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“When we stayed in West Hollywood. We were talking about countries we would like to visit. You mentioned it then. That you loved travelling, but hated flying.”

I stared at him, stunned. I remembered the villa. I did not remember the conversation.

“Joon, that was years ago. You remember that?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Such a tiny thing to remember,” I scoffed, quietly pleased.

“I keep telling you, jagiya. Nothing about you is unimportant to me.”

We were met at the private aviation lounge in Incheon by a team from ENT, and Youngsoo. I recognised them all, which meant they probably recognised me, but if they did, or cared, they hid it well. Jihoon didn’t let go of my luggage the whole way, even though I insisted he didn’t need to hold it for me. We got all the way to the front of the terminal before his team tried to separate us. Youngsoo handed me a ticket for my flight, and informed Jihoon that he’d be on a different one, which was the first either of us had heard about our travel from here to Dubai.

Jihoon was flying first class on a commercial flight, almost immediately, whereas I was booked on a totally separate airline, flying out a little later. The company had booked my flight for me, and I suspected the separate flights were deliberate.

Jihoon was irritated, and not being discreet about it, but it was a controlled kind of anger. Safe, here in an empty, private area surrounded by company staff who were making a point of looking anywhere but at us.

“I do not want to keep leaving you,” he growled. “It makes me feel like I’m hiding you.”

“That’s the point,” I teased, but when his expression hardened, my smile slipped and a queasy sort of feeling churned in my stomach at the thought that he really did want to make this – whatever we were doing – public.

“Hey,” I said urgently, putting my hands on either side of his face. “This isn’t about us right now. This is about the tour. It’s allowed to come first. It should. You and the others worked so hard. The fans waited so long. This is not about us,” I said, each word distinct and deliberate, trying to press my meaning into him.

“Besides,” I eased up, brushing my thumbs across his cheeks. “It’s nice to be able to walk around just like everyone else. You should try it, someday.”

He grumbled but removed my hands to kiss each of my knuckles. He seemed to let it go, but I could tell this would not be the last time we would have this conversation, and I tried to push down the rising tide of familiar panic.

Finally, stepping away from me and my luggage seemed to be a cue for the team surrounding us, and it was just then that I’d realised they’d circled us, shielding us from potential curious onlookers. Or panoramic lenses.

Youngsoo stepped closer and gave me something that almost amounted to a smile, which was hands-down the warmest expression I’d ever gotten from him.

Jihoon turned back to me and pulled me into a hug, exhaling hard against my neck as he crushed me against him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and allowed myself a moment to enjoy it.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he murmured so only I could hear. “It meant so much to me.”

“Thank you for wanting me there,” I said thickly.

He pressed a kiss to my temple before stepping away, and pulling his facemask up, covering his nose and mouth. Youngsoo handed him a baseball cap and he pulled it on. It was still him, but now perhaps at least the paparazzi wouldn’t get to sell his expression.

When I walked out of Dubai International Airport, the wall of heat hit me. It was like stepping into a preheated oven.

The journey from the airport was a blur. I was too tired to pay much attention to the scenery. The taxi driver had to raise his voice to get my attention when we pulled up to the hotel, and I wearily dragged myself inside.

Sihyeon was sat at the desk in the room we were sharing when I shouldered open the door, dragging my luggage behind me. I was puffing and red-faced, and desperate for a nap after the long flight. I called out a greeting to her as I slid my suitcase against the wall and stumbled over to the bed, fully prepared to flump down on it and pass out.

“Kaiya, are you seeing Baek Jihoon?”

Her question slammed into me, halting me in my tracks, but unfortunately inertia had me careening forward. I windmilled my arms and yelped as I fell onto the bed, fighting against my own gravity for a second as I struggled to push myself up to stare at her.

“What did you say?” I asked breathlessly, once I’d pulled my face out of the duvet.

Sihyeon turned to look at me, fixing me with an expression that was somewhere between incredulity at the very idea that this mess in front of her could possibly be embroiled with one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, and suspicion.

“Are you?” she asked plainly.

I blew my hair out of my face and sat up, taking a moment to compose myself and pretend my heart wasn’t about to eject itself out of my mouth.

“Why would you ask me that?” I’d meant the words to come out with a huff of laughter, but instead they came out with something closer to hysteria.