Page 36 of A World Apart
Becka moved away from the counter and walked towards the sofa. “Okay fine, so let’s cut the bullshit and you tell me exactly what’s going on, so I can get started on telling you exactly how much of an idiot you are, and we can continue on withour lives.” She sat down far more gracefully than I could possibly hope for whilst holding a glass of wine.
In contrast, I moved to sit on the other side of the sofa and flopped down. Becka lifted her arm holding the glass to keep it steady as she bounced slightly in my wake. She gave me a stern look.
“What do you want to know?” I sighed.
“Literally everything,” she replied. “Tell me how it started, when you’ve met, what’s been said, everything.” Her tone implied this was non-negotiable, and in the interest of our long and cherished relationship, I did tell her. Mostly everything.
I started with what she already knew, how we’d met in the lobby after I’d dropped the box of cables, to when I’d first taken them lunch, except I now filled in with more detail about how our interactions had always seemed more… intense.
She was scandalised when I described our lunch together and almost choked on her wine when I told her that we'd exchanged telephone numbers.
But her eyes grew soft when I described how I’d started to feel, and I knew she was remembering her recent break-up with the man she described as her ‘first and most incompatible love’.
“Oh Ky,” she breathed. “You’re really feeling this, aren’t you?”
Wordlessly, I nodded. Becka reached for my hand and squeezed.
“You know how this will end though, don’t you?”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat and, looking down, I said, “I know. I’ve known from the start this wouldn’t go anywhere. I’ve considered it, y’know,” I lifted my eyes to meet Becka’s sad, blue ones.
“I’ve thought about how it could work; video calls and the like, but every time I find a logistical work around, I keep coming back to the obvious.” My voice hitched and I took a moment to compose myself. Becka kept rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand.
“K-Pop idols are a whole different thing. If he was in an American boy band,” I huffed a small laugh, “it wouldn’t be so bad. But his fandom, his company, the whole idolculture…”
“There’s a million different, very valid reasons why a relationship would not work.”
It felt like I’d thought of every single reason − quite apart from the fact that I hardly knew him.
Then there was the distance, the necessary secrecy, and, of course, the undeniable imbalance of power between us. Those reasons alone should’ve been enough to make me slam the brakes, but the truth was, they weren’t what scared me the most.
What made me hesitate the most was the overwhelming way in which I felt myself falling further down this rabbit hole. It scared me because my feelings felt disproportionate to the scope of our actual interactions, how much time we’d spent together, talked with each other. What I felt was… too big, for how little time we’d known each other.
And what if I was alone in that? What if all these moments I’d turned over in my head, replayed countless times, what if they’d been something to me, that they hadn’t been to him?
Because surely there was no way Jihoon could feel the same way. It was so inconceivable when he was who he was, living the life he did, and I was… just me. What if all this was for nothing?
Becka watched me with sad eyes. “I wish I had something I could say that would make this a little less shitty for you, babes,” she said softly. “If it was just a fling, it would be so much easier to let it go and just have the fun memories. But I think you understand that this can’t be anything more than memories, and maybe one day they’ll be fun to look back on.”
She sniffed suddenly and looked away, before taking a fortifying gulp of her wine. I knew intuitively she must have been thinking of her ex − Ben. The reason why she’d had a spare room in her apartment this year. The reason why she was refusing to date at the moment. The reason why I sometimes found photos, or trinkets hidden in drawers, or under the sofa. Things and memories tucked away so as not to be reminders, but also things she couldn't bear to throw away.
My eyes pinched in shared pain for my best friend.
Turning back to me she said, “There’s nothing you can do about the way you feel. What you can do is decide how to deal with it. If you decide to stay in contact with him, you need to be very realistic with yourself about what this can only ever be.”
Becka puffed out a breath. “It would probably be easier to go with a clean break. Delete his number and admire him from afar, just like you were doing before. But,” she sighed, a sound so full of unresolved feelings of her own, “you need to decide if you can do that.”
“Can’t you tell me what to do?” I half-joked, attempting a smile that felt almost painful.
“Oh babes, I can’t even tell myself what to do,” Becka chuckled wryly. “I can tell you what I think you should do, but I’m not in your feelings, only you are.”
Becka’s eyes suddenly flashed, as if she’d only just thought of something. “Ky, do you know how he feels about you?”
“How does anyone ever really know?” I countered. Becka nodded in agreement.
“But, I think…” I worried at my lip, “I think he likes me.” And lord help me, I couldn’t help the way those words made my heart flutter.
“Oh babes,” Becka sighed again.
