Do-hyun's words hung in the air between them, a declaration that was both a promise and a threat. Jaemin was trapped, not by Do-hyun's physical presence, but by the weight of his resolve.
Jaemin's heart hammered against his ribs. "What do you want from me, Kang Do-hyun-ssi?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "I don't… I can't deal with this right now."
Do-hyun took another step closer, closing the distance between them. He reached out and slowly, gently, took one of Jaemin's hands, his thumb stroking the back of Jaemin's knuckles even as the electric jolt ran through them. The prickling sensation that had been at the back of Jaemin's neck spread into a pool of warmth, sliding down his spine as if tracing the touch.
"You don't have to handle it alone," Do-hyun said, his voice as soft as velvet. "Just… trust me."
Before Jaemin could think of a response, the doors opened and a few of the straggling musicians came back for something they'd forgotten. Jaemin immediately jumped back, their moment shattered. Fortunately, if anyone saw, they knew better than to comment.
…
The final hour of rehearsal was a blur. Jaemin was a flurry of nervous energy, his conducting more frantic than focused. He called out commands with a forced cheerfulness that fooled no one. The orchestra, sensing his unease, started to falter, their sound losing the cohesion they had fought so hard to build. The first attempt at the Brahms was a disaster—notes were missed, tempos were lost, and the solo violin, usually a beacon of light, sounded strained and hesitant.
Jaemin's face was a mask of frustration. He slammed his baton on the podium. "Again!" he shouted. "We need to be together! The Brahms requires us to listen to one another, to play as one!"
Han Chaewon, from the head of the second violin section, shot Do-hyun a puzzled look. Do-hyun simply shook his head, a silent message to ignore the conductor's frayed nerves.
The next few attempts were no better. Jaemin was losing control, and with every mistake, his temper flared.
"No!" he yelled, stopping the music in its tracks. "Violas, your line is far too timid! Trumpets, you're constantly half a beat behind! Everyone, look at the music! Look at your notes!"
Silence descended, Jaemin's frustration a heavy weight upon them all. After a few long, strained beats, he ran a hand through his hair, his body slumping in defeat.
"I… I'm sorry," he murmured, so quietly that only those in the front row could hear him. "My mind is not with the music today."
Do-hyun's heart ached. This was the Jaemin he had seen in the café just weeks ago—vulnerable and broken. He could not let him fall apart again.
He rose from his chair, a silent, powerful resolve radiating from him that sent a nervous prickle up Jaemin's spine from a distance.
"Conductor-nim," he said, his voice clear and resonant, cutting through the tension. "It's not our notes we need to look at. It's you."
Everyone in the orchestra turned to look at Kang Do-hyun, then at Seo Jaemin. Jaemin's eyes met his, wide with shock and a hint of fear.
"We're ready to follow you," Do-hyun continued, his gaze unwavering, "but you have to let us. If your heart isn't in it, ours can't be either." He was addressing the orchestra, but his words spoke directly to Jaemin, his words a hidden reassurance. "The Brahms, more than any other piece, is a conversation. A give and take. You have to give yourself to us, and we will give our music back to you."
Without waiting for a response, he raised his violin to his chin, movements fluid and deliberate. The sound of his first note was pure, a single, perfect tone that filled the hall, chasing away the anxiety.
He began to play the opening notes, not as a soloist, but as a plea. A conversation. The voice of his violin was achingly beautiful, but it was also a foundation, a starting point for Jaemin to build upon.
Jaemin watched him, mesmerized. The music was a shield no longer; it was a bridge. He closed his eyes and inhaled Do-hyun's scent—a steady, grounding cedar. His own pheromones, which had been in disarray, calmed and settled. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was clear, his mind focused. He raised his baton and took a deep steadying breath.
At length, he murmured, "Again." He looked at Do-hyun and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "From the top. Let's talk, Kang Do-hyun-ssi."