Page 45 of When Worlds Collide (Between Worlds #2)

Two weeks later

" S o, how's it going?" Becka yawned. She'd just woken up, whereas I was winding down after another busy day.

I considered my response. "I think I kind of assumed it would be similar to interning at Pisces," I admitted. "Y'know, sorting cables by colour, rearranging the chaos cupboards, putting together drum kits with the help of wandering musicians, that sort of thing."

Becka snorted. "I take it it's a little more mentally stimulating?"

I shrugged, settling myself more comfortably on the sofa. Joon wasn't home yet.

"Some days I do the same stuff I did at Pisces – humping boxes all over the building – but the other day, we were sent to the complete other side of the city. We turned an abandoned parking lot into a futuristic landscape for a music video."

Thankfully, Hana and I had been working alongside each other since I started working at ENT.

Having a native Korean speaker with me had been a life-saver, and I like to think I’ve also made her life easier, due to already being pretty used to the grunt work that comes with being a ‘junior assistant’.

"That's wild," Becka said, but the effect of her enthusiasm was dulled, somewhat, by a jaw-popping yawn.

Her yawn only reminded me how tired I also was.

I had spent more days out of the building than I had inside of it.

This week alone I'd been out of ENT three times setting up for variety shows and music videos. Today, my team and I helped out with transporting incredible amounts of broken-down set pieces to the freight depot, where they’ll end up all over the world for tour stages.

It’s been incredibly eye opening to see – and realise – the scope of the production that goes into this industry. It’s so full-scale, I had no idea.

"It's really amazing being on this side of it," I went on. "If you’d ever asked me what went into mobilising a K-Pop group from practice room to variety show appearance, I’d have guessed maybe 10% of the process. It’s insane – it takes an actual army."

I'd joked to Jihoon, last night, that I was starting to think they booked stadium arenas just to fit the crew, not the fans.

He'd winked and said, "Ssh, don't tell anyone."

I’d never really given it much thought before – what went into making this world a reality – the staging, the outfit changes, the perfectly staged choreography.

It was so far out of my wheelhouse of music production, but now I was beginning to see the kind of blood, sweat, and tears that held it all together, and it was immense.

I was a tiny cog in something so massive, and in a way I hadn’t expected – it was humbling.

"So, where's the idol?" Becka asked, and I watched as she rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen for her customary cup of coffee.

"Still at dance practice," I answered automatically.

He'd started up practice with GVibes this week, now that the group's Christmas leave was officially over.

He and the other members spent most days in the building, working on choreography for the new songs they planned to release between now and the tour in the autumn.

"Does he practice every day?" I watched for a moment as she searched for the coffee filters, clearly growing more irritated with every drawer she opened.

"In the cupboard above the fridge."

I grinned, watching her face relax as she found the filters. "And yes," I said to answer her question. "They practice pretty much all day at the moment. They've got a fuck-ton of engagements planned, and that's before you even consider the music videos, and the tour."

One day, long after most of the rest of the staff had left for the day, I’d gone down to the ENT gym to meet Jihoon.

I was earlier than intended and I found him jogging on a treadmill, which wasn’t unusual, but what had been was that he was singing.

While jogging, he’d been singing his part to one of the groups’ more upbeat songs.

And he wasn’t just singing; he was belting it out.

It was amazing that I hadn’t been able to hear him from down the corridor.

It was near flawless; from the sustained bridge to the ornamental trills.

The vocal control, the discipline… it was astounding.

When I'd said this to Joon later, he'd told me it was a pretty common technique in K-Pop vocal training.

It made sense. Performers spent as much time running around stages, or doing intense, full-body choreography as they did singing. The ability to combine the two things… it honestly verged into superhuman territory, as far as I was concerned, as I said as much.

He’d modestly shrugged it off. “We got used to it.”

I don’t think I ever would, not if I practised my entire life.

"How have you managed to make being a celebrity's girlfriend into the most boring, work-centric experience, ever?"

Becka sounded snarky, but I didn't take it personally. Until that shot of caffeine hit, she couldn't be held responsible for her tone. Or words. Or actions.

I laughed softly. "He did give me the choice to not work," I admitted. "But I can't just freeload like that. I need to actually do something."

"Ah yes," Becka interjected, "your mysterious 'purpose'."

I rolled my eyes. I knew she didn't really disapprove of my life choice, but I did think it baffled her a bit, that I was holding out on this ephemeral idea of a life's purpose.

"Have you found it yet?" She prodded.

I rolled my eyes. "Not yet, mum."

""But are you actually looking for it, or are you just playing intern again?"

Oh, ouch. She hasn't had her coffee yet, I had to remind myself.

"Not yet," I said slowly. "But that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying the process of looking for it.

I know you don't think much of what I'm doing, and yeah, okay, the job isn't 'mentally stimulating'.

" I rolled my eyes. "But it's a cool experience. "

A couple of times during the week, I’d snuck down to the dance studios to watch the group practice the new choreography – with their permission – and I never stayed long enough to bother them or draw attention to myself.

The work that went into it, the repetition, it was amazing.

It was also a privilege I didn’t take lightly.

I might know all the members personally now, even if only a little, but I’d been their fan first, and seeing this rawness to their process was a gift.

Being able to see the start of what I knew would become something seamless, a bodily expression of artistry condensed into a three-to-four-minute performance was something precious.

Becka sighed, but held up her hands in surrender. "As long as you're happy."

Was I? People kept asking me that. I was happy, but it felt like it came with conditions. I wanted to be happy.

"I'm excited to see what happens this year," I said instead.

I’d seen a tentative work-up for GVibes' 2020 schedule, and up until they travelled out of the country for the tour, it was packed. Variety shows, radio guest spots. award shows. They were even taking part in some charity sports events.

Becka poured coffee into her favourite mug, inhaling deeply before taking a sip.

"I did notice you didn't answer my question, babes." She peered over her mug at me. Even through the screen, her eyes seemed to burn holes into me. "Being busy is not a good enough excuse to not prioritise yourself."

I chewed my lip. Becka always saw through my bullshit.

"It is weird," I admitted. "Being here – working at ENT – it's like I'm seeing Jihoon the professional.

Like, he's my boyfriend. I'm so used to seeing the real person he is, but I knew him first as the 'idol'.

The stage persona. Seeing him at ENT is like seeing him at work.

" I looked over to the balcony, taking a moment to gather my thoughts.

"This is a job, but it's his passion. Seeing the balance is kind of amazing. "

I didn't bother pointing out that the army of workers at ENT were responsible for providing the kind of balance that allowed Jihoon and the other members of GVibes to concentrate on their performances.

People like me, who set up stages. The wardrobe team who set out racks, upon racks of themed-outfits.

To say nothing of the tech teams quietly soldiering on behind everything to make sure the lighting was properly cued up, the mics charged…

the list was endless, and it was all for the performers.

"That's all very nice," Becka interrupted my reverie. "But what about your passion? What about your balance? All I see is you busting your butt."

"I am busting my butt," I admitted. "But I am also enjoying being on this side of the curtain. And I don't mind being busy."

The plus side of us both having busy schedules is that most mornings we travelled to the company together, sometimes opting to drive ourselves, sometimes curled up together in the back seat of the company SUV.

But, more often than not, one – or both – of us had to stay late, and some days we’d just miss each other entirely. My days usually started at 8:30 am, and ended around 6:00 pm, but Jihoon could start as early as 5:00 am and not get home until well after night fell.

I’d even come home a couple times to find him fast asleep on the sofa, just completely gone.

And even though it was because he was wiped from learning new routines, or straining his voice laying down tracks – a completely extraordinary life – these little, completely ordinary moments made this feel… real. Worth it.

I didn't try to explain that to Becka though.

"I am happy," I said.

She eyed me sceptically, but didn't try to protest.

"What about you?" I said, more than ready to shift the focus away from me. "You've barely mentioned what's going on with you and Ben."

Becka sighed.

"Oh dear," I said. "That good?"

"I wish I fucking knew!" Becka burst out, and I blinked in surprise.

"He barely opens up to me about anything real.

He just wants to make out, or –" Becka gestured wildly, like she was trying to pluck an example out of thin air.

"Go to the fucking movies, or something.

He never wants to talk about what happened.

It's like if he doesn't talk about it, it never happened!

" She let out a frustrated sound that was half shout, half-groan.

Rarely had I seen the tenacious Rebecca Hanson so…

undone. It reminded me of when she and Ben had broken up.

She'd been so lost, but so determined to 'move the fuck on'.

She'd said it was because she was a 'strong, independent woman who don't need no man.

' And yeah, that was true. Becka was strong, and indepdant.

But it was also because she couldn't bear to live in the pain that dwelling on their relationship would bring.

Anyone who'd ever taken the time to see past her tough facade would recognise that. She was extraordinary. But that didn't mean she didn't feel deeply.

"I just want to know that it sucked as hard for him as it did for me." She blew out a breath and blinked furiously, looking away from the phone.

My heart clenched, and I had to hold back my own emotions lest they mirror hers.

"Because it mattered, you know?"

Her eyes swung back to meet mine, and I could see the confusion, even through the thin shine of her barely-leashed tears.

"It happened. We had a relationship for years. We said things, made promises, and then… he just ups and leaves. That happened."

She jabbed a finger into the air, the gesture insubstantial.

"It mattered," I echoed.

But what I don't say is that what happened in the past may not be stable enough ground to build a relationship on.

After a few more minutes of small talk, we said goodbye so she could get ready for work.

I wandered over to the balcony, and even though it was freezing, I stayed out there a while, watching the city and giving my thoughts room to breathe.

Even though we didn’t get to spend our whole days together, there was a kind of peace in the routine, a kind of ordinary in the extraordinary of our lives.

And no matter the crazy hours we kept, we still got to fall asleep together and wake up together.

It was the kind of life that happened in between the big events that defined our milestones.

No matter how early or how late our busy days ran, it was kind of hard to be mad about the hours we did get to spend together, because this was ultimately the life we had chosen.

We may get pushed and pulled in all sorts of directions, but this was what we had chosen, and it felt… nice.