything in between them.

“I definitely am talking too much, sorry.” 

Peter shakes his head. 

It doesn’t make any sense really, but Peter hears Brian smiling. He’s not looking at his face, but he can just sense it; the same smile Brian gives him every time they’re on these walks at night just before midnight. The same damned smile that he wished Brian would stop giving him because it sometimes kept him awake at nights, thinking about it with the covers over his head. 

“I think I might have lost you like six sentences ago. I should’ve paid a little more attention, I know I tend to ramble on and on sometimes... I know it’s not anything particularly interesting to anyone, but.” Brian bites at his lower lip, and Peter does the same. He takes a breath before beginning. 

“You don’t believe in the jazz canon, because... then there must have been this one musician, then because of that musician, there were another set of musicians. But there were a handful of musicians making similar musical discoveries simultaneously at the same time.. just like researchers working on a vaccine together, towards a common goal without even knowing exactly the process of the others. And your wonder is if there would be a different jazz canon, if certain musicians didn’t pass young and other musicians did.”

“It’s... interesting to me.” Peter adds, just as they reach the door to his home.

The light comes on, and Peter looks up to Brian’s face. For once, he’s got on an expression Peter can’t quite understand nor read. It makes him even more nervous, and he wonders if he’s worsened the situation somehow. 

He swallows, because his throat is dry from so much talking. He bites at his lower lip again, before he glances at Brian again. This time, Brian is already waiting for him, and Peter doesn’t have the heart to do anything but meet his eyes. Brian’s giving him that smile again, and Peter regrets installing the light above them. There’s not enough darkness here to hide his red ears, or his flushed cheeks. He wishes he would stop looking at him this way, especially with a smile like that accompanying it. 

“Thank you,” is what Brian ends up saying after all that time. His lips part as if he wants to say something more, but then he takes a step back, physically. Peter only realizes then how close they were standing. 

“I’ll text you when I get home?” Brian asks, with a tilt of his head. He seems reluctant to leave. 

“Okay.” Peter nods, offering a small smile.

He’s not sure what’s happening, but Brian looks more certain now, as if he’s realized something. Peter still doesn’t recognize it, and he’s reading too much into everything that doesn’t matter and never to the things that do matter. 

“i don’t know.” not much, he reckons. not much at all. “i don’t want to change too much.” but maybe he has. he doesn’t know. “i used to love life. loved dance, theatre, poetry, people. everything.” he can go on but there’s a quiet pang in his chest and he doesn’t want to go there. what’s the use in remembering the dead, singing them ballads when they have no ears to hear? “loved love, loved life — god, i loved it so much.” a laugh, hollow. it twitches, it aches.  “then i was murdered, i am. now this would be the second time, the second murder.” his gaze drops and meets brian’s and he wonders if he is right — if it is indeed sorrow staring back at him. “i like to think i’ve kept parts of him. the old kyungsoo. that i grabbed his hand and we ran far from the crime scene that night.” a pause. “have i kept him safe? i don’t know. what is safe?”

kilig: the delightful feeling that sends shivers of pleasure down the spine as one encounters something romantic.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” 

Maybe this isn’t it. 

“You don’t have to stand there, if you don’t want.” Brian says, offering a smile.

Peter wishes he wouldn’t do that sometimes, the smiling. Mainly because it means he has to stare at him three seconds longer than the already long gaze, just to note how he smiles with his whole face. “I can bring it to you when it’s ready.” Brian smiles like he really means it, and it’s not something he’s seen before. “You can take a seat, and I’ll bring it over.” 

Instead of replying to his smile with one of his own, he’s only able to manage a nod before he takes a seat at the usual spot in the corner. 

Peter watches him work the machine, behind the counter. He’s not much of an expert on coffee besides the actual consuming part of it, but even to his naked eye he can tell how much Brian fumbles around with the espresso machine. His big hands are grasping the levers at the wrong time, and Peter’s sure he’s seen Brian now spill something for the second time today. It makes him wonder who he possibly knows here to get employed, and if his smile sold as many lattes as he was spilling across their counters.

The music playing behind them gradually changes to lose its lyrics; there’s a softer jazz piano solo playing now. Peter repositions himself to actually sit at the table, opening up his laptop and seeing the spreadsheet come back to life. The numbers stare at him, and he stares right back at them. He’s not sure why he’s doing this for the third time this week, trying to work in a café with a clear distraction keeping him from everything else but. 

Brian appears next to him, and he’s even a bit too close. He’s crouching over to him, giving him that same damn smile as he places the espresso and another plate next to him. 

“I... only ordered the—” 

Brian’s quick to cut him off, and he speaks defensively, as if having expected it. “It’s on the house. We made too many this morning and...” Brian stares directly at him, and Peter feels completely like an open book being read, and from the very first page. “I might be new but I know you’re a regular. Or at least Claudette over there tells me.”

Peter adjusts his glasses, staring at the madeleines in front of him. There’s six of them, and it seems like way too many pieces for it to have been a simple mistake from the kitchen.

He wants to take another look at Brian, especially because he’s so close. But he knows better than to do so, and instead, nods again. “Thank you.” Peter lifts his head to him, but his eyes stare at something further than Brian, directed at anything behind him instead of him directly. He just doesn’t have the courage to look at Brian the same way. 

Although Peter’s not looking, Brian watches instead, as if waiting for something only to let it go. “Well, if you need anything else, let me know. I’m here till closing today, so.” 

“Thank you.” Peter says, fleetingly. Before Brian takes his turn back, he adds. “Brian.” 

“How’d you know my—”  

This time, Peter cuts him off, but not with words. Instead, his fingers point at his upside down name tag hanging loosely on his chest. Brian’s eyes follow and discover it, and then lets out a loud laugh. “Right. Name tags. These are a thing.” 

Peter interjects a second time, reaching out his arm to adjust Brian’s name tag so that it’s clipped well enough to remain right side up. It’s only after he does it that he realizes how strange the action is to have done wordlessly to a stranger, he Peter immediately apologies. “Sorry, I should have asked.” He bites his lower lip, and waits for a response. Brian weirdly seems quite silent, and for the first time, Peter feels the need to fill the void. “I won’t do that again, sorry.”

“No, you’re completely alright. Thanks for that, actually.” Brian scratches his head, before playfully looking towards Peter’s chest, as if looking for one. “Would be nice if everyone that came in wore one. Would make my life a lot easier. Anyway. Let me... know if you want anything else.”