Page 21 of Wish Upon a K-Star

W e’re strolling down one of the side streets close to the apartment now, the strawberry milk left behind after a single sip. Still have to be careful of calories.

I can’t figure out what to do with my hands. It’s as if I’ve never walked beside another person before. I’m so aware of the cameras on us that I worry I look stiff and unnatural beside Minseok, so I end up stealing glances at him to see what he’s doing.

Finally, he sighs. “Can we take a quick break?”

I’m surprised. It’s not diva behavior necessarily, but I’d just never even consider asking for a break before the main PD calls for one.

“Oh, sure, Moonster-ssi,” Han-PD says amicably. “Let’s take five minutes.”

The camera people all gratefully lower the heavy equipment. Assistants run forward with cool water bottles to help with the afternoon heat.

Hongjoo hands me one herself, and I take a long gulp.

Minseok leans in and I’m startled enough to jump back, spilling some of the water on my sleeve.

“I just think we should talk.”

“Talk?” I’m confused enough that I don’t put up a fight as he grabs my wrist and pulls me to the side, into the shade of one of the buildings.

“You need to calm down,” he says, voice lowered so only I can hear.

“What?” I wonder if he’s messing with me, but for what purpose?

“You’re overthinking everything and it’s making you stiff and jittery. Like when you used to be all wired right before an assessment test.”

I pale at the memory. I was always a mess before monthly assessments when I first came to Bright Star. It was bad enough sometimes that I’d freeze in the middle of a song or dance routine. For the first six months as a trainee, I was always convinced I was about to get kicked out. But now, I just scowl. “I’m not thirteen anymore. And I don’t need your criticisms on my performance.”

“It’s not a criticism. I’m telling you that you’re fine. Don’t focus on being on the show.”

I laugh. “Um, that’s kind of hard, since there are literally cameras everywhere.”

“Why are you here?” Minseok asks.

“Huh?” What nonsense is he spewing now?

“Why are you doing this show?”

“Because I have to.”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking. What are you trying to prove by coming on this show?”

I shake my head, about to laugh off his question. Then I stop and actually think about it. With a sigh, I admit, “I guess I want people to realize I’m more than all that bullshit gossip the antis make up about me. I want them to give me a freaking chance to prove it.”

He smiles with satisfaction. “Just remember that. Don’t let the antis win. You’re too talented to give in to them anymore.” With that he walks back toward the PDs and cameras.

What the hell? Did he really mean that? Or is he just gassing me up so I stop acting so awkward?

I don’t have time to wonder as Han-PD calls out for everyone to set up again to continue the shoot.

Immediately, Minseok points to a small hole-in-the-wall kookbap restaurant.

“You remember begging Miss Ha at that shop for an extra fried egg?”

“Huh?” I frown, still confused by Minseok’s last words to me.

“Wow, you seriously don’t remember Miss Ha?” He slaps me on the shoulder hard enough to sting. “She practically kept us fed five years ago and you don’t remember?”

“Of course I remember her,” I say indignantly, rubbing at my shoulder. “She always gave me a can of cider for free and told me to practice hard for debut. I wonder if she’s still running it.”

“She is,” Minseok says. “I visit whenever I’m here.”

“Really?” I stare up at him in genuine surprise. When does he have the time to do that?

“I would have starved some days without her soup.”

At his words, I remember the early days. When Bright Star was a struggling agency. It didn’t have the giant organic cafeteria it does now, famous for bringing in celebrity chefs to cook for its artists. Back then it could barely afford to give us food tickets to the restaurants close to the dorm. But Miss Ha always made us meals on credit even if we’d run out of tickets.

I suddenly need to see the woman who made me home-cooked food when my own mother never did.

“Let’s go see her.” I pull on Minseok’s arm.

He laughs and lets me tug him toward the shop. It looks exactly the same. With only four scuffed tables all along one side of the room. The other side is taken up entirely by a cramped kitchen space separated from the dining area by an old metal counter. On it sits the same banged-up register where she’d carefully tuck away our meal vouchers from Bright Star. Two large fans work valiantly to cool the small cramped space.

A woman in her late sixties is stirring the contents of a giant metal vat, the steam filling the room with a familiar scent. And despite the heat and humidity, I immediately have an intense craving for the warm soup.

“Ajjuma,” I call out, and she turns around. The moment she sees us, her smile spreads wide.

“Woori saekki-ya.” Miss Ha comes over and pats us both on the hips. The universal Korean halmeoni gesture of affection and approval. “You’ve come back to let me feed you.”

“Yes, please. I miss your kookbap so much.” I wrap her in a hug. Has she always been so small? She barely comes to my shoulders now. When I first met her, I was a head shorter than her. But I’ve skyrocketed now to 170 centimeters.

She ushers us to a back table, the one I always sat at when I came here. Above it now sits framed photos of us. Minseok with his group, and Sohee and me in a shot at a concert with Helloglow. I remember the day she asked me to sign it. I’d cried and she’d hugged me gruffly before shoving a bowl of kookbap in front of me and telling me to eat.

Now, as Minseok and I sit, a wave of nostalgia hits me. This place was my comfort after hard practice days when I thought I’d never debut. Or moments after I’d had a fight with Mom. Or when Hyejun ignored me or left me behind again.

There’s no telling how stained this old table is with my own tears and snot.

I remember suddenly that I came here after Minseok broke my heart when I was fifteen. I eye him, but he’s happily looking around the space, lost in his own memories.

Minseok grins as he looks up at the walls with handwritten messages and doodles from the many patrons. He points at one. “I drew this my first month as a trainee.”

I lean in to stare at it. Anything to stop thinking about all my awkward memories. It’s a cartoon sketch that looks like a smushed llama with a date scribbled underneath. “What’s this lump?”

Minseok’s smile fades a bit. “It’s Moonie.”

Moonie is the cartoon werewolf that’s his representative character in WDB. All the boys have one (personally my favorite is Robbie’s little droid named Robi-bot). But this thing looks nothing like the cute chibi werewolf.

I angle my head closer. “I don’t see it.”

His smile drops fully now. “These are the ears and this is the snout.”

He points to the lumpy face. I tilt my head, squinting in exaggeration at the drawing. “Maybe it could be a pancaked goat. A wombat at best.”

“Wombat?!”

“The ears are curved,” I point out.

“It’s faded,” he says defensively.

“They’re round,” I insist, holding back a smile at his distress.

He opens his mouth, clearly about to argue and then gives in. “You’re right, they’re round.”

“It’s cute, for a lumpy wombat,” I say to console him.

He shakes his head in defeat. “Maybe I should talk to the marketing team about changing Moonie to a marsupial.”

I laugh at the thought. “The fans might not like it.”

“Well, if my wife wants it, I’d rather make her happy.”

I freeze, remembering we’re filming a show. I let myself become too relaxed in an old familiar setting. I can feel the tension returning to my shoulders as I work hard not to turn to the glaring lenses of the cameras. Thankfully, Miss Ha arrives with a tray of food, setting out the small plates of banchan before giving us each a steaming bowl of kookbap.

“Masitgeda!” I exclaim, leaning in to breathe in the salty broth.

“It’s so good to see you kids again. I’m so proud of you two. You’ve worked so hard and you’re both so talented.”

I grin with pride. Miss Ha was always reliably around with bolstering compliments.

“What is this you’re doing now?” Miss Ha asks, pointing directly at the cameras. I cover a laugh at how little she cares about show etiquette. The unspoken edict is to try to ignore the cameras as much as possible. Though some of the bolder, more charming celebrities ignore that rule. I’ve seen Minseok do it a time or two. Not that I’m monitoring his shows, it’s just when scrolling the feed.

“We’re on our first date,” Minseok says plainly.

I give him a sharp stare. Why isn’t he providing more context?

“Eh?” Miss Ha looks back and forth between us, then breaks into a wide grin. “I knew you two would get together eventually.” She looks directly at Han-PD, clearly marking him as the one in charge, and addresses him now. “This girl had such a huge crush on this boy. Couldn’t take her eyes off him whenever he was around.”

“Ajjuma,” I groan, trying my best not to make eye contact with Minseok or any of the crew. I drop my face into my hands to hide the bright flush that burns my cheeks. It’s bad enough that I’m forced to pretend I like spending time with Minseok, but now the whole country is going to find out about my old silly crush on him.

“Aw, Hyeri-ya, you’ve been pining for me that long?”

I glower at him. “Seriously? Did you forget how you—”

Minseok plucks up a piece of pickled radish and shoves it in my mouth before I can finish my sentence. I am so shocked I almost spit it back out at him. Instead, I glare pointedly at him as I crunch the radish cube.

“What was that for?” I ask.

“Isn’t it supposed to be romantic to feed each other?” he says with a cocky grin.

“Oh yeah? Should I feed you now?” I stab my chopsticks into the head of a grilled fish and pick the entire thing up.

Minseok laughs nervously. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Yes, yes, eat before it gets cold,” Miss Ha says, waving at the table of food.

“Ne, chal meokaesumnida,” I say obediently, setting the fish back down and scooping up a big bite of kookbap. Even annoyance at Minseok can’t stop me from enjoying this meal.

I stuff myself, completely forgetting my diet in my enjoyment of the comforting food.

“Oof, I’m so full,” I groan, leaning back and patting my stomach after everything has been completely devoured. Then I freeze, eyes sliding to the red light of the camera. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not very ladylike. And I’m sure the netizens will say it means I’m rude or classless. But it’s already captured and I just close my eyes to hide my embarassment.

“Good. You know I like a girl who eats well.”

I open my eyes to stare at him suspiciously, but Minseok just grins at me.

“Really?” I ask slowly. “I thought that was Jaehyung.”

“Jaehyungie just eats fast. If we took our time, I could eat him under the table.”

Despite myself, a laugh breaks free. “Remember when you ordered a pound of chicken by accident instead of just one serving? We ate the whole thing because we almost never got fried chicken when we were trainees. I thought I was going to explode.”

Minseok laughs at the memory. “Yeah, and we had to eat it fast because we weren’t supposed to have food in the practice rooms.”

I see Han-PD smile and nod. He seems to like it when we talk about our friendship moments. And I want to please the production.

“If Jaehyung hadn’t been there, we’d have been screwed,” I muse. “What are the guys up to right now?”

“Who knows,” Minseok says, pushing out of his seat. “Come on, I have another surprise for you.”

I’m confused. Does Minseok not want to talk about his members?

He’s already calling goodbye to Miss Ha, and I have to hurry to catch up with him.

He turns a sharp right down a narrow side street beside the restaurant. I remember cutting through this alley to get to the bus station.

In my hurry to keep up I almost stumble over an empty crate. I didn’t notice Minseok turn back, but he’s suddenly there, grabbing my hand to steady me. He doesn’t let go, even when I right myself. Instead, he pulls me along after him.

I can feel my palm getting clammy in his. I’m worried Minseok will feel it too, but I also don’t want to pull away either.

I’m so focused on overanalyzing the hand situation, that I don’t look up until we’re halfway down the next street. And then I see it.

“It’s the old arcade!” I exclaim, excitement and nostalgia hitting me all at once. “The trainees went there almost every day, remember?”

Minseok grins. “I remember you got banned for a month because you practically wiped them out of dolls in the crane games one weekend.”

I nod, pride lifting my shoulders. If claw games are ever added to esports, I’d change professions in a second. I’d sweep every competition.

When we were trainees, every time I got a bad review or a critique at the agency, I’d come here and work out my frustration in the arcade. I suppose I got a lot of criticism at the beginning, because now I’m unstoppable.

We hurry inside and I make a beeline for the first flashing crane game.

“Which one do you want?” Minseok asks.

“I can get my own.” I’m already surveying the stuffed animals inside and choosing my optimal target. I feel like a seasoned athlete returning to the ring after years away. “You know how good I am at them.”

“I want to get you one, though. We’re on a date.”

The statement still catches me off guard enough that I fumble with my response.

Get it together, Hyeri. You can’t forget that you’re on the clock right now.

“Why don’t I get one for both of us?” I offer, trying to find a compromise.

“I’ll just win you one,” Minseok insists, his face set in stubborn lines. It reminds me of when we were younger and he was determined to learn a new dance in a day. Minseok often changed his mind about his performance review songs, switching within days of assessment. It always gave me proximity anxiety, but he always pulled it off.

“I’m not so sure if you can. You weren’t really that good at crane games when we were kids.” It’s one of the only things the great Moon Minseok could never master. Proof that he really was human.

“Hyeri-ya, I have gotten better at things since I was sixteen.” He rolls his eyes, but I can see his jaw clenching. He’s annoyed. “Just let me win you one.”

I purse my lips, somehow drawing perverse pleasure in knowing I can tease him over this and he has to let me. “I’m just saying I’m not sure if you’ve had time to hone your claw game skills; it takes a lot of practice and you’ve been too busy touring the world.”

“Fine, if I get it within three tries, then you have to do something for me.”

I shake my head, sure it won’t come to that. “Okay, what is it?”

“If I get the doll, then you have to start calling me Oppa again.” He grins as the smile finally falls off my face.

I promised myself a long time ago that I would never call him that again. I almost refuse the challenge. But I know that will give it more importance than I want to admit. Already he’s watching me with a smug look. He knows that this bothers me. That’s why he’s doing it. So, I lift my chin.

“Fine, but you won’t win.”

“Just tell me which one you want.”

I turn and consider picking a difficult one, but give in and choose the easy target I’d pinpointed before. It’s a wily white rabbit that’s the representative animal of an older idol.

“Leebit?” Minseok’s brow furrows, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was jealous.

“Yeah, you know how much I love Sunbae’s dancing.” I can see that Minseok is giving me a little frown. I send him a sly side-eye. I tell myself I’m just playing up the teasing for the camera, but I’m secretly pleased at his reaction. It reminds me of when we were kids and we could act foolish without worrying who was watching.

“What? You can’t get mad. They don’t have a Moonie stuffie in there,” I say, batting my eyes innocently at him.

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “I hope Sunbae appreciates that I respect him so much.”

He fails. Nine times.

It’s almost sad as he shoves the tenth bill into the crane game. I want to tell him to stop wasting his money. He’s already lost the bet.

“Look, I’ll show you.” I try to take the controls. By now we’ve moved targets after his fourth attempt buried Leebit more. (To be honest, I half suspect he might have done it on purpose.) Now we’re aiming for a small stuffed bear with a tiny hanbok on.

“I’ve got it.” He bats my hand away.

“You don’t.” I grab the joystick but he won’t let go of it. “You have to calculate the best place to grab it. You can’t rush it.”

I move the claw, forcing Minseok’s hand to obey my pressure. I can see the perfect angle and I’m practically pressed against the glass to spot it better. I know if I position it just right, I can hook the claw around the bear’s arm and head.

“There,” I mutter with a nod. It’s as good as I’m going to get, I’m sure.

I start to press the button, but remember that this is Minseok’s game. So, I take his hand and place it over the button. “Ready?” I ask.

Minseok doesn’t reply, just stares at me so long I start to feel nervous. In this position, I’m holding both his hands, my side pressed tightly to his. It’s as good as a half embrace. I tell myself it’s not like that. But the way he’s looking at me, I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing. And then he smiles. It makes my brain tingle, like staticky prickles. I start to pull back when he turns his hand to grip mine. He uses our joined fists to press the button.

I turn at the whirl of the claw, my attention stolen by the metal pincers approaching our target. Should I have moved it a bit to the right? No, it’s going to be okay. I wince as the claw does that annoying thing when it lowers a little too low, turns crooked, seems to miss its target.

But as it lifts, it hooks right onto the arm of the stuffed animal. And it rises, but it doesn’t just have the hanbok bear, but another bear wearing a heart-patterned T-shirt.

I let out a little gasp as Minseok grips my hand. “We did it!”

“Wait,” I say, not daring to celebrate yet. Still, I can feel his excitement vibrating through our joined hands, and it fuels my own as we wait for the two dolls to be deposited safely in the bin. The claw jerks before reaching its destination and I let out a squeak as the heart bear almost falls, but the claw stays hooked in its T-shirt.

And when both are successfully dropped, we let out twin shouts like we just won the World Cup instead of a crane game. We clap our hands together in a rapid pattycake of triumph. For a moment, I was really scared we’d lose it. Excitement at the win feels like firework spinners sparking inside of me. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me in the air in a little victory spin.

It’s dizzying and thrilling at the same time. And I have to wrap my arms around his neck so I don’t slip. When he finally sets me down, I’m a bit wobbly but still pumped up on the win. My arms are still around his neck, pulling his head slightly down toward me. He’s smiling so wide that it creates creased dimples at the tops of his cheeks. His signature look that the fans go wild over. It sends those internal sparklers of mine spinning again.

It’s too much. He’s too close. I let go, pushing away hard enough to stumble back into the machine. It lets out a little clatter as I bump it.

“Whoa, you okay?” Minseok reaches for me again, but I skitter out of his reach.

“I’m fine. Just got overexcited.” I force out a laugh to maintain the celebratory mood, but I know I’ve kind of ruined it.

Clearing his throat, he leans in. I sidestep, but he just pulls the two stuffed animals from the machine.

“Here, your prizes.” He holds them out and I take them gingerly, making sure our hands don’t touch. He shoves his into his pockets once they’re empty. And for the first time today he doesn’t have a self-assured grin or a cocky comment. It makes me feel guilty for ruining the mood. So, I hold out the heart bear to him, like a peace offering.

“This one is yours. We won them together. We should both get one.”

“Really?” He looks genuinely delighted. “I’ll give him a place of honor in the dorm.”

“You better. And every time you look at him, remember who helped you win.”

“I won’t forget. You’re officially my lucky charm.” He presses the bear’s little stuffed mouth to my cheek like a kiss.

I blink in surprise. I know that he’s just doing this for the cameras. So, why is my heart racing? He’s too good at this.

I force myself to smile. Force myself to play my part. “Happy to help.”

I’m trying to calm down as we step out of the arcade. But the moment the doors open, screams surround us. Already skittish, I jump in alarm before I recognize them as fans. WDB fans. They’re waving signs and the aforementioned Moonie plushie. Cameras and phones are lifted in the air to get a shot. Moonster gives a congenial smile and wave, completely unfazed. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the screams.

One of the assistant PDs comes over and yells close to my ear. “Someone must have leaked where we were. We’ll have to wrap up.”

They hurry us through the crowd toward the waiting vans. The date is prematurely over. But I can’t help but think it’s for the best. I was already starting to forget what was real and what was just pretend.