Page 23 of Idol Prize
Min Jae, to his credit, didn’t jump in surprise. He didn’t even turn around. “Then, maybe you should leave.”
Andy chuckled, stopping to lean against the railing beside Min Jae. “I’m sorry. Did you want to brood in peace?”
Min Jae sighed. “No, I’m not here to brood. Well, not just to brood.”
“It’s not that bad. Being number two, I mean. I’ve been doing it basically since we got here.”
“It’s not that either.” Min Jae sighed again. Louder and sharper. Almost a scoff. “Okay, that’s part of it. It’s just–” He turned to look at Andy, his pain and irritation battling for dominance on his face. “Why are you even here, if not to gloat?”
“Gloat?” Andy actually scoffed, furrowing his brows as he locked eyes with Min Jae. “Seriously? I mean, I know we barely know each other–which is mostly your fault, by the way. But you should at least know me well enough by now to know that I don’t gloat.”
Min Jae held Andy’s gaze for several breaths before nodding. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just projecting.”
Andy shook his head. “I don’t think gloating is really your thing, either.”
Min Jae half frowned. “I thought you said we don’t know each other very well.”
Andy almost laughed at Min Jae's silly attempt to start an argument. “Yeah, well, I know you enough to say that. I mean, I don’t know a damn thing about you. But I know a lot about how you are. I saw your ranking performance. We did the signal song killing part together. And your team’sKingmakerperformance. Not to mention the advice bomb you dropped on me that night in the practice room.”
Min Jae’s gaze narrowed as Andy detailed his list. “Advice bomb?”
“Stop deflecting. My point is that all those things told me a lot about how you are. You’re talented. Driven. Ambitious. You like to focus on the details. And you put up a front half the time, which means you don’t like people to know what you’re really thinking. Only, you’re not as good at it as you think you are.”
To Andy’s great surprise, Min Jae smirked. “I thought you said I was talented.”
Andy laughed. “At singing and dancing. And maybe even at hiding your real feelings. For the most part.”
Min Jae’s gaze narrowed again. Assessing, but there wasn’t any malice behind it. Just curiosity. “Well, I know that you’re also talented. Funny. Charming to a fault, even. And maybe that’s all the real you. Except, I think it isn’t. I think you’re really doing the same thing. Hiding your true feelings, but with a different mask.”
Andy's breath caught in his throat. He suddenly had no witty comeback, no charming deflection. He'd just been seen. Completely and totally seen. Min Jae had him pinned, and all he could do was stare like an animal caught in the headlights. Min Jae's gaze softened, his eyes sparkling in the bright moonlight. Eyes that Andy was immediately drawn towards. "So," he finally said, his voice so strained it almost cracked, his cheeks so warm they practically burned. "You really have been watching."
Min Jae took the smallest step forward. Andy held his ground, suddenly powerless to respond or even move, as Min Jae slowly lifted a hand, the motion hesitant, almost questioning. His fingertips, warm and slightly rough, gently brushed against Andy’s cheek, his thumb coming to rest just at the corner of Andy’s mouth. The unexpected, tender touch was a jolt, completely short-circuiting Andy's brain. Everything else fell away, leaving only the cool night air on his hot skin and the shocking, gentle warmth of Min Jae’s hand on his face. Min Jae’s gaze dropped to his lips, and the world seemed to stop.
Bam.
The heavy rooftop door flew open, slamming against the wall like a gunshot. The moment shattered. Min Jae jerked his hand away from Andy’s face as if he’d been burned, stumbling back a step.
A man stood silhouetted in the doorway, a cigarette and a lighter in his hands. One of the junior staff members from the production team. He froze, his eyes wide, taking in the scene—Andy and Min Jae standing too close under the moonlight, the electric tension still crackling in the air between them.
For a long moment, nobody moved, locked in a triangle of stunned, awkward quiet so vast Andy could hear the wind whistling through the trees below.
The staff member finally broke the silence, his voice a low, nervous rumble. “You both should probably go back inside.” He glanced down at the unlit cigarette in his hand as if just remembering why he’d gone up there. He looked back at them, his expression shifting from surprise to a weary, pragmatic truce.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
10
Nothing happened.Min Jae had been telling himself that from the moment the production staffer inadvertently busted them on the roof. The guy saw nothing. Just two of the Dream Boys having a private conversation somewhere they weren’t allowed to be. Because nothing happened. Sure, he and Andy had a moment. Their insane chemistry and all the stresses from the competition got the better of them, and they had a moment. But nothing happened. They’d wordlessly parted ways after descending from the roof, Min Jae closing the door behind him before the smell of cigarette smoke could follow. There was nothing to say, because nothing happened. Nothing happened.
“What’s that?”
Min Jae nearly jumped off his seat. Had he said that out loud? Woo Jin stared at him with naked curiosity, frowning, his brows furrowed. Curiosity, or suspicion. “Nothing.” He absently stirred his spoon around in his bowl of miyeokguk. “Just wondering when they’ll finally tell us what’s planned for the day.”
Dae Hyun snorted. “I heard it’s more games sh–” He paused, huffing. “Games stuff.” The rapper had recently started censoring himself a little more often after a quiet talking to from one of theproducers. But only a little more. “I guess that’ll at least give us a chance for some good face time.”
Min Jae nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“I wish we’d just get to the next challenge,” Woo Jin complained. “I’m ready to show the Dream Makers more of my talents.” His top five ranking hadn’t exactly gone to his head, but he’d definitely started carrying himself a little taller after that–much more than Min Jae recalled from their trainee days. His recent success was well-deserved. Hopefully it didn’t come at the cost of his loyalty.
