The world tilted. The laughter of the musicians faded into a dull roar. The victorious warmth of the rehearsal evaporated.
Shall I come in…?
Through the glass doors, the sky outside was deepening into a warm gold as the sun began its descent below the skyline. He saw Do-hyun still on the phone, silhouetted against the glowing light.
If Choi Seungcheol came inside... If he caused a scene now, just as the sponsors were returning... it would ruin everything, the hours of hard work that the orchestra had put in. Especially Do-hyun, who was still wrestling his way through their legal battles.
As if on cue, the glass doors of the rehearsal hall opened, and Do-hyun walked back in, sliding his phone into his pocket even as Jaemin shoved the envelope into his own, heart jumping against his ribs.
"Sorry," Do-hyun murmured as he approached the stage to retrieve his things. "I had to take that call. But we sound fantastic, all thanks to you, Conductor-nim." He offered Jaemin a small, weary smile as he straightened, violin case in hand. "Ready to go? You must be starving."
Jaemin looked up at the alpha, the man trying to hold up the sky for them, and something deep in his chest ached even as his resolve clicked into place.
He couldn't let Do-hyun confront Choi Seungcheol again, not with the way their last meeting had played out. He had to get out there before Choi Seungcheol decided to come in.
Besides, this was never Do-hyun's fight to begin with. He had already done so much, was still doing so much, to protect Jaemin. It's time Jaemin stepped forward and stood his own ground.
"Jagi?" Do-hyun reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Jaemin's forehead. "What would you like to have for dinner?"
Jaemin forced himself not to flinch at the touch, even as guilt spiked hot and fast inside him. Resisting the urge to lean into Do-hyun's touch, he pulled back slightly.
"Actually," he lied, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands, "I need to see if I can catch Manager Park for a bit. I want to speak to him about something in the program notes. It will probably take about ten minutes."
Do-hyun hesitated, his hand lingering in the air. "I'll go with you."
"No, don't," Jaemin said quickly, then forced a light, teasing tone. "You look dead on your feet. Besides, we parked some distance away. There's no point in us both standing around."
He nodded toward the exit. "Could you get the car and bring it around to the front? By the time you get back, I should be more or less done here."
Do-hyun's gaze searched him, as if sensing something was wrong. "You sure?"
"Yeah," Jaemin answered, managing a soft smile. "Go on. I'll see you in a bit, jagi."
Do-hyun relented. "Okay. I'll see you out front."
Jaemin watched him walk out of the hall. The moment the main doors swung shut behind Do-hyun, sealing him safely away, Jaemin turned and walked rapidly in the opposite direction, toward the exit that led to another side of the performance venue.
He thinks he can still summon me, he thought, a cold, hard anger crystallizing in his chest. He still thinks of me as his fragile little omega.
But he was not the scared boy he had been in Vienna. He wasn't the trembling victim who had fainted onstage during the Revival Gala. He had faced down a sudden heat, a seizure, and a media storm. He had rebuilt a dying orchestra from the ground up.
He wouldn't hide. He wouldn't run. He would go out there, look Choi Seungcheol in the eye, and tell him to go to hell.
The streetlights were just flickering to life, casting long, stretching shadows against the pavement. As Jaemin turned the corner, he saw it.
A sleek black sedan was idling at the curb, the engine purring like a large, dark cat. And leaning against the rear passenger door, arms crossed casually over his chest, was Choi Seungcheol.
He looked exactly as he had in Vienna—immaculate in a charcoal suit, relaxed, waiting with the proprietary air of a man who knew his partner would eventually show up. It was a pose Jaemin had once found romantic; now, it made his skin crawl.
Choi Seungcheol saw him and smiled. It wasn't a villain's grin; it was soft, and terrifyingly affectionate.
"You're late," he said gently, pushing off the car. "Still the same as always, making me wait for you after lessons."
He opened the passenger door, holding it for Jaemin.
"Get in. I've made a reservation for us at Jungsik. We have a lot to catch up on."
Five feet away, Jaemin stopped. He planted his feet, fighting the urge to tremble.
"No," he said.
Choi Seungcheol's smile didn't falter, but his eyes dimmed slightly. "No? That's not very polite, Jaemin-ah. After I went through all the trouble of getting us a table."
"I'm not going to dinner with you," Jaemin said, his voice gaining iron. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I came here to tell you to stop. Just leave my orchestra alone."
Choi Seungcheol chuckled then, a low, dark sound. He took a step forward, and the bitter scent of black tea and bergamot washed over Jaemin, cloying and suffocating.
"Your orchestra?" the alpha tilted his head. "You think you own it? You think you own anything without me?"
He stretched out his hand, fingers reaching for a stray lock of hair falling across Jaemin's forehead, a gesture mirroring Do-hyun's just minutes ago.
"Don't touch me!" Jaemin slapped his hand away. The sound was sharp in the quiet street. He backed away, only too aware that it would be dangerous to get too close.
Choi Seungcheol stopped, his expression hardening. "You've picked up some bad habits," he murmured. "Is this what he teaches you, that mongrel?"
"He teaches me to believe in my own strength," Jaemin spat. "He teaches me that I don't need to be owned to be valued. He—"
"He is a brute," Choi Seungcheol sneered, his elegant mask slipping to reveal the jealousy underneath. "A violent, unstable child who throws tantrums when he loses control. You think he loves you? He doesn't know you like I do."
He waved vaguely towards the performance hall.
"In all this time that you've been back, have you ever written your own music? No. You've just been playing among secondhand pieces from composers six feet under." Choi Seungcheol stepped closer. "Because you know deep down, my little cherry blossom, that you can't truly be free to bloom here. You don't really trust him to show him your full potential and glory, because you know that he might very well break it. An animal like him can never hold the artistry of your soul like I do."
His gaze rested with satisfaction on Jaemin, who stared back at him with dawning realization and horror. "What…?" he whispered.
"Aren't I right?" Choi Seungcheol stepped up close once more, black tea and bergamot pheromones beginning to unfurl from him once more. "Come back to me, Jaemin. You should be well aware of the difference by now. No one else will ever be able to understand how precious you are."
"What…" Jaemin said again, "... the fuck are you talking about?!"
His voice rose to a shout as he shoved Choi Seungcheol from him, backing a safe distance away even as he covered the nape of his neck with one hand, a clumsy shield against the alpha's pheromones. Part of him knew he should run, but the rest of him needed to see the definitive end of this… thing that tied him to this man who was once his most trusted friend.
"I don't know what version of reality you've been living in, Seungcheol," Jaemin shouted, the words tearing out of him. "But Do-hyun holds my heart because he handles it with care!
"You want to know the difference? When I was sick, when I was vulnerable... he waited. He didn't force himself on me during my heat, or even when it triggered his rut. He didn't insist on a bond, no matter how many times he wanted to bite me, because he respected me. He let me choose."
He looked Choi Seungcheol dead in the eye.
"You call him a mongrel? Kang Do-hyun is twice the alpha you will ever be, Choi Seungcheol. Because, among other things, he would never, ever dream of stealing my, or anyone else's work and passing it off as his own."
Choi Seungcheol went perfectly still. The air around them seemed to freeze. The pity in his eyes evaporated, replaced by a void of cold, absolute malice.
"Is that so?" he murmured.
Slowly, he adjusted his cuffs, his movements precise and mechanical.
"You really believe that," he muttered. "You believe his nobility makes him strong. You believe his patience makes him worthy. Even though you're already bonded to me."
He turned back to Jaemin. The smile was back, but it was razor-sharp.
"Very well, my unfaithful, stubborn omega. Let's see how noble your unbonded mate looks when the world sees his rot."
He got into the car, not deigning to look at Jaemin again.
"Go play your concert, Jaemin-ah," he said, voice icy. "Play loud. But when the curtain falls, remember that you chose this. You chose to break him."
The window sealed shut.
"Wait!" Jaemin shouted, lunging forward and slapping his hand on the glass. "What does that mean? Why can't you just leave us alone?!"
The engine revved—a low, aggressive growl. The sedan shot away from the curb, sliding sleekly into the twilight traffic, leaving Jaemin standing alone on the sidewalk in a cloud of exhaust.
Jaemin stood there, breathing hard, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He had done it. He had faced him. He had rejected Choi Seungcheol, and would keep on doing it until he'd gotten it into his thick head that they were over. And no matter what Choi Seungcheol had planned, he, Do-hyun, and the SPS would tide it through like they had always done.
But as he turned back toward the brightly lit venue, the phantom scent of bitter tea seemed to linger on his clothes, a promise of poison yet to come.