Page 38 of When Worlds Collide
He sighed. “Minjae thinks it was because they thought we were…” He hummed, searching for the word. “Big head?”
“Egotistical?” I supplied.
“Ego, yeah.” He nodded. “They thought we had big egos. But when we fell asleep in class, it was because we were tired, not because we did not care.”
I watched his lips twist in an expression I rarely saw on his face.
“They treated you badly?”
He shook his head slightly. “Not all. But I was very happy to graduate.”
Secondary school was difficult enough, with all those raging hormones, the teenager hierarchy, to say nothing of the pressureto do well in exams. I couldn’t imagine having to do that and hours of dance and vocal training.
I’d fallen asleep somewhere after the third episode, only waking up when Jihoon had picked me up to carry me through the suite to the bed.
I hadn’t tried to protest the capability of my own two legs. He wouldn’t have put me down, and I wouldn’t have wanted him to.
Truly, it had been the perfect Sunday.
Today, we sat in the back of the car, driven by a driver from ENT. Apparently, it was the managers who mostly drove the group, but similarly to the members of GVibes, the managers were also on Christmas break – although they were on call, of course.
“Not even a hint?” I whined, for probably the fourth time since we’d gotten in the car half an hour ago. Turns out, mid-morning traffic was just as bad in Seoul as it was in LA. Which is to say, wherever we were going, we probably could have walked there faster.
“No, Ky. No hints, only surprises,” Jihoon replied, maddeningly.
We were on a mystery trip somewhere, and since telling me the bare minimum – I wouldn’t need my wallet, and we weren’t meeting anyone – he’d been remarkably tight-lipped, if one didn’t count the quiet glee I could see in every smile line on his face.
I looked out of the window as we drove through the unfamiliar city. Nothing about the view gave me any indication of where we were going. Seoul was so completely foreign to me. I didn’t recognise any landmarks, and the signs that did have English on them still meant nothing to me.
I watched crowds of people walking purposefully past, all of them with lives, jobs, friends. Even the people I saw meandering clearly had somewhere to be, unlike me, and I couldn’t help but draw parallels between us. Being idle did not suit me.
But alongside those wry thoughts still existed the sense of wonder at all of the things I had no names for; colourful signs in Hangul, cheerful cartoon characters that clearly had some meaning I couldn’t begin to understand.
Just like LA, Seoul projected an outward image of sleek modernity, as carefully curated as an art gallery, but beneath the veneer of polish and gadgets, it was still a working city, with as many rough edges as refined ones. LA just felt a little more honest about its jagged bits.
It made me weirdly homesick. There were no high-rises in the Lake District, unless you counted the craggy peaks and rolling hills of the rugged countryside.
In the four years since I’d left my parents’ house to move to university, and then for work, I’d moved from city to city to city.
Being so alien in yet another city made me feel… isolated, and alone, despite the warm, reassuring hand that had not let go of mine since we’d gotten into this car. I tried to shake the melancholy away, but it clung to me.
Eventually, we seemed to turn away from the busier part of the city, and traversed down less hectic streets, although we were still surrounded by high-rises and busy businesses at street level.
Coffee shops were everywhere, closed up al fresco dining areas that were too cold to be used – even by the hardiest of city dwellers – convenience marts, and dozens of other storefronts I could only guess at.
We then turned into what was clearly a residential complex. Parking lots the size of concrete playing fields bordered on either side, which is why I was surprised as we took a sharp turndown a slope, the sudden descent making my stomach dip as we drove down before levelling out into a well-lit parking garage. We drove the length of the cavernous space until we pulled up outside a set of plate-glass double doors.
“We’re here,” Jihoon announced with an excited grin. He slid across the seat, opening the door and pulling me with him. He said something to the driver, who nodded his agreement before pulling away and leaving Jihoon and I standing in front of those double doors.
“Joon, where the hell are we?” I tried again, but in response, he tapped my nose and said, “Follow me.”
We walked towards the doors, where Jihoon slid down a black panel, revealing a keypad. He tapped in a series of numbers, and the light on the keypad turned green, before an audible click from the doors indicated they were now unlocked. He pushed them open, holding the door for me to step through into a well-lit, small lobby area. There was nothing about this area to indicate the purpose of the building, bar the two elevators side-by-side. Jihoon pressed the button for one of them, opening the doors almost immediately. The elevator, whilst smart and clean, was unremarkable. No branding, or advertising in it. Jihoon pressed the button for the eleventh floor, and the doors slid shut before we launched upwards.
The whole ride up, Jihoon lightly bounced on the soles of his feet, and I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm – but for what, I supposed I’d find out.
When the doors opened, it was immediately clear to me we were in a residential building. The hallway we walked out to was long, and kind of fancy-looking.
We walked down the hallway until we stood outside one large, dark wood door with the number 111 in shiny chrome affixed to the front.
