10
“Oppa!” Yun Seo shoved the phone into Tae Hyun’s face as he fussed with the intricate lacing on the side of his black leather vest. “It’s Jason.”
Tae Hyun immediately swallowed his angry retort, grateful that his sister had caught him while he could still talk. “Thanks.” He grabbed the phone and held it to his ear. “Hyung?”
“Sorry if this is a bad time. I wanted to catch you before you went onstage. I know I was supposed to text, but–”
“No, this is fine. Better, in fact.” Tae Hyun grinned, buzzing from the sudden rush of Jason’s voice in his ear. “I’d much rather talk to you anyway.”
Jason chuckled. “Me, too. I know it’s selfish.”
“It’s thoughtful.” Tae Hyun tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear as he resumed adjusting the lacing. The stylists never got it quite right. “How’s everything going?”
Jason quietly huffed. “It’s going. I’d say it’s going well, but I honestly don’t know what that even looks like.”
“Ah.” Tae Hyun switched the phone to his other shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be there with you. I feel like I’m missing all the good stuff. What about you? Everything going okay? ”
“Yeah, things are going so well!” Tae Hyun gushed, maybe a little too excitedly. “Mina’s the best. I literally just have to show up and perform. Everything else is handled.”
“That’s just what I wanted to hear.” Tae Hyun could almost hear Jason’s smile through the phone. “And I should let you get back to it. I know you’re gonna kill that stage again!”
Tae Hyun smiled at Jason’s encouragement and the pleasant flutter in his chest it gave him. But a little guilt tugged at the edges of his joy, a lingering echo of the night before. He hadn’t told Jason about the kiss yet. Not that it was a big deal. It was only a momentary lapse in judgment. A misunderstanding, nothing more. He’d tell him, eventually. But the show demanded his full attention for the moment. “Thanks, hyung. I miss you and can’t wait to see you again.”
“I know. And I miss you, too. But you’ve got this. There’s nothing you can’t do. And you know I love you, right?”
Tae Hyun beamed, ignoring the tiny voice of guilt telling him he was a bad boyfriend. He promised himself he’d tell Jason after the show when he had more time and fewer distractions. “I love you, too.”
After several more rounds of goodbyes, Tae Hyun handed his phone back to Yun Seo just as Ren’s laughter echoed through the staging area. He’d given Ren space, as promised, but it hadn’t eased the tension between them. The idol was like a phantom, flitting through the rehearsal space with a polite smile and a carefully averted gaze. Gone was the playful banter and infectious energy that had drawn Tae Hyun to him. Instead, Ren moved through his routines with almost robotic precision, his forced laughter a little too loud. He was obviously overcompensating. Hopefully, nobody would notice.
But Yun Seo noticed. She always did. “He may be a performer,” she murmured as she stuffed his phone into the bag she carried over her shoulder. “But he’s no actor. Have you talked to him yet today?”
Tae Hyun maintained his carefully neutral expression, hyper-aware of all the crew members surrounding them as they prepped for the show. “It’s fine. He’ll snap out of it when it’s time to perform.”
Yun Seo narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “Maybe. But I’m not the only one who’s noticed. I heard a couple of the sound techs gossiping about him.”
Tae Hyun couldn’t stop his sigh in time. The gossip mill was already churning. How long before the story reached the hungry ears of the press? “It’s probably nothing. He’s a gay idol. People talk behind our backs all the time. Everything will be fine.”
Yun Seo frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, I know you’re the star. But can you really afford for this to become an issue?”
For a fleeting moment, Tae Hyun regretted his decision to confide in his sister about the kiss. But she was also an anchor for him, a voice of reason in a world that loved to spin out of control. He met her gaze with a determined look. “It’s nothing,” he gently but firmly repeated. “We’re professionals. Everything will be fine.”
Yun Seo briefly held his gaze, then reluctantly shook her head. “Just talk to him, oppa. Or do you want me to do it?”
“No!” Tae Hyun spat, the word louder than he’d intended. He instantly regretted the outburst, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I’ll do it,” he calmly added. “I’ll talk to him.”
Yun Seo smiled. “Good. Get it over with now so you can let it go. ”
Tae Hyun nodded. His sister was right. Ren’s behavior was childish and unprofessional. It couldn’t continue–not with a show to put on. So Tae Hyun found him backstage, adjusting the collar of his opening stage outfit in front of a mirror. He was alone, his entourage of bandmates and stylists nowhere to be seen. Snippets of the kiss and Ren’s tearful apology flashed through his mind before he forced himself to calm down again.
“Ren.” Tae Hyun tried to keep his tone neutral, if not actually pleasant.
Ren’s head snapped up, a genuine surprise in his eyes that was quickly replaced by his signature grin. “Tae Hyun. Hey.”
“We should probably talk,” Tae Hyun suggested, his tone a little firmer. He met Ren’s gaze in the mirror, searching for any clues about what the idol was thinking but seeing none. Ren’s reflection was a carefully constructed mask. Knowing he regularly did the same thing to others didn’t make it any easier to witness.
“Everything’s fine,” Ren replied with a nonchalance that only a fellow idol would see was forced. “Really. No need to worry.”
“But I am worried. I’ve seen how you’re acting.” Tae Hyun paused to let the reality sink in. “And so have others.”
Ren’s grin slipped as he let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. “Look, I’m doing my best, alright? I feel like shit about what I did. But I’ve been through worse, and I know I’ll put on a good show. You don’t need to worry about that.”
Tae Hyun furrowed his brow out of concern. “I know you will. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.”
Ren’s grin completely vanished. “You are? Even after what I–” He paused, swallowing whatever he was about to say. “ After what happened?”
Tae Hyun reached out, his hand hovering over Ren’s arm before gently resting on it. “We’re friends, right?” He trailed off, hoping for a confirmation, if not an actual return to the easy camaraderie they’d shared before the kiss. Ren eventually nodded. “Then we should put this behind us. I’m trying to move on, and so should you. Okay?”
Ren held Tae Hyun’s gaze, his expression indecipherable, for long enough that Tae Hyun’s worry began to mount. Finally, he relaxed, his lips bending into a tight smile. “I know. You’re right.”
Tae Hyun wanted to say more–to ensure they were truly okay. But there wasn’t time. He was already late for wardrobe and makeup. “Alright. I have to go. But we can talk again after, if you want.”
Ren’s smile widened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay. You get going. And break a leg tonight.”
“You too,” Tae Hyun replied, a forced smile masking his lingering unease. It wasn’t the reassurance he’d hoped for, but it was something. He’d done all he could for the moment.
Tae Hyun pushed his unease aside as he settled into the makeup chair. The familiar rituals of pre-show preparations–the gentle brushstrokes against his skin, the scent of his makeup and hair product–helped him focus on his upcoming show. If Ren was going to let their encounter affect his performance, Tae Hyun knew he’d have to be flawless. He could salvage a bad show and win the audience back, but it wouldn’t be easy.
Once he was backstage, Tae Hyun watched Sweet Beast ’s set from the wing. His earlier worries evaporated as he witnessed Ren’s transformation. Gone was the brooding, hesitant figure he’d spoken to. This Ren was a force of nature, a storm of energy and charisma. The crowd responded in kind, their electric energy fueling his own. Things would be fine, after all. He smiled, relishing in his welcome relief as he joined his dancers for the final moments of Sweet Beast ’s last song.
As the lift slowly descended from the stage with Ren and his bandmates, Ren caught Tae Hyun’s eye, hesitating. But then, a genuine smile–the first Tae Hyun had seen all day–broke across his face. He rushed over, an aborted hug hanging awkwardly between them.
“Hey.” Ren buzzed with nervous energy. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was all in my feelings, you know? But I feel great now!”
Tae Hyun excitedly nodded, already getting into the headspace for his turn onstage. “I saw it. You sounded great!”
Ren’s face brightened, but before he could say more, the rest of Sweet Beast swarmed him, their laughter and excited chatter filling the air.
Tae Hyun turned away. His focus was already elsewhere, shifting to his dancers, the stylist making a final adjustment, and the stage beyond. His energy soared by the time he and his dancers slowly ascended on the lift. The moment the lights hit him and the crowd’s roar blasted in his ears, Tae Hyun forgot everything but the performance. His body went on autopilot, his choreography second nature.
Tae Hyun lived to be onstage. It was his calling, a place where the messy parts of his life melted away. The pulsing lights, the sweat dripping down his face, the ache in his muscles–those were signs he was truly alive and present in the moment. He poured his heart into every song, every note–each performance a raw and exhilarating experience. The crowd’s energy was fuel, their voices blending and washing over him, pushing him further, allowing him to lose himself in the music.
Tae Hyun was breathless by the end of his second encore, his heart pounding, exhilaration fading into a comfortable exhaustion. As he descended beneath the stage with his dancers, he relaxed from the final pose, his shoulders slumping.
Daniel slapped him on the back, brightly grinning. “Wow! You were on fire tonight. Alex would be proud.”
Tae Hyun smiled, a memory of the grueling rehearsals with his choreographer flashing through his mind. “Yeah, this was a good show.” He briefly frowned. “I wish we could’ve played Blossom , though.” The crowd had chanted for his biggest XTC hit after the first encore, but those old songs were untouchable, a casualty of his ugly split from Kbr.
Mina waited as a sound tech removed his gear, her flat expression unreadable. Yun Seo stood beside her, her eyes wide with alarm and concern. Tae Hyun’s stomach twisted. Something was seriously wrong.
“What’s up?” Tae Hyun waved away the stylist fussing over his outfit. “Did somebody die?”
Mina’s lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head. “No.” She turned to Yun Seo. “Tell him.”
Yun Seo’s frown deepened. “I still say we should–”
“Tell him,” Mina interrupted.
Yun Seo produced her phone, swiping a few times before thrusting it towards Tae Hyun. Confusion gave way to shock as he saw the K-Star Daily post, K-pop Idol’s Secret Gay Love Triangle Revealed , featuring a picture of him and Ren in Harajuku. He read the headline twice, the words refusing to fully sink in.
“What the hell? Is this real?”
Yun Seo grimly nodded. “They posted it during your set. There are a handful of photos of you and Ren and a quote from an unnamed source that you two are having an affair.”
It couldn’t be real. It had to be a sick joke, his brain insisted–some fucked up attempt at sabotage just like Kbr had done. The quote had to be bullshit. Who would’ve made that claim? But the photos were sickeningly real. A brief surge of nausea made him lightheaded.
Questions hammered in his head. How would it affect the tour? Would fans abandon the shows? What about outraged sponsors? The whole thing could collapse under the weight of this scandal. And what would Jason think? He always claimed to trust Tae Hyun. He had to know he would never cheat. But the image of Jason’s face flashing before his eyes looked disappointed.
A chilling thought surfaced from the turbulence in Tae Hyun’s mind. Had Ren seen it yet? Of course, he had. He always had his nose in his phone, obsessively scrolling through his feeds. But, how had he taken the news? Tae Hyun could weather a storm like this, but Ren didn’t have the same industry armor that Tae Hyun had built over the years. Sweet Beast was finally gaining momentum after Ren’s coming out scandal. Fans were embracing Ren’s music again, recognizing his talent. A second scandal, true or not, could derail everything he’d built.
A surge of anger flared, then focused. Tae Hyun had to find out who was behind this leak. He had to get his team on damage control. And most importantly, he had to talk to Ren.
Tae Hyun shook his head, thrusting the phone back at Yun Seo. “Call Vital, get them on this right now.” She nodded, swiping away the news story to pull up her contact list. He turned to Mina. “Where’s Ren?”
“He’s locked himself in his dressing room,” Mina grimly replied.
“What?” Tae Hyun’s anger flared again, a tightness building in his chest. “Shit. I’ll go talk to him.”
Panic and fury battled for dominance as he stormed toward Ren’s dressing room. He fell into a routine breathing exercise, hoping to calm himself before he reached Ren’s dressing room door. He’d be fine, he reasoned. K-star never would’ve published that during his XTC era for fear of earning Kbr’s wrath. Or, maybe they would’ve. But K-Star had miscalculated this time. One call from Yun Seo, and Vital’s PR machine would gear up for battle.
Cowboy and Guru, Sweet Beast ’s lead guitar and bass players, frantically hovered outside Ren’s door, shouting a chorus of worried pleas in Japanese Tae Hyun only half understood.
“Let me,” Tae Hyun said in Korean, hoping they would understand as he pushed between them. “I’ll talk to him.”
The two bandmates exchanged a skeptical glance but stepped back, giving him space.
Tae Hyun knocked on the door. “Ren?” He asked, deliberately calm. “It’s Tae Hyun. Let’s talk. We need to figure this out.”
“Go away!” Ren anxiously shouted. “You’ll only make things worse!”
Tae Hyun huffed. “Come on, Ren. We can’t hide from this. We need a plan.”
“No! I know everyone’s out there with you!” Ren’s voice lowered, heavy with shame. “I don’t want anyone to see me. ”
Tae Hyun anxiously waved the others back. “It’s just me. Please, Ren. Let me in.”
The door clicked open, and Ren peered out, his face tear-stained, his eyes red and swollen. “Just you?”
Tae Hyun nodded, his outward calm masking his sudden desire to shove the door open before Ren changed his mind. Ren hesitated, then swung the door wide enough for Tae Hyun to slip inside before locking it again behind him.
The triumphant Ren from the stage was gone. His clothes were rumpled, his usually perfect makeup a streaked mess, and his shoulders shook with barely contained sobs. “I don’t know what happened,” he choked out, desperation in his bloodshot eyes. “How did they get those pictures?”
Tae Hyun quietly sighed. “That doesn’t matter right now.” He grabbed Ren’s dressing table chair and spun it around. “Sit.”
Ren’s brow furrowed in confusion, defiance sparking a fire in his gaze. “What do you mean it doesn’t–”
“I said, sit,” Tae Hyun firmly repeated, assuming the role of sunbae. He needed Ren focused, not spiraling into panic.
With a frustrated sigh, Ren finally sank into the chair. He opened his mouth to protest, but Tae Hyun held up a hand to silence him.
“Look, we’ll figure out how this happened. Vital is on it. But right now–” he paused, carefully choosing his words. “Right now, we need to deal with the fallout. The press will spin this any way they can. Our best chance is to get ahead of it.”
Tae Hyun wasn’t sure if he believed a word he was saying, but Ren looked so lost and vulnerable. Tae Hyun could worry about the truth, about the damage to his own reputation, later. His friend needed him now .
Ren stared at Tae Hyun, his eyes wide with fear and shame. “This is a disaster,” he hopelessly muttered. “They’re gonna crucify me. My career is over. Again.”
The raw anguish in Ren’s expression was impossible to miss. Sympathy cut through Tae Hyun’s lingering anger at Ren’s reckless actions the night before and the public’s relentless scrutiny. Ren had made an impulsive mistake, yes, but it was clearly motivated by insecurity and loneliness. He didn’t deserve this public flogging.
Tae Hyun moved closer to Ren, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s not over,” he quietly said. “You’ve already been through worse. But you’re too talented. Your fans will come back.” His own career seemed less secure at the moment, but that wasn’t Ren’s problem.
“Easy for you to say,” Ren spat. “You’re a global superstar with a rich boyfriend and a high-powered PR agency backing you up. I barely survived that last scandal.” He loudly scoffed. “And now the whole world is gonna think I’m trying to come between you and Jason.”
Tae Hyun sighed. Ren had a point. He could imagine the pressure Ren was under, the scrutiny, the homophobic vitriol that was likely flooding social media. But he couldn’t let Ren give up that easily.
“Listen.” Tae Hyun met Ren’s gaze with determination in his eyes. “We’re going to face this together. We’ll issue a statement–something that denies the affair and turns it back around on the nosey press, maybe. We’ll frame this as a misunderstanding.”
“No.” Ren’s shoulders slumped further as he sobbed. His tears fell freely, his expression twisted with anguish, as he buried his face in his hands. “This is it. I’m done. They’ll never let me back after this. And–” he looked up at Tae Hyun, his red-rimmed eyes dark and hopeless. “I know I fucked everything up. You probably hate me now. Especially after last night–” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Tae Hyun quietly huffed. He’d already assured Ren of his support at least twice. But it was hard for him to ignore the desperation in Ren’s face. In some ways, the mess was all too familiar, with everything Kbr had done to keep Tae Hyun from successfully going solo. And Tae Hyun never would’ve made it through that without the support of his family, his friends, and, most importantly, Jason. He couldn’t be sure, but he doubted Ren had that same level of support.
Tae Hyun steadied himself on the dressing table as his exhaustion finally caught up with him. It was all becoming too much, success spiraling beyond his grasp as–no. He sighed, knowing what needed to be done, even if he wasn’t sure he had the strength for it. Gently pulling Ren into a hug, Tae Hyun felt him stiffen, then slowly relax.
“I don’t hate you,” Tae Hyun quietly shared. “Let’s just get through this. Okay?”
Ren choked back a sob, clinging to Tae Hyun with a surprising intensity. “Are you sure?”
Tae Hyun hesitated, still wary of Ren’s previous standoffishness. But their embrace felt different–more like the friendship he’d initially wanted. “Yes, I’m sure.” Pulling back, he grabbed the pack of makeup wipes from Ren’s dressing table. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’m gonna find my sister and see what she’s been able to do.”
Ren cautiously nodded, took the wipes, and began removing the smeared remnants of his makeup. Tae Hyun left him to his waiting bandmates to track down Yun Seo. Despite the awful circumstances, he was happy he’d finally worked things out with Ren. But he also needed a break from the dressing room’s emotional claustrophobia.
Tae Hyun ran into his sister pacing in the hallway outside. “Any updates?”
Yun Seo nodded. “I talked to Min Ji at Vital. They apparently already had a team on it.”
“What did she say?”
Yun Seo frowned. “Typical bullshit from K-star . They won’t pull or retract the story. But they said they’d add a statement from you.”
A statement. Meaning a denial, which would just as likely fuel the rumor’s flames as saying nothing. But Tae Hyun’s fans would expect a denial, if only for Jason’s sake. Jason. Tae Hyun sighed. He needed to tell Jason. It was morning in Los Angeles, and Jason might even be awake. But he wasn’t ready to break the news yet.
“Tell them to offer a denial. Something simple. Ren and I are just friends and peers. Anything beyond that is totally false.”
Yun Seo nodded. “I will.” She glanced towards Ren’s dressing room. “How’s he doing?”
Tae Hyun’s shoulders almost slumped, his exhaustion from the show and the struggles afterward threatening to shut him down. He forced himself to stand straighter. “He’s taking it all really hard. I guess I can understand after–” He cut himself off before admitting what had happened at the after party. You never knew who might’ve been listening. “–after already being forced out of the closet.”
Yun Seo nodded again, her brow creased from her sympathetic frown. “Sure, of course. But you talked some sense into him?”
“I think he’ll be okay,” Tae Hyun confirmed.
“What about you?” Yun Seo placed a hand on his shoulder, obvious concern in her eyes. “Will you be okay?”
Tae Hyun nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Of course. This rumor will die out soon enough, and everyone will move on.” At least, that’s what he desperately hoped. Otherwise, he was in for a world of trouble.