The two weeks leading up to the Spring Equinox were a whirlwind of focused, productive work. The air in the rehearsal hall was electric with a sense of purpose. Every day, the orchestra sounded better than the last. The Adagio for Strings was a raw, emotional cry of both grief and hope. The Schubert Symphony was a defiant, powerful statement. And the Brahms was pure magic.
During breaks, the musicians noticed the change. Seo Jaemin was more relaxed, laughing easily with the cello section and joking with the brass. He still kept his distance from Kang Do-hyun, a silent boundary set in place for the sake of appearances, but the two were in constant, quiet communication. A fleeting glance, a shared smile after a particularly difficult passage, a moment of leaning close to examine a score.
At times, Jaemin would stumble, suddenly growing distracted from a flash of heat or lightheadedness—lingering side effects from his suppressants wavering. He would take a deep breath to ground himself, then look to Do-hyun, a silent request for patience, for reassurance, to which the First Chair would always rally, calling instructions in Jaemin's stead, or holding the music steady until Jaemin could find his footing again. The orchestra didn't talk about it openly, but everyone saw it.
Their conductor and their First Chair were a team, a beautiful, inseparable pair, and that unspoken bond formed the foundation that made them sound like a new orchestra entirely.
…
On the afternoon of the Revival Gala, the city was alive with excitement. The publicity posters, with their sleek design and bold lettering, were plastered on every street corner: "The Seoul Philharmonic Presents: A Revival Gala." The program booklets, a symbol of their comeback, were piled high on the welcome tables.
It was incredibly unorthodox for an orchestra to be coming back to the stage so late in the season, when everyone else was ramping up for their final few performances. But the Seoul Philharmonic Symphony was an old establishment, and everyone wanted to see if they were going to resurrect with the glory of a phoenix, or be buried in the ground for good.
Seo Jaemin stood backstage, dressed in his black, formal conductor's suit, the weight of it both a comfort and a burden. The music was ready, the orchestra was ready, but he was filled with a nervous energy that had nothing to do with the performance.
He was worried about seeing Kang Do-hyun. He'd avoided him for the last two days, using final-minute preparations as an excuse. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to act, after the intimacy they had found. The moment was approaching, a public stage where their private bond would be on display for all to see. Of course Do-hyun had grumbled about being kept at arms-length, unwilling to be too distant from Jaemin for too long, but had relented when Jaemin had reassured him that they would go on a short holiday together once the Gala was over.
Just then, the door to his dressing room opened. Do-hyun stood there, dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, a sight that made Jaemin's breath catch in his throat.
Do-hyun didn't say anything, just looked at Jaemin, a small, admiring smile on his face. He held out his hand, palm up, a simple invitation. "It's time," he said, his voice soft, a clear, confident undertone to it. "Let's go show them what a team can do."
Jaemin nodded, taking the offered hand. His own hand, however, was trembling. Do-hyun felt the tremor, and his smile faltered. His eyes flickered to Jaemin's pale face, and he took a subtle breath, his expression shifting from calm to concern. He caught a fleeting scent of something a little too sweet under the familiar sandalwood, a whisper of a scent that seemed to be fighting its way through the beta blockers.
"Are you all right?" Do-hyun's voice was barely a whisper, meant for Jaemin's ears alone. This wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that he'd caught the whiff of Jaemin's true scent, although it was always quickly muted and yanked back under wraps.
Jaemin pulled his hand back quickly, stuffing it into his pocket. He gave a quick, sharp shake of his head. "I'm fine. Just nerves," he said, his voice a little too fast, a little too strained. A hot, prickly jolt shot through him, and his mind went blank.
Not now. Not in front of everyone. His hands clenched, gripping the smooth handle of his baton until his knuckles turned white, a silent, desperate effort to ground himself. "It's a big night. I popped a pill. It's under control."
Do-hyun's expression remained worried, but he simply nodded, his eyes holding Jaemin's. "I'm here."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Jaemin turned and walked out of the room, Do-hyun following right behind him.
…
The main doors of the concert hall had been thrown open, and the crowd spilled into the lobby like a sea of eager anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low hum of excited chatter. People clustered around the program tables, their eyes scanning the names, their voices buzzing with speculation. The hall itself was a masterpiece of old-world grandeur, with sweeping velvet curtains and gilded balconies that seemed to reach for the heavens. Every single seat was filled, a sea of expectant faces shimmering in the warm stage lights.
Backstage, the tension was palpable. The musicians, dressed in their concert black, were a tangle of nervous energy, fidgeting with their instruments and whispering to one another. The brass section was polishing for the tenth time, and the members of the strings sections were tuning their instruments meticulously.
In the midst of the controlled chaos, Kim Seojun nudged Jung Eunji. "Look at them," he muttered, gesturing subtly toward the door of Jaemin's dressing room, where Jaemin and Do-hyun were just emerging, walking together, the unspoken bond between them a palpable forcefield. "They're a different duet altogether, aren't they?"
"They are," Eunji agreed, a quiet sense of awe in her voice. "They're play to a different beat entirely."
The stage manager appeared in the doorway, her smile strained but hopeful. "Five minutes, everyone. Places."
The quiet whispers died down. All that could be heard was the low, collective exhalation of breath, a single moment of preparation before the final curtain call. All eyes turned to Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun, now standing together at the door, ready to take the stage and show the world what they were truly made of.