Kang ended his call. Looked at me for the first time since we'd cleared the threshold. His expression was carefully neutral.
"Good work," he said in English. Then he switched to Korean, speaking to the local contractors.
I watched him walk away, already managing the next crisis. A PR statement went out before we reached the vehicles.
Soyeon typed on her tablet while walking, fingers moving fast. The words ignored what I'd witnessed.
Violet Frequency thanks LA fans for the incredible airport welcome! Your energy and love mean everything. See you tonight at the show!
Accompanied by a photo taken mid-breach, cropped to look like enthusiasm instead of chaos.
The vans idled in the secure loading zone. We loaded efficiently.
I ended up in van two with Rune, Taemin, and Minjae. Soyeon took the front passenger seat, still on her phone, managing the narrative in real-time.
Rune sat across from me in a rear-facing seat. When the van slowed, our knees bumped together and then separated. I watched the fine tremors in his hands when he pulled out his phone.
He stared out the window as the van pulled away from the terminal, watching LAX disappear into heavy afternoon traffic on the 105. His reflection in the glass showed hollowed-out exhaustion.
I wanted to reach across the narrow space and still the tremor in his hands.
I couldn't. Soyeon was three feet away. Taemin scrolled through fan reactions. Minjae curled himself into the corner, trying to make himself smaller.
Taemin showed something to Minjae, who smiled but didn't look convinced. "That was intense," Taemin said in English, voice light but eyes serious. "More people than Portland."
"LA always brings crowds," Soyeon said from the front seat. "It's normal."
Except it wasn't. The barricades had failed. That's how people in crowds were crushed.
Minjae was too quiet. I'd seen him during the surge, eyes wide, terror creeping in around the edges. He'd kept going because Jinwoo grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.
Now he sat with his hands folded in his lap, staring at nothing.
"You okay?" I asked him in Korean. I had limited vocabulary in the language, but this was enough.
He nodded quickly. "Fine."
He wasn't fine. None of them were.
Taemin started talking about the venue, asking Soyeon questions about the stage layout, anything to fill the space with words that weren't about what had just happened.
Rune's phone buzzed. He looked at it. His expression was carefully neutral, the mask sliding back into place, and he typed something back.
I knew who it had been.
Soo-jin.
Checking in. The message would be gentle. Concerned. Framed as care.
I watched Rune delete the message thread. Not read-and-archive. Delete.
The van merged onto the 10 freeway. LA spread out around us, sprawling, with afternoon sun glinting off glass towers. The handlers reviewed the schedule, confirming the call times. Standard procedure. Everything was back to normal.
Rune's fingers drummed against the leather in an anxious pattern I'd learned to recognize. Three taps, pause, two taps. Repeat.
I wanted to cover his hand with mine. I pushed my knees forward slightly.
Rune's eyes flicked down. Saw the movement. His drumming fingers stopped.
