Page 101 of A World Apart
We were quiet for a while, enjoying the peace of the garden, the warm sunshine tempered by the cool of the water and the shade of the trees.
“Did you always want to be an idol?” I realised we didn’t really talk about his life. I’d always been too wary of seeming too fan-like, but I hoped we were past that now because I really did want to know. It was such a large part of his life; it didn’t make sense to tiptoe around it.
Jihoon was quiet for so long I wasn’t sure he would answer.
“Yes, and no.
“I always wanted to sing and perform. I knew I didn’t want the same life my parents have − always moving around and chasing business deals.” He sighed.
“They didn’t support you?” I guessed.
“Not at first. That’s why they sent me to New York. They thought that if I was further away from Korea, I’d lose interest and want to do something else.
“But my imo and imobu, they saw how determined I was to be a trainee and they wanted to make sure I at least had a chance, so they flew us all back to Korea and took me to the audition for ENT. I was accepted and moved into the dorms and by the time they told my parents, it was too late. My parents couldn’t take me out without embarrassment, and that’s something they will avoid at all costs.”
He laughed, but it was a bitter sounding thing. My chest hurt for him, especially when I think about how my own parents would do anything to support something I was passionate about, without a second thought.
“You proved them wrong though,” I said with complete conviction, because he had.
“I proved I could do what I set out to do, but I don’t think they see it that way.They would not have chosen this life for me.”
“Would you make the same decision again?” I feared that I may be digging too deep, but he answered anyway.
“Yes. The life I have is hard, getting here was even harder. We were always tired, always hungry, always hurting, but when I see our fans, it’s all worth it. All the suffering was worth it to know we make people happy. They make us happy. The feeling we get from them when we meet on stage is… I can’t describe it.”
I could hear the emotion in his voice, and I could only imagine his world − so far removed from mine and most other people’s.
The sincerity in his tone was undeniable. He really felt that way, and even though this seemed like a vulnerable moment, I could tell he drew a lot of strength from the relationship he and his group had with their fans. “Do you think you’ll do this forever?”
“I hope so.” His answer was so immediate, it was either practiced or deeply sincere. Both possibilities gave me something to think about as we lapsed back into calm silence.
Later, I stood over the massive stove top after finally figuring out how to turn it on.
“That smells so good!” Jihoon moaned, coming up behind me and leaning over my shoulder to see what I was doing. Ordinarily, if someone did that whilst I was cooking, it would have been reasonable grounds to be swatted with a spoon, but I somehow didn’t mind when it was Jihoon. His still-damp hair tickled my cheek as he leaned in, inhaling the fragrant steam.
Neither one of us had bothered showering after getting out of the pool, both agreeing we’d be going into the hot tub after dinner, both of us fully aware of the clock counting down the hours until we had to leave. Jihoon had a car coming to pick him up at 5:00am for a red-eye back to Korea. Our time was limited; we wanted to make the most of what we had left, so hot tubit would be.
“It’s nearly ready.” I stirred the contents of the pan, smiling at his enthusiasm. It wasn’t as if I’d made anything as fancy as I’m sure he was used to, just a chicken and broccoli stir fry with a honey, soy and garlic sauce. The soy sauce had been in the fridge, the other ingredients we’d picked up from the corner store. I’d practically had this exact same meal every week whilst I’d lived about that corner shop in Clapham last year.
While I was at the stove, I directed Jihoon to cut up some of the bakery loaf we’d picked up on the way home. I’d tried explaining the concept of buttered bread alongside a meal to him, but he hadn’t really gotten it, until I’d jokingly said it was the banchan of northern England.
We decided to sit at the kitchen island for the sake of ease. There was something so domestic about preparing a meal together and then sitting down to eat it. It made my heart swell to watch him take the first bite. He groaned and pretended to slide off the chair and onto the floor, making me laugh as I pulled him back up by the arm. Maybe it was the ingredients we’d used today, but that simple meal tasted far better that day than any of the times I’d made it last year.
“I get it now,” he said around a mouthful of bread and butter, “this is so good.”
“I told you,” I laughed, taking a bite of my own bread after using it to mop up the excess sauce on the plate.
“If all food tastes like this in your hometown, I want to go.”
I laughed even harder. “That’ll be pie’n’peas and a sausage then.”
Jihoon cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know what you just said.”
I howled with laughter.
The sun was finally beginning to dip below the edge of the tree line, bathing the garden in an orange glow that reflected back off the windows of the house. A slight breeze had rolled on through, making the leaves in the trees rustle peacefully as we made our way across the lawn, each carrying a beer in hand as we headed towards the hot tub.
We’d managed to find the indoor switch that activated the bubbles and the heat and we’d waited about half an hour for it to warm up before heading out, giving us enough time to clean up after dinner. We were still wearing our swimming things from earlier, so we hadn’t neededto change.
