It feels like forever that my arm is outstretched, but eventually I hear him sigh, a deep sound that could be mistaken for a groan. “Thisis how it is, then.” His voice is soft and musing, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. He plucks the watch out of my hand.
My throat is hot and swollen. I want to cry but can’t, not in front of him when this is all my own doing.
The car stops, and I peer out the tinted window as layers of security converge on us. My heart stutters with nerves even though I’m not doing a thing except cowering in the back corner of the car. Jihoon takes a deep breath and makes a call, muttering as he scans what’s waiting for him outside. He’s all business now, and I’m grateful for the change.
“Kit hyeong and Daehyun are out of their car. In thirty seconds, my door will open,” he says after he ends the call. “You need to be as far away as possible. Keep your head down.”
“I will.” Precise instructions are necessary because I’m so far out of my depth, I’m basically in the Mariana Trench.
“May I hug you goodbye?” he asks, hands gripping his knees.
I can only nod. He pulls me close for a moment, his hands tight on my arms and his lips brushing my cheek. “I wish this could be different. I wish you had the courage.” His voice is husky. “Bye, Ari.”
“Bye, Jihoon.” To my shame, my voice hitches because I’m going to cry. Logically I haven’t known him long enough to be this attached, but this is beyond anything logical. My heart hammers so hard that I can barely hear the roar of the crowd over the rush in my ears.
Jihoon leans over to tug up my mask and opens his mouth as if to say something. Instead he runs a hand through his hair before the door opens to a flash so dazzling, it’s like I’ve been hit with a spotlight. The pulsating wall of brightness from media cameras and fan phones pushes me farther back as I instinctively cover my face with my arm. Even amid this, Jihoon is careful to only open the door enough for him to climb out, minimizing the crowd’s ability to see inside.
He doesn’t look back.
“Can anyone see through these windows?” I ask the driver after the door closes.
He’s staring at the commotion, mouth slightly open. “No, ma’am, they’re completely opaque.”
With that assurance, I scoot across to the window to watch Jihoon go. He joins two other men, who must be Kit and Daehyun, and the three of them bow repeatedly as the earsplitting screams become louder, even in the car. A woman tries to fight her way through and is almost tackled by security as the three members of StarLune bow one last time and wave, posing to give the cameras and fans a moment to drink their fill.
“Holy goddamn,” says the driver. He glances at me. “Excuse my French. I’ve never seen a crowd like this, and I drove for Harry Styles.”
“Do you think anyone will follow us?” I ask. My wretchedness about Jihoon has been submerged under new and worrying concerns for our personal safety.
“I’ll be careful,” the driver promises. We watch as Jihoon and his friends are engulfed by even more security and disappear as they enter the airport. The moment the doors shut behind them, the crowds flow into the space they left, chanting and cheering. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, please.”
“Got it.” He puts the car in gear as I check my phone. Unbelievably, Jihoon is trending with video footage from seconds ago. It’s weird to see him from multiple angles. He’s making a gesture I recognize from my deep dive but don’t know the meaning of, so I text Hana, my expert on all things Jihoon.
Me:What’s he doing with his hands? It’s like he’s crossing his thumb and finger.
Hana:Hand heart. Means I like u / love u
Jihoon had turned his body slightly when making the hand heart, almost back toward the car.
Or he’s doing it to the adoring fans and I’m reading way too much into it. I must be, because I don’t deserve anything from him.
The driver turns around. “Ma’am, do you want to go back to your car or somewhere else?”
“The car.” I don’t want to leave it overnight at a gas station.
“On our way.”
He goes back to driving as I do my best to not think about what happened. I glance over and see my watch sitting on the black leather. Jihoon forgot it. I reach out with shaking fingers and take it back. I can give it to Hana to send to him, perhaps.
I slide the band through my fingers and tilt it back and forth so the diamonds on the watch face reflect the highway lights as I think of the airport crowd. Mob, really. There were so many people screaming and chanting Min’s name.Kay,Min,DeeDee, over and over, like they were more than men. Their hands had been desperate to touch and their owners to be seen. I can barely put into words how paralyzing it was, and I’d been safe in the car. How did Jihoon feel being exposed like that? What did he think about when the crowds reached for him?
I’ll never know.
I straighten in my seat and shove the watch deep in my bag. Then I take my phone and bring up the invite he sent me for after his concert.
It hurts when I decline.
