I immediately pulled my hand away from his grasp. To say in the least, this had taken me by complete surprise. My mind became sort of hazy and my legs were begging to just run in the opposite direction. And yet somehow I managed to freeze my body in place.

I don’t want to see his home, I thought to myself.

On most occasions I used the word house or anything else other than home. ‘Home’ referred to a personal space where a family stayed or which provided some sense of protection or feeling of belonging. I had never known what a home truly felt like.

“Come on Jinki!!” Jonghyun chirped with such joy that I didn’t have the heart to turn away. Slowly and painfully I forced myself to look at the house in front of me. The first thing that came to view was the picket white fence lining the entire property on all sides. In front stood a black mailbox with the flag left down. The house wasn’t far away with a grey stone path leading to the door. Pots and plants were strategically placed around the lawn making it look colorful and bright. Time and effort had been put into making the place presentable and I was ashamed to think of the mess my parents left every time they came to stay.

“I can’t wait for you to meet my parents and there is something I have wanted to tell you. Finally now I can. But it will have to wait till the tour of the house.” He said with the excitement of a child. It was hard to compare this Jonghyun to the one I was familiar with. But his angelic smile was all the same and so I let him take my hand once more as he pulled me in the direction of the entrance.

From the near distance I could hear dogs barking and Jonghyun grinned while pointing in the direction of the noise. “My two dogs are always like that but their playful when they get to know you.” He encouraged. I smiled in reply because what else was I supposed to do?

I could see Jonghyuns feet do a little jumping as he waited for someone to open the front door. “My ah..parents know who you are because I kind of can’t stop talking about you.” He admitted shyly and I blushed, thinking of his family discussing me in any situation. I continued to nod with a smile plastered on my face. This was already way out of my comfort zone.

The door flew open and behind it stood a woman who was shorter than Jonghyun but had his easy welcoming smile. I quickly assumed this to be his mother and she confirmed so in her greeting. Jonghyuns mother was soft spoken and kind, she smiled and gestured for us to come in. I released my hand free from Jonghyuns and bowed to make a proper introduction, the last thing I wanted to seem was rude. To my utter dismay Jonghyuns Dad was home too and something was giving me the feeling that they were notified about my visit.

Trays of cookies and soft drinks magically appeared out of nowhere.  I sat in the living room and heard the conversation about sports between his father and him. His mom came in from the kitchen wearing a “Queen of the Kitchen” apron and offered to make pancakes.

I sat next to Jonghyun on the couch and contributed to some small talk. More than anything I was afraid he would try to hold my hand again, I didn’t want to be a freak in front of his parents.

Soon the pancakes were ready and everyone was seated at the dining table and digging in.  Everything about this household was so welcoming and joyous that it started to become unsettling. “Won’t you have some pancakes, Jinki?” I heard Jonghyun’s mother ask with what seemed to be concern. Like this women I had just met actually cared if I ate or not. And the shocking thing was, that she genuinely seemed concerned.

When was the last time my mother or father bothered if I ate or not? When was the last they called? I couldn’t remember.

I smiled politely and placed a pancake onto my empty plate. Jonghyuns Dad soon added some syrup and assured me it tasted better this way. With noticeable hesitance I cut a piece and took a bite.

I could feel my eyes start to burn like I was about to cry. My immediate reaction was to get up and save myself from such humiliation. After muttering something about wanting to go to the washroom I turned and begun walking in any random direction. From behind I could hear someone yell the way and my feet managed to comply.

Once inside the bathroom I hunted down the washbasin and hovered over it while looking into the mirror. In its refection I watched as a tear escaped from the corner of my right eye. Without much thought I started to splash cold water onto my face. Only then did I realize I was breathing too fast. Mentally I counted my breaths to slow down its pace.

Did I just have a mental breakdown over pancakes?

But there was no need to ask that question. It wasn’t just the pancakes but it was the way they tasted. It was hard to explain, the way the sweetness of it reminded me of the care and thought that was put into preparing it. The love and joy his mother got from preparing something for her family. It made me envision a family seated around a table sharing their events