Page 62 of Idol Prize
It was their victory lap, a special Virtual Fan Meet for the winners of the previous mission. The whole setup was pretty sweet. A long, plush couch seating the members of the Dream Team, with Riki playing the part of the perky, enthusiastic host in a comfy chair to their right. On the outside, it was a perfect picture.
The showrunners had seated them in rank order, so Min Jae was right there. Close enough that Andy could feel the constant,warm pressure of Min Jae’s thigh against his through their jeans. So close. Too close. Trying to look breezy and relaxed for a hundred screaming fans while simultaneously pretending the guy next to you doesn't exist was a whole new level of multitasking.
Andy glanced at Min Jae and quickly looked away before anyone could clock him. Min Jae was playing his part to perfection, although his smile seemed more relaxed than usual. Maybe it was the pain killers. Production had perfectly hidden the slim-fitting knee brace under his pants, but Andy knew it was there. Flashes of horror, Min Jae twisted and writhing in pain on the practice room floor, still haunted him. But Riki had privately instructed them not to mention the injury to the Dream Makers, since it counted as a spoiler. Another lie added to the list.
His anxiety humming just under the surface, Andy leaned into the moment, grinning as he ignored the voice in his head wondering if Min Jae was okay. If the steroid shot they’d given him was actually working. If his knee would be ready for the final challenge. If Andy was even gonna make it that long, already filled to the brim with terrible secrets.
Riki nodded, offering a warm, genuine smile as Min Jae wrapped up a story about his childhood dance instructor. “That’s wonderful, Min Jae. Thank you for sharing that.” She glanced at the tablet in her lap. “It looks like our next Dream Maker question is for Woo Jin from Haruka in Tokyo.”
The young Dream Maker’s round, rosy-cheeked face, now enlarged on the main screen, beamed. “Woo Jin-oppa!” she gushed, her Korean accented but clear. “You’ve debuted before. What’s the biggest difference you feel between then and now on Dream Boy Project?”
Woo Jin sagely nodded, leaning into his sudden “oppa” status. “That's a good question. Honestly, in many ways, it's not much different at all, except it’s more rehearsing than training. But this show is so much bigger than I expected. And the other contestantsare very talented. It’s taken a lot of hard work to keep up with them.”
Andy swallowed his chuckle at Woo Jin’s overly serious answer. This was a fan meet, not an award ceremony. Andy was tempted to pinch him, just to get a little emotion out of the guy.
Riki, who couldn’t quite hide the judgment in her eyes, must’ve felt the same way. “Thank you, Woo Jin. Let’s move on. Our next question is for Tae Woo from Marcela in Sao Paolo.”
A Dream Maker with a cute cat-ear headband appeared on the screen, nearly breathless with excitement. “Tae Woo, you have such a powerful voice! What is your favorite hobby to relieve stress when you’re not singing?”
Tae Woo, who looked like he’d rather have been anywhere in the world except sitting on that couch, blushed. “Ah,” he stammered, a smile finally breaking through. “I like to do a lot of regular things. You know, video games, baseball, and stuff. But–” He paused to glance at Andy and the others, drawing a look of mild alarm from Riki. “But I have a secret hobby, too. It’s a little embarrassing, but I love to bake. Cakes, cupcakes, cookies, just about any kind of dessert. I love it almost as much as singing.”
The other Dream Boys chuckled. Tae Woo had mostly avoided the desserts in the cafeteria. Andy thought he must not have had much of a sweet tooth. It turns out, he was probably just used to making better cakes himself. Andy was definitely going to tease him about that later.
Riki next chose a younger Dream Maker, who looked like she couldn't be more than sixteen. “Min Jun,” she asked, her voice soft as she shyly looked away from her webcam, “what do you miss the most about being away from home?”
Min Jun’s quiet gaze became soft and distant. “My dog,” he finally answered. “His name is Bap, and he always sleeps at my feet at night. I miss that.” His answer was so sweet and genuine that Andy aww’ed right along with the others, succumbing to a sudden surge of brotherly pride. The guy was a natural.
The questions continued like that–easy, harmless softballs that gave the Dream Boys multiple chances to showcase their particular charms. Andy’s biggest struggle was deciding whether or not to say his favorite food was chilequiles, knowing the answer would follow him until the end of time. He went with tteokbokki instead, since it was a close second. And he learned a lot of interesting trivia about his fellow Dream Boys. Woo Jin’s favorite webtoon wasPeriwinkle Star. Tae Woo’s favorite childhood memory was spending his summers with his grandparents on Jeju Island. Min Jae’s favorite color, to Andy’s great surprise, was orange. The mood in the room was light, easy. Andy was finally starting to relax into the rhythm of it all.
“Okay,” Riki announced, scanning the tablet in her lap. “We’ve got time for one more before we’re done. Let’s go to Ji Yong and Ji Woo from Busan with a question for Andy.”
A pair of twin girls appeared on the screen, their shoulder-length hair pushed back from their faces by matching, pink headbands. One wore a shirt printed with Andy’s face. The other, with Min Jae’s. If production hadn’t assured him that all the questions were vetted, Andy would’ve been worried. Even then, a tiny, sharp spike of concern pricked his calm.
“Actually,” the twin on the left began, “our question is for both Andy and Min Jae.”
“We were wondering,” continued the twin on the right, “why the #MinDy ship fell apart so suddenly?”
There was no fucking way the showrunners had vetted that question. Andy shot a look at Riki, whose lofty, arched eyebrows confirmed her mutual surprise. “Oh, I don't believe that question was the one we expected from you.” She glanced off camera, briefly frowning. Andy followed her gaze to see the unit director frantically gesturing for her to continue. “But it is a question on everyone's mind,” she finally continued, stuck with moving forward. “What would you like to tell the Dream Makers about that?"
Andy mentally groaned, barely recovered from the sudden rug pull and being put on the spot, struggling with what to say. Was Riki in on the whole thing, too? Her expression didn’t seem to indicate that, but Andy had recently become a lot more paranoid than he was used to, given the circumstances. The silence stretched as he fumbled around with what to say, every second a new eternity of looking foolish in front of the Dream Makers.
A small voice popped up in Andy’s head, reminding him that he’d only agreed to fake the rivalry under duress. If it wasn’t for the fact that Director Choi could easily deny everything, Andy would’ve just come clean. Not about everything, of course. But about that, at least. Maybe, if he just talked around it a bit.
“That’s the thing about ships,” Andy finally answered, with no idea what he was about to say. “We don’t choose them. You all assign them to us. Bromance or rivalry? What’s the difference, really? They’re just labels. They don't change how intense things are between us, or how hard we push each other. In the end, we’re both competing for a top spot. For right now, that means working on different teams.”
Riki opened her mouth to speak, but Min Jae quickly jumped in first. “And we’ve never been anything but rivals,” he added, his voice practically glacial. Maybe the pain killers had worn off. “We’re doing what we need to so we can debut. Whether we’re working together or not doesn’t change that.”
Andy almost frowned as Min Jae slammed the door on any more speculation about their relationship. Which was probably how Andy should’ve answered. It’s how he would've answered if he’d been expecting the question. Better to start expecting that sort of thing, it seemed.
Min Jae was off the couch the moment the unit director called a wrap on the fan meet. Avoiding Andy, just like he was expected to. At least, that’s what Andy hoped. Min Jae’s ice-cold tone could’ve easily been genuine irritation at Andy’s verbal taekwondo. He had to take it on faith that Min Jae was justplaying his role. That was the hardest part, for Andy. Sure, they’d both confessed their feelings for one another. And they’d both repeatedly followed up, however awkwardly, confirming those feelings. But Andy had ghosted plenty of guys for less.
Afternoon rehearsals helped Andy shake off his nerves from the fan meet, letting him ignore the phantom itch in his pocket from his nonexistent phone. Most days, not being able to go online didn’t bother him much. He was way too busy to notice. But the fan meet had left him craving a scroll through his feeds to see how the Dream Makers had reacted to everything. The fact that a pair of them had crashed the fan meet to question him and Min Jae directly about their broken ship was troubling at the very least.
ButItty Bitty’s non-stop sugar rush of infectious energy soon took all of Andy’s attention. Like Min Jae, Andy had given over team leadership to take on creating the stage’s choreo, leaving Leo to take on the leader role. But Andy had still come up with the overall concept, developing a pure funk-pop style full of deep grooves, sharp but playful movements, and a bouncy, almost effortless-looking swagger. He’d packed the stage with interaction—high-fives, playful shoves, and shared grins–as if they were at the world's coolest, most synchronized block party. His favorite part was the point choreo during the chorus–a tiny "itty bitty" sign made with the thumb and index finger, brought up to one eye to peek through it with a confident smirk, showcasing their blazing, unstoppable charisma. Performing the stage was every bit as fun as it looked.
Unfortunately, Andy wasn’t the only one who had the fan meet on his mind.
“That was some serious tap dancing you did this morning,” Leo commented before downing the last half of a water bottle during a rehearsal break.
