Chapter 13
Andy paced in 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 stared into 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. But his 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.
His hairdresser 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.”
Min Jun huffed. “If only they’d given you both collars and leashes. Then I could just drag you to where we’re supposed to be.”
Andy chuckled. “Arf, arf. Lead the way!”
The show had upgraded the backstage viewing room since Andy’s previous visit. The dark, cool space was dominated by a massive monitor, with tiered rows of couches facing it. The ever-present camera crews lurked in the front corners, a part of the furniture he’d already learned to mostly ignore.
Andy settled onto a couch with his team, his eyes locked on the screen as the Dream Boy Project logo slowly pulsed on a background of swirling neon stripes.
Teams Ten and Nine started the show with a mixed bag.
Nerves got the better of a few of them. Shaky vocals.
Choreography a half-step behind the beat.
Others overcompensated, pushing too hard with a desperate energy that made him cringe.
The performances improved as they climbed the ranks.
More confident. Tighter. The real surprise came from Team Six.
They took a mid-tempo ballad and turned it into a breathtaking piece of lyrical storytelling.
And at the center of it was Choi Hyun Woo.
More than just a dancer. An artist, his movements full of a heartbreaking, raw vulnerability that was impossible to look away from in the hushed viewing room.
His team had made a smart, unexpected choice, and turned what could’ve been a simple cover into a bold reimagining.
All the while, Andy perched on his seat surrounded by a revolving door of high-stakes emotion.
Teams would be called away, buzzing with adrenaline, anticipation, and nerves, returning after their time onstage electric with relief from a solid performance or weighed down by the quiet disappointment of missed notes and fumbled steps.
As Si Woo introduced Team Three to the assembled Dream Makers, a PA called for the final teams to head backstage.
Andy's turn had finally come. He glanced at Leo as they both stood. He’d hardly had a chance to talk to his friend since they’d arrived at the Vision Center.
He caught Leo’s eye and raised a fist, pumping it once in a clear, silent message.
Fighting. Leo grinned and mirrored Andy’s fist pump as the teams filtered from the room, heading for the backstage wings.
Andy gathered with Team One around the stage left monitor as Team Two took the stage. Woo Jin had inserted himself between him and Min Jae, maybe trying to deflect their gravity-shifting magnetism. Maybe trying to absorb some of it. But Andy’s attention was fixed on Leo. Do well, friend. Do well.
Team Two had taken the opposite path as Andy’s team, reinventing an edgy, stripped-down, hip-hop track as an infectious, high-energy pop song. Leo shined in the main rap role, his smile wide and bright as he rapped through his verse with a bouncing, bubbly vibe that made Andy grin.
Then it happened.