The intense Brahms rehearsals were a crucible, and the orchestra was emerging from it stronger than ever. The weeks leading up to the Revival Gala were not without challenges, but the raw, unifying power of the music they had once lost, but now rebuilt together, had forged a bond among them all. The rehearsal hall, once a place of tension and misery, now hummed with a different kind of energy: a shared focus, a quiet confidence.
At the center of it all was the partnership between Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun. Do-hyun's initial, furious defiance had slowly, almost imperceptibly, melted away. He now followed Jaemin's lead with an intense, almost magnetic concentration.
The music wasn't a battle between them anymore; it was a conversation, a give and take that flowed through the entire orchestra. Jaemin's hand would rise, and Do-hyun's bow would move in perfect, synchronized rhythm. His solo passages were no longer a cold, lonely monument to his skill; they were alive, listening, and responding to the orchestra he was now truly a part of.
The orchestra's break room, too, was a livelier place than it had ever been. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, pastries, and the low hum of nervous chatter.
The topic, as always, was Seo Jaemin and Kang Do-hyun.
"Don't you think they have a special telepathy?" Jung Eunji asked, her shy voice barely a whisper. "Today, when the strings were rushing, Conductor-nim just gave a look to Kang Do-hyun-nim, and he just... knew. The tempo was fixed in an instant."
Kim Seojun, who had also been watching the dynamic intently, slapped his hand on the table. "I knew it! See? It's not just me! There's a secret language between them, a silent conversation only they understand. I've been telling everyone it's a soul connection, a fated pair!"
"Seojun-ah, it's not a secret language. It's called being a professional musician," Han Chaewon, forever the no-nonsense realist, said with a sigh. "Conductor-nim is just really good at his job and knows how to communicate with his concertmaster."
"By addressing him as 'Kang Do-hyun-ssi'? No, no, no," Seojun insisted, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is a story! The powerful alpha, alone and isolated, meets a quiet, unassuming beta who is actually the only person who can understand him. They're like two halves of a whole. His scent, his music, his whole demeanor... it's all changing. And it's all because of our Conductor Seo Jaemin-nim!"
Chaewon's calm exterior broke as she choked on her coffee, but next to her, Eunji nodded, a soft, wistful look on her face.
"So romantic…" A thought occurred to her, and she gasped. "What if… What if they are a fated pair, and they just haven't realised it yet??"
"You two, that's insane," Chaewon sputtered. "Fated pairs never involve betas. Everybody knows they only happen between an alpha and an omega. We all know Conductor-nim is a beta, and our Kang Do-hyun is as alpha as it gets. How would that even work? Besides, fated pairs are things that only happen in movies. Why would a fictional phenomenon like that randomly happen within our tiny little SPS?"
"You never know!!" Seojun nodded enthusiastically. "Maybe they just need a little push, that's all!"
Chaewon simply shook her head in a mix of affection and disbelief. "Yah, you two have been watching too many dramas on Netflix. Maybe you should be using that time to practice your parts, instead of making up fairytale romances about people we actually know! Seriously, we have a lot of work to do if we want to live up to Conductor-nim's expectations."
Duly chastised, the two shippers subsided. But Seojun could still clearly recall the way Do-hyun's eyes would lock on Jaemin, his expression still a little too intense, a little too… confused as he watched the conductor who was the epitome of quiet strength and deep concentration.
A determined glint appeared in Seojun's eyes. Maybe it was an insane theory, but he had a hunch. And if he was right, these two needed some help.
It was time for a little subtle, comedic sabotage for the good of the orchestra. He just needed to wait for the perfect moment.
…
Meanwhile, back in the rehearsal hall, Kang Do-hyun was making a very difficult confession.
"You were right," he admitted, the words foreign on his tongue. "It's been different. The music feels... alive."
Jaemin gave a nod that held no gloating or judgement, merely objective agreement. "We can't make music if we're too busy fighting with each other to stand out. It is not about a single genius. It is about a single will.'
"... How do you do it?" Do-hyun asked. His voice held the beginnings of a grudging respect. "You don't shout. You don't demand. You give us nothing but... whispers and a look. How does that even work?"
Jaemin's calm façade faltered. He sighed, a tired, weary sound that was full of an emotional weight Do-hyun couldn't comprehend. He looked away, his gaze settling on the empty chairs of the orchestra, a profound sadness in his eyes.
"The music is already there," Jaemin explained, his voice dropping softer now. "You just have to be quiet enough to hear it. It is not about forcing a sound. It is about listening to the song that is already there, waiting to be found."
Do-hyun was silent for a moment, before asking, "You really think we can pull this together?"
"Yes, I think so. We just have to keep at it. It will be a lot of work, but we'll make it, somehow." A flicker of exhaustion crossed Jaemin's face, fatigue shadowing his eyes. As if to himself, he murmured, "There is no other option."
Do-hyun watched him reach under his scarf to gently massage the back of his neck, and felt a pang of sympathy.
To the uninitiated, all they would see was Jaemin standing there and waving the baton around while the musicians laboured to produce the sound. But as a concertmaster, Do-hyun knew that the man had to put in at least five times as much work as any of them, interpreting and guiding each section, each instrument, to sound the way they should, before drawing them all together as a whole.
After a moment's pause, he asked, "Have you been getting enough rest? The rehearsals seem to be wearing you out."
"Huh?" Jaemin, caught off-guard, looked confused by the question, before hastily answering, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just… There's so much to be done, it's hard to sleep soundly."
Do-hyun nodded with understanding. They were all riding on his inspiration, after all. The burden must weigh heavy. "I wouldn't normally say this, but there's always pills to help with that, if you need."
Jaemin's laugh was hesitant, and Do-hyun thought he sensed a murmur of tension run through the conductor. "Thank you, but," his voice dropped to a barely audible murmur as the rest of the orchestra began to filter back into the hall from their break, "god knows I take enough of those already."
"What?" Startled, Do-hyun turned to him, wanting to ask more. But the break was over.
As the musicians filed in, Kim Seojun's eyes immediately snagged on the two men standing near the conductor's podium, locked in conversation. Seojun thought he sensed a palpable air of something hanging between them.
He stole a quick glance around. The rest of the orchestra members were still taking their time, wrapping up their private conversations as they slowly returned to their places. The moment everyone was in place again, it would be time to focus fully on the music again, all the way until the end of the day.
If he was going to give the two that push, it was now or never. At their future wedding, they would thank him for his little Valentine's Day gift.
With a deep breath and a quick prayer to the gods of dramatics, Seojun "tripped" over his own feet, sending himself tumbling towards Do-hyun and Jaemin.
"A-a-a-ah, watch out!" Seojun cried, his face a mask of feigned panic as he collided bodily into Do-hyun's back. He would probably end up with some bruises, but if he was successful, it would be worth it. "So clumsy, so, so clumsy!"
It was a classic setup straight out of a romantic dramedy. Do-hyun, focused on Jaemin and blindsided by Seojun's full weight, lurched forward. Instinctively, Jaemin stepped forward with widening amber eyes to steady him, but was unable to withstand the barrelling weight of both men, and ended up crumpling down together onto the stage floor amidst the shocked cries of the orchestra members, who halted all movements, aghast.
Do-hyun was the first to recover, giving his head a quick shake as he reoriented his senses. Thankfully, he had managed to throw his arm out to break his fall, otherwise he would have landed flat on top of the conductor.
"Kim Seojun, what the hell are you doing?" he barked at Seojun, who sprawled in an ungainly heap just beside them. "What are you, five??"
"I tripped," Seojun whined, tilting his chin up until he could look at them upside down. "Sometimes accidents happen to the best of us."
He could already feel his ribs aching where he had made contact with Do-hyun's elbow, and was already seeing the error of his ways. Han Chaewon was right. Scenes such as being 'accidentally' pushed into kisses could not work without well-timed choreography and complete, artful cooperation from both parties. These bruises had only bought them all embarrassment.
"This isn't a playground, stop clowning around!" Do-hyun shouted, before turning back with concern to the man he had almost crushed underneath him. "Are you okay, Conductor-nim?"
"I'm… I'm alright." Jaemin was on his back, looking winded but otherwise unharmed. "Um, I think, maybe, we should get up?"
More relieved than anything, Do-hyun quickly got his feet under himself, then rose before holding a hand out towards Jaemin to pull him up.
"I apologize for this unsightly behavior, Conductor-nim. Rest assured this will not happen again." The look he shot Seojun made the oboist flinch.
Giving a small, reassuring smile, Jaemin reached up to take his hand. But then, as their skin made contact, everything came to an abrupt halt.
For Do-hyun, it was a sudden, dizzying jolt, an electric current that made his alpha instincts scream in a panicked, primal acknowledgment. It was a thousand times more intense than anything he had ever felt before, even as his angry, confused scent suddenly went muted under an overwhelming rush of warmth. He could feel the cool, precise touch of Jaemin's skin, and for a terrifying moment, his entire body hummed with a resonance he didn't understand.
Jaemin, on the other hand, flinched. The touch sent a powerful surge of his own suppressed essence crashing against his meticulously crafted mental and physical barriers. A wave of sickening nausea hit him, and there was a sudden stabbing pain in the back of his neck, right at the faint scar hidden beneath his scarf. His breath hitched in his chest as he fought to maintain control. The vague sandalwood scent suddenly wavered.
They both froze, hands clasped, eyes locked. In that silence, the rest of the orchestra ceased to exist. Do-hyun's face was a mixture of shock and dawning realisation, although his mind hadn't caught up with what exactly he was realising just yet. Jaemin's was a mask of controlled panic.