Min Jae could hardly believe it. He hadn’t gotten much closer to believing it since then. He was sure, every night he fell asleep beside Andy, that it would be his last. That Andy was only a figment of his imagination and would be gone when he woke.
“I’d hardly say I’m ruthless,” Min Jae protested. “More like focused.”
“Yeah. Focused with lethal intent,” Andy added.
Min Jae snorted. Andy wasn’t exactly wrong. Min Jae had stood his ground, crutches and all, when Choi did storm into the breakroom and tried to grab Andy. It took three guys from the production team to pull him away. Min Jae didn’t care. He would’ve beaten Choi down with one of his crutches if he’d managed to lay a finger on Andy.
Choi had eventually succumbed to the inevitable, releasing Andy from his contract and debuting Pr1ze as a seven-member group. It only took several meetings with SCG Entertainment’s equally ruthless legal team–thankfully, one of his grandmother’s senior center friends had a high-powered attorney for a son, who took their case as a favor to his mother–and a viral web campaign orchestrated by a surprisingly vocal group of local and global fans who’d rallied around the #MinDy ship.
In the meantime, Andy had to go back to Sacramento, since his work visa was no longer valid. But he’d returned to Seoul as soon as his tourist visa was approved.
“Well,” Min Jae replied, “right now I’m more focused on you properly learning how to cook tteokbokki.”
Andy shot him a look over his shoulder. "Hey! I'm a very good student."
"He is a very good student," his grandmother confirmed, patting Andy's hand. "Much more polite than the last one I had." She gave Min Jae a pointed, teasing look.
The two of them shared an easy laugh at Min Jae’s expense, but the scene was well worth any loss of pride. His grandmother had welcomed Andy into their home just as he would’ve imagined her doing with a girlfriend. It was more than he ever could’ve wished for. Most days, his heart ached from the joy. Some days, it nearly burst.
“Would you be a dear and grab me that one bowl, Min Jae?”his grandmother asked as she moved to the counter beside the stove and began chopping scallions.
Min Jae nodded, squatting low to retrieve a heavy, brown, earthenware bowl from a bottom cabinet, his right knee taking the weight without a single protest. It still ached sometimes, a dull, phantom throb that was more memory than actual pain, but the physical therapist was a miracle worker. His strength and full range of motion had almost completely returned.
“No, Min Jae,” his grandmother said without even looking. “Not that one. The blue one.”
Min Jae nodded, bending to replace the brown bowl with the blue one tucked in behind it. His therapy was expensive, of course. SCG had made that clear in their first meeting, the one where they informed him that his medical coverage would be terminated as he’d supposedly violated the terms of his agreement during the final broadcast. His lawyer had been much clearer in his response, which included a sworn, notarized statement from the show’s medic detailing her recommendation against the steroid shots.
The settlement for that had been swift and silent. Hush money, pure and simple. Enough to cover his medical bills, his therapy, and his pain and distress for the foreseeable future. It wasn't the ending he’d set out to achieve, but it was an end.
His grandmother had never scolded or questioned him after he’d returned home from Dream Boy Project, not once asking for an explanation. She’d simply hugged him, told him how proud she was and how much she loved him, and asked if he’d eaten yet. Watching Andy cooking beside her offered him a sense of profound, uncomplicated peace that he’d always lacked, never slowing down enough to even look for it. Sure, their future was still a big question mark after everything that had happened. But, for the moment, everything was fine. And the rest would be what it would be.
“Have you heard back from them yet?” Andy asked as Min Jae set the blue bowl on the table.
Them, meaning the school Min Jae had applied to in the hopes of taking a dance instructor position. He never expected to hear back from them at all, let alone be told they were interested, after his very public fall and injury. But his interviews with the head of their dance department and the dean of their arts programs had gone surprisingly well. And an equally surprising recommendation from none other than Soh Hwa Young, a former student of the school, definitely helped. The job wouldn’t make him rich, but it would pay enough to cover his responsibilities after the SCG money dried up.
“Not yet,” Min Jae replied, returning to the cupboard to retrieve glasses and bowls. “But it’s only been a week. They said it would probably take at least two before they could let me know.”
His grandmother quietly tutted. “Fools. You’re a damn idol. For all they know, you could be getting dozens of competing offers in the meantime.”
Min Jae chuckled as he set out the dishes and went back for glasses. That technically wasn’t true, since he hadn’t officially debuted. But he had taken a page from Andy’s book, finally setting up social media pages where he posted dance tutorials and song covers. He still had nowhere near Andy’s 2.5 million followers, but he didn’t need them yet, either. Not like Andy, who couldn’t work in Korea. But being a social media influencer knew no international borders, and Andy made more than enough money from his videos to keep himself afloat. They’d both even gotten several calls from Star Infinity, an agency out of Busan, that they’d repeatedly turned down. There was no way Min Jae wanted to move all the way across the country just to be a second-tier idol. “They’ll say yes, grandmother. They just have to jump through all their hoops first.”
“And if they don’t?” His grandmother shook her head. “You know how they can be.”
Min Jae walked up behind Andy, leaning over his shoulder to take a generous sniff of his cooking. “Then I’ll keep being your kitchen assistant while I look for something else.”
“Hey, back off, mister,” Andy warned. “Kitchen assistant is my job. You’re the dishwasher.”
Min Jae chuckled. “As long as it’s by your side, it’s a deal.”
The three were just sitting down to dinner when Andy’s phone began vibrating on the kitchen counter. He jumped from his chair to grab it.
“Sorry, forgot to silence it.” Andy looked at the screen and frowned. “Weird. It’s a video call from a Los Angeles number. It’s gotta be the middle of the night there.”
“You should answer it,” Min Jae suggested, suddenly curious. “It could be important.”
Andy shrugged, holding the phone in front of his face as he swiped to answer it. His eyebrows immediately hit the ceiling. “Holy shit.”
A male voice laughed in response, but Min Jae couldn’t see the screen. “You’d be surprised,” the voice replied in English, “how often I get that when I call people in the middle of the night.”
