“We spent hours doing fan-calls,” he said, blowing out a tired breath. “I lost count of how many people I spoke to.”
This was a new thing they’d started doing. It was a new type of fan engagement, called a fan call. It was quite self-explanatory, and basically involved a person being able to buy, or win a one-on-one video call with a performer, or group, of their choice.
It was meant to be a temporary measure to replace the in-person fan-sign events that usually preceded concerts, but it was proving to be so successful, and being replicated with a lot of performers, that I couldn’t help but suspect it might become a permanent feature. An additional way for fans to interact with their bias.
I had seen some videos posted online by Vibers, showing their brief interactions, and for the most part, they were lovely. People were genuinely just delighted to have their favourite performerfor even just a minute or two. It was hard to deny their infectious joy.
“Seokmin says he is practising English more now than he ever does with his tutor,” Jihoon scoffed, shaking his head ruefully, and I giggled.
“Did I tell you he keeps sending me a Korean word-of-the-day?”
“No,” he said slowly as his eyes narrowed. “What words?”
“Well, some of them are innocent. Useful, likenabiorbeoteo,” I said carefully pronouncing the Korean words for butterfly and butter. “But some have questionable usefulness. Likejugeullae, orhorosaekki-”
Jihoon choked, coughing violently before pounding a fist against his chest, all the while growing progressively redder. I grinned, watching his expression go from tired-neutral to scandalised-amusement.
“I think I should talk to our maknae about his qualifications as an English teacher,” he wheezed.
I let him catch his breath for a moment before I moved the topic back to his day. I didn’t get to talk to him nearly as often as I liked. I missed him so much. I missed hearing him talk, it didn’t matter what about. I felt greedy for his time.
“I saw you got trapped in Woojin’s live this morning,” I prompted, which caused him to roll his head back and groan in annoyance. Although, I couldn’t help but suspect it was mostly embarrassment. He’d been brushing his teeth at the time, seemingly walking through the apartment when he’d inadvertently walked through the living room where Woojin had been live.
As a group, they’d ramped up their individual lives so that at least one member was live every other day – even if only for a few minutes. I knew Jihoon hated this, as they were all livingtogether. It was common to walk in on another member’s live, and be roped into it, like he had been this morning. He preferred doing his in a calm, quiet environment so he could actually interact with his fans, which was maybe one of his favourite things to do with Vibers – aside from perform for them.
“I keep asking them to do it in their studios,” he grumbled, refocusing on the screen.
I grimaced in solidarity. He put on a good game face, but he’d escaped this morning at the first opportunity he got.
“I guess all the lives and fan calls help you to stay connected to people, though?”
“We are missing our fans,” he confessed, looking as worn down as I’d ever seen him. “But seeing how happy they were to see us is amazing. I can’t describe the feeling.”
He shook his head, as if he really was at a loss for words. And probably, I never would get it, but I was happy to see him happy. It made a pleasant change to how he’d been lately. Always tired, always slightly stressed. Day after day, he grew less cheerful, less vibrant, and I didn’t know why.
He was suddenly taken over by a yawn so wide I could hear his jaw crack.
“You need sleep, Joon,” I said softly. My fingers ached to reach for him, but knowing all I’d touch was cold, hard plastic, I kept my hands in my lap.
He nodded, and then dipped his head. I heard the question before he even said the words.
“Can you leave your camera on,jagiya?” His eyes flicked up, but never met mine.
“Of course, baby.” I smiled, even if he didn’t see it. Even though it trembled slightly.
Recently, he’d been asking me to leave our camera feed on while he slept. We muted ourselves, but I think he liked the idea that I was there. Watching over him.
He’d started having night terrors. Undefined, formless nightmares he couldn’t describe, only that they made him feel as if he would never be happy again. Nightmares that only seemed to be kept at bay by the idea that I might be there to fight them off. That was if he spoke about them at all.
So, instead of forcing him to talk about what he couldn’t bring himself to say, I did what he needed me to do. To be there. Even from five thousand miles away.
Chapter 19
July
The message box popped up on my laptop, drawing my attention from scouring online message boards. I was doing some research for an article James had assigned me on how the pandemic was affecting the indie music scene.
James M
