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I’d considered going backstage again tonight, but quickly decided against it. Last night I’d gotten to see the frenzy of the invisible part of the concert. Tonight, I wanted to see who it was for. I came early again so I could be in the crowd for soundcheck. I wanted to see what it was like from the ground up, and in order to do so, I decided to start from the bottom. I decided to make my own way to the stadium and joined the crowds streaming inside.
I’d never been more thankful for my years of Korean lessons as I was while trying to blend in with other Vibers. So many fans were organising queue activities such as freebie giveaways, random-play dance challenges – which I avoided for everyone’s benefit – karaoke and picnics. Pockets of groups, most of whom had never met before, but all united under the title of ‘Viber’, and all determined to wring every speck of joy out of this day. It didn’t even seem to matter that not only was it a crisp, February day, but it also started raining just before the doors to sound check opened, eliciting some groans of dismay, but mostly laughs as people huddled together under umbrellas, or pulled on plastic raincoats. It didn’t seem like anything could squash the mood outside of the stadium, and this seemed especially true inside, as I filtered into the stadium for sound check.
I moved forward with the crowd, getting close enough to the barrier to get a good view of the stage, but even my good mood began to sour as the rain didn’t let up. If anything, the droplets got heavier, and by the time the members came out, I was soaked and contemplating the merits of being grumpy. But despite my wet socks and ratty hair, I couldn’t help but feel a thrill as the members filled the stage. There was something that came with being in an audience. It was the feeling of a shared joy, a contagious excitement, of knowing you were a part of something important and special. I went with it. I allowed the feeling to raise me above my soggy Converses and into a giddy, fan frame of mind, and I cheered along with everyone else.
I was close enough to the barrier, that the members had either noticed me, or had passed the information along in discreet whispers as soon each member had casually strolled past my section, and I was sure the Vibers near me were counting their lucky stars for the attention. They never lingered, just long enough to laugh at me, it seemed. I didn’t take it personally. I imagine I looked exactly as damp as I felt. It did feel a little unfair though, given how the rain only seemed to make them look… well, sexier. I tried not to focus on the way Jihoon’s gaze kept sweeping over, but I was so acutely attuned to the feel of his eyes on me that by the end of the set, I was agitated in a way that left me confused. Fidgety, too warm and as if I was overly-aware of every inch of skin where my wet clothes clung to.
After the members made their way off stage, I made my way out of the crowd and back into the stadium’s interior, pulling out my press pass to get through the security blockade and up to the VIP boxes where I had opted to spend the concert, along with most of the press team. It was as I was making my way up the many stairs that my phone vibrated. I pulled it out and stared at the screen, seeing a KakaoTalk message from a username I didn’t know. The profile picture was a generic one of Seoul.
J1994
What box number are you in?
[Sent 17:46]
I frowned, but assumed it must be a member of the team, but it was sent in English, not Hangul. I responded.
Me
Who is this?
The response came immediately.
J1994
Joon.
Sent [17:48]
I stopped in my tracks, looking around as though someone might be the slightest bit interested in who I was texting. I leaned against the wall, holding the phone closer to my chest.
Me
How did you get my number?
J1994
Everyone’s contact number was on the form. What box number?
Sent [17:51]
Me
12. Why?
I waited another few minutes, shivering against the cold wall, changing his KakaoTalk nickname to ‘Joon’, but no response came. I blew out a hard breath and slipped my phone back into my pocket, carrying on my way.
The stadium was massive, it took me ages to find the press box. Eventually, spotting the big sign stating 12, I pushed open the door. There was a concierge podium just inside, manned by a stadium representative who checked my press pass against her list of names. As she did, she looked at me, then back down at her clipboard before making an expression I didn’t understand as she put the clipboard down.
“Miss Thompson. These were left for you.” She spoke in a discreet voice, presumably mindful of the other team members moving around the suite. She reached under her podium and brought out a plastic bag emblazoned with the stadium’s name and logo and handed it to me. I took it out of reflex, but frowned.
“Who–” I began to ask but she gestured to a door.
“The bathroom is over there.”
My eyebrows drew together, but I moved away as someone came in behind me – one of the videographers, and I got out of the way. Moving further into the suite, I peered into the bag, and immediately let out a little snort. I walked over to the door the attendant had motioned to and pushed it open.
At the sink, I opened the bag again and drew out a large, fluffy towel. Underneath was a folded stack of clothes. Tour merch, essentially. There was a pair of joggers, a baseball-style shirt, and a thick, slightly oversized hoodie – just the way I liked them. There was even a pair of GVibes branded socks. I looked at myself in the mirror, and even under the flush from the cold rain, and the predictably ratty hair, I smiled, not even trying to hide it from anymore.
