Wednesday’s practice is characterized by Kris’s very conspicuous absence. In all the years Suho has played for Symphonie Marsaillaise, the number of sick days Kris has taken can be counted on one hand. Rumor has it that the Brass Fiasco (starring Baekhyun and their new trombonist) on Tuesday was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back but according to the note Kris left, it’s likely a twenty-four hour flu bug. In any case, it means that Suho needs to step up as substitute assistant conductor—or as the children affectionately coin, “sac”.

Suho just hopes he doesn’t get sacked by the end of the day.

It takes the better half of an hour to quell the commotion caused by the newfound freedom from Kris’s tyranny (guidance, Suho corrects); Tao is attacking the gong gleefully, Sehun has somehow sidled his way to the first violins and Baekhyun is forlornly playing with the light switch in the back while Chanyeol alternates between attempting to cheer him up and apologizing profusely. Suho almost gives up when Kai plays an uncomfortably pitchy note which effectively freezes everyone. Suho has never felt so grateful towards an out-of-tune instrument in his life.

Suho hastily clears his throat, “uh, as you have all probably noticed, Kris is not here so, um, I’ll be your acting assistant conductor today. Not to worry though, he’s left an itinerary,” a collective groan, “we’re a little behind schedule so if we can just all take our places,” he looks pointedly at Sehun and Baekhyun, “I’ll read the first item on the list.”

After some grumbling and shuffling, Sehun is back in the cello section and Baekhyun settles sullenly in his seat beside Chanyeol. Suho is pleasantly surprised that they only put up token resistance; perhaps the day is not lost.

“Before we begin, we need to decide on the final contemporary piece for our performance next month,” he reads from Kris’s comprehensive flowchart, “I know there were some suggestions thrown about last rehearsal so I think we should put it to a vote—yes Chen?”

“I’d like to share something that I composed recently,” Chen suggests softly, “I was thinking maybe we could include it on our set-list?”

It is common knowledge that despite his soft-spoken demeanor, Chen is an immensely emotive French horn player with a natural gift for music that others can only dream to have. It’s hardly surprising to Suho that, in addition to playing symphonies, Chen writes them too—and probably writes as well as he plays. It is in this good faith that he waves Chen to the podium with a stack of sheet music.

The title (Dansheen Masheen, really, kids these days) can use a little work in Suho’s opinion, but the score looks solid; if nothing else, it’s at least worth a try, “this looks really good, Chen. Thank you for sharing. Now, I’m going to distribute the score so we can get a feel for it before we come to a decision—”

“I have something I want to share too,” calls Sehun, waving a black folder.

Suho stares at him in surprise. In fact, the entire orchestra turns to look at Sehun in wide-eyed shock and Suho is just a little worried that D.O’s eyes might pop right out of their sockets. It’s not that Sehun isn’t talented but Suho has never really thought that the cellist had an active interest in, well, anything.

“Uh sure,” Suho nods uncertainly, “bring the music up here and I’ll take a look.”

The title of Sehun’s piece is no better than that of Chen’s (Deer of the Dawn, seriously, might as well have called it Ode to Luhan) but the music looks fine; the first violin melody is exceptionally beautiful and Suho has to admit that he is impressed. That is, until he sees the part for the second violin.

“Sehun,” Suho sighs, “the second violins cannot play a single thirty-second note pizzicato for the entire piece. And ‘until your fingers bleed’ is not an acceptable indication of the manner in which to play.”

“Not even if I write it in Italian?” Sehun asks hopefully.

“Not even if you write it in Italian,” Suho affirms, “we can try it once you make that section less,” he pauses searchingly, “vindictive.”

“Yea Sehun,” Kai teases with a smirk, slinging an arm around Luhan’s shoulders, “there’s no need to be so resentful.”

The only silver lining Suho can see is that Sehun does not have to lunge across the violas to get at Kai’s throat this time. However, even the lack of collateral damage in his section cannot mitigate the chaos caused by the all-out brawl. Suho commends Luhan’s valiant efforts to pull the two apart but he knows a lost cause when he sees one—and this has long since become a lost cause when Kai and Sehun barreled headfirst into the brass section. Suho thinks he may just wait for them to tire themselves out (he is a patient man, after all) and resume rehearsal then, but clearly the universe has other plans.

“Oh my god, Shindong is stuck in his tuba!”

Needless to say, Suho is overjoyed to see Kris standing behind the podium on Thursday.