Page 31 of Idol Prize
Min Jae and Andy stopped on the final pose, perfectly matched, Min Jae’s hand cupped on the back of Andy’s neck, Andy’s hand on Min Jae’s chest, eyes locked, breath heaving, sweat beading on their foreheads. If it were a drama, they would’ve kissed. And Min Jae desperately wanted to kiss him. He stepped back instead, pulling his hand away just as Andy did. Still perfectly matched. They stood there, staring, just out of each other’s reach, as the final chorus and outro pounded through the speakers. Followed by silence.
“Fuck,” Andy swore in English. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. “That’s it, right?”
No. That was too much. Didn’t he feel all that, too? There was no way he didn’t. Unless he was that good of an actor. But he couldn’t be, right? Not even Min Jae was that good of an actor. Ithad to be real. Which also meant, it had to be private. That kind of passion was something you were supposed to keep to yourself.
“Yeah, I think that’s it,” Min Jae finally admitted.
Andy, his cheeks still flushed, his sweat soaking through the shirt clinging to his torso, grinned. After all that, he fucking grinned. “Great. Let’s do it again.”
13
Andy pacedin the only available space he could find backstage, a tiny open spot between the wardrobe racks and the wall. Two steps. Turn. Two steps. Turn. It was hardly satisfying, and he probably looked like a wind-up toy. But his nerves wouldn’t let him stand still. Or sit. His makeup artist practically had to tie him to the chair. And he fidgeted so much that his hairstylist almost gave up and left him half-finished. So he paced in that tiny spot, because it was all he had. It was that, or walk out.
He had his excuse ready, in case anyone questioned him. Nerves. Which was true, sort of. And he always got nervous before a big performance. Anyone who said they didn’t was a bald-faced liar. But he wasn’t nervous about the performance. Or, not just about the performance. It was the show, and the mission, and the performance, and his duet partner, Min Jae, that made him nervous.
Everything changed after they reworked their killing part routine. Something had unlocked for them that day. A new connection. A bridge from their intense rivalry to their even more intense partnership. A monster they’d let loose from its cage to run around and terrorize everyone, when Andy staredinto Min Jae’s eyes–really stared–for the first time, and Min Jae stared back.
Andy already pretty much knew that Min Jae was into him. Their little rooftop interlude with Min Jae’s aborted kiss attempt was proof enough of that. Andy would’ve kissed him back, too, just on principle. It was that day, when they added more sizzle and spice to their duet routine, when Andy realized that he was into Min Jae, too. Not just into him. Low-key obsessed. Hopefully, low-key. Andy tried to hide it as best he could. It would’ve been easier if they were still not talking to each other. But, suddenly, Min Jae was everywhere.
After a particularly intense run-through, Min Jae peeling his sweat-soaked shirt off without a second thought. The sharp, defined muscles of his back and shoulders a siren’s call. Andy forcing himself to look away, before his ears got so warm they caught on fire.
Walking into an empty practice room to find Min Jae, bent over in a deep hamstring stretch, his form perfect, his gorgeous ass on full display. The jolt from it immediately sending Andy right back out of the room.
A simple moment during a rehearsal break with Min Jae and Woo Jin swapping stories about their trainee days. Andy was so lost in the low, resonant timbre of Min Jae’s voice that he completely missed when someone asked him a question. He played it off with a grin and a goofy chuckle. "Sorry, my brain’s fried, can you run that by me one more time?" Hopefully they all bought it.
Which is to say that, at a time when Andy’s focus mattered the most, Min Jae haunted him like a constant, low-grade fever. A distraction he definitely couldn’t afford. And a problem he was barely coping with and couldn’t talk about with anyone.
“Hyung?”
Andy stopped in place, whirling to see Min Jun practically cringing behind him. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Buthis concerned frown was enough to drag Andy out of his Min Jae spiral. “What’s up?”
“Are you okay? You were just–” Min Jun’s brows dipped a little further. “Pacing.”
“It’s just nerves.” Andy’s excuse rolled off his tongue. “This performance is a big fucking deal.”
Min Jun snorted. Message received. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this nervous.” His frown quickly returned. “Wait. It looks like this tie’s come undone.” He reached for Andy’s black leather vest, just under his arm. One of the ties holding the front and back pieces was loose. He quickly knotted it to match the others. “There. Fixed.”
Andy sheepishly grinned. A silly little thing that could’ve turned into a disaster onstage. His black faux-leather vest only technically covered his chest, but the single tie on the front left his abs exposed for the whole world to see. He’d practically stopped eating once he saw the final design. The matching pants were better, if a little more low-slung than he normally wore. And the strips of fringe running down the sides carried the look from the knotted sides of his vest all the way to his chunky, black leather boots. The whole team was dressed in variations of the same look, although with much less exposed skin. Except Min Jae, of course. His sleeveless, faux-leather crop top left even less to the imagination. Not that Andy’s imagination needed any help in that regard.
“Thanks,” Andy replied. “Should I double-check your outfit?”
“The stylists just did.” Min Jun shot a pointed glance at the team making last minute adjustments to Woo Jin’s black, faux-leather jacket and Tae Woo’s makeup.
Andy laughed. “Is that a hint?”
Min Jun rolled his eyes. “You’re the group leader, hyung. You tell me.”
“Fair enough.” Andy swallowed his sigh and abandoned his safe little pacing corner to submit himself for inspection. Hishairdresser tutted and wrapped him in a cloud of hairspray powerful enough to hold his artfully feathered waves in place if a monsoon happened to blow onstage. Every bit of his look was almost exactly how he’d imagined it would be when his team first met with the wardrobe designers. He hadn’t bothered telling anyone his inspiration came from his sole visit to a gay bar leather night during a weekend trip to the Bay Area for Pride.
Andy felt Min Jae’s presence behind him without having to look back. Min Jun’s single, raised eyebrow was enough to confirm it.
“They’re calling for everyone to head to the viewing area,” Min Jae announced. “Apparently, we’re already running behind the shoot schedule.”
Andy shrugged, turning to face the music. “At least it’s not our fault.” Min Jae could’ve been Andy’s evil twin, dressed in his little black crop and pants with no fringe. Or, maybe Andy was the evil one? No, the evil one was the designer who’d given Min Jae’s belt a shiny silver buckle that sat at least three inches below his belly button. It was impossible not to stare. “We’re going on last.”
Min Jae didn’t bother to hide his leisurely once-over. “I like the fringe.”
“I, uh–” Andy crashed to a halt, his brain already fried. “Thanks.”
