Page 12 of A World Apart
“Ah,” he said and poked his head back into the room and said something in Korean. Not waiting for a response, he opened the door all the way and waved his arm, indicating I should come in. I was hyper aware of every part of my body as I walked past where he stretched out an arm to hold the door open. It honestly felt as though I was straining towards him, seeking out more of the body heat thatradiated from him, even through his t-shirt and jacket. And when I moved past the immediate vicinity of his body, I still felt pulled towards where I just knew he stood behind me. It was the strangest sensation.
The manager stood up as I got to the large, dark wood table that went along the length of the back of the room. He bowed to me slightly and smiled and on instinct I copied the gesture, my hair falling in front of my face as my body dipped. God, I hope I did that right.
Hurriedly, I began to pile the dishes onto the table.
In a mirror-like move from that morning, I looked down at the table, focused on my task when a pair of pale, be-ringed hands came into view and started to help. I looked up briefly, only to meethisgaze.Now his whole face was exposed; the effect was off balancing. He looked so kind and open; it was almost like we were friends, or at least acquaintances, as opposed to the total strangers we actually were.
I tried to mentally rein myself in. It was probably just because his face was so familiar to me.
We both reached for the utensils at the same time, our fingers clashing, knocking the pot over. We laughed awkwardly, muttering apologies in a mix of Korean and English.
But eventually it was all on the table and there was no reason for me to still be there.
“Ok, well, um, enjoy!” I closed my eyes briefly, mortified at how ridiculous I sounded, and I scurried back across the room. My hand was on the handle of the door before he spoke. “Thank you, Kaiya.”
I turned around and he smiled at me, inclining his head slightly. I mirrored the gesture and grinned, stupidly, probably like an idiot, but completely genuinely.
He said my name.
Chapter 5
He said my name. Baek Jihoon said my name.
I kept repeating this mantra over and over again in my head as I floated happily around the building.
And he was sonice!I mean, I hadn’t thought he’d be horrible or anything, but having it confirmed that he was actually just a nice guy was… hell if it wasn’t some kind of relief. It made him more of a real person and less of an ‘idol’.
My pace eventually slowed back to a normal, less frantic speed and I began to wonder what he was doing here. I hadn’t heard of any collaborations, normally they tease them weeks − if not months in advance. Maybe he was working on something solo.
For the rest of the day, I tried to carry on as normal, I really did. I caught up with Jeremy once I was done bringing all the boxes upstairs, I checked in with Becka to let them know Studio 3 had their food. She tried to press me for details, but I fobbed her off with the excuse that I had to get back to work − which was true, but didn’t normally stop me. I hadn’t wanted to gossip about this. It felt weird, somehow.
I wanted to keep the experience to myself, for as long as possible.
The last thing that Jeremy had me do that day was construct a drum set in Studio 1. I thought he was joking.
“I don’t know how to do that,” I told him flatly. We’d moved past the point of sugar-coating in our relationship. I’d learned early on with Jeremy that he had no time or patience for people to blow smoke up his ass.
So now, if I didn’t know something, I didn’t waste his time trying to botch my way through it, I just came out and told him.
Today he just sighed and handed me a manual.
“This should be Tech’s job,” he grumbled, “but it turns out their union is considering a strike.” He looked more tired with every word he said.
“That explains why they’ve not been around much this week.” I said, nodding my head in understanding.
“Yeah, hence why this is now our problem. It’s not just drums either,” he said darkly. “It’s never just drums.”
Honestly, he looked kind of murderous so I decided to just roll with it in the spirit of our good relationship and that despite the copious amount of donkey-work, I really did love working here.
“You can count on me, boss. Consider the snares snared, the drums mounted and the cymbals… whatever it is the cymbals do.” I cheerfully saluted him, which earned me a ceiling-high eye roll and some under-the-breath mutterings as Jeremy walked away. Something about ‘funny Brits’.
I wasn’t nearly so cheerful about an hour later as I stood in the middle of Studio 1’s booth surrounded by various bits of drum kit, including the screws and clamps. I’d tried to arrange all the parts on the floor in an order that would reflect their construction and instead ended up standing in the middle of what a drum kit would look like once it’s gone through a wood chipper. I dragged my hand down my face.
“Well, fuck,” I said to the empty room. “I wildly overestimated my ability to follow a manual.”
In despair, I flopped down onto the ground. Bending my leg up, I leaned my elbow on my knee and rested my forehead into my hand. I sat there for a while,contemplating my life choices until I heard a door down the corridor open, followed by a stream of voices, laughing, and talking. The party passed by my room when I realised I’d left the door partially open.
A moment later there was a light tap at the door. I looked up in surprise and… there he was.
