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“Because of him?”
I nodded. “Because of him.”
“Ky, do you want to get back together with him?”
I dragged a hand down my face. I’d also drunkenly confessed that part to Tae on our ill-thought-out New Years call.
“That’s not why I agreed to go on this tour.”
“I know. But that’s not what I asked.”
I groaned, trying to compress my thoughts into something coherent, instead of the swirling mess they’d been in for days. Weeks.
“I want to cover this tour. I want my name in the byline. I want this credit so badly…” My fingers scraped over the linoleum, catching on the ragged edge.
When I didn’t continue – couldn’t continue, Tae made a sympathetic noise.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think this is great for you. You’re right about all the positives this tour will do for your career, but I think you’re forgetting that going on tour is really fucking awesome, mate. The different countries, the people you’ll meet, the stuff you’ll see. It makes it all worth it.”
I took a breath, because that was exactly what I’d needed to hear. I’d been so hyper-focused on two things: my career and my ex. I’d forgotten that I’d be travelling all over the world for the better part of a year.
“That does sound pretty cool,” I conceded with a small grin.
“Attagirl. And if you can resist falling into your ex’s bed–”
“Tae!”
“Oops, I slipped,” he mocked in a falsetto, presumably meaning to be me.
“Taeyang!” I gaped at the screen, scandalised.
“Oops, how did that get in there?”
“MIN TAEYANG, I SWEAR TO GOD!”
He was doubled over laughing and it was impossible not to laugh along with him.
“Fucking pabo,” I grumbled, which only made him laugh more.
“Hearing you insult me in Korean is one of my favourite things,” he chuckled, dragging a hand across his cheeks.
I rolled my eyes. “It should be common enough to you, by now.”
“Hasn’t gotten old yet. Anyway mate, I gotta go.”
“Yeah, alright. Say hi to your mum for me?”
“Will do. Later!”
The call dropped, and the small kitchenette seemed to echo with our fading giggles, cutting through the tension that had pressed down on me before. I smiled, putting my phone on the counter, pressing play on the podcast I’d been listening to, and got back on my knees to tackle the grime on the oven door that I was absolutely certain had been there before I’d moved in.
Chapter 2
January 11th
Ialways woke up early on weekdays, but today I was up before the sun was even a hint on the horizon. My little studio flat still smelled of cleaning products. The unfamiliar, clinical scent had the dual effect of waking me up more effectively than an alarm, and making my flat feel even more transitory than it had ever before. It was as if I was living in a waiting room, knowing I’d be leaving soon.
Across the flat, I’d stacked plastic bags to take to the recycling centre, filled with things I was getting rid off, and in another corner was a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting for me to fill with the few possessions I would take up to my parent’s house Cumbria.
