Jaemin's hands, normally so fluid and precise, were a blur of motion. He was moving faster than usual, his baton cutting through the air with a newfound ferocity. Do-hyun's arms ached, not from playing, but from the tension coiled in his shoulders. Every musician in the Seoul Philharmonic was holding their breath, a collective anxiety that had nothing to do with the music.
The Seoul Philharmonic Symphony was on edge. With time moving fast until the Gala, every musician could feel the pressure mounting, and while Jaemin's return was a tremendous relief, the time they had lost weighed heavily on everyone.
But something was different.
Jaemin stood on the podium, not with the quiet, hesitant grace they had become accustomed to, but with a new, palpable confidence. His posture was straighter, his movements more deliberate. He wasn't simply guiding the music; he was commanding it. He called for a challenging passage from the strings, and as the notes twisted into a knot of dissonance, he didn't falter.
"Violins, again," he said, his voice ringing out clearly. "From measure fifty-two. The articulation is a lament, not a question. Less on the attack, more on the release. Let it breathe."
A cellist sighed loudly from the back row. "We're running out of time, conductor. Maybe we should just stick to the tempo?"
Before Jaemin could respond, Do-hyun spoke up from his First Chair. "Conductor-nim is right," he said, his voice firm and carrying. "We need to do this piece justice, even if it takes a hundred times. We trust him."
The cellist fell silent. No one questioned the First Chair.
Throughout the rehearsal, the other musicians noticed the change in Do-hyun. He wasn't just leading his section; he was leading the entire orchestra's support for Jaemin. When Jaemin made a specific, difficult request of the wind section, it was Do-hyun who gave a quiet nod of approval, a silent signal for them to follow. When a horn player missed a cue, it was Do-hyun who caught Jaemin's eye, a silent communication passing between them that calmed the conductor, telling him to move on and trust.
At the break, the musicians gathered in small groups, a buzz of conversation filling the room.
"Can you believe this?" a beta named Soo Minji said to the trumpeter, a gruff alpha named Hwan Se-jin. "Just last week, I thought we were all going to lose our jobs. Now he has us sounding like a professional orchestra."
"It's not just him," Se-jin grumbled, though his expression was one of reluctant admiration. "Did you see Kang Do-hyun sunbae-nim? He's like a different person. Never seen him so... supportive."
"I know!" a young violinist chimed in. "They're a team now. It's like watching a dance. They just know what the other is thinking."
Kang Do-hyun, overhearing the end of their conversation as he found a quiet corner for his tea, saw a hope in their eyes that had been missing for weeks.
Cautiously, Kim Seojun approached him, his expression a mix of awe and bewilderment. "Sunbae-nim," he said, "You two are... different."
Do-hyun frowned at him, taking a slow sip of his tea. "Different?"
"Yeah. Before, it was like... he was in charge, but you were still the First Chair. Now... I don't know. It's like he looks at you, you look at him, and you both just know what to do. It's crazy." Seojun hesitated, a thoughtful look on his face. "Did you two talk? Did you fix things?"
Do-hyun smiled, an easy smile that reached his eyes. "Yup," he said simply.
"He's a different person," Seojun observed, watching Jaemin as he spoke quietly with a group of oboists. "He looks... so much calmer."
Do-hyun's gaze followed Seojun's, resting on Jaemin's face. "He is," he said softly, his voice full of a tenderness he had never shown anyone before. "He knows he's not alone anymore."
Just then, he sensed rather than saw Jaemin pause just outside the door to the break room, one hand coming up to his temple with a soft grunt. An almost imperceptible tremor ran through his body, and a faint, sweet scent of omega pheromones briefly spiked in the air before fading.
Seojun watched as Do-hyun's expression changed instantaneously. "Sunbae-nim? Everything alright?"
Hurriedly setting down his tea, Do-hyun barely managed to acknowledge Seojun's question with a vague sound before he was rushing out of the room.
He found Jaemin sitting hunched on a bench just outside one of the side doors, hands massaging his temples.
"Conductor-nim," Do-hyun said, his voice soft with concern as he knelt in front of him. "Are you okay? Is it… Are you having another episode?"
Jaemin jumped, his eyes wide and embarrassed as he lowered his hands. "No, no, it's not that." He let out a shaky sigh. "It's just… lingering effects. Ever since my suppressants failed, my system has been a little… off. There are… mini-spikes sometimes. Not a full episode, I promise."
Do-hyun's frown deepened. "Are you taking medication? You should go home and rest."
"I have medication," Jaemin said quickly, a blush rising on his cheeks. "I have it with me. I just… We already don't have much time left." He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry."
"About what?"
"I… can't imagine most alphas are comfortable talking about omegas' hormones and schedules." Jaemin shifted, clearly the one who was uneasy with the topic.
Still holding a grave expression, Do-hyun took a moment before responding. "You learn a lot about these things when someone you care about goes through it." Then he smiled, a small, crooked grin as he rose to his feet. "I have a sister, so, I'm used to hearing about everything, whether I want to or not. She's a brat."
That brought a smile to Jaemin's face too, although his pallor didn't quite ease up. "Is she an… omega too?" he asked, hesitating just slightly at the word.
"Nope. Just a brat." Do-hyun shot him another grin. "I'll go get you a drink. Maybe some hot tea will help."