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“Love you!” I disconnected the call with a cheery wave before I blew out a breath and tucked my phone back into my pocket.

My plane was not being called. My plane wasn’t even on the board yet. I knew she was doing the thing where she wanted to make sure I wasn’t burying my head in the sand, but I just couldn’t do that right now. She had a habit of being overbearing and most of the time I didn’t mind, but right there, sat in an airport, fresh off the first stop of the tour, I just couldn’t do it. How could I analyse my feelings with her when I was trying hard to pretend they didn’t – and couldn’t – exist? No. Not now. I would treat it like exposure therapy. It would get easier the longer I was around him, and eventually it – whatever ‘it’ was – would fade.

Solid plan.

Nodding to myself, I pulled out my laptop and opened the document I’d been working on for the past few days. The write-up of the Seoul concerts.

It was my first official deliverable and, for some reason, I’d spent longer on it than I’d meant to. I kept getting stuck on it, my thoughts snagging on some frayed edge of something that I couldn’t quite untangle.

I wanted to describe the concert in a way that was both concise and emotionally descriptive, because I wanted to convey the relationship between GVibes and Vibers.

But I could not seem to get past the idea that whatever I wrote would be up for a very specific kind of scrutiny, because instead of writing for a broad music fan, I was writing primarily for Vibers. It was an ultra-specific focus I was unaccustomed to.

Earlier that week, the media team had spent a full day at ENT for a post-concert debrief and group interview. The schedule had meant following GVibes around for much of the afternoon, giving me my first real opportunity to see them outside of their polished, concert-ready roles.

We’d even been permitted to sit in on one of their gym training sessions, which honestly had felt a little awkward, especially as I kept catching the members’ eyes in the mirrors. Even if we had still been friends, it would have been weird to watch them working out, and I think they’d felt the same about me.

The group interview had been surprisingly useful, though. Most of what the film crew asked had been the kinds of things I would have asked, and so I got to focus on cherry-picking what I could use in my overall write-up, which was a good thing, as they were escorted out not long afterwards to make their airport schedule.

My main issue with the entire day was how structured it was. At no point was there an opportunity where I could just ask the group a question, or even move freely within the building. Security was ever-present, along with a team of chaperones.

I had never expected to have free access, but the reality butted uncomfortably up against the memory of a time when I’d had exactly that. To now be so close, to be across a table from them, or standing in the same elevator but have to pretend we didn’t know each other was a very specific kind of discomfort because it really hammered home who I was, and who they were, and who we were to each other. Which had the dual effect of reminding me who we had been.

So yes, it was deeply uncomfortable, but in a weird way, it also helped, because I needed to never forget what I was here to do.

Chapter 12

February 14th

Toyko

I’ve scarcely been so glad of a day off as I was today when I woke up with a savage hangover. Sihyeon and I had gone out to explore Tokyo the night before, which had somehow turned into drinks, then more drinks, and eventually the rookie mistake of mixing wine and spirits.. My mood hadn’t improved when I saw my credit card bill crumpled up on the desk. I’d actually whimpered.

Annoyingly, Sihyeon had woken up fresh-eyed and chirpy. She’d credited it to drinking some prebiotic nonsense-drink.

I’d told her that if she was going to continue to be so cheerful in the mornings, we were going to fall out.

She’d laughed and gone for a run.

I’d spent the day recovering, ordering room service – thankfully paid for with my daily allowance from ENT – and working on my article.

It was only after a mid-afternoon shower that I’d started to feel less like a gremlin. Sihyeon was gone for most of the day, after her run, coming back an hour ago, and now it was nearly ten pm. I was already dressed for bed in my comfy, loose sweatpants and a tank top.

I leaned back in my desk chair, dragging my hand down my face as I stared at my laptop, and the flashing cursor that was at once patiently waiting for my input and calling me a terrible writer for not being able to translate my thoughts into coherent sentences.

Just then, I heard a knock at the door. Frowning, I stared at it. For one wild moment, I wondered if it was my roommate, but I could clearly hear the shower running. I got up and wandered over to the door. Half-way to the door I began to feel a disjointed kind of déjà vu, but surely not…

I looked through the peep-hole, but the corridor looked empty. Tentatively, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

He was leaning against the doorframe. Though perhaps slumped might have been a better word.

“Jihoon,” I said, answering my own question. I was surprised and also not because the scene was so reminiscent of the time months ago in LA. He raised his head to look at me, and my breath caught when his eyes met mine. The dark look in them made my abdomen clench. But then reality rebooted, and I blinked, remembering where and when we were.

I crossed my arms, feigning indifference as his eyes travelled down my body.

“Is that the hoodie we got you?” he asked, voice rough and low.

I frowned, looking down at myself. Shorts and a hoodie.