Jinwoo's jaw tightened. "That stops now."
The band lingered for a few more minutes. Then they filtered out and melted back into the current of handlers and staff, the machinery that kept us moving.
When the door closed behind them, quiet returned.
It was different now. It didn't feel like isolation.
Griffin guided me to the couch. I slid my hand over his and laced our fingers together.
The contact was ordinary, but the significance wasn't ordinary at all.
Griffin stroked the side of my index finger with his thumb.
"I'm not going back," I said.
"Good."
We left the venue through a corridor that was supposed to be private and never truly was. There were always eyes, people who made a living out of proximity to our lives.
A staff member nodded at me. Another avoided looking directly at us, as if he were afraid his gaze would become evidence.
Outside, the night air hit my skin and made me shiver. Seattle in May had a damp chill that seeped into bones. The air smelled like rain on concrete and something fried from a food truck parked near the alley.
Griffin walked at my side. Close enough that his shoulder almost brushed mine.
In the past, I would have stepped away by reflex.
This time, I didn't move. I didn't hold his hand in public. That wasn't necessary. I simply remained beside him.
A camera flash popped from across the street. My pulse jumped. My body wanted to retreat.
Griffin's voice was low, near my ear. "You good?" It was a basic check-in.
I exhaled. "I'm good."
In the van on the way back to our hotel, Minjae sat across from us, knees pulled up, hoodie sleeves covering his hands. He watched me as if he were trying to memorize a new shape of me.
Taemin leaned back with his eyes closed, but his mouth curved slightly.
Jinwoo stared out the window at the city lights sliding by, the reflection ghosting his face.
No one addressed it directly. That was their gift to me.
Soyeon, in the front passenger seat, typed steadily on her tablet. Coordinating. Managing. The machine adjusting to its new configuration.
She glanced back once. Met my eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Calgary in three days," she said in Korean. Neutral. Professional. "Do you need anything adjusted in the schedule?"
It was a small question, meaning: Are you functional? Can you perform? Will this break the tour?
"No," I said. "We continue as planned."
She nodded once and returned to her tablet.
Back at the hotel, we headed directly for the elevators. Griffin's hand hovered near the small of my back, not touching, just present.
The doors opened, and we stepped inside.
