Page 16 of A World Apart
The only light on in the corridor currently came from the small lamp that hung over the sound deck in Studio 2, where I was headed with this box of mics and where I’d already moved to the sides all the boxes I’d moved up here yesterday.
I pushed the partially-open door further open with my shoulder, humming happily to myself, already thinking about my next coffee.
I’d just dumped the box on the floor when the massive producer’s chair swung around −
“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed loudly, clutching my chest in fright.
“Sorry, sorry!” Insisted a voice I knew so well and yet was still brand new to me.
Jihoon jumped up out of the chair so quickly that it pushed back against the producer’s sound deck, making the whole thing shudder.
He held out both hands in a placating manner and looked so contrite that I couldn’t help but smile, even though my heart still thudded against my ribs like an Acme cartoon character’s.
“It’s cool, no worries.” I tried to wave away his apologies, still rubbing my chest.
“You just took me by surprise. I didn’t see you there.” I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes.
“It is very dark in here,” he agreed.
“Do you need anything?” I asked, poking my head out into the corridor. No sign of anyone.
“Ah, no,” He admitted, fiddling with the phone in his hands. “It was quiet here. I was taking some time. It’s very busy in the studio.” He looked embarrassed, for some reason. I think I understood.
“Have you been recording all morning?” I asked, giving him what I hoped was a sympathetic look.
He grimaced and nodded. “Yes,” he said.
‘I should not do this’ was the thought I immediately steamrolled as I then said, “Would you like to hide in here for a while? I mean, if you don’t mind me working in here, but I won’t get in your way or anything. I’ll just be here, quietly, sorting a bunch of stuff out…” I trailed off, thoroughly self-conscious of my inability to filter my words on the journey from brain to mouth. I bit my lip as my face heated to fever levels. Thankfully, it was dark in here.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” he asked quietly, putting his phone in his trouser pocket.
I fiddled with the edge of my shirt. “It’s okay with me,” I said, shrugging. “Won’t someone come to find you? Your manager, or… ?-”
“No,” he said firmly. “I said I needed time. He’ll let me be alone.” Jihoon looked down for a moment and huffed a little laugh, “For a while.”
I guess even international superstars have a short leash.
Chapter 7
“Ok, cool. Well, don’t mind me, I’ll just crack on.” I smiled as I indicated the boxes of stuff all around the room. He flashed me the universal hand gesture for ‘okay’.
With as much grace as I had – scant − I sat down on the floor cross-legged and pulled the nearest box towards me. The cursed box of cables I sported a mottled blue bruise on my hip for, which I now had the arduous task of winding properly and tagging with the right colour zip tie so its purpose was immediately identifiable.
Certified donkey work.
I almost wasn’t surprised when Jihoon sat down in front of me, on the other side of the plastic box, although he did so far more gracefully than I had, folding in on himself like origami.
“Can I help?” he asked, quietly.
I looked at him for a moment, cocking my head to the side. He was so different to all the media I’d ever seen of him. He was clearly bare-skinned. I could see the scars on his face and his eyes, while dark and earnest, were normal. No contacts, no liner. For some reason, it made me feel more at ease around him.
“You don’t have to,” I said, my voice making it quite clear − I hoped − that he didn’t need to feel obligated to help just because he was sharing the same space as me.
“I know,” he said, “I want to. It’s… normal.” And I think I got it.
“Alright then,” I conceded, “we need to sort these cables by type.” I grabbed a handful to show him.
“TRS cable,” I laid it next to the green zip ties. “Speakon cables,” went next to the red zip ties. “Banana plug-”
