Page 31

“There’s a vending machine at the end of the hall.”

He laughed softly before his brows furrowed. “I saw your photos on your social media last night. Did you have a good time?”

I frowned, tilting my head to the side as I tried to decipher the look on his face, thinking back to the few photos Sihyeon and I had taken on our night out.

“Yes,” I said tentatively.

“You looked very pretty, Kaiya. I did not like it.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes, which had been roaming over me as if he was checking for something, suddenly locked with mine. “It made me jealous. I did not enjoy it. It is a personal failing.” he smiled crookedly and shook his head.

I stared up at him, the demonstration of self-awareness surprising me. “Ah, is that why you’re here? Well tough luck. I don’t owe you an explanation for how I spend my time.”

“I told you Kaiya, I’m not giving up until you tell me there’s no hope.” He stepped closer, brushing against my folded arms. “And you haven’t told me to stop.”

I shivered, feeling the heat of his chest against me, suddenly so aware of him. My mouth fell open as I tipped my head back to keep his gaze.

At that moment, I heard the shower shut off. Unthinking, I uncrossed my arms and put my hands on his chest and pushed. He didn’t move. All I’d done was brought my body closer to his. He looked down at me with such dark intent that my lungs seized as I stared at him, feeling his chest beneath my fingers, and the way his breath hitched. Involuntarily, my fingers curled.

I heard the click of the bathroom lock.

“Leave!” I hissed, yanking the door open and pushing in earnest, which he thankfully allowed as there was no way I would have been strong enough if he’d actually put up a fight. I closed the door just in time, leaning against it, trying to hide how breathless I was felt just as Sihyeon walked out, wrapped in a towel, steam billowing out from behind her.

“Who was that?” She asked curiously, dragging a towel through her hair.

“Wrong room,” I smiled weakly, hiding my shaking hands behind my back.

Chapter 13

The Tokyo concerts were incredible, and about as similar to the shows in Seoul as they were different.

Conceptually and visually they were the same. The track list hadn’t changed, except for the song played during the encore that had been voted for by the Tokyo ticket holders. On paper, the performance was almost identical, but in many ways, it felt brand new. There was a feeling that this was the real start to the international part of the tour. Korea had been home; this was ‘on tour’.

I spent the first day in a hospitality booth and the second day in the crowd. The booth was pretty much an identical experience to Korea, and while ‘detached’ might not be the exact word, it would at least be accurate to say that it lacked the vibrancy of the crowd.

It was a kind of relief to be back in the crowd for day two, because that was where I got to experience what a GVibes concert was like in Japan. It was fascinating to see all the subtle ways it was different, and all the ways in which it was the same.

We stayed in Tokyo for a few days after the second show to rest. Or rather, to allow the group to rest. The concerts may have only been a few hours from the start of soundcheck to the final encore, but it was a full day of work for them. They got up early to workout or do something like Pilates, and then they’d do vocal warm-ups. Somewhere in there they’d fit in breakfast and then head to the venue around midday.

There were hours of waiting around, and then more hours of hair and makeup, and a million other little details that went into the tapestry of their day. I wasn’t present for any of that, but I knew from speaking with some of the staff that it was considered normal for the guys to fall asleep on the sofas in the green room, or in the stylist’s chairs. And all of that was before the incredibly physically demanding show. The stamina they had was superhuman.

I liked to think that they spent their downtime relaxing, but I knew from social media that they had all ventured out into the city to do various things.

I’d laughed for five minutes flat when I saw the video of Lee and Ace speeding through the streets in little themed Go Karts dressed up as video-game characters. I wondered if anyone had realised that two members of one of the biggest group in the world had sped past them. Probably not.

GVibes had already left Tokyo this morning, and the rest of us followed throughout the day. Half of the tour group travelled by coach to Osaka, but I had opted to go with another group by train. We took the Shinkansen – the bullet train – from Tokyo to Osaka. I watched the Japanese countryside speed past at 180 miles per hour, absolutely enthralled.

The country was a sprawling mass of rolling hills interspersed with smaller, built-up areas.

It made me feel ignorant. The image I’d had in my mind of what Japan looked like was some amalgamation of shining, futuristic cities like Tokyo, and the ethereal silhouette of Mount Fuji. The reality speeding past my little window was of a rural landscape and working towns. To me, it looked like Japan was vast swathes of empty countryside, dotted with stepping-stone villages between one city to the next.

It was in this introspective mood that I wondered if I was seeing the same things as my mum, nearly twenty-nine years ago. She’d taught in a village in the Kyoto Prefecture. I knew the name of it, and while I couldn’t pick it out on a map, I knew she’d travelled this same route. I’d seen it on the map at Shinagawa station. Kyoto was one stop before Osaka. It may not have been this exact train, but it would have been this route. Through the same towns, overlooking the same countryside. Maybe I was seeing the same things she had.

My eyes pricked, and I looked away from the window, blinking furiously, glancing around, but no one was looking. I took a breath, letting it out slowly as I leaned my head back against the seat.

I wondered if Ryo… Mr Fujiwara… I cringed. I couldn’t call him my dad even in my head. My dad was Ernest Thompson, and he was at home in Cumbria right now. Ryo Fujiwara was a stranger. But I couldn’t help but wonder if that stranger had read the letter I’d sent. It must have gotten to his family’s home address by now. Even if he didn’t live there anymore, surely they would have passed it to him? I squeezed my eyes shut, the circular ‘what-if’ scenario only led to more dead-ends and questions I didn’t want to answer, so I pushed it down.