From this distance, with Jaemin and Do-hyun hidden behind the tinted windows of the backstage hallway, Choi Seungcheol shouldn't have been able to see them. And yet it felt like those grey eyes were piercing through the walls, straight into Jaemin's soul.
A tremor, a small, internal shudder, was the first physiological response to a primal fear that blazed ice-hot through his veins, and soon Jaemin's whole body was shaking. The sight of this man, this alpha he had hoped to never see again, was sickeningly real. The triumphant hum of the crowd dissolved into a distant, muffled roar, and the only reality was the figure in the circle seats.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. His limbs felt disconnected, his chest tightening with a suffocating weight, a phantom remembrance of the aroma of black tea and bergamot. His suppressants, which had been struggling valiantly all night, were no match for the unfiltered shock. The omega pheromones in his system, normally kept in check, had begun to spike wildly, a panic of bittersweet cherry blossoms that filled the narrow hallway and screamed for escape. He was a small, fragile creature again, a boy cowering in the face of an all-powerful predator. A cold dread, far worse than any memory, blanketed over him, and a choked gasp escaped his lips, and his trembling hand flew to his mouth, trying to stifle the ragged sound.
Do-hyun was beside him in an instant. He reached for Jaemin, then hesitated. He knew, instinctively, that a direct alpha scent in this state might make things worse.
Staring back up at Jaemin's face, his heart clenched with a fierce, protective fury. The usually clear amber eyes turned to him, wide and pleading and clouded with a terror that made Do-hyun's heart ache and rage. He saw in front of him the same man who had come to confess to him in the café on that dark night so many weeks ago, the same man who had been on the verge of being trampled down again by the terror of his past.
But this wasn't the past anymore. This was a real threat, here and now, clawing its way invasively into their moment of triumph.
Forcing his hackles down, together with the low, dangerous growl that threatened to break free from his chest, Do-hyun knelt in front of Jaemin, trying to anchor him away from the burgeoning storm of the conductor's panic. "Jaemin. Jaemin-ah. You need to breathe. Let's go. We're getting you out of here."
Jaemin shook his head, unable to speak from the phantom weight that had lodged in his gut and was growing heavier by the second. Do-hyun's suggestion, this desperate attempt to save him, only sharpened the terror. He swayed unsteadily, suddenly overwhelmed by a dizzying wave of deja vu and hopelessness that threatened to knock him off his feet. The stage, the audience, the orchestra… the reality of their earlier triumph pulled further and further away with each passing moment until it all felt like an impossible dream, a fragile structure that was about to come crashing down.
"Come," Do-hyun said, his voice an authoritative murmur. "Let's go."
He took hold of Jaemin's arm and started pulling him towards the exit, but the omega resisted. He looked up at Do-hyun, frightened doe-eyes wide and pleading.
"I… I c-can't," he whispered.
Do-hyun bit down on his impatience to get him to safety. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Jaemin shook his head. "N-No," he managed to force out, his voice raw with a sudden, desperate strength even though his teeth chattered with how violently he was trembling. "I c-can't. I won't g-go."
Surrender wasn't an option. Not now. Not when he was so close.
Do-hyun's brow furrowed with concern. "Jaemin, look at you. You're shaking like a leaf. Your pheromones are out of control. We can't go back out there; it's too dangerous."
"It–It's more dangerous… to stop now," Jaemin said, his voice gaining a new, fierce resolve. The sheer terror was still there, a physical weight in his chest, but beyond it, deep down, there lay a steely determination. He took a shaky breath, his eyes meeting Do-hyun's again. "I… We've come too far. He's here to… to watch me fail. I won't… g-give him the satisfaction. I can't… I can't give in."
Do-hyun stared at him, his expression a mixture of intense frustration and a dawning, immense pride. The man in front of him, pale and trembling, was still a broken boy from a past life. But he was also a man who, in the face of his greatest fear, was refusing to back down.
Jaemin straightened his suit jacket, his hand still visibly shaking, and took another deep, unsteady breath, his face a pale mask of sheer willpower. "I will not… be defeated by him again," he said, his voice now slowly regaining strength. "I will… not let him take this from me. Not… not again."
Do-hyun, seeing the unwavering resolve valiantly warring the fear in his partner's eyes, knew there was no talking him out of this. With a deep breath, he took a single, deliberate step forward to close the distance between them as he tugged the cuffs of his sleeves up.
He didn't reach for Jaemin's hand, nor did he try to calm him with words. Instead, with a quiet confidence that surprised even himself, he leaned down and lifted his wrists to the omega's face. Gently, he touched them against the scent glands on either side of his neck, even as he pressed his face into Jaemin's hair for a brief, tender moment. The action was more of a promise than a scenting—a simple, gentle act of claiming into which he poured the intention of all his unshakeable support.
Taking a deep inhale of Jaemin's acrid fear, an offering of shared burden, a vow that he would bear this too, he straightened slowly. Then, with a gentle sweep of his thumb, he wiped the stray tear that had fallen down Jaemin's cheek, a silent gesture that held more weight than any words could. Cradling the white face in his hands, he looked Jaemin in the eye, all trace of frustration in his expression clearing to give way to a look of intense, unadulterated admiration.
"Then we won't let him," he murmured, his voice low and fierce. "Don't be scared. You're not facing him alone now. Just let me know how you need me, Conductor-nim."
Jaemin, still pale and shaken, his pheromones barely under control, gave a single nod. The conductor and his concertmaster, a defiant duo against a world of past pain, turned together to head toward the stage doors.