Final ♦ Epilogue

August 17th

“Careful on the way down,” my grandma told me, nodding her head towards the bags and suitcases. “You don’t want to trip down, like you did last time.”

Quite frankly, I didn’t need a reminder of that experience, but glancing at the amount of bags I had, I decided, that maybe, I did. I had a very bad habit of repeating the same mistake twice.

“It’ll be quite odd with you gone,” my grandma continued. “Quieter, I suppose. No more strange boys barging in. I suppose I can finally have some long deserved rest.” She paused. “I can’t believe you’re going to university already, and moving out. You’ll come and visit though, right?”

“Every Saturday, a quarter after ten,” I recited, grinning. “Yeah, got it.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Is that Byun boy going to Seoul University? I haven’t seen him this summer at all. I wonder how he’s doing with the piano. Real talented, I tell you. I haven’t heard from his brother, either.”

Baekhyun’s name brought a pang of sorrow from somewhere inside that I had tried to bury. I hadn’t heard from him all summer -- in fact, I hadn’t heard from any of them throughout the whole summer -- Chanyeol, Jongin, Kyungsoo. It was like they had never happened, like I never met them, because the summer was the same as it had always been. If it weren’t for Jihyun asking about Baekhyun and bringing him and Chanyeol (especially Chanyeol) up, I would’ve let myself believe it was all a dream. Even with Jihyun, it still seemed somewhat surreal.

Truth was, I did miss Baekhyun. Though I didn’t tell anyone -- not even Jihyun -- I had been secretly, in my heart, looking forward to the summer. All of the past years, I had spent summer holed up at home, eating a box of popsicles a day to bear the heat. However, this time, I had already drawn out what I wanted to do with friends. Sure, I had been around them for a fair while, but summer would definitely be different, and a good different.

So it was an understatement to say that I was disappointed, sad, and maybe a little mad when this year’s summer vacation turned out to be the same as always. It was kind of like everything that happened in the school year had been erased.

“I still think you should take a cab instead of the train,” my grandma said, snapping me out of my thoughts of Baekhyun and co. “It costs more, but you have two suitcases and a heavy backpack, and you’re clumsy.” Thanks. “Besides, if you left that on the train, then it’s going to be disastrous. And I wouldn’t put it past you.” Oh, the encouragement.

“I’ll take the train,” I said for the fifth time. “It’s way to expensive to get a cab. I’ll be fine.” Hopefully.

She scrutinized me, like not quite believing my words, then sighed. “Go, then,” she said, waving her hand at the door. “Wait, actually, give me a moment.” I watched as she returned into the kitchen.

I glanced back at the apartment -- it had been fourteen years that I had lived here, and now I was leaving. Wasn’t it yesterday when I had moved here with my parents, then my grandma moving in with us because my grandpa passed away? It seemed like it, anyways. Now, the fact that I was leaving for university -- even I wasn’t going somewhere faraway, yet staying in Seoul -- it was a strange thought, like something that was not quite reality, yet just around the corner. Sometimes, I still felt like I was in junior high, or maybe even elementary. University? Sounded like some kind of story to me. University? Not me.

My grandma hurried back, holding a large rimmed hat that was a light, creamy colour. She pressed it down on my head, and it practically covered my whole face, also effectively blocking fifty percent of my vision. I’d increase the percentage of tripping down the stairs with this hat on, I thought. But looking at my grandma, I didn’t make any comment about falling down staircases. “Your mother’s,” was all she said. There was another moment of awkward silence that I broke quite badly.

“Goodbye, then,” I muttered, staring at my sneakers -- farewells was something that I quite dreaded. “I guess… well… thank you, you know, for raising me and all and--”

Probably saving me from my embarrassing sort-of-speech, my grandma reached over and hugged me.

For almost eight years, there had only been three times she had hugged me -- when I was ten, right after the car crash, and we had heard the news. The second time at the funeral, and the third time at twelve, when I had broken my arm. After that… well, I couldn’t remember if she hugged me after those three times. I had nothing against it -- my grandma wasn’t someone who showed affection by saying it or physically doing so, so now that she hugged me… well, it was kind of surprising.

For a moment, I stood still, then I hugged her back, looking back once more through the hallway, into the open door of my room, and a feeling of melancholy washed over me. This had been my home for fourteen years, and now… leaving. It was a simple word, yet there seemed to be so much about it.

“Goodbye,” I mumbled again.

I blinked twice, and wondered if I was really crying.

***

The subway station was rather crowded, but that was nothing too surprising -- it always was. By the time I managed to squeeze into the train, there were practically no seats left, and my backpack and suitcases were really beginning to test my strength. I couldn’t hold up much longer without collapsing.

Making/shoving my way along the aisles, I tried to spot a vacant seat to sit down in. In the end, I found one.

I d