if there is any reason as to why the music director had made this almost unthinkable choice—weeks into the rehearsals, and he'd swapped his soloist for his concertmaster? is he insane?—he would tell anyone who would listen that it had been because he had seen something remarkable, and that's saying something.
see here—he's an old soul. he's seen many musicians come and go in the decades he's stood as the one guiding the musical direction of the orchestra, but never in all his years has he ever faced such a peculiar scenario as a musician asking—no, begging—to switch positions with another musician, much less an infamous one like eddy chen. and yet there they had been, the violinist storming into his office the very morning after he had requested for a night rehearsal, the query spilling out of his mouth like he can't hold it in.
please, his soloist had pleaded, consider brett yang in my place instead. he's—he's—
and then eddy had trailed off, cheeks flushed but stance resolute. by then, the music director had already decided to say yes.
there had been a glint in eddy's gaze, a spark of feeling where there had once been none before. that had been the first time he'd seen the ice prince thaw, and it's there that he had known: something had changed the young man, and it had everything to do with his concertmaster.
and so he allows it. makes the decision, much to eddy's resounding disbelief.
well. never let it be said that he is not one to be a patron of the unexpected. it's about time the classical music world sees some of that.