The last echo of the final note hung in the air, a perfect, crystalline sound that resonated with both the exhaustion and the exhilaration of a successful day's work. The clock on the rehearsal hall wall read a quarter past ten, long after the other orchestra members had packed up and left. Only Jaemin and Do-hyun remained. The empty chairs, the silent music stands, and the single overhead light cast a long, lonely shadow across the polished wooden floor.
Jaemin leaned against the podium, a tired but contented smile on his face. "It's perfect," he said, his voice husky. "The sound… The piece is ready."
Do-hyun, still on his stool, began to slowly wipe down his violin, the habitual motion a quiet punctuation to the long day. "All thanks to you. We needed the push, and you've been leading us well." He looked up, his eyes meeting Jaemin's. "You were incredible today, Conductor-nim. Truly."
A blush rose on Jaemin's cheeks, and he looked away. "Thank you. It's… it's thanks to you, really."
The words hung in the quiet space, a clear, resounding note of truth between them. The professional veneer they had maintained all day began to fray at the edges, revealing the raw connection underneath.
Do-hyun finished with his violin, tucking it carefully into its case before standing. "Come on," he said, his tone gentle. "Let me buy you a drink. And something to eat. I'm starving."
Jaemin hesitated, but only for a moment. "Okay," he agreed, the simple word a surrender to the invitation.
…
They walked through the late-night streets, the city lights a blur of neon against the dark sky. A sharp, cold breeze cut through their jackets, carrying the last vestiges of winter with it.
Do-hyun led him to a small, unassuming pojangmacha, a street-side tent where the smell of soju and tteokbokki wafted out into the chilly night. They took a seat at a small, plastic table, the intimacy of the space a stark contrast to the vast rehearsal hall.
The conversation started with the orchestra—the progress they'd made, the challenges they still faced. But as the soju flowed, their words became less guarded, their laughter a little looser.
"I have no idea what Kim Seojun and Jung Eunji are daydreaming about sometimes," Do-hyun said, refilling Jaemin's glass, "Today I looked up and they were just staring at me with their mouths open."
"They do that to you too??" Jaemin exclaimed. "Oh thank god, I thought it was just me. It keeps making me wonder if I have something on my face, and everyone is too polite to tell me!"
Do-hyun chuckled, "Nope, the both of them are just weirdos! And don't worry, I'll definitely let you know if you have anything stuck on your face. Can't have our Conductor-nim walking around with gochujang sauce all over his nose!"
Jaemin gasped loudly in a show of appalled insult. "That was just one time, because Jung Eunji-ssi brought in those enormous wraps! And you didn't say a word, it was Han Chaewon-ssi who pulled me aside to tell me!"
"I was busy helping to move the percussion instruments on stage!" Do-hyun protested with a laugh as he propped his elbow on the table, resting the side of his head in his hand so he could twist to look at Jaemin. "And anyway, don't worry. No amount of gochujang sauce can cover up the fact that you have a very beautiful face."
The laughter caught in Jaemin's throat. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at Do-hyun. The pojangmacha's lights, normally a comforting haze, suddenly felt too bright, too focused. A tense, humming silence descended between them. Do-hyun's playful grin slowly faded as he realized what he had said, his own eyes searching Jaemin's for a reaction.
Suddenly feeling too warm, Jaemin looked down at his glass, fumbling with it as if it held the answers to the universe. "It's… it's getting late," he stammered, the previous lightness gone entirely. "We should… should probably get going."
"Yeah…" Do-hyun gave a cough, downed the rest of his glass to hide his awkwardness, then raised his hand to call the stall owner over to settle the bill as Jaemin stood and hurried out of the pojangmacha.
When Do-hyun emerged, Jaemin was shifting nervously outside the tent, the biting wind whipping his usually neat hair into a mess of dark waves. He looked ready to bolt.
"So, uh, thanks for drinner, I mean, drinks, and dinner, I, I'm gonna go now, I'll see you tomorrow!"
Do-hyun stared at him, gaze unnervingly steady. "We don't have rehearsal tomorrow."
"Oh—" Jaemin's face, already flushed from alcohol and embarrassment, turned even redder. "Yeah, sorry, I forgot about that… I meant see you next ti—"
"Are you going to be weird about this?" Do-hyun asked curiously.
Jaemin blinked rapidly, and tried to smile. "Weird about what?" Deflecting, he turned and began moving away, too conscious of Do-hyun following close behind him. "Nothing happened, nothing's weird, I didn't—"
Do-hyun cut in. "Has nobody ever told you that, Conductor-nim?"
"Told me… what?" Jaemin's footsteps sped up, trying in earnest now to get away, only to be caught by the sleeve and tugged back suddenly, such that he spun, stopping just inches short from Do-hyun's face.
The alpha's eyes were unnaturally bright under the lone fluorescent glow of the streetlamp, the focused darkness of his pupils making his gaze seem even more intense and piercing than usual. "That you have a beautiful face," he murmured, watching the blush bloom again across Jaemin's fair cheeks, a sweep of shadowed colour in the dim light. "You do, you know? But you don't seem very used to receiving compliments."
Jaemin stared back at him, entranced and unable to speak, so he continued.
"I meant it, sincerely, even though we were joking around back there." Now that they were so close, even though they weren't touching, the air between them was charged, electric. "But it's not just your face. You have a beautiful heart, and you make beautiful music."
A small, strangled sound came from Jaemin. But even though the beautiful face in question held fear, he wasn't pulling away. Do-hyun took that as a good sign.
"My god," he whispered, almost not knowing what he was saying anymore. "You really are beautiful." His gaze dropped to Jaemin's lips, and a wave of heat bloomed in the omega's chest. The air crackled with a tension that was different from the anxiety of the rehearsal hall—this was a tension of pure, dizzying anticipation.
"Cherry blossoms…" Do-hyun leaned in, his eyes slowly closing, his face impossibly close to Jaemin's.
His lips were just about to touch Jaemin's when the conductor's eyes widened, and he suddenly jerked back, spinning away from Do-hyun with a choked gasp. He stumbled a few steps before leaning heavily against the streetlamp, his shoulders hunched. A sharp, ugly sound of retching broke the tense silence.
The light of fierce intensity in Do-hyun's eyes vanished, replaced by a flash of panicked worry as he rushed to him, his hand rubbing comforting circles on his back as Jaemin regurgitated everything he had just eaten onto the pavement.
Once he was done, Jaemin pushed off the streetlamp, waving Do-hyun away. "I'm fine," he said, his voice strained and weak as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Happens all the time."
Do-hyun's eyebrows shot up. "All the time?"
"No no, I mean… This has happened before. It's the stress, I guess. Or the food. Maybe too much soju on an empty stomach. I didn't eat all day." The last part was a lie, but it felt easier to say than admit the sharp, stabbing ache at the back of his neck. A sudden, icy gust of wind made both of them shiver, a cold punctuation to the heavy silence between them.
As if on cue, a sudden, insistent buzz from Jaemin's pocket cut through the silence. He fumbled with his phone, the caller ID a bright, intrusive light in the darkness. He answered the call, his voice breathless and strained. "Hello? P-Park Sangho-ssi?"
Do-hyun watched him, his heart hammering against his ribs, a mixture of frustration and disappointment warring with a new, fierce hope. The moment was gone, but the promise of it remained.