Page 110 of When Worlds Collide
After confirming the video's authenticity, we wish to address the following:
The footage in question was recorded covertly and constitutes a serious invasion of privacy.
The individual(s) responsible for filming and leaking this content did so without permission and in violation of privacy laws.
Legal action is already underway. We are working closely with relevant legal authorities to identify the source and hold all parties accountable.
At this time, ENT will not be commenting on matters related to our artist’s private life. While we understand public interest in our artists, we kindly ask for restraint and respect regarding unverified speculation or the personal identities of those not confirmed to be involved.
ENT affirms that Mr. Baek is not under any contractual dating restrictions. However, all our artists are entitled to privacy and dignity, both on and off the stage.
We request that fans and media outlets refrain from sharing or engaging with the video and instead allow the legal process to proceed without interference.
We thank you for your understanding and continued support.
— ENT Entertainment
“Well, all things considered, that’s a pretty good response.” I said to Jihoon, as we sat at the kitchen drinking coffees a few hours later.
He grunted, but wouldn’t look at me. He’d been avoiding looking at me directly since we’d come back from ENT, although he touched me whenever possible. Light touches like running his hand over my hair, twining his fingers in my shirt, or like right now, holding my hand and running his thumb across it.
It was like he couldn’t bear to look at me, but he couldn’t bear to be apart from me.
We had plans to head upstairs later. The whole group were meeting for dinner, which included me. It was supposed to be a very low-key, very casual event, but Seokmin had messaged me privately to confirm this is what they did whenever a scandal, or negative story came out about them. It struck me as both sad and sensible that they even had a protocol for things like this.
Neither Jihoon nor I were interested in seeing what the public reaction would be. It would be one of two things: Either people were cool with it, or they were not, and nothing we could do would influence that.
I must have repeated that mantra dozens of times by now, but it had yet to help.
It seemed clear to me that he had unresolved trauma about the media, and the often more vocal anti-fans. His reaction was completely understandable given the circumstances, but it made me feel… powerless. I couldn’t erase his past, and every time I looked at his face and saw the shadows in his eyes, I was reminded of how useless I was. It was made worse, because I had become the one thing I'd always worried I would become: a burden.
I knew he’d never admit to such a thing – maybe he didn’t even consider it to be a truth – but I felt it. I felt it as keenly as I felt the heat of the coffee mug in my hand.
But, even worse than the bone-crushing weight was the insight that whether it was me or… someone else, this would always be the case. He would always need to fear the public scrutiny for the simple crime of loving someone. For choosing someone. For not being an accessible fantasy.
It made me feel ill.
Two days later – I couldn't tell if it was good timing, or bad – Jihoon had a scheduled appearance in Toyko. He was the ambassador for a Japanese fashion house, and he had two days of photoshoots, and public appearances booked. Obviously, I wasn't going with him, and since it was the first time he'd travelled since I'd moved to Korea, it was already a fraught time. But coupled with the footage leaking… we felt like an elastic band being pulled too taut.
"It's only for two days," he'd reassured me for the third time that morning as we waited in the kitchen for the car that would take him to Incheon airport.
"I know," I said again, as much for my benefit as his.
"And the guys are just upstairs," he added, as if the thought had just occurred to him. But he'd already told me that. He was as nervous as a mother hen, and on another day it would have been cute.
It wasn't me that I was worried about, though. It was always him. Because the fact was, he was front and centre in this 'scandal'. While I'd been resolutely avoiding the gossip columns, it didn't always stop whispers of the story drifting towards me, like faint refrains of a song playing somewhere nearby.
Hana had been less than subtle. All day Monday, she'd crowed about how she "knew it all along" and "no one goes to LA so often for no reason." I'd had to stop myself from laughing at her use of the word 'often'.
When a loud knock sounded at the door, we both jumped – even though we'd been expecting it. Youngsoo was accompanying Jihoon to Japan, along with a security team.
"I'll be back soon," he said, running his thumbs across my cheekbones.
"I know." I smiled at him, willing braveness into the lines of my face.
He pressed a kiss to my lips – part sweetness, part apology, part something else – before he pulled away to sling his bag over his shoulder. I watched as he pulled a black surgical mask over his mouth and nose, pulled his cap down low and flipped up his hoodie. Just like that, he looked as anonymous as any other traveller. But I knew the crowds at the airport would have no problem identifying him. Helped, no doubt, by the fact that ENT would have already alerted their media and influencer contacts that he was due to arrive. It was an unspoken agreement, and largely those people behaved themselves as a trade-off. But the crowds of fans they attracted – like pilot fish – had no such agreements.
As I watched the front door shut behind him, I worried.
