Page 31 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

H ow is it possible to know someone so well, but not know them at all?

That was the thought that went clanging through my head, a persistent and echoing question as four curious faces focused on me.

Only Seokmin was grinning at me, the others had politely curious expressions that ranged from small smiles to downright shyness. Sungmin waved at me, but between Woojin and Minjae, the word I’d have to settle on was ‘guarded’.

As my body refused to move, my mind was whirring with busy thoughts as it tried to catch up.

It was like watching a movie in the cinema, only to suddenly stand up from your red velvet chair and walk straight into the scene on the screen.

That strange middle ground where real life merges with something you’ve only ever seen on TV.

And it was strange, because I’d become accustomed to being around Seokmin and Sungmin relatively quickly, although admittedly the transition was eased by several beers, and the surreality of stringing tinsel round a Christmas tree. It had been immersion therapy, in a way.

This felt more unreal though, and as my mind frantically scrambled to turn my world right side up, the conclusion I drew, was because it was all of them assembled in the same place.

The whole group.

All of GVibes, instead of individual people, who just happened to be members of the group.

I blinked rapidly, like I was trying to clear water out of my eyes. As the silence seemed to swell in the now too-small room, I had the presence of mind to consider that this was probably just as strange for them.

Jihoon had told me that none of them had ever ‘brought a girl home’.

I was a complete aberration, and while the members had individually dated, they’d never felt the need to introduce them like this; although in a couple instances, that had more to do with the fact that the girl had been another singer, or trainee, and they’d all known each other.

So, given that I was neither of those things, this was new for all of us.

Knowing that, however, did not make it any easier for me to unfreeze my entire body, but it did allow me to shake off a little of the permafrost and move a little closer to Jihoon.

My small act of animation seemed to break the shock a little though, as one by one, the other four guys began to move again. Sungmin lightly shoved Seokmin for some transgression, while Woojin put down a white, plastic bag he’d been holding, and wiped his hands on the back of his slacks.

Minjae walked towards us. “Welcome, Kaiya,” he smiled down at me in an expression I felt like I’d seen a thousand times. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Minjae was the eldest member and the leader, and though he was a little shorter than Jihoon, his authority practically radiated from him.

Where Jihoon’s eyes were a warm, coffee brown, Minjae’s were almost silver, the grey, stormy colour surprisingly light.

It gave him a politely reserved expression.

He didn’t reach for my hand and he kept a respectful distance from us that clearly drew a line.

It didn’t make me uncomfortable, as such, but it also didn’t make me feel at ease.

It felt like… he was reserving judgment.

And honestly, that was fair. He didn’t know me from Eve.

I was just some girl Jihoon had met on a solo trip one spring in LA, a self-confessed fan. I’d be wary, too.

“Hello,” I replied, tentatively smiling up at him.

“Are you enjoying Korea?” he asked, and it was such a generic question that I was momentarily caught off guard.

I was always expecting people – those that knew – to ask about my relationship with Jihoon, so a question outside of that scope was both a relief and bizarre.

I had to consider my answer, which had the bonus effect of easing some of the tension that held me up.

“I would love to see more of it, but so far, yes,” I answered, an exhale making my rigid muscles relax, slightly.

“It was very brave of you to move across the world.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling those rather extraordinary eyes were assessing me.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” My lips quirked up in a wry smile.

“You don’t agree?” He seemed surprised.

I shrugged, but considered his question before I replied. “I guess I just don’t consider moving abroad all that scary.”

“You’re from London, yes?” Minjae tilted his head to the side as his eyes flicked to Jihoon, who opened his mouth to answer, but I spoke before he could.

“Not originally. I moved to London to attend university, before I moved to LA in March.”

“Perhaps you’re just used to moving around. Do you know anyone except Jihoon in Korea?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“What do you want to do while you’re here? Music studio?” His polite expression never wavered, but I got the distinct impression he had some thoughts that weren’t necessarily favourable.

“I don’t know exactly,” I answered honestly, but carefully. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do – long term.”

“And you think you can figure that out in Korea?”

“Hyung!” Jihoon’s sharp voice cut across the three of us as I felt his fingers tighten around mine. I couldn’t help but notice the others had looked over at us, before quickly turning away to continue doing whatever it was they were doing.

“I was just asking a question, Jihoon-ah.” He stared at Jihoon, and though his expression did not change, his tone remained calm and measured, the authority he seemed to naturally have was a clear message.

I watched Jihoon’s jaw clench, and feeling a sudden rush of disquiet, I hurried to cover the loaded silence.

“I could probably figure it out just as easily here, in Korea, as I could have in LA, or even back in England. But Jihoon is here. Whatever I choose to do, it will not interfere with him, or any of you. I’m sorry if my being here is an intrusion.” I lowered my eyes, but my voice had not wavered.

“You’re not intruding,” Jihoon all but hissed, and I didn’t need to look up to know what expression he must be wearing.

“Kaiya, please do not misunderstand. You are welcome. It is my job to worry, and Jihoon-ah did not exactly tell us he’d asked you to come.”

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 straight out 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.”

He looked up at me and said, “Finally, someone who understands my jokes!”

“We understand them, maknae. We don’t laugh because they’re not funny.

” Woojin passed by us, holding a beer in one hand, and a bottle of soju in the other.

The drive-by burn was exactly the savage kind of behaviour I’d expected from Woojin and, bizarrely, confirmation of his character also served to make me feel more at ease.

“Let’s eat!” Minjae called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, once all the assorted takeout containers were unpacked. They were assembled precariously on the low coffee table that doubled as a dining table while seated on the floor, ‘Korean style’ – as Jihoon had called it.

The members all wasted no time, piling haphazardly around the table wherever there was room, and Jihoon had to shoehorn me in between himself and Seokmin, who grinned at me around a mouthful of fried chicken drumstick.

There didn’t seem to be any formality to it, everyone just dug in once they were seated, a couple shouting out, “Jal meokgesseumnida!” which I’d been reliably informed was the Korean equivalent of ‘bon appetite’.

Recently, I’d gotten better at recognising – if not naming – some dishes, but this was quite literally exactly what it sounded like – fried chicken, except… better.

“Holy hell,” I mumbled, “this is amazing.”

“Korean fried chicken is the best,” Jihoon nodded, eagerly taking a bite of his own.

“Try this.” Seokmin leaned over me to grab the glass of beer that had been poured for me, and topped it off with soju.

“That seems dangerous,” I commented after swallowing my mouthful of food.

“Soju and beer is what you drink with chicken,” Woojin held my gaze as he took a sip from his own glass.

“When in Korea,” I muttered, reaching for my glass, but before I could raise it to my lips, Jihoon held his hand over the top.

“It will sneak up on you.”

“Kaiya is an adult, Jihoon-hyung,” Seokmin said, knocking his hand off my glass.

I raised my eyebrow at Jihoon, but he only shrugged, drinking from his own glass.

Tentatively, I brought the glass to my lips, noting how it still fizzed slightly, even with the addition of the spirit.

I couldn’t smell anything stronger than the beer, but I took a cautious sip, expecting it to taste like vodka.

To my surprise, it was almost sweet. I could definitely taste it there within the beer, and the mix was unusual, but good.

“Yes?” Seokmin asked, and at my enthusiastic nod, he cheered and topped me up, which was about the last sober decision I made that night.