Page 66 of When Worlds Collide
I looked up in time to see Minjae slide a look to Jihoon that wasn’t quite chastisement, but certainly erred on the side of disapproval.
“When he did tell us, you were already on a plane, after uprooting your entire life. I’m sure you can understand how…” he frowned, like he couldn’t think of a polite way to say ‘ludicrous’.
But, not being one to mince my words… “Ridiculous?” I supplied, and to my surprise, Minjae laughed, but not unkindly.
“Perhaps more, ‘extraordinary’. We – I – just want to ensure you are here to make a life you can live with.”
Just then, and before I could even think of an answer to his unfailingly blunt, but fair words, Sungmin walked over to where the three of us stood, and said something I didn’t understand.
Jihoon huffed out a laugh, and I looked up at him.
“Apparently, the others are tired of waiting for Minjae to interrogate you. They want to eat.”
As if to prove their point, the others began to take boxes and containers out of the crinkly plastic bags that had sat patiently on the low table, and as I watched, I began to smell the most amazing smells. Minjae spared me a small, but genuine smile as he turned away with Sungmin, heading over towards the kitchen.
“Noona,” Seokmin called, waving me over. “Fried chicken!” Even as Woojin cuffed him upside the head, his bright smile did not dim.
“Come on,” Jihoon said, tugging my hand gently, “let’s introduce you to our best rapper-”
“Hey!” Sungmin protested from where he now stood in the kitchen, grabbing bottles out of the fridge made me smile.
“Fax, no printer,” said Woojin, seemingly to himself and in such a deadpan voice that the laughter was shocked straightout of me. He looked up as we approached, his face a mask of indifference.
Choi Woojin was famous for being ‘the serious’ one; so verbose with his raps, but otherwise didn’t volunteer much about himself. He’d amassed quite a following for being what the fandom referred to as ‘mysterious’.
He seemed to watch me as we approached, and it felt like he was assessing me, my movements, my facial expressions, down to where my pinky finger was twitching from the internal strain of keeping myself together in a room populated by my favourite group. I may have been playing that one off, but it still hovered firmly around my amygdala, a persistent, droning sort of a buzz.
It was that feeling you get when, as a kid, you somehow get invited to the cool kids house party, and there were a bunch of older – therefore ‘cooler’ kids’, and you’re trying desperately not to trip over your shoes, or spill something all down yourself.
This was fine. I could do this. I was cool. Ish.
“Jin, this is Kaiya. Kaiya, Jin.”
To my surprise, he held his hand out to me, which by muscle memory alone, I reached for and took. His palm was cool against mine, but soft in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
“Hello,” I said, voice barely audible over the ever-increasing ruckus as everyone seemed to swarm around us, carrying in trays, dishes, cups – seemingly everything.
As Woojin’s attention slid to Seokmin, who was precariously balancing a tray with too many boxes, I looked up at Jihoon, and I knew the panic had spread to my eyes. “What’s happening right now?”
Jihoon rubbed a soothing thumb across my hand, and said, “it seems they decided the best way for you to meet everyone is to have a meal together. But don’t worry, there is soju and beer. That will help.”
“Noona, you sit next to me?”
“I’ve told you before,” Jihoon cuffed Seokmin, “she’s not your noona.”
“It’s really okay to call me Kaiya. Or Ky,” I said, as an afterthought.
“Ky?” He looked up at me, tilting his head to the side.
I shrugged. “It’s what my friends call me.”
“Then you call me oppa, it’s what friends call me.” And bless him, he really looked like he thought I might fall for it, but, before I could even open my mouth to respond, Woojin, Jihoon, and Minjae had all raised their hands to him, but Seokmin was faster, ducking and hurrying out of arm’s length, all while crying, “Joke, joke!”
Jihoon muttered darkly under his breath while I laughed, as more of the tension eased inside my chest.
Once the danger had passed with the older members moving away, Seokmin sidled up next to me. “Sorry, Ky,” he said, a sheepish look on his face.
“No problem,” I shrugged, “It was funny. I knew you were joking.”
