AN: Written quickly. I had always loved Bad and Tomorrow, but I finally got the chance to listen to Tablo's album, and I'm sitting here like 'why did it take me this long'. This fic is based on the song Home by Tablo, and was written listening to this song. You should listen to it while reading.

Sometimes, the return home is the most difficult adventure one can undertake.

It’s on days like this that SeungRi wishes he’d never showed up for auditions, that he’d never agreed to being a trainee, that he’d never signed the contract they’d written up for him a year later.

Days where it storms outside and the rain pelts against the window, thunder booming from above. SeungRi lies on the worn, hardwood floor in his sweat-soaked wifebeater, breathing hard. The song plays on without him, the heavy dance track blaring in his ears. He hears his own voice crooning back at him, words that meant nothing at all. He hears the voices of the other members, singing and rapping along lifelessly. SeungRi knows they’re tired, too. They try to hide it, but it’s there, behind the layers of makeup and eccentric fashion choices. It’s in the strain in their voices, the hollowness in their eyes as they smile and wave at fans screaming for them.

SeungRi’s alone in the practice room, having insisted on staying behind. The others had left, not even glancing back, too wrapped up in their own misery to pay attention to the youngest of their group. SeungRi understood, of course. He supposed he had it easy, the least lines, the least responsibility. Maybe sometimes he wished for more, but on days like this he wished he didn’t have any at all.

As SeungRi lay there, surrounded by the roaring of the rain and the bass-heavy song still playing, SeungRi feels lonely. He misses his friends, his sister, his parents. He wonders if they ever stop to think about him, like he thinks about them. Their life has moved on, after all, continuing even after he’d left. As if SeungRi were no longer part of their lives anymore. And in that instant, SeungRi wishes he could go home.

SeungRi checks his phone and is surprised when it reads 11:00pm. He jumps up from his spot on the floor and shoves his feet into his shoes, running out of the room and forgetting to lock the door behind him. Outside, he’s instantly soaked through to the bone, the cold raindrops seeping through his skin and freezing him. He blinks, surprised, lifting a hand to watch the rain flow in rivulets down his arm.

He decides then that going home probably wasn’t a good idea.

It’s on days like this that SeungRi thinks that it’s unfair, the things he goes through. Then guilt hits him, there are so many people who would kill to be where he is now. But that doesn’t stop him from thinking it, from resenting his three hours of sleep from the night before, the day-long practices, the recording sessions that take hours and hurt his voice, the fans with their grabby hands and shrill voices, the demands from his higher-ups that he has no choice to obey.

Days like this where SeungRi’s riding home from the concert alone, headed toward his apartment that he no longer shared, and every bone and muscle is shaking from exertion. His head rests against the glass window of the car, fighting off sleep. He shivers and reaches a hand to zip up his jacket, when he realizes it’s already zipped up to his chin and he’s still cold. He knows by now that he’s getting sick, having gone through it enough times to recognize the symptoms; the exhaustion, the cold, the weakness.

SeungRi longs for his house back in Gwangju, where his mother would prepare him hot foods and fuss over him the instant he felt ill, him being her precious eldest son. He’d be spoiled for a few days and be allowed to stay home from school and eat ice-cream. He wouldn’t be made to just push through it and be sure to be there at 6am, sharp.

This longing spurs something in him; he leans forward to tap at the driver’s seat and demand to be taken to the bus station. The driver looks at him surprised but follows his orders and drives SeungRi to the station, parking along the sidewalk as he watches SeungRi walk out of the car purposefully.

SeungRi makes it all the way to the bus station doors, where it’s barely lit because of the late hour, and he can see the few people waiting to catch buses sitting on the benches, listening to music or otherwise occupying their time. Then he realizes that he’s got no money, that he’s got nothing but the clothes on his back, and that he’s got a concert tomorrow where thousands of screaming fans would be waiting for him.

And so he stands there for a moment, hand on the door, peering through the glass and watching the people inside, before he lets go and turns around, letting out a sigh as a heavy weight settled over him. His shoulders hunched forward from the effort as he walked back to the car and got in, telling the driver to take him to his apartment. The driver doesn’t say anything about SeungRi’s odd behavior and just drives off. SeungRi watches the bus station disappear as the car moves away from the rear windows.

It’s on days like this that SeungRi feels worthless, as if nothing he did could ever be enough. He walks away from the recording studio with a tightness in his chest as he fights to keep the tears from spilling as he remembers the look on JiYong’s face as he kicked SeungRi out of the studio after hours of useless recording. No matter how hard he tried, SeungRi just couldn’t sing it the way JiYong wanted him to. SeungRi suspected that JiYong planned to cut SeungRi’s lines again and sing the part for himself. He remembers the pitying faces of the other members as he walked out of the room, how they seemed to say we’re sorry, but better you than me.

Days like this where it’s a cold winter night and the snow has been falling nonstop for hours. SeungRi’s boots don’t fit him anymore and his feet hurt because of it. He’s resigned to walking back to the apartment, seeing it as ample punishment for his failure. His heart hurts as his mind replays JiYong’s yelling, it hurts because SeungRi can’t help but believe him. Things like not meant to be in the band and useless, talentless, they haunt him, so much that he falls asleep with them whispering in his ear.

The first tear falls and he can’t help the ones that follow, the frustration burning in his eyes. If only he’d just tried harder or worked longer, surely he’d be better by now, that these things wouldn’t happen. Or perhaps it was just that he wasn’t cut out for this, being associated with people endlessly more talented than he was. He remembered the time when he’d been a kid of 15 with a big head and a bigger ego, famous in his small town, used to having his own set of followers that never had a bad word to say about him. And look where he was now, shunned by those infinitely superior.

He doesn’t realize he’s been walking the wrong way until he’s pulling open the door to the bus station and walking inside, blinking against the dim light that lit the place. He wanders almost unconsciously to the third stop, the one destined for Gwangju. He’s been here so often it’s become almost a second nature to him. He sees the bench he’s sat on countless times before, his spot by the column where he used to rest his head as he waited for his bus. In front of him was the small convenience shop where he used to buy things to eat on his way home, and perhaps a magazine to catch up on the daily news. The same old man still worked there, reorganizing his stands and clearing things away for the day ahead, SeungRi recognized him, remembered having many a conversation with him when he’d felt most lonely. SeungRi would have dearly loved to strike up a conversation again, but it had been too long since the last one and SeungRi simply didn’t have the nerve anymore.

He sat down in his familiar spot, his feet on the bench and his back pressed to the column, closing his eyes as memories of his past swept over him, how he’d waited alone so many times before, feeling just as useless, waiting for his bus to come to take him home, where he was loved and treasured. In that moment, his desire to return home is so strong, the loneliness clawing at him, the need to see his mother’s face and to feel her embrace, to tease his sister and shake hands with his father so great. He felt more tears come on, and perhaps that was the moment where he decided that he would go home, for good this time.

The clock hanging on the walls told him that it 12:07am, and SeungRi sighs, knowing he’s already missed the last bus for the day. He shifts in his position, ready to wait the night out and catch the first bus in the morning, as he had done so many times before. He rests his head against the column behind him, eyes closed and fingers locked, feeling the steady stream of his tears run down his face into his shirt. He shivered, feeling the chill of the season through his too-thin jacket, wishing he’d thought to put on a thicker jacket. His mother would scold him when she saw him. The thought of his mother made him smile momentarily.

He doesn’t care who see him now, all they’d see was another broken boy who’d chased his dreams to Seoul and had come out unsuccessful. He would not be disturbed.

A few hours passed and SeungRi’s tears had dried by then, leaving stiff streaks on his face. He was resting, breathing lightly, but his eyes snapped open immediately when he felt someone’s fingers touch his face.

To his surprise, he sees JiYong standing there, a disapproving look on his face. But SeungRi can see in his eyes the worry there, the traces of regret and apologies, and right then and there SeungRi forgives him. After all, he could hardly blame JiYong for expecting nothing but the best when the whole band’s success was riding on his thin, twenty-year-old shoulders. SeungRi might not be the most valued member of the group, but he certainly didn’t have it worse.

“What are you doing here, Seunghyunnie? It’s cold, you should be at home. We don’t want you getting sick.”

“I'm going home, hyung,” whispers SeungRi, shifting over when JiYong made to sit by him.

He feels JiYong’s skinny arms wrap around him and pull him close, all the anger he’d seen before gone. Now, JiYong was not G-Dragon, the man responsible for leading one of Korea’s most successful idol groups, the man who wasn’t afraid to speak his thoughts no matter how much they hurt. This was JiYong, the boy who was really just a few years older than SeungRi, who understood better than anyone how he felt. And this JiYong could feel SeungRi’s pain, feel it as though it were his own.

“But why, Seunghyunnie? Why back to Gwangju… don’t tell me you’re running away.”

“And if I said I was, hyung? What if I'm sick and tired of always being the one who brings the others down? What I'm all alone in a city where I'm nobody special? What if I miss my parents and my friends and my old life?” SeungRi’s voice cracks as his tears return. He leans his head onto JiYong’s shoulder, crying softly.

“Because, Seunghyunnie,” JiYong begins, his voice tight as well, as though he were holding back tears of his own. “Because Gwangju isn’t your home anymore. Your home is here, with us. We need you, Seunghyunnie, don’t you get that? So we’re going to be selfish and keep you to ourselves. We love you too much to let you go. So you can’t leave us, Seunghyunnie. Your home is here now… with me.”

SeungRi looks up and stares into JiYong’s eyes, letting his words wash over him. Then SeungRi nods, choosing to believe JiYong. It was true, his home was here now. No matter how much he would miss his old life, he loved it here too much to ever truly leave for good, even if he didn’t realize it himself yet. And he wasn’t alone, not really. He had four other boys who probably felt just as lonely as him that he could have as brothers, a second family so that he’d never feel quite as lonely again. JiYong smiles and holds SeungRi closer for a moment before taking his hand and squeezing, leading him out of the bus station where a car was waiting to take them back to SeungRi’s apartment.

It was inevitable that SeungRi would feel lonely again, that he would miss his family over the years. But he wouldn’t give up on his dream, not when his dream hadn’t given up on him yet. And lying there, with JiYong pressed against his back, holding him in his sleep, SeungRi truly believes that he’s finally home.