"Mrs. Kim," Key joked to his mother, popping his hip to the left resting his hand on it, before stopping himself from running his fingers through his hair, as it was full of a lemon scented hair mask, "What in the world made you buy this hideous couch in the first place?"

He had been home for one full day by this time, and he already found himself facing the Bordeaux brown couch, he resented more than anything. War is horrible, hunger even worse, but this couch - it should win a prize. If people thought the obese young man had sung horrible last week on X-factor in the UK, they probably hadn't seen this couch yet - it was the definition of horrible.

"I'll let you in on a secret," the elderly woman beside him sighed, as she hugged her grey cardigan closer to her body even though it was almost 25 degrees outside, "this was once modern."

"A thing does not become beautiful just because it's branded modern by some geek, who thinks he knows about fashionable furniture," the small smile playing on his mother's lips showed, how much she had missed his small rants and nostalgia made him forget the couch for a very short second.

His mom had been his anchor all his life. She had been accepting, supporting and an enormous inspiration to him, and being back by her side was one of the few perks of being back home. Not only was she his mother, but also one of his closest friends.

"I'm keeping the couch no matter what your arguments might be Kim Kibum," her voice was just as sharp as his, when she was determined to get her opinion across. Sharp, but at the same time soothingly soft.

The boy sighed loudly clearly trying to point out, that he knew he was defeated for now, but he wasn't happy with the result. Moving slightly to the right, he laid an arm around his mother's shoulder trying to warm her up, as she kept freezing. Apparently 25 degrees was cold at Long Beach, while in England Kibum had been happy with a whole day without rain.

Where he was wearing a pair of dark denim shorts with the length just under his knees, his mother was wearing a pair of blue jeans. Also his coral blue t-shirt and her grey cardigan, which hugged her figure in a very flattering way, were quite a pairing as well. While Key resembled a Hawaiian tourist, Mrs. Kim was on her way to tour Alaska.

"A black Midcentury Modern couch would just do so much for our living room. You wouldn't even have to change coffee table," the son pressed a bit squeezing her shoulders, "and think about me! I won't survive staring at this medieval discovery, while I'm here. I might go blind!"

"If I didn't know better, I would think, you were studying drama," she teased shrugging his arm off her to go sit in the horrible horrible couch patting the spot next to her, "Come here and tell me about Evan instead."

"What about Evan?" Key quizzed knowingly where it was going; his mother loved gossip just as much as he did. Slowly he walked over to the couch just to plump down right next to her, "Do I need coffee for this conversation?"

"When did the two of you start dating?" obviously she was ignoring his snarky comment, but he had been prepared for this conversation. Having been out in the open for such a long time, he could barely be seen with another man, before his mother made an assumption about them dating each other.

"He's just a friend," Kibum groaned clearly signaling that he would much rather be gossiping about whether or not Jennifer Lawrence's dress had been red or blood orange at the Oscars, and if the color really went well with her eyes.

Shifting uncomfortable in the couch he crossed his legs leaning back while being careful he didn't smear his hair mask all over the ugly furniture beneath him, "and if we were dating, do you really think, I would have decided to come back for such a long time without bringing him with me?"

She didn't reply, but instead she gazed into his dark eyes, which reflected her own, as he had been born with a pair of identical orbs. Her fingers played restlessly with the ends of the cotton cardigan giving her away; Key knew exactly what she was thinking, "Mom, I would tell you right away, if I was dating anyone. You would be the first one to know!"

"It's just... your father-" she cut herself off, it was a topic none of them wanted to circle into, but the young adult - her son - knew he somewhat had a responsibility to make her feel better.

For some reason his black athletic socks caught his attention. He had decided upon wearing them, so it would be easier to put on his khaki moccasins when going out, but without the shoes it just looked ridiculous and unnecessary, "Just because he's not approving of my uality does not mean, that I have to hide. If he feels like playing hide-and-seek by himself, let him."

It was the end of the conversation. Neither of them knew what to say to put the awkwardness aside, so the blonde boy with a lemon mask in his hair stood up abruptly to go wash it out, as it was starting to itch, and the scent tickled his nostrils making him want to sneeze loudly, continuously.

 "I'll go for a walk, when I've washed this out," he declared gesturing to his head, before bowing down to kiss his mother on the cheek, so she was aware that he was nowhere near being angry at her. The bright sun was shining through the Palladian window, and never had fresh air sounded better to him.

"Okay, but remember to be back for dinner - the Kim's are coming over tonight," the sun played with her natural dark hair, while reprimanding him, but as he noticed this his eyes rolled around in a not so grown-up manner.

His hips popped out as if on commando enticing his perfect perky bum, "Mom, I'm 20 years old, and I've lived by myself in a foreign country for the past 2. You really have to stop reprimanding what time, I should be home."

Just as the few last words rolled of his tongue, he realized how childish it must have sounded. There were so many cool and fancy ways to tell your parents, that you had grown up, but out of all of them, he had chosen to emphasize on his age.

"Just be sure to be home in time," Mrs. Kim had certainly known him for too long, if his sassiness did not even affect her the slightest, "they're bringing their son, who has also decided to take a Sabbath year just like you."

"Okay, okay," he assured her, while he gradually backed out of the living room, "but if this is you trying to set me up one more time with someone, you think, is a suitable candidate, I'm going to be pissed!"

Before she even got the chance to come with another clever, maybe even too clever, comeback, he turned around on his heel and almost sprinted upstairs to get the itchy hair mask out of his hopefully by now soft hair.

A hair wash later, which mostly had been him bending in under the shower, so he wouldn't have to undress, he grabbed his black leather jacket by the door of his room, as he headed out for a short trip along the beach promenade.

The sun had long ago reached the top point of its journey for the day and was slowly making its way towards the horizon, as the youngster let the sea breeze mess up his hair on his far from benefitting (for his cardio that is) walk along the beach. The promenade was slowly closing down for the day, but the occasional tourist still stopped by to try on every pair of sunglasses every shop owned.

As soon as he had reached the sand he had taken of his moccasins and his out-of-place socks to walk barefooted on the still warm sand. It felt so wrong to be home even though, he had missed those insane couch talks with his mother, and the awkward pat on the shoulder his father had given him the night he arrived.

It was hard for him to admit, but England had slowly become his home too. Guilt was eating him from the inside reminding him that he should be more than grateful to be with his family - that he was luckier than other people in this world - but then again, he had been the one who also compared war and hunger with a couch.

The scent of the sea reached him, and he felt delighted to finally get rid of the memory of the lemon mask his nose had been so kind to somehow remember for so long. For a short minute he stopped up, stared emptily at the palm tree a few meters away just letting all his bad emotions wash away with the sea.

To be honest he did miss Evan. It was true, that they had never dated, but it wasn't entirely true, when he had indicated he had no feelings what-so-ever for him. Evan was the first gay he had gotten to know besides himself, of course. He had had an understanding for the things, the emotions he went through, that no one else had. Sometimes Key couldn't help but wonder, if it had been Evan or the compassion, he had fallen in love with. Maybe it had been a weird mixture between both of those things.

His heart was torn between his family here in Long Beach and his friends back home in England. It would be a lie, if the thought of going back earlier hadn't occurred in between his ramblings, but he would never do that to Mrs. Kim. It would break her heart.

Breaking his eye contact with the emotionless palm tree he slowly continued down the beach. A refreshing breeze played lightly with his hair taking all his thoughts and worries with it. If the two years he had been gone had flown by so quickly, it would most likely happen with those 365 days as well.

As the thought of time played around in his mind, he stopped in his tracks. The sand quickly covered his feet, but he barely noticed. "," he cursed under his breath pulling his phone up from his pocket.

17:59 pm

The white huge numbers lighted up on top of the photo with him, Evan and Alicia, as if they were mocking him like they used to. He was never late for anything.

He had promised to be home by six, and he was at least a fifteen minute walk away from his house. Luckily he had been so caught up by his own thoughts that he had almost forgotten, he should be walking most of the time.

Quickly he turned around to start running towards his house with a short stop, when the sand ended to put on his shoes, as the asphalt would still be hot from the ruthless midday sun. He was quickly out of breath and while he felt like his legs would give up underneath him, he kept on running, as if his life depended on it. (Which it kind of did if he had to face his mother's wrath for this.)

Seven minutes and fifty-two seconds he could see the front door not too long away, and never had he been happier to see it. Slowing down while making an effort at catching his breath, he staggered the last few steps and without even considering glancing at a mirror, he almost tore the door open.

"Mom, I'm so sorry. I forgot the time, and-" The door closed with a loud thump behind the blonde boy, whose clothes was all messed up and hair messy from the running. Out of breath he stopped his sentence midway leaning down against his knees in order to not fall, while regretting he never took those walks for the sake of his cardio.

No reply was given and confused he glanced up to where a strange boy was standing in their foyer. Shortly he thought he might have entered the wrong house, but the huge night blue purple vase with a small apple tree in it by the door told him otherwise. Surprisingly enough he had seen this strange brunette and his flannel shirt at the airport a few days before.

"What are you doing here?" Key investigated squinting his dark eyes at the flannel boy after he had somehow managed to catch his own breath. Standing up straight he saw that he was wearing a pair of denim short with similarity to his own together with a navy blue v-neck t-shirt showing off his abs once again. Sadly he had found another flannel shirt, which was checkered red this time around.

"You live here?" What a brilliant question. No, no he did not live here. Key just loved to run into strangers houses and scream 'mom' at them and hopefully not get caught. Rolling his eyes the blonde boy popped his hip out in his infamous way straight up ignoring the latter's straight up dumb query.

"Did you not hear, what I just said?" Key's patience was starting to run low. His right foot was tapping the hardwood floor relentlessly in a melodic pattern, "What are you doing in my house?"

Panic flashed through the other's eyes swiftly but was gone in an instant. The blonde felt guilty, but shook it off, when he heard the most incoherent response in his life, "I- ehm- I eat here."

"You eat here?" The flannel guy played nervously with the hem of his t-shirt just like if he had been a five year old been caught in the middle of the act of doing something very naughty. Key felt a sense of pride replacing the guilt. Last time they had met the roles had somewhat been reversed, and the other even knew his alias, while the latter had gotten stuck with the futile label "flannel guy".

Flannel guy breathed deeply his chest heaving slightly. It seemed like he was slowly getting himself together, while the only thing Key noticed was that he was wearing the same black converse as in the airport, "No! What I meant was - I'm here for dinner with my family."

"So you're the Kim's?" He felt stupid for not realizing earlier, but he had been so fixated on not being late, that he had forgotten why it had been so important he was on time. Also what would the odds be, that the same impertinent guy he had randomly met in a Starbucks at the airport would show up in his house a few days later? It could be seen as a quite stalker-ish act from anyone's perspective.

"Well actually I'm just one of them - my parents are already inside," impertinent, arrogant, impudent, ill-mannered jerk, Kibum chanted to himself in order to not lash out at the other. They barely knew each other, but they had already flirted once, and now they were considerably having a useless argument about, why he was in their house, when he was invited to be there. Funny.

Just like a fish the blonde opened his mouth about to give the best and most snarky comeback ever, but closed it fast when he heard his mother's familiar footsteps approaching. Hurriedly he smiled nicely at flannel guy, as if they were having a polite conversation rather than whatever they were doing, "Kim Kibum what did I tell you about being late?"

The brunette raised an eyebrow at him in amusement while watching Key shrink by the sound of his flesh and blood's shriek on the brick of hysteric voice. She had changed out of her jeans and into a dark blue summer dress with small white butterflies painted all over it. On top she was still wearing her grey cardigan, as it would only get colder throughout the evening.  Feeling the need of defending himself, he cringed at his childish reply, "Mom, we already discussed this! I'm 20 years old for Christ's Sake!"

"Fine - you're 20 years old and late even though I asked you not to. That's not very grown up of you," her hips popped to the side, her foot was tapping the floor; they were definitely related, Kibum thought to himself, and just as if she was still imitating him, she turned around with her black hair flying around her head in order to storm out of the room.

"No, that's really childish of you actually," flannel guy mocked in a childish voice. If they had been standing just a bit closer, he would probably have squeezed both of Kibum's cheeks and he couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that. Shaking his head he saw that the latter had a small smile playing on top of his lips. Apparently this so-called argument hadn't been as bad as, Kibum had thought for a second.

"Says the person with the flannel shirt," Kibum mocked back, sticking his tongue out for a second, before regretting it not many seconds later. Hopefully flannel guy hadn't seen it, but the glint in his eyes told the blonde otherwise. Great, why couldn't he just act less childish for once?

"What's wrong-" As much as Key would have loved explaining the million reasons, why he hated flannel, he thought, it would be for the better, if he escaped before making a bigger fool out of himself, so he dashed for the staircase, as soon as he saw an opening, "Where are you going?"

"I need hair gel and coffee before this dinner," he elaborated for the other, as he was almost at the top of the staircase. As he was standing there he couldn't help but think that if the two of them were in love, they could make a rendition of Romeo and Juliet like this. It would definitely be dramatic - just how he wanted it.

"Then what about me?" he asked looking around him like he was scared of being left behind, but it wasn't as if Kibum would be away for years. He would just quickly make himself more presentable - and the coffee part had obviously been a joke. (Even though it did sound tempting.)

"I don't think you can fit my clothes," he referenced to the flannel shirt once again in a joking matter, but one probably had to be a fashion student to get the joke, he thought, as the ladder looked even more confused than before. Hurriedly he went to his room to get ready for what could go and become a very interesting evening.  

- Written by mapihypermonkey