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It was frustrating, because with each passing week, every city stop, every conversation backstage, I felt a little closer to something that resembled friendship. And yet, a little more desperate, because in a handful of months, the tour would end. My contract would end. They would go back to being GVibes in Korea, and I would return to my life… somewhere.

Standing in the crowded corridor, backstage at Broadcasting House minutes after they’d left, felt like a metaphor for our whole relationship.

Walking through the crowd at Tottenham Stadium gave me that familiar feeling of home. I knew this particular stadium so well I probably could have drawn a decent map.

On day one I’d gone back and forth between backstage and subtly slipping into the standing area, which was easily done, given the pitch layout. A few people had noticed me doing so, eyeing my lanyard with interest before I disappeared into the crowd. I’d wanted to see the Auriga set up in London from the floor level, as the show started a little earlier in London due to the local sound restrictions preventing it from finishing too late.

It was incredible, as always, but something about London made me somehow feel more emotional than I would have expected, and as I watched the fireworks shooting into the sky at the end of the show, I didn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t swept up by it.

By the end of the night my feet were aching, my back was sore, my hair was plastered to my skin, my throat hurt, but most of all, my cheeks ached from how broadly I’d been grinning.

If someone had told me that every night on the same tour would feel different, I would have come up with a half-dozen reasons as to how that wasn’t likely. I’d have been wrong, and I’ve rarely been so delighted to be so.

I opted to spend the second show in one of the hospitality suites. It was a mixed space, feeling more like a bar lounge, and it was filled with a variety of people who had bought the VIP package. Dozens of people milled around, chatting, drinking and enjoying themselves while I sat on a sofa, minding my own business and catching up on my emails before the show. I was just checking my social media when I noticed that the host of the Radio 4 show that I’d appeared on last year – Pete Gurney – had commented on my selfie from outside of Broadcasting House.

‘Welcome back! See you in the studio soon?’

I pinched my lips together as my entire body locked up in a fizzy kind of glee. The kind of excitement you got when the coolest kid at school remembered your name. Juvenile? Absolutely, but professionally very, very cool.

I was sending a victorious message to Becka when I became aware of someone standing over me. I looked up to see a young woman staring down at me.

“Uh, hi,” I said, confused. “You okay?”

“Are you Kaiya Thompson?” she asked with no preamble.

I studied her face, trying to place her, to match her features by running through my mental catalogue of people I knew.

“The journalist on the tour?” she interrupted my thought process, with a tone that implied I needed to be reminded of who I was.

“Oh!” I recoiled. “Um, yes,” I said hesitantly.

“Oh my god, I’ve followed you for ages!” She grinned at me, while all I could do was blink up at her. “I’ve read all the pieces you’ve done for the tour so far, you’re so good!”

“Oh,” I repeated, feeling like for all the words of mine she’d read, I had none to give her right now, because what did a person do when confronted in a situation like this? “I’m really glad you like them,” I said eventually, trying to muster up a weak smile.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful – I was – I just had no idea how to have this conversation.

“Do you mind me asking how you got to be on the tour?” She carried on, seemingly oblivious to my awkwardness. “I read your bio and saw you worked for ENT? How did you get a job there?”

“Um…”

“Ah, you probably can’t say, yeah?” The girl laughed, like my hesitation had been because of some corporate confidentiality clause, and not the simple matter that my famous boyfriend had nepo-babied me into the company.

“I saw your photos from Seoul. Did you know that you lived so close to GVibes? Did ENT put you up in the same building?”

I heard the words, I understood the words, but when strung together the comprehension seemed to fade out before rebounding and smacking me in the face like a string of conkers.

“I’m sorry,” I spluttered, “huh?”

“Oh, you really didn’t know?” She blinked at me and then laughed. “Yeah, you can totally tell. There’s a bunch of photos you took from your balcony?” she said like she was asking a question. “And the view is almost exactly the same as Baek Jihoon’s from his flat, except lower down? There’s this whole online group who tried to figure out where the group lived using photos like that. Not that I’m in that group,” she said hurriedly, waving her hands. “Anyway, you must have been in the same building. Maybe ENT owns it,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you ever see any of the members?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Thankfully, it was at that moment that the VCR that had been playing in the background came to the crescendo that preceded the members coming out on stage, and I became far less interesting than I had been a moment ago.

“See you later!” She threw over her shoulder as she jogged across the suite to the balcony, catching up with her group. I hadn’t even caught her name.

I joined the other fans at the balcony, careful to stay apart from the crowd, but throughout the performance I caught a few people turning their heads in my direction, shooting me curious glances. Nothing about it felt malicious, or crossed any boundaries, but I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t strange, and not for the first time I wondered how anyone ever got used to this feeling of being observed.

Chapter 31