Page 23 of When Worlds Collide
I was not used to being the direct recipient of it, however, and while the novelty was fun, I’d noticed that it made me feel… out of place. This wasn’t my world. I didn’t fly in a private little pod, while in the next cabin, people were crammed so closely together that an armrest became the metaphor for a high-stakes stand-off.
I was enjoying the hell out of it, but I couldn’t help wondering how long it would take me to get used to this lifestyle. Or, if I ever would.
When my mum moved back to the UK, pregnant with me, she'd had to start all over again. For the first few years of my life – not that I remembered it – we'd had next-to nothing. It wasn't until she met my stepdad that life started to get a little easier. Once I started school, she was able to retrain and earn her professional diploma. She worked in a shop during the day and took part-time online classes at night. She had worked so hard.
Now, my parents were finally doing alright, but I'd grown up in second-hand clothes. I couldn't help it when my brain automatically started adding up the cost of the things around me. I wondered if I'd ever stop doing that.
We briefly paused our Marvel marathon to watch the sunset through the wall-to-ceiling windows. The sun was setting behind the hotel, but as its reflective glow hit the skyscrapers across the Han River, it was like watching the tall, glass buildings catch fire, and then smouldering out as the shadow from the descending sun sank into the horizon.
I was used to seeing skyscrapers, having lived in London for university, and then in LA – however briefly – but somehow seeing that same sun bounce off the Seoul skyline was like seeing a city for the first time.
When I’d moved down south from the Lake District to London, I’d endured plenty of good-natured North vs South jabs, and many an enthusiastic discussion on the different ways we enjoyed a bag of chips, but that had all been variations on the same homeland. When I’d moved to LA, there had been the odd person who thought my accent was anything from ‘quaint’ to ‘coarse’. If I’d had a penny for every time someone had made me say ‘fish and chips’, I could have bought myself some. But again, even though I’d flown thousands of miles and changed time zones, the US was such a close relative to the UK that settling in hadn’t really been too taxing. Especially as I’d had Becka, my cultural tour-guide to all things LA.
I felt a pang as I thought about Becka. I missed her already. I missed waking up and going about our day together, the companionable silences, though those were few and far between. I missed the way we made each other coffee in the morning. I even missed the way we’d snip at each other. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but I’d come to imagine Becka was as close to one as I could get.
I hoped she was alright. In all my own drama, I had not forgotten about hers. I’d pretty much left her to deal with the Ben situation.
I made a mental note to call her in the morning. In fact, I made a mental note to call her every morning, just like how Jihoon and I used to do.
Used to do. Because we didn’t have to do that anymore.
Life was wild.
We went to bed hours earlier, but I still couldn’t sleep. I’d been tossing and turning for so long I was sure I’d worn a dent into the mattress.
Sighing, I turned over, yet again, and tried to pick out individual details of the still-vibrant city. The buildings were lit up; individual shards of light, dozens of different colours, but all mingling to create a cohesive splash of illumination that blanketed across the buildings. But despite the warmth of the colours, they felt remote and alien. I supposed that it was actually me that was the alien.
Arms snaked around my waist before pulling me back against a hard body. His heat felt nearly scalding against my chilled skin.
“You’re thinking so loudly, your thoughts woke me up,” he murmured against the top of my head before placing a soft kiss there.
I twisted around in his arms until we were nose-to-nose. I watched him blink sleepily, his eyes shining with the borrowed light of the city.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the quiet of the room making me almost whisper so as to not disturb the shadows.
Jihoon hummed and tightened his hold on me. “What are you thinking about?”
I took a moment before answering, trying to arrange my thoughts.
“I guess,” I said slowly, “I’m wondering what happens next.”
“Tomorrow?” He frowned.
“And all the other tomorrows. I’m wondering what to do from here on out. I’ll need to get a job. I’ll need to get a place – can I even do any of that without a local bank account? How do I apply for a Korean bank account? How do I-”
“Sshh,” Jihoon soothed, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Can you solve any of that right now?”
“No, but I can at least think about it.” Truthfully, my mind was racing, and I would have loved to turn it all off for a few hours.
“I’m just… I’m scared I won’t figure it out. I’m scared I’ll mess this up.”
The words fell between us, an almost tangible weight on the pillows, but now they were out, they felt like surmountable goals, instead of mounting worries.
Jihoon made a soothing sound, half-hush, half-word. “Ky, you’ve only just gotten here. You have time to figure things out.”
“And what do I do in the meantime? Hang out in this ridiculously extravagant suite? It must be costing you a fortune.” I’d Googled the hotel earlier today. It was eye-watering. Jihoon just chuckled.
“You don’t need to worry about that, jagiya. I’m kind of rich now.”
