Page 17 of A World Apart (Between Worlds #1)

T he atmosphere between Becka and I as we walked from the bus stop to our building was frosty. Becka had barely looked at me the whole way home, and when she did, it was with a scowl I’d rarely seen on her delicate features.

I hadn’t even tried to break the silence, opting instead for following her dutifully, hoping my obsequence would soften her slightly, but as we walked up the staircase to our shared apartment, I didn’t think I’d been successful, judging by how hard she was stomping the wooden floorboards.

I braced myself as the apartment door closed behind me, but she just unwound the scarf from around her neck, hung it and her coat up and moved into the living room.

I divulged myself of my coat and hat and toed my shoes off, following after her.

“Becka?” I tried, tentatively.

She looked back at me and held up a hand to stop me.

“I need a drink for this,” she said, moving into the kitchenette and reaching into the top cupboard where we kept bottles of wine and spirits.

To my relief, she opted for a bottle of Rosé, and not the scotch, although how she could stand the taste of scotch, I’ll never know.

I was partial to a crisp gin and tonic, myself .

I watched for a few moments as she opened the wine bottle and poured herself a small measure, my nervousness fading to a dull twinge, impatience taking its place.

I leant my hip against the counter and waited for her to be done.

“Ready?” I asked as she re-capped the bottle and put it in the fridge. Finally, she turned to look at me, wine glass in hand like some 90’s housewife trope. I felt my lips twitch.

“Well?” she prompted me, like I’d been the hold-up here.

“Okay first of all,” I began, “this does not need to be this dramatic.”

“Okay, first of all,” she snapped, “this IS dramatic. Don’t you get that?

I sighed. “Look, I know what you’re going to say. You’ve said it all already and I agree with you. I just…” I looked away.

“You what?” Becka pressed when I didn’t continue.

“I know all the reasons why getting involved with him ? an idol ? is a bad idea. I just can’t seem to help myself,” I admitted.

Becka huffed and took a gulp of her wine. “Well, at least you aren’t trying to deny it anymore.”

“Is there any point?”

“Not really. How long has it been like that?” She looked up at me as she swirled the wine in her glass.

“Like what?”

Becka gave me a droll stare before replying, “like pressing you up against the wall and staring at you like you’re the last glass of water in the desert.”

The blush that flamed my face and neck was immediate, and not the only thing that made me burn. “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“You tell me, you’re the one staring in a k-drama.” Becka took another sip of wine, leaning her hip against the counter in a mirror of my own stance.

“Oh, behave!” I cried, a laugh bubbling up my throat, despite the look I was still getting from Becka. “Yes, ok, there have been... looks and even some flirting, but no one’s pressing anyone up against the walls.” More’s the pity, I silently added.

Becka moved away from the counter and walked towards the sofa.

“Okay fine, so let’s cut the bullshit and you tell me exactly what’s going on, so I can get started on telling you exactly how much of an idiot you are, and we can continue on with our lives.

” She sat down far more gracefully than I could possibly hope for whilst holding a glass of wine.

In contrast, I moved to sit on the other side of the sofa and flopped down. Becka lifted her arm holding the glass to keep it steady as she bounced slightly in my wake. She gave me a stern look.

“What do you want to know?” I sighed.

“Literally everything,” she replied. “Tell me how it started, when you’ve met, what’s been said, everything.” Her tone implied this was non-negotiable, and in the interest of our long and cherished relationship, I did tell her. Mostly everything.

I started with what she already knew, how we’d met in the lobby after I’d dropped the box of cables, to when I’d first taken them lunch, except I now filled in with more detail about how our interactions had always seemed more… intense.

She was scandalised when I described our lunch together and almost choked on her wine when I told her that we'd exchanged telephone numbers.

But her eyes grew soft when I described how I’d started to feel, and I knew she was remembering her recent break-up with the man she described as her ‘first and most incompatible love’.

“Oh Ky,” she breathed. “You’re really feeling this, aren’t you?”

Wordlessly, I nodded. Becka reached for my hand and squeezed.

“You know how this will end though, don’t you?”

I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat and, looking down, I said, “I know. I’ve known from the start this wouldn’t go anywhere. I’ve considered it, y’know,” I lifted my eyes to meet Becka’s sad, blue ones.

“I’ve thought about how it could work; video calls and the like, but every time I find a logistical work around, I keep coming back to the obvious.” My voice hitched and I took a moment to compose myself. Becka kept rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand.

“K-Pop idols are a whole different thing. If he was in an American boy band,” I huffed a small laugh, “it wouldn’t be so bad. But his fandom, his company, the whole idol culture…”

“There’s a million different, very valid reasons why a relationship would not work.”

It felt like I’d thought of every single reason ? quite apart from the fact that I hardly knew him.

Then there was the distance, the necessary secrecy, and, of course, the undeniable imbalance of power between us. Those reasons alone should’ve been enough to make me slam the brakes, but the truth was, they weren’t what scared me the most.

What made me hesitate the most was the overwhelming way in which I felt myself falling further down this rabbit hole.

It scared me because my feelings felt disproportionate to the scope of our actual interactions, how much time we’d spent together, talked with each other.

What I felt was… too big, for how little time we’d known each other.

And what if I was alone in that? What if all these moments I’d turned over in my head, replayed countless times, what if they’d been something to me, that they hadn’t been to him?

Because surely there was no way Jihoon could feel the same way. It was so inconceivable when he was who he was, living the life he did, and I was… just me. What if all this was for nothing?

Becka watched me with sad eyes. “I wish I had something I could say that would make this a little less shitty for you, babes,” she said softly.

“If it was just a fling, it would be so much easier to let it go and just have the fun memories. But I think you understand that this can’t be anything more than memories, and maybe one day they’ll be fun to look back on. ”

She sniffed suddenly and looked away, before taking a fortifying gulp of her wine.

I knew intuitively she must have been thinking of her ex ? Ben.

The reason why she’d had a spare room in her apartment this year.

The reason why she was refusing to date at the moment.

The reason why I sometimes found photos, or trinkets hidden in drawers, or under the sofa.

Things and memories tucked away so as not to be reminders, but also things she couldn't bear to throw away.

My eyes pinched in shared pain for my best friend .

Turning back to me she said, “There’s nothing you can do about the way you feel. What you can do is decide how to deal with it. If you decide to stay in contact with him, you need to be very realistic with yourself about what this can only ever be.”

Becka puffed out a breath. “It would probably be easier to go with a clean break. Delete his number and admire him from afar, just like you were doing before. But,” she sighed, a sound so full of unresolved feelings of her own, “you need to decide if you can do that.”

“Can’t you tell me what to do?” I half-joked, attempting a smile that felt almost painful.

“Oh babes, I can’t even tell myself what to do,” Becka chuckled wryly. “I can tell you what I think you should do, but I’m not in your feelings, only you are.”

Becka’s eyes suddenly flashed, as if she’d only just thought of something. “Ky, do you know how he feels about you?”

“How does anyone ever really know?” I countered. Becka nodded in agreement.

“But, I think…” I worried at my lip, “I think he likes me.” And lord help me, I couldn’t help the way those words made my heart flutter.

“Oh babes,” Becka sighed again.

“I know,” I agreed, shaking my head, sadly.

We sat like that, in companionable silence, for several more minutes, the sound of traffic from the street outside filtering up to provide a constant background hum, reminding me that the world outside goes on.

Tuesday

“Hello?” I said into my mobile phone, bemused that the caller was from Pisces. I was just downstairs in the storage cupboard, sorting through some music sheets.

“Food’s here,” snapped a brusque voice before the line dropped.

I stared at the now blank screen like it would provide any further context, but only the smiling faces of me and Becka on a trip to Camden last year stared back at me.

Reasoning it could only really have been one person; I stood up from where I was sitting on the floor and made my way over to the door. Poking my head out, I looked over to the reception desk where Donna stood.

“Did you call me?” I called over. Donna looked over at me with a scowl and pointed one sharp fingernail at the side of her head where I could now see her headset.

She said something into it, presumably on a call.

She then pointed that sharp fingernail at the reception desk.

Following her nail, I saw a collection of white, plastic bags.

Ah. Lunch was here.