Mom never forgot to tell me that I was far too clumsy for my own good. She’d always mentioned something of that I’d one day completely screw up my life because of it.

“Daehyun! You forgot your ticket!”

I was maybe just a little clumsy.

Last year was when I’d somehow managed to get accepted to a college up in Seoul, surprising too many of my relatives than should be. They never did believe that “silly little Daehyunnie” could amount to be anything more than the newest Chinese restaurant delivery boy.

Well, I guess it did help that the schools up in Seoul were required to take in at least a certain percentage of us country hicks.

The first year was simple enough that not even I couldn’t manage to screw it up. The school had provided instructions and sent constant reminders to sign up for an in-campus dormitory; but come second year, there had been nothing. I missed the registration period by a week.

I had been almost positive I’d end up spending my days sleeping in the subway benches and washing in public restrooms. And the fact my older brother - the douche - kept poking fun at me for it, didn’t help at all in the slightest. Mom wasn’t much of a support either, giving me a funny side eyed glance before shaking her head with a low grunt I’m sure were profanities (and she always told me not to curse). She didn’t say anything particularly to me, but the narrowed eyes were enough to have me shrinking back, wanting to disappear into thin air.

My uncle had been my savior during my period of panic.

He was the funny sort of guy, the guy who looked exactly the same no matter when or where you saw him - I could have nearly sworn he was a vampire of something of the likes. But even as we kids adored him, mostly for his funny stories and gifts, our parents weren’t nearly as fond. When I seven, I saw my mom trying to kill him with a wooden spoon during Christmas. Not very festive of her.

Uncle Jaehoon had come over when he heard that I was having a panic attack. I’d thought he’d come to laugh at me too, because that’s what he did best, but he turned out to be a lot more than that - though, he did laugh (and I wouldn’t quite say only a little). He’d given my poor heart a rest by clicking me through a website full of other kids like me, who needed a place to crash for the semester. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who was too clumsy for his own good. We did a good few hours of picking through names and locations before settling on one that seemed close enough to my school. We gave the person a call and then we were set to go.

I spent the rest of winter vacation rolling around in bed, groaning about the cold I’d have to face again up in Seoul. Seoul, mind you, was a lot colder than the warmer Busan coast I was used to.

And I’d forgotten to pack until the last night I had left at home.

“Oh god, thanks mom!”

I may or may not have forgotten to pack a thing or two during my mass whirlwind around the house last night - but it wasn’t as if I was moving countries, mom could just ship it over if I’d forgotten anything.

Giving a lasting look, one that pleaded me to please get my head screwed on right, she gave me squeeze of arm before letting me off her car. I slammed the door and gave a last wave through the window. “Promise I’ll call when I get completely settled in!” And then it was the train station for me.

I’d never been that great with directions, to be completely honest. I’d somehow managed my way through the KTX, but getting off and staring at the map printing on the subway walls, I was almost sure that I was standing on the wrong end of the platform. Didn’t help that people were looking at me funny, as if I was an alien standing in on some important human only conference.

In the end, I decided to head out without getting on the subway. Something told me that getting on would only mean me getting even more lost - with my way with directions, I’d end up half way to America before I could reach my new dorm.

My next choice of doing was to hail a taxi. Surely that wasn’t any different from Busan.

“Uh, can you please go … here?” I held the address up, putting on a hopeful face and trying out my worked-hard accent. I’ll admit there were still a few kinks here and there, but surely it wasn’t too horrible, right?

Wrong.

The driver laughed, nodding and taking my journal from me to tap in the address on the installed navigation. “You’re not from here, are you?”

I gasped. “How did you know?” He didn’t answer, but he did give me a suspicious wink.

It sent shivers down my spine. Unwanted shivers.

The building wasn’t the best one on the street, but it sure was … square.

In Seoul, everything was packed closely together. I was nearly sure that if I stick my hand out the window, I’d be able to shake hands with the guy from the apartment over. (Note to self: do not attempt.) Not saying Busan was any less developed - we were plenty developed - but the label Seoul seemed to make everything seem a thousand times more fashionable.

Embarrassing as it was, I made a point to take pictures - lots of them - for my relatives back at home. Most especially for my brother, who had never been up here before; just to rub it in his face.

I must have seriously looked like some hick by this point.

(final date: 140316) (final word count: 16,976)