Chapter 15 #3
Min Jae’s shoulders tensed for a beat. He took a slow, deliberate breath, steeling himself, before he finally spoke.
“Yes.” His voice was tight, carefully controlled, but with an unmistakable tremor just beneath the surface.
“That’s my mother.” He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the quiet room. “She died a few years ago. Cancer.”
Direct and unadorned, Min Jae’s words landed with a heavy finality, instantly dampening the atmosphere in the room. Andy accepted the shift for what it was. There was no way to carry the easy, lighthearted fun of making songpyeon into such a somber moment.
“I’m sorry.” Andy never knew what he was supposed to say in moments like that. Sorry felt so inadequate.
Min Jae nodded. “Thanks.” He let out a small sigh. “It happened fast, which was sort of a blessing. But it’s been just me and my grandmother since then.”
Andy fought to keep from reaching for Min Jae.
If they’d been closer, or if so much of their relationship hadn’t been competing with one another, Andy would’ve hugged him without question.
He knew that much, at least. But Min Jae’s stiff, awkward posture pretty clearly said hands off.
So Andy settled for stepping back to give Min Jae his space, looking at the echoes of his face in his mother’s photo.
Min Jae’s grandmother eventually joined them, carrying a small tray with the best-looking of the glistening, freshly steamed songpyeon, a pear, a small bunch of grapes, and a small bottle of rice wine with two ceramic cups.
She arranged them neatly on the table in front of the photo, pausing to quietly sigh as she looked at it.
“This is a much smaller offering than tradition calls for,” she explained with a small, sad smile.
“As I said, Min Jae and I like to keep it simple.”
Min Jae and his grandmother each knelt before their makeshift altar. They each poured a tiny cup of the rice wine, then lowered themselves into a deep, slow, reverent bow, their foreheads nearly touching the floor. They held the position for a long moment of silence, then rose and bowed again.
Andy could hardly imagine what it felt like to lose a parent, let alone a daughter.
The last funeral he’d gone to was his grandmother’s.
His mother had haunted their house for weeks afterward, a hollowed-out look in her eyes, the immense weight of a loss so profound a physical part of her had been carved away.
The same weight sat on Min Jae’s shoulders at that moment.
The icy walls, the ruthless drive, the relentless focus, the quiet desperation was more than simple ambition.
It was a fortress, built brick by icy brick to protect the one precious person he had left in the world.
It was the crushing responsibility of being the only one left to remember, the only one left to provide.
When the quiet ritual ended, Min Jae’s grandmother picked up a piece of songpyeon from the offering plate and held it out to Andy.
A simple, profound gesture of inclusion.
He offered a small, grateful bow and took it, his fingers brushing against hers.
The sweet filling was delicious, and he felt awful for enjoying it.
Min Jae stood a moment later, his eyes red-rimmed, glistening like the songpyeon from fresh tears. He sniffled as he grabbed one for himself, took a bite, and gently smiled, relieving some of Andy’s guilt. “Delicious. Now, let’s go get dinner ready.”
Andy’s comfortable nostalgia returned once he joined the dinner preparations in the warm, fragrant kitchen.
His family had definitely left a lot of the old traditions behind.
He’d only ever eaten store-bought songpyeon, and had never performed even an informal charye.
But his family, like many, Korean or otherwise, often gathered around food.
Just like when he was a young boy visiting his grandparents, he gladly went to work chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and whatever else he was asked to do.
Min Jae and his grandmother practically danced around him while he worked–a different kind of choreography, built through the years of sharing the small space for thousands of meals.
Slowly but surely, they assembled their humble feast on the tiny kitchen table.
A steaming platter of sweet and savory bulgogi sat at the center, surrounded by a mound of glistening japchae, golden-brown hobak-jeon, a small bowl of seasoned spinach, and, of course, a generous helping of homemade kimchi.
Min Jae cracked the seal on a bottle of soju–Sabi, according to the label–and poured three glasses.
“This all looks so good,” Andy announced for probably the hundredth time as he plucked some of the beef from the serving dish.
Min Jae’s grandmother practically beamed. “Thank you. I’m so glad you were able to join us for this. So, tell me. How did you two become such good friends?”
Andy nearly choked on the food in his mouth. He glanced at Min Jae, who smirked as he focused on his rice bowl. Of course. “Well, we only recently started being friendly. We actually started out as rivals. He was number one in the first ranking, and I was number two.”
She nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “Ah, yes. I remember watching your first ranking performance. You’re very talented. I thought you might’ve ended up with the number one rank that day.”
Min Jae’s open-mouthed shock was totally worth being put on the spot like that. He quickly recovered, but his smirk was nowhere to be seen. “My grandmother has long been my biggest fan,” he deadpanned. “But even the biggest fans can be fickle.”
His grandmother chuckled. “I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I vote for you.” She turned her heart-shaped smile back to Andy. “You must miss your family. I’d love to hear more about them.”
Andy smiled as he eagerly described what life was like in the Kim household, ignoring the swelling sadness underneath his easy smile, especially when he thought about his younger brother, Noah. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about them.”
Both Min Jae and his grandmother listened intently as Andy went on to talk about his dancing and the classes he taught, sometimes interrupting to ask for more detail or explain something uniquely American, sometimes offering comparable stories of their own.
Min Jae dancing in the open front courtyard when he couldn’t get to the studio.
Andy skipping college to focus on dance and vocal training.
Min Jae being deemed exempt from military service because of his knee injury.
Both of their favorite Buster Burger combo meals.
An easy exchange, story for story, both learning more about one another over a single meal than all the time they’d spent together at Sky Village.
The conversation continued until they’d finished a second bottle of Sabi and Min Jae’s grandmother could no longer keep from yawning.
“It’s been a long day for you,” Min Jae said as he stood. “Let me help you go lie down.”
“Nonsense,” she protested. “I’m perfectly capable of...” She trailed off into another yawn. “Oh, alright, fine.” She held out her hand, letting Min Jae help her to her feet. “Good night, Andy. Thank you again for joining us today.”
Andy nodded in response. He got up and started clearing the dirty dishes from the table until Min Jae returned. Under Min Jae’s direction, the pair made short work of the dinner dishes and leftovers, returning the kitchen to a more or less spotless condition.
Min Jae hung his damp dish towel near the sink. “What do you want to do now?”
Andy glanced at the old dial clock hanging on the wall beside the refrigerator. Nine pm. “I’m open to whatever.” He paused, chasing away a soju yawn of his own. “But, honestly–”
“You want to go to bed?” Andy nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I do, too. I’m a little drunk for the first time in forever, and it’s been a long day.”
Andy followed Min Jae to his bedroom, who gestured toward the bathroom door on the way. "You can shower first, if you want. Towels are in the cabinet. And I can get everything ready while you do.”
"Thanks." Andy grabbed his toiletry bag and a change of clothes for sleeping. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
The bathroom was a hundred percent period kitsch, with pale green tile on the walls and a porcelain pedestal sink.
It took Andy a little time to work out how to use the shower, but he was soon drenched in hot water.
He tried to make it quick, mindful of using someone else’s water.
Standing there, naked, in Min Jae’s house, with Min Jae across the hall, his body betrayed him, tempting him to do more.
But there was no way in hell he’d jerk off in someone else’s shower as a guest at their house.
It was probably just the soju working its magic, anyway.
Once he was dry and dressed in his worn but well-loved Hayward Lions shirt and red fleece workout shorts, Andy crossed the hall toward Min Jae’s bedroom, rubbing the towel through his damp hair.
The overhead light was off, replaced by the soft glow of a small bedside lamp.
Min Jae was there, smoothing out a thin, padded sleeping mat on the floor beside the bed, a pillow and folded blanket placed neatly at one end.
“This is for me,” Min Jae explained. “You’ll take the bed.”
Andy frowned. “Are you sure? I can totally take the floor.”
“Nonsense,” Min Jae insisted, for a moment embodying his grandmother perfectly. “You’re my guest. You’ll take the bed.”
Andy shrugged. “Okay, you’re the boss.” He draped his damp towel over the end of the footboard. “Although it’s probably big enough to share,” he added with a smirk.
Min Jae tilted his head, nearly frowning, his eyes narrowed. Then his expression shifted somehow, the glare becoming a smolder, the frown, a devilish smirk. “Is that what you want?” He slowly stripped off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor.
Andy’s brain froze, caught in the feedback loop of Min Jae’s sultry grin and his lean but impeccably chiseled torso. “I, uh–”
Min Jae barked out a quiet laugh. “Oh my god, if you could only see your face right now.”
Andy snorted. “Just go take your damn shower.”
Chuckling, Min Jae grabbed something from his dresser and left Andy alone in the bedroom.
His cheeks slowly spread into a grin as he pulled back the dark comforter on the bed.
That asshole had definitely turned Andy’s unserious flirting right back around on him.
He was almost impressed. Of course, he was also well aware of how real his feelings were behind the friendly flirting.
He hadn’t gotten laid in forever. And he’d only spanked it a handful of times in the shower, quick and quiet, knowing that a roomful of cameras and microphones lay right outside the bathroom door.
But the idea was pure fantasy. A shared attraction, half-inspired by an intense rivalry, was hardly enough of a reason to jeopardize whatever weird friendship they had.
Andy lay back, resting his head on a pillow that smelled faintly of Min Jae, a smell he knew all too well. Sure, they could fuck. And it would probably be amazing. But the price? He wasn’t sure he was willing to pay it.
A few minutes later, Min Jae reappeared in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of loose, dark sleeping shorts, his hair damp and tousled, a drop of water tracing a path down the smooth skin of his chest.
Andy’s breath hitched, his body already betraying him again. Min Jae didn’t smirk, but his intentions were plain enough on his face. Have a good look. This is what you’re missing.
But neither of them said anything as Min Jae grabbed his pillow and blanket and settled onto the mat on the floor. He pulled the blanket up to his waist, his dark eyes meeting Andy's with enough smolder to start a forest fire. "Can you get the light?”
Andy snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for the switch on the lamp. “Fine. You’d better not snore.”
Min Jae quietly chuckled as he settled onto his pillow. “Only in your dreams.”
Andy smiled, deeply glad that this new Min Jae, relaxed and completely unselfconscious in his own space, still liked to banter. A bangin’ body and an ass that wouldn’t quit were all well and good. But Andy enjoyed the chase as much, if not more, than the capture. And chasing Min Jae was fun.
Lying back in the darkness, Andy basked in the pleasant warmth of a good meal and a comfortable bed.
Min Jae’s gravity tugged at him, even from the floor beside the bed, there for the taking.
But Andy had to believe that half the reason for their insane chemistry was that unrequited attraction.
It had certainly paid off during their last mission. Maybe that was enough. For now.