As if in silent agreement, they answered me, one by one.
Minjae went first. “I would tell myself not to worry so much about perfection. We spent so much time trying to be perfect, when our fans just wanted us to be authentic.”
Woojin nodded, before saying. “I would tell myself to take a vacation. We thought we could rest in the military. We were idiots.” This earned a laugh from all the members and assembled crew.
Sungmin said something to the interpreter, making the members laugh, and Seokmin affectionately ruffled his hair. I turned to the interpreter, and she said, “Lee Sungmin says he would tell his younger self not to dye his shaved head green, because people called him a tennis ball.”
I laughed, holding a hand in front of my mouth. I shared a quick look with Lee, and he shrugged helplessly.
“Ace?” I prompted, not realising I had been so informal until the word was out of my mouth, and I immediately clamped it shut. But he seemed pleased, smiling broadly before saying, “I would tell young Seokmin to eat more tteokbokki and enjoy his life.”
I grinned, even as I shook my head. I missed you on the tip of my tongue. I bit it to keep the words inside.
I waited a beat longer, but Jihoon said nothing. He was looking down at his clenched fists.
I nodded to myself and said, “Thank you very much for your time, GVibes. I really enjoyed your concert, and I’m sure you’ll do well tonight.”
I was just reaching for my recorder, when a voice halted me. A voice I hadn’t heard in real-time for so long.
“You were there?”
The question was quiet, but it cut through the chatter like thunder, resonant in its impact. The members seemed to freeze. All but one, and that one called to me like an inexplicable force, bringing my eyes up to meet his for the first time in years.
He didn’t move, but still he seemed like a live wire in the intensity, the set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw. All this I observed in the split second it took me to take inventory before my eyes collided with his.
The impact was visceral. Lightning shot down my spine, heat amassing in my belly and pressure building behind my ribs until it felt like my heart might explode.
“Yes,” barely a word, more an exhalation.
He said nothing, but he shoved a hand in his pocket, the other resting on the arm of the sofa, opening and closing reflexively, as if he had a cramp.
I willed myself to move, to unfreeze, to not be there any longer.
I leaned forward, picked up my recorder, turned it off and slipped it back into my bag.
I stood up, hesitating slightly over how to say goodbye, or if I even should.
Minjae, surprised me again by getting up off the sofa and moving around the coffee table to reach for my hand.
My mouth fell open for a second before I recovered myself, reached out and gently took his warm hand in mine.
He squeezed my hand, ever so slightly as he smiled down at me.
“Good to see you, Kaiya,” he said quietly enough that the camera wouldn’t pick it up.
I smiled up at him, proud that my chin didn’t tremble under the weight of his gaze. He was someone whose approval I had once wanted so desperately.
Once upon a time.
I walked out of the room and back into the cooler corridor.
As soon the door closed behind me, I gasped, bending over to put my hands on my knees, gulping in great lungfuls of air as though emerging from beneath the surface of the ocean.
Professional. I was a professional. This was a job.
I quickly straightened up as the organiser walked out a moment later. She frowned at me, but said nothing, and together we walked back to the main hall, where I reclaimed my seat, and watched as she called another publication to go in for their turn.
I’d been middle of the pack, so it was another hour or so, before the interview part of the junket was complete.
