There, in a crowd of people happily chattering, I felt like an island. Part of the crowd, but irrevocably apart because my familiarity not only isolated me from their likeness, but my absence from the member’s lives also drew me further away.
Once, we’d been a world apart, now it felt like we had the whole world between us.
Thankfully, I was pulled out of my sudden melancholy by a surge in the crowd as the gates were opened, allowing admittance in multiple, orderly queues. Being closer to the front, I was let into the area quickly enough to get to one of the concession stands, where I spent an eye watering amount of money on a single bottle of water.
My seat was in the stands, but right at the front. The barrier in front was the only thing separating me from the field, which had been laid out with chairs.
If I’d thought the atmosphere outside the stadium was excited, it was nothing compared to the electric feeling inside the arena. The ambient sound of people talking coalesced to give a singular voice to the thousands of Vibers now streaming into the stadium, and I marvelled once more at the assembled mass of fans. People from all over the country, not just LA, had congregated here, all for the same reason. It was humbling to see.
And there it was again.
That spark of pride I felt for the group.
I sighed. I could no more suppress the feeling than I could suppress the nervous apprehension I felt at the knowledge that in two days I would be in a room with them, no longer able to pretend I could hide in a crowd.
It was time to accept what I couldn’t change and go along with it.
With that mindset that I found my seat, and settled in for the show.
I’d never settled on how I was expecting to feel once I saw them on that stage – so much closer than expected, yet still far enough away to allow myself to enjoy the show as just another Viber.
I expected to feel a range of emotions. Pride, yes. Excitement – I had been a Viber before I’d been a friend, or girlfriend. Sadness for a world I didn’t belong to anymore.
Grief. For so many things.
I kept reminding myself that it was okay to not be okay. Peace came with a price.
The first hour of the concert was like immersion therapy. I was really going through it, and I was grateful that the the stadium was dark enough to hide the tears that ran down my face, but honestly, who would have looked my way when the group so spectacularly held the attention of the entire stadium?
The concert was nearly at an end when Minjae announced the next song would be a bit different, because it wasn’t one from any of their group albums. The entire stadium fell silent with a hush I could almost reach out and touch.
“The next song we’re going to perform for you was written by our very own Jihoon. I know you know it.”
My heart stilled, even as it swelled inside my chest, as I heard those familiar first bars and for just a second, I was in a studio, thousands of miles away, in a world that had collided with another.
He stood on the stage alone, the other members choosing to stand away, or take that time to rest, sprawling on the stage, chests heaving as they looked up at him. The cameras all panned in to focus on him as he gently held the standing mic in his hands in the same way he’d once cradled my face.
At first, the song was the same one the world had heard as it had stormed the charts, but then-
Hold onto me, even if it’s just for tonight
Don’t let me fade
Pull me closer, like you did before
Hold on, until we can’t anymore
I raised a hand to my mouth, barely feeling the way my lips trembled as I listened to him change to the English version of the song. It was the same song he’d played for me in his studio. The song he’d posted online mere months after we’d broken up.
If I was really honest, I’d always wondered if maybe it had been for me. It was a thought I would never admit to anyone else, wouldn’t even say the words aloud – but here, just a soul in an ocean of them, I admitted that maybe, this had been mine.
From that though, came the dangerous thought: was it still mine?
I shut the hotel door behind me and strode into my room, shaking my hands as if I was trying to shake water off them. I walked in front of the bed, over to the windows, and then back again. I paused in the middle of the room, one hand on my hip, the other on my forehead.
Surely, my heart had been thumping for longer than was healthy, and I pressed a hand to my chest now, willing it to calm down.
Not everything was about me.
