Page 85

Back at the hotel, I let everyone else off before I wearily got to my feet. I stepped off the bus, and took a moment to close my eyes, hearing the distant hum of voices as everyone drifted across the parking lot to the entrance of the hotel, leaving me to absorb the night-time chorus of cicadas and the honking of traffic – the strange combination of urban density and the extensive green spaces making São Paulo a curious hybrid I’d come to enjoy.

I yelped as a hand wrapped around my wrist, and my eyes flew open, slamming into his as he stared down at me.

“Come,” he said, and then in a softer tone, “Please.”

I swallowed my protest and allowed myself to be led over to the group’s van. The side door was open, and Jihoon guided me up and into the large interior, closing the door behind me. Immediately, the outside noise was muffled, and though there was low-lighting from the ceiling, I could barely discern the expression on his face as we stood facing each other.

“Joon, what the–”

“What’s going on?” His voice was low and combined with the shadows cast from the dim lighting, his entire countenance took on a level of intensity I didn’t know how to interpret. I leaned further away. “What?”

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked roughly.

I blinked at the question, because whatever I had expected him to say, that hadn’t been it.

“I’m looking at you right now,” I replied slowly.

He shook his head, looking away for a moment, and I watched the way his jaw clenched. “No. All night. Yesterday too. You have avoided me. Why? What did I do?”

I couldn’t deny it. I had avoided him all night, and yesterday after the concert. I hadn’t realised he’d noticed the way my eyes had skated over him. I’d gone backstage afterwards to record a couple of immediate post-show quotes from the group. But I’d barely been there for more than ten minutes.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m not avoiding you.” I shrugged.

“Look at me,” he asked.

I raised my face.

“Kaiya. Look at me,” he begged when my eyes couldn’t seem to go higher than the bridge of his nose.

“What did I do?” He reached for me, his hands hovering close enough that I felt the air shift, but he stopped just short of brushing my hands.

The air in the van suddenly felt too thick to drag in enough air. It stuck in my throat, catching on the explanation, because how did I tell him it was because I felt… something about seeing her at his show? My face burned, and I was absurdly grateful for the dim lighting.

I took a breath. I had two choices. I could pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about, brush it off and continue to live in this acidic, grey area. Or, I could talk to him.

So much of our relationship had been me swallowing down my emotions because I didn’t feel important enough to burden him with the way I felt. But as he’d pointed out in Toronto, I was not the same person I’d once been, and if there was any chance of us moving on, I needed to remember who I was, and that I mattered.

“Lee Hyejin was in the suite with me yesterday,” I said frankly, lifting my eyes to his and seeing the way they pinched as my words registered. “Her entire group was there.”

He nodded slowly.

“The managers told us they had come to watch,” he said eventually.

“They didn’t go backstage to see you?” I hadn’t seen them when I’d gone down afterwards, but the backstage of a stadium was a big place. I’d assumed…

He shook his head. “No.”

It didn’t make me feel better. Maybe it should have, but my hurt didn’t stem from anything quite so recent.

I didn’t want to ask the next question, I really didn’t. But I needed to if I was ever going to move past this.

“Joon, maybe this isn’t my business, but–”

I looked down, the weight of possibility dragging my gaze to the floor, because I didn’t know what I’d do with whatever expression I might see on his face.

“Did you–with her–did you ever…” I clenched my fists and straightened my shoulders. “Did it become real?” The second the words were out, I worried he might think I was asking if he’d slept with her, when what I was actually asking was whether they had developed feelings for each other. Which was perhaps two answers to the same question.

I picked a spot on the carpet and stared at it as if I was expecting the threads to answer. I knew he was studying me. I could feel him as surely as I could feel the time it took for him to answer like a physical weight on my shoulders.