Page 41 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)
C hristmas dawned two days later with all the fanfare of a quiet morning, which is exactly how we wanted it.
We’d both received invitations to join the other members at their homes for the day, but Jihoon declined on our behalf, citing he wanted to have a truly ‘off’ day.
No recording studio, no gyms, no Lives, nothing. Just the day to ourselves.
We lay in bed until nearly noon. Normally, Jihoon would have been up at the butt crack of dawn, but not on Christmas.
When we did eventually leave our rumpled bed, it was only to relocate to the sofa with the duvet and pillows. Jihoon didn’t have any traditional Christmas movies, which I thought was sacrilegious, but easily remedied by making him watch – in order – the Santa Claus movies.
By the time the credits rolled on the second one, I could tell I was losing him a little, so we took a festive movie break to switch over to the BBC – which I again insisted on.
As I sat there, huddled under the duvet with Jihoon, nibbling on chocolate-covered popcorn, listening to the familiar voice of the BBC announcer telling us what the line up for Christmas Day was, a wave of nostalgia hit me so hard, my eyes welled up before I could stop them.
Memories of Christmases past flashed through me, and instead of bottling it up, I talked to Jihoon about it. This was the first Christmas I’d ever spent away from my folks.
Even when I’d lived in London, I always made the trip back up north for at least a few days.
The distance I could usually push to the back of my mind, suddenly felt like an ache within me.
I missed them both so much, and I resolved to call them later, when it wasn’t quite so pre-dawn in the UK.
“Do you think your parents mind you not coming home?” I asked delicately.
He shrugged. “I’ll see them on Seollal.”
It was kind of a non-answer, but it was one I was getting used to when it came to the subject of his parents.
He’d never come out and said it in so many words, but it seemed clear to me there was some kind of conflict there.
I knew they hadn’t supported his ambitions, and that given the choice, they’d still prefer him to work in a business environment.
It seemed bizarre to me, given how wildly successful he was.
But then, I supposed that perhaps to them, his fame and money might not be the measure of success.
The sun was already beginning to set when Jihoon dragged me out from under the duvet fort we’d made between the sofa and the coffee table, and over to our little Christmas tree. Underneath had been three shiny wrapped parcels I’d not noticed all day.
“Did you think I got you nothing, jagiya?” he teased me, as I exclaimed in surprise.
“Hold on!” I ran out of the living room and into the bedroom, digging to the bottom of the wardrobe to where I’d stashed a bag just last week.
I brought it back into the living room, and sat down in front of the twinkling tree, next to Jihoon.
From the bag I produced two, extremely gaudily-wrapped boxes.
I’d found the ugliest, most ostentatious wrapping paper I could find in all of Seoul, and then doubled-down on adding tinsel, jingly bells and as many sticky bows as I could reasonably fit on the surfaces.
They were easily the ugliest presents in the whole world, and stuck out especially proudly next to the tastefully wrapped parcels under the tree – all uniformly coloured, with matching ribbons.
Jihoon laughed so hard when I put them in front of him, tears ran down his face. He especially enjoyed shaking the smaller one that was so covered in bells it sounded like an elementary school Christmas recital.
“If this is your idea of good decoration, jagiya, you are not allowed to decorate our future home.” He chuckled, looking down at the hideous wrapping, for which I was grateful, because he didn’t see the way my eyes misted, didn’t see the emotion that I knew was written all over my face. Our future home.
Swallowing thickly, I told him to open the little one first.
“Only if you open this little one, as well.” He handed me a small, silver box tied with a forest-green ribbon.
We opened them on a count of three. For me, I just needed to pull one end of the ribbon and pull the lid off the box.
Jihoon, on the other hand, had to force his way into the little package, resorting to ripping through the tied-on jingles and flicking off the sticky bows, all while I laughed with glee.
Picking one of the little sticky-back bows up off the floor, I pressed it to his head, where it sat like a festive, little hat, which he gamely wore.
I confess, I just sat and watched him tear through that thing with such delight that my own little box sat forgotten in my lap.
When he eventually breached the four layers of wrapping paper, he pulled out the pair of socks with an expression so full of consternation, I laughed all over again.
And then, when he realised what was on the socks, his surprised bark of laughter set me off, until we were both rolling with it, holding our stomachs as he waved the socks around.
The faces of the other members of GVibes now clear to see.
Each member had various expressions, ranging from the classic aeygo sweetness of Ace, to some horrified expression of disgust on Woojin, Minjae wearing a dolphin mascot head, and Lee all done up as the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
And more besides. There were dozens of faces of his members printed all over the socks.
It was a work of art, if I said so myself.
Naturally, Jihoon discarded the socks he was wearing and pulled his new pair on immediately, breaking into giggles all over again as the faces stretched slightly.
He was especially delighted when Woojin’s nose was stretched out and distorted over his big toe, which he waggled around for good measure.
After the laughter had died down, he pointed to the little box, forgotten in my lap.
“You haven’t opened yours yet.”
“Oh, yeah.” I muttered. I pulled the lid off and stared down into the box, at the black velvet cushion inside as the grin fell from my face.
“Jihoon…”
“You like it?” I looked up at his face, so red with laughter just a moment ago, now pinched with anxiety. All I could do was nod. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Inside the box, resting on a little cushion, was a necklace.
A delicate chain, upon which hung a little, golden swallow, wings spread in flight.
I ran my fingers over it, gently, feeling the little notches in the tail and the tips of its wings.
Barely bigger than a coin, I marvelled at the artistry.
“Put it on for me?” I asked, holding out the box to him, remembering the last time I’d asked for his help to put a swallow on me. And just like that, I was back to laughing.
“What’s so funny, jagiya?” His lopsided smile only making me grin as I turned around, pulling my hair off my neck.
“I just hope you like my brain as much as you like my body.”
His fingers froze as he made contact with my skin, holding the clasp together at my nape.
His breath ghosted across my neck. I hadn’t even heard him move so close to me.
“I like both, for different reasons,” he purred, before pressing a kiss to my hammering pulse.
Holy hell.
I’d made out like a bandit with the gifts Jihoon had gotten me.
In addition to my new necklace, he’d gotten me a pair of Golden Goose high tops.
I’d been lusting over them one evening a couple of weeks ago, but I'd dismissed them out of hand because they cost the same as my half of Becka's rent had been. I’d very nearly tried insisting I couldn’t accept them, when I’d opened the box, but realised at the last second that –
A – Jihoon would be super insulted, and –
B – fuck, if I didn’t want them so bad.
I’d put them on immediately and hadn’t taken them off since.
My next gift had been the perfect accompaniment to two such extravagant gifts: a stack of yet-to-be released photo cards from the most recent shoot they’d done, which would be going out in the next single release for GVibes. They were mostly of Jihoon, – swoon – and the others had been… graffitied.
“It’s an improvement!” he’d pointed out, while I howled in laughter at the massive handlebar moustache Minjae now sported, while Woojin looked dashing with an eye patch and a facial scar. I couldn’t even look at Ace and Lee without crying with laughter.
My last gift to Jihoon had been something similar, but less funny.
I watched his face carefully as he pulled out the padded ring-bound book and flipped to the first page, watching how his expression turned from bemusement to…
something softer. I watched the bob of his throat as he turned page after page, looking at photos of us.
Photos he’d probably forgotten I had, encrypted and hidden away in password-protected folders.
Little snippets of stolen time, and mostly from before we were even formally ‘a couple’.
“I loved you even then,” he said so softly as he looked down at a picture of us with our burgers on the beach – our first date.
I smiled to myself, for both a job well done, and also from the warmth that bloomed in my chest.
We rounded out the day by calling the various people we loved. My parents showed me the pile of presents waiting for me under the tree.
“Yes, well, we hoped you’d be home,” my mum grumbled.
“Val, behave,” my dad chided her good naturedly. “We missed the post cut off, and you know it.”
“Bah.” She waved a hand at him, her eyes twinkling.
“Did you enjoy what I sent you?” I asked, eyeing her glassy-looking skin.
“I had no idea Korea had such an amazing range of skincare!” she’d gushed.
“She spent half the morning looking it up.” My dad said, rolling his eyes. “And the other half putting it all on.”
“And you?” I asked, pointedly, to him. I’d sent him a whole box of Korean sweets and savoury snacks.