It was a Sunday morning when I departed for Seoul. Everyone was at the station, surprisingly, to send me off and say goodbye.

Even mom, who had been mad at me for wanting to go to my father’s wedding, was present, with a handkerchief in hand as she cried. To her, it seemed like there was a funeral set for me, like I was not going back. But I was secretly glad that she was going to miss me.

I was not truly expecting them all to be there, not really wanted them to come because I felt embarrassed to ask them to, but I didn’t know it felt nice to have someone come for you when you move on from a place. That I was asking myself, would any of them be really there when I come back? I was filled with anticipation for that day to quickly come, because I wanted to know. I never had people waiting for me, so I wanted to see what it was like. Would they really stick to their words? I boarded the train by myself while thinking about it.

The last that I saw that day at the station was Sehun who kept chasing the train as it started moving while telling me to come back quickly. I will surely miss him, I knew.

When he was already out of sight and buildings started to blur and greens took over the scenery outside, I stared at the beauty the province had and sighed. I hated this place before more than anything, but I reevaluated my feelings and asked myself if it was still what I was feeling.

Do I still hate this place like before? Do I hate the fact that internet here , that there was bad phone service signal, that there were no high end malls, that there was nothing but a simple life here awaiting me when I come back?

Was I even coming back?

I thought of the reason why I was going to Seoul—to find some truths—and understood that it might lead for me to end up at a decision to either stay or never come back. I knew that I already had that chance now, but will I want to stay in Seoul after everything I had in the past five months in that old town? Would I have the mind to come back for the people I started caring for in exchange for Seoul?

Seoul was my original home. I lived there for most of my life. But why did it feel like something had shifted?

I kept on going over and over the same thoughts until I found myself falling asleep.

The seven hour train ride I had was a convenient one at least. I slept for four hours and ate whenever meals were served and read books I had brought with me to pass time. Mom called twice at different times to check up on me and told me to find dad at the station if I had already arrived because she had given him a heads up that I was the only one coming.

I was fine with the setup, but after arriving at the station at five in the afternoon and finding myself alone and waiting for nothing for two more hours, I knew I had been stood up by my father. I knew he was not coming. But I could not deny the spark of hope I had that at least he had missed me and had the heart to welcome me back in his arms that I waited patiently. But it was all wishful thinking.

Dad forgot to pick me up.

I stuck a little bit longer at the waiting area, tapping my shoes repeatedly on the floor in an attempt to think of something to do. I knew I could navigate my way around Seoul to find dad’s new house, but that was going to be the last of my plans now. I didn’t think it was going to be cool if I barged into his house with his fiancée in it and she didn’t know I was coming. Anf if dad was not there to welcome me, what was even the point of coming to a house without someone familiar to me? I would probably not be able to afford sitting in the same living room as the woman who ruined my family. I would rather not do so.

Thinking of the only person I knew could help me with the dilemma I have, I called Yoonji, who excitedly bounded to the station with her eighteen year old brother, Yoonggi, driving her to fetch me. The moment we saw each other it made me feel like I was only seeing her after so many years and we were not able to stop ourselves from hugging each other while laughing. The kind of reunion we had had gathered so much attention that heads had turned and made Yoonggi drag us out of the station in pure embarrassment. He told us we were so loud and that we shouldn’t do that on a daily basis if I was going to stay with them. We had just laughed at his outburst, though, and continued to converse noisily while cheekily gazing at a scrunched-up face, Yoonggi.

It was already dark when the car stopped in front of the Mins house. Yoonji had dragged me to her room as soon as Yoonggi opened the trunk to pull out my luggage. Of course, her poor brother had to carry it all the way inside the house while shouting at our shadows.

I settled in Yoonji’s room while remembering the memories of our old sleepovers in it. The times she’d accompany me through loneliness and stuck to my side even if I was not that of an interesting character, even though I was a wallflower.

A single picture frame standing on her desk caught my eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. “You still keep that photo of us your father took?” I asked, still looking at the old photo that dated back a year ago.

She smiled and said, “ of course, that’s the only one we have. How can I not show it off? You’re my best friend and that’s the only proof!”

I laughed. “You’ve never changed.”

“You did, though.”

My laughter died down and in wonder I turned to her with a look of curiosity. What had changed in me?

“Nothing bad, though,” she assured, still smiling at me. “Just that I feel like you look brighter now.”

“Oh,” I couldn’t help but blush.

Yoonji chuckled, saying how weirdly I had reacted. And then, she teased me about probably finding some love life in Gyeonggi, but I had vehemently denied, spilling to her instead about the friends I’d find in the most peculiar of instances. I told her how I was living with Sehun and his father, how we started off enemies and then slowly became closer, with a set of friends that had various and clashing characters. I told her about our living conditions and how now I did have a set of friends I couldn’t help but still call a nuisance.

She had laughed at how many times I had denied that I was enjoying the simple life in that old town. I begged to differ. It wasn’t so different from my previous life in Seoul. It wasn’t really. We could hardly go by.

“Really?” she had asked, raising a playful brow as I was pulling out gifts for her that I actually didn’t forget buying, though I might have actually picked up really random things. “Then how awful was it there that you’re denying?”

I pressed my lips together and shrugged. She had her eyes trained on me as I continued to dodge her question, but I kept my gaze on the luggage I was rummaging through.

“You don’t have to lie, Joo,” she said, sighing. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to concentrate more on what I was doing. “I won’t feel bad because you like it more there.”

I burst out laughing, not really wanting to take her seriously. How could I like it more in that place? Mom and I didn’t have our own house. Sehun was annoying most of the time. I didn’t have dad. Those kids I was hanging out with were all nosy and boisterous. Joohyun was a shiny rock on the way that I could not get used to. And if it wasn’t such a twisted idea, I could have probably been the subject of bullying if Sehun didn’t tell them I was his cousin. How were those even better?

A hand went onto the top of my head. Yoonji ruffled my hair gently. “You may deny it but I know you better than your stubborn reasoning could find excuses for you.” My eyes widened. “Of the two of us, you’re the smarter one, but with things like this, how could you be so dumb? You should know yourself better, Mijoo.”

I had pondered about what she said about me that night. About me denying my true feelings. Was I really doing that all this time? But wasn’t it true? I did not lie! I didn’t like that old town any better than Seoul! The truth was—I—I…

I was not able to sleep properly, though Yoonji’s bed was extremely comfortable. It was really soft and warm, just like how it used to feel. But why did it feel different?

I thought of it hard. And it was funny how the same thoughts kept running and running inside my head. I could hear my thoughts practically singing to me, flashing a neon sign above my head as to why.

This isn’t home.

I could no longer sleep peacefully beside my best friend just like before mainly because my body was not recognizing the place as its host, as its home. But why? My best friend was here with me.

Was it really because I had already gotten used to the Oh’s house in Gyeonggi? Was it because I was actually missing the people I left behind? Was it because home to me now meant somewhere else?

I closed my eyes tightly, afraid that Yoonji was right. But why did she have to say that? Why should she be right?

That night, as I finally fell asleep, I dreamt of many faces that were so familiar to me. Faces that had come to be very familiar to me. They were the friends I left in Gyeonggi.

Maybe Yoonji was right after all.

The morning after, I had woken up to the smell of butter toast and eggs. They had been prepared in the kitchen by Yoonji’s mother, and although I was not really used anymore to the kind of food they served in the morning—since mom or Mr. Oh loved to prepare heavy meals in the mroning—, my growling stomach had loved the smell of it that both Yoonji and I stormed into the dining room excitedly.

To my utter shock and dismay, though, my jaw dropped at the sight of six more boys sitting around the dining table. They looked like Yoonggi’s age that I had wondered whether they had siblings I was not aware of. But Yoonji nudged my side and mouthed to me that they were her brother’s friends and bandmates. I had nodded in understanding and tried to appear as normal as I could in front of Yoonggi’s friends though I was already feeling too flustered by the stares we were getting.

Yoonggi used to be this scrawny, little boy in his younger years. He was socially awkward and didn’t have that many friends—especially good looking ones—that I wondered what puberty had done to him and how was he even able to form a band. To think that he was the same boy I used to know, the only thing that might have really changed right now was that he learned to dress up and interact with his species. It was, so to say, a good turn for him, however, not for me. I really hated crowds. More people in the room meant more awkwardness for me.

Mrs. Min had placed a plate with toasts, eggs and bacons for me when suddenly the boy-crowd across from Yoonji and I cheered in a teasing manner.

“Don’t mind them. They are like that every morning,” Yoonji said, nudging me. I