Chapter 44
My smile was frozen in an approximation of a real one as I took in the familiar faces of the members of GVibes.
They seemed as paused as I was.
The men I’d spent Christmas with, once upon a time.
My smile trembled.
Five very different people. One of whom was–
“Five minutes, reporter Thompson,” came the voice of the organiser who had led me to the room. It broke the spell, and I cleared my throat as I pulled out my recorder and laid it on the table in front of me.
My pulse thudded so loudly in my ears, I wondered for a wild second if the recorder would pick it up.
“I assume you’re happy for me to record this interview?” I directed my question into the void, expecting it would be one of the managers who answered, but instead, it was Minjae.
“That’s fine, Miss Thompson.” There was a slight, but noticeable pause, and then– “Are you well?”
My fingers stilled, hovering over the ‘record’ button.
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. He looked the same.
No. That wasn’t quite right. He looked the same, but changed, somehow. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, nor did I have the luxury to spend the time studying his face.
“Yes, thank you.” I said automatically, trying to ignore the way my throat felt slightly scratchy.
I pressed ‘record’ and pulled out my notepad, and my creased sheet of questions. I folded one leg over the other and felt a curious sense of disassociation as I briefly scanned the questions. The sheet trembled ever so slightly. I gripped it harder.
Finally, I took a breath, sat up, and rolled my shoulders back.
I faced the sofa, and took in the group as a whole, not settling on any one person. The smile I plastered on my face had nothing to do with any real emotion. It was enough.
“GVibes,” I said, grasping for the professional voice I’d cultivated over the years. It shared only a fleeting resemblance to my actual voice.
“It’s been a few years since you last performed in the US. As you know, you have an enormous international fan base. How did it feel to perform your first overseas concert in LA?”
My face was a mask. The polite half-smile covered my mouth like armour.
I watched as a myriad of expressions rippled over them.
The two youngest members shifted in their seats, and it seemed as if Ace kept trying to catch my eye, but I resolutely did not let my eyes settle anywhere for too long.
I did notice when Woojin discreetly tapped him on the knee though, halting his fidgeting.
I would have wondered what they were thinking, had I not kept such a firm grasp on anything that didn’t serve me professionally in that moment. It was a desperate grip.
It must have been only seconds before their own professionalism kicked in, and Minjae cleared his throat to take the question.
“Reuniting with our fans has been something we have looked forward to for a long time. Whenever we travel abroad to perform for them is a time we value, and it felt really special to be able to share that with Vibers here in the States.”
I made some notes on my notepad before moving onto my next question. I exhaled minutely, feeling like we’d cleared the first hurdle. Now we each had our expectations set of how this would go.
“You were officially on hiatus during your time in the military, yet not only are you performing at the Music Choice Awards, but you’ve also been nominated for the category of Social Artist. How does that feel?”
“It’s a surprise,” Minjae said, “and an enormous honour. In some ways, it means more to us than something like Top Group, because Social Artist is a category that is chosen by the fans. Even though we’ve been away for so long, just being nominated in this category means our fans are still cheering us on. That means more to us than winning.”
From some people that might have sounded affected, like fan service, but coming from Minjae, with the approving nods of the members beside him, it was completely genuine. I’d always loved that about them, and despite myself, I felt a real smile cracking through the one I’d plastered on.
“While there’s not been any official announcement, there is some expectation you’ll release a studio album in the new year. Can you give us any hints about what to expect?”
I’d read the question from my notepad, so it was with some surprise that I looked up to hear Woojin speak. His answer, while heavily accented, and occasionally sprinkled with Korean, was clear, and this time, my smile was more genuine as I met his eyes.
“We are not the same people we were when we made our last album,” he said, “whatever we produce next will reflect that, and how we have grown as people, and artists.”
The interpreter stepped forward unobtrusively to provide a brief translation. I didn’t bother telling her I didn’t need one. I jotted down some notes, nodding to myself.
“On that note, would you be able to tell us how you might be different, as artists today, from when you last produced music?”
There were noises from the group, mainly between the two youngest members. To my surprise, Lee answered first.
“When we were away,” he said haltingly, and I nodded in encouragement, unintentionally falling into a more informal manner, “we saw what other performers did, and it made us wonder where we fit in now. The world has changed, so have we. We want to show everyone who we are now.”
It was a bit of a non-answer, but I hadn’t really expected a descriptive one.
I was just jotting down some notes, when my eyes raised of their own accord, drawn inexplicably. To him. Always to him.
My lungs seized for the barest moment, a contraction that would have doubled me over had I not had such rigid hold over my body. I was frozen in self preservation.
He didn’t meet my unintended stare. His eyes were fixed on the hand holding my pen. His gaze was intense, his brow sharply furrowed. I couldn’t read his expression. How was it so familiar to me and yet utterly unknown?
Reflexively I looked down, but it was just a notepad–
My ring.
He was looking at my silver and amethyst ring. My eyes slid closed briefly, as a knife twisted in my gut.
I still wore it.
In an instant, I was back in a hot tub, in a garden, not all that far from where we were now.
My next breath caught in my throat as Jihoon gently slid the ring onto my finger. It fit as perfectly as if it’d been made for me. Jihoon brushed his thumbs across my hand, looking down at the ring now settled there, before raising my hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on the back of it.
I’d moved it from my left hand onto my right long ago. I still remembered the debate I’d had with myself, hovering over the jewellery box, trying to convince myself to take it off, but being unable to part with it.
My fingers clenched reflexively, and I pushed the moment to the back of my mind. It was a herculean effort not to look and see if he still wore his – a companion to my own, a simple band of braided silver – because I didn’t know which outcome would be less painful.
I shuffled my paper, trying to cover the moment that had felt like minutes, but in reality had spanned mere seconds. I cleared my throat in an effort to regain control over myself. I’d been doing so well.
“Sorry, excuse me,” I muttered, fishing a hand into my bag and drawing out my bottle of water. For an excruciating moment, I tried to juggle the notepad and pen on my lap, while trying to open the bottle, but the lid…would not…
“Please,” Minjae said, appearing in front of me, though I had not seen or heard him move.
He held out his hand for the bottle. I stared up at him with eyes I knew were entirely unguarded in that moment, and then he did the most unexpected thing.
He moved subtly so that he was standing in front of me, effectively blocking me from both the camera and the rest of the group.
I allowed my eyes to slide closed, and I exhaled in ragged, quiet relief, as I held out the bottle.
“Kamsamnida,” I murmured, without thinking.
In the brief moment it took Minjae to twist the lid off the bottle, I had composed myself. When he stepped away, my notepad was balanced, my pen held firmly in my grasp, and I took a small sip from the bottle in my other hand.
By the time I put the bottle back in my bag, the smile was repainted on my face.
I focused on the sofa as a single entity, not a group of five, individual people.
“You’ve spoken before about how your sound evolves with each new album. Was there something specific you aimed for with this next comeback?”
I opened my eyes, reciting the question off the paper.
Minjae picked this one up again, as the interpreter softly repeated my question in Korean for anyone who needed it.
“As artists in an ever changing world,” he began, gesturing with his hands, “we too change in reaction to what we see around us. Music has always been an expression, whether it’s protest, encouragement, love or hate.
” He shrugged. “What we have to say from one year to the next changes, as well. We want to be something people can look forward to. We want to put hope into the world because it seems there’s so little of it these days.
We want to be a source of peace for our fans. ”
“We want them to rely on us,” Seokmin added, surprising me. His smile seemed wider than the answer merited, and I quickly looked away.
The other members nodded along with the sentiment, though I felt my eyes burn, ever so slightly. I blinked rapidly to clear them.
“Just one more question please, reporter Thompson.” The organiser said from where she stood unobtrusively at the back.
I nodded.
“Last one, then,” I said, more to myself than the room. I looked through my notes, giving myself a moment, before I folded my sheet of questions up and tucked it into my bag.