In Chanyeol’s limited experience, opening night is always the most stressful time of the entire orchestral season. There are always a handful of no-shows and a mad dash to call up replacements. Only normally, this doesn’t happen with the principal violinist.

“What do you mean Henry has been deported to Canada?” Kris grits out, “I wasn’t aware that you could be deported to Canada.”

A garbled response from the other end and Kris slams the receiver down with extreme prejudice, “ immigration services,” he glances around and points to Luhan, “you, principal violin. And contact whoever is printing the program and get them to change Henry’s name to yours.”

“But there’s only,” Luhan begins.

“Now,” Kris’s voice brooks no argument and Luhan scurries off to find a miracle printer.

“I’m sure one little discrepancy in the program can be overlooked,” Chanyeol reasons, but Kris glares at him with such venom that he half-forms an excuse to check on Baekhyun and hightails it out of there.

He finds D.O hovering worriedly over Baekhyun’s unconscious form in front of the women’s dressing room.

“I found him here, mumbling about noona and dresses,” D.O cries, eyes wide, “and suddenly he just collapses on the floor. Do you think we should call a doctor? We should definitely call a doctor, oh god. We should call Kris.”

Chanyeol and D.O share a look.

“On second thought, let’s just call the doctor.”

Which is astute on many levels, as Kris is a busy man and has many other things to deal with—like Suho’s inability to keep the kids in line.

“You can’t,” Suho insists, “you just can’t. Go change into something less,” a frustrated squawk, “revealing.”

“I don’t want to,” Kai replies, arms crossed stubbornly over his mesh shirt, “it makes me look mysterious and y. Chicks dig mysterious and y.”

Suho tries not to gesticulate too wildly but exasperation is winning over self-control, “this is an orchestra performance, our first this season, no less. You’re not here to seduce impressionable young girls. Now change into a dress shirt.”

Kai ignores him completely and struts out of the room. As he moves to follow Kai, Suho feels the ache in his joints that he has come to associate with the stress of disciplining unruly children.

“Hey! If Kai can wear a mesh shirt, can I dye my hair green?” Sehun calls out after him.

Suho is going to have to speak to Kris about potential healthcare coverage for his aching knees.

But that’ll have to wait because Kris is currently staring down Luhan, who has what can only be a very fuzzy caterpillar firmly attached to his upper lip.

“What,” Kris doesn’t even know how to continue.

“Do you like it?” Luhan chirps, “I had a hard time deciding between this and sideburns. But since this is our first performance of the season, I thought this might be more appropriate. Nothing says classy like a well-groomed ‘stache.”

“Why,” words are still escaping Kris’s grasp.

“Since I’m now the principal violinist and all,” Luhan nods seriously, “I need to exude an air of confidence. I need to present myself with great dignity. I need,” a dramatic pause, “to be a manly man.”

“Look,” Kris massages his temples, “I don’t think your masculinity was ever in doubt.”

“Don’t try to shield me from the truth,” Luhan strikes a pose of great and noble suffering, “From a very early age, my mother,” and Kris tunes him out, “so I’ve decided to change not only my appearance, but also my name.”

“Wait, what,” Kris furrows his brow.

“Change my name,” Luhan repeats, “a name like Lustachio will command great respect. Look, I’ve even put it on the program.”

Sure enough, the name next to concertmaster now reads The Great Lustachio. Kris is fighting very hard against the urge to strangle The Great Lustachio.

“Oh,” Luhan flips the program over excitedly, “I’ve also taken the liberty of finding us sponsors to cover the re-printing fees,” Kris cannot help but cringe at the tacky personal ad for Shoot Anonymous, “and decorating the rather dull front page.”

Kris stares at the illustrations on said page in horror, “where did you even find these?”

“Don’t worry,” Luhan grins, “I gave you full credit. The whole world will know that you’re the artiste behind that fabulously avant-garde donkey on the cover.”

Somehow it’s a rhinoceros doesn’t seem to do this situation justice.

“Where are the other copies?” Kris is already scoping out a place for a roaring bonfire.

“I’ve also taken the initiative to distribute the program,” Luhan informs proudly, “so you can just sit back and relax!”

Kris is an inch away from throttling Luhan when Xiumin bursts into the room, “Baekhyun is unconscious in the hallway and surrounded by a team of paramedics.”

Then, “oh my god,” Tao launches himself at Kris’s midriff, puppy-eyes at maximum effectiveness, “Sehun dyed his hair green! Can I do something cool too? Like leather pants. I look totally hot in leather pants.”

Before Kris can respond (with a firm no of course; Kris does not waver even in face of puppies), Chen knocks politely at the door, “we’re on in two. The introduction’s almost done.”

“I’m definitely getting fired after this fiasco,” Kris groans as he straightens his bowtie and makes his way toward the polite applause, “I’ll just have to go back to the viola and Suho will have to take over as assistant conductor next season.”

Lay laughs and pats him on the back, “you wish.”