Home.
 

It didn’t feel so odd to call it that, not like it did when you first got off the plane exactly two months ago. You felt like a tourist in your own home country, having left the place early on in junior high school.Years have passed through graduation ceremonies- high school, college, and numerous jobs, settling into a country, continents away from where you were born. Your current boss had requested to relocate you temporarily, and to your surprise you’ve been selected to move back here.

And so, it was perfectly okay for you to stick your head out the window of the airport taxi, like an overly excited child as you stare in awe at the place you were once familiar with.

You decided to take a stroll down memory lane on your day off from work, heading out back to your old neighbourhood. Teenagers in school uniform flocked the streets, and you smile to yourself because good god it’s definitely been a while. Memories of your adolescent youth etched clearly in your head as it was the last few years you spent here before flying abroad. You had lost contact with pretty much all your classmates and friends. It was just today, that coming here made you wonder where they’ve gone off to and what they’ve grown up to be. A particularly person crossed your mind, the fact that the two of you were two peas in a pod. Someone who you grew up with, someone you promised to keep in touch with.

But life has a funny way of working things out, and like others you went your separate ways. So the emails stopped, the old online chats ceased until you had forgotten how you bawled your eyes out when you said goodbye for the first time. A few years back, you heard from your mother that he’s gotten pretty big and you remember saying, “Omma, anyone who knew Minho wouldn’t say he was the leanest so that’s not anything new.” “Ya- I mean, he’s sort of the hype now in the music industry.”

You remember smiling like an idiot knowing that- Song Minho, you finally made it. A part of why the two of you drifted apart was how he started to get so busy, leaving your messages unopened for days, weeks- months. He’d spoken of how he’s going to make it and do his parents proud. There were plenty of times where he’d leave you long messages, sort of like an entry of his personal journal, about the ups and downs- where there were more downs than ups at the time. But his spirit stayed, and honestly, you’ve never seen anyone work so hard for something that seemed intangible.

Nothing much has changed about the school, and you couldn’t help but feel so old as you entered the main gate. The very gate that you’d held on to, past the bell time because Minho just had to be twenty minutes late. This would usually end with the both of you receiving quite a good scolding from your homeroom teacher, along with the usual punishment points. Which was usually paid up to clean the field outside, or to mop the school corridors.

“Ya! Song Minho, you do know school starts at eight-”

“-but it doesn’t mean you wake up at eight!” He’d finish your sentence, one that he’s heard of many times before. “Let me do this- you sit here.” He laughs, taking away the mop from you.

“Why do you always insist on waiting for me then?” He shoots you that smile of his as he dries the floor.

“Because you’re my friend, you idiot.”

“Is that all?”

You sat down on the side of the field, staring out into the open space recalling the countless times you’ve spent your time here in this very spot. It was silly to suddenly start thinking of Minho, but it was helpless because it was him that went through it all with you. He’d rush over to you during lunch break, a notebook in hand, filled with rap lyrics. There were mostly of his own, but there were some english rap that he’d make you say out loud because your pronunciation- is just like the original! How the heck do you do that?

The time the two of you spent reciting lyrics may have added up to days, Minho would feel guilty for taking your time away and so he’d always spent his lunch money on you. You’d slap him by the side, slightly flustered because he’d chosen to feed you over himself. And when it comes to food and Minho, this was a big deal.

Or that time where monthly mother nature decides to smack you out of nowhere, during school and you’ve spilled enough to actually make things visible through your skirt. You remember the priceless expression on Minho’s face when he was the first one to spot this.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, and you notice how the colour from his face had disappeared.

“Huh?” You looked at him, confused.

“Who hurt you?” His eyes were uneasy as he searched your face.

“WHat are you on about?” You were sure your face was just as tense as he was, because really, you were worried why he was suddenly like this.

“Y-You’re bleeding.” He breathes a whisper, eyes moving to your skirt.

“OH.”

“…OH.”

He was just as mortified as you were at the sudden realization, scrambling to stand behind you, shielding you from further embarrassment.

From stolen glimpses during class, to running through hallways laughing breathlessly, to nerve wrecking exam results, to crying after exam results, to him comforting you- hey, this too shall pass, and the list goes on, and on. You spent quite a while reminiscing, losing track of time before deciding to catch the train, heading back home.

~

An elder entered close to where you sat into the packed train.  He looked so frail, you didn’t have the heart to see him squeeze through to find a seat. You stood up, holding his arms offering him your seat, initially protesting but you insisted because this seat is too comfortable to pass, harabo-nim. He gives out a breathy laugh, thankful as he pats your shoulder softly.

You bear the remaining time clutching onto the supports that dangled just above you, smiling to yourself as you see the man bobbing his head as he drifted to sleep. Your stop blared through the speakers, and you shifted to face the exit. Just as you were preparing to get off, you were sure you heard someone call out your name. Positive this time as he said it again, even with a face mask on you could tell it was him that called you as he stood up, looking at you straight in the eye.

The thing was, you didn’t recognize him. He had his hoodie over a cap that he wore, and the fact that his face was partially covered, you couldn’t put a finger on who he was. He was smiling, you could tell, as his eyes curved upwards just as his distinctive eyebrows did.

~