Page 60 of When Worlds Collide
I pulled up my blog, surprised at the number of new followers. It was still a modest amount, but it always gave me a little thrill to see it go up. There were so many now that I was attracting comments underneath, people having little on-topic discussions about what I’d written, and yeah, some people were complete arseholes, but mostly it was just other people like me, interested in what I had to say. It was… kind of nice.
This morning, I had a particular kind of inspiration. My last blog had been about the mental well-being of artists, so this felt related. I linked the two pages, and began to write.
Once I started, time seemed to fall away. My fingers flew over the keyboard, only halting when I clicked away to reference external sources, to find examples, or to copy links to provide references.
I wrote about the potentially damaging effect that ‘accessible social media’ was having on artists.
Once upon a time, if we’d wanted to connect with the people we saw on our screens, we’d have to write them fan letters, to subscribe to those fan clubs that advertised in the backs of teen magazines. Then it was eZines, and email.
Now, with the birth of social media platforms, you can simply comment, or tag your favourite artist and there's a chance they will see your comment – for good, or bad.
Artists are no longer protected by the unseen barrier between ‘us’ and ‘them’, leading to a rise in a sense of entitlement some people feel over them.
It used to be that only the press would hound celebrities as they ran down a street, filming them as they tried to run away. Now everyone owns a smartphone and every day, celebrities are filmed going to buy groceries, walking their dog, taking their kids to school.
As I typed, I thought about how even now, there are fans live-streaming from outside the industry buildings and management companies. Airports have special, cordoned off areas where people queued up for hours on end for a glimpse of their idol as they walked to or from a plane.
With this total blurring of the lines, where does it end? Who decides enough is enough?
I’d just pressed ‘publish’, when the front door opened, and a moment later closed. I didn’t call out. I couldn’t, not with the tight lump that had risen in my throat.
I tried to breathe through it. I didn’t think I was ready for whatever might come now, and I couldn’t decide if quiet indifference or a full-blown argument would be better.
I still didn’t have an answer to that by the time Jihoon walked round the corner and entered the living room. As I looked up into his inscrutable face, heart pounding through my chest, I knew it hurt because I loved him so much I could barely stand it. But I was still so fucking angry and hurt.
He moved to stand in front of me. His eyes met mine and it seemed like a war had happened behind his eyes.
He leaned down and took my laptop, putting it carefully on the coffee table.
I opened my mouth to protest, but only an exhalation of surprise left it as he kneeled in front of me.
Wordlessly, he slid his palms up my thighs to cradle me as he lay his head in my lap. I could feel his body trembling, and in that moment, my anger fled in the time between one heartbeat to the next.
My hands hovered just above him, unsure what to do.
“Don’t leave,” his voice came out ragged, and his shoulders hitched.
I lay my palms against him, feeling the heat of his body through the thick jumper. He must be blazing in it.
“I didn’t mean it,” he gasped between shuddering breaths, “about the local girl. There is no girl, there is only you.”
I shushed him, rubbing my hands over his back. “I know.”
He pulled back slightly, raising his head to hold my gaze. “I’ll get my shit together, I swear.”
The breath hitched in my throat. The look on his face… it was devastating. A blend of fear and sorrow the likes of which I’d never seen on his face. A sob rose in my throat before I swallowed it down.
I’d spent so long in our relationship feeling like the unworthy one. The lesser of us two.
I’d never once stopped to consider that perhaps he might feel like that, too.
“Jihoon,” I breathed, incapable of other words as I stroked a hand across his cheek.
We’d both spent so long pursuing our dreams that neither of us had spent much time in relationships, so perhaps it was no surprise that we didn’t always know how to be in one.
But, as I looked into his eyes, I knew with absolutely certainty that we’d figure it out together.
Because the alternative was unthinkable.
