When Jihoon thinks of himself, he doesn’t like to use the word “adult,” although everyone around him does. When he thinks of himself he’d rather use teen, or young man...something that tells of his age but doesn’t force responsibility upon himself. A title that doesn’t make him shrink down, a title that doesn’t say “where,” “who” or “what.”

So when his assistant, Mark tells him that he must make a new song for a group called “Orange Caramel,” he doesn’t bat an eyelash at Mark’s obvious disapproval at his reluctance. Jihoon doesn’t want to make a new song. He wants to stay at home and do something else, find another hobby that creates a fire and passion in him like music once did.

He doesn’t want to be stuck as the twenty year old producer with boots too large to fill. He just wishes to do what he wants without consequence but nothing ever really works out that way...does it? Mark calls him out on his “teen-tendencies,” but Jihoon hasn’t been a teen for a long time, he grew out of that phase when people started to force him away from it.

***

“You’re an adult, and this group is paying good money for a song. You have responsibilities to fulfill.” He said, making a giant fool of himself by waving the profile of “orange caramel” in the air, causing papers to fall out of the folder and scatter about. Nameless people’s faces now cluttered Jihoon’s small office floor. He leaned back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes, his pen held tightly in one hand as he tried his best not to break it in his grasp. Be professional, he reminded himself.

His first mistake was moving to America to become a producer. His second mistake was hiring Mark as an assistant. The red-haired male always took Valentine’s and Christmas day off and he never, ever swore or wore wrinkly clothes. Jihoon knew of his type.

His english was good but sometimes not good enough. Mark was always there to translate and to be patient and calm when Jihoon couldn’t convey the right message. But damn, was he annoying.

Mark scurried to pick up the papers carefully, although he didn’t lay one knee of the polished office floor. He just bent down tenderly and picked up the faces of three pretty girls, and their song preference. Something weird, something fun, something up-beat. The sticky note on the profile read.

“Something too easy.” Jihoon mocked. Mark’s head shot up at the use of korean. Jihoon never used his first language unless it was absolutely necessary. He could tell that Jihoon was pissed off by the way his eyes narrowed.

“What do you suggest I do, Mr. Lee? I’ve already accepted the request, I can’t just cancel!” He tucked the file underneath his arm and paced the room. “You said yourself that you needed more work.”

“I know what I said.” Jihoon grit out, his thick accent caused his words to meld together but it seemed to scare Mark anyway. His assistant stopped his pacing and looked from Jihoon’s narrowed eyes to his clenched fist.

“Give it another day.” Mark suggested. From his perspective, Jihoon was just having another bad day. Maybe a critic had submitted an article about his music, or perhaps the city was just too loud and bright- like Jihoon had always complained of. “If you’re still unsure tomorrow, then I’ll cancel with them.”

Jihoon nodded and waved his hand to signal that he was done talking to Mark. His assistant hurried out of the room, clutching the file in his hand until it wrinkled a bit. So, he wasn’t the only one who could get angry around the office. At least Mark knew how to repress his anger, unlike himself.

Jihoon logged onto his computer to get back to what he was doing except- there was nothing on his screen. There was no work, there was nothing to do. Jihoon had been sitting on his all day, thinking about ways to leave. About ways to escape his office, escape all of the nonsense and the happy-go-lucky, escape the bull and the critics. Jihoon wanted to disappear.

It took him another full hour to look up flights to Korea, and even then his eyes slid to his office door every few minutes to make sure that nobody would walk in. He felt like a teenager again, except that was only a year ago and Jihoon was still too young to be stuck in such a labyrinth of endless work and repercussion. Still, he felt scared that someone would find out he wanted to leave, and pull him back, keep him shut in.

A few more minutes of clicking, and worrying, and Jihoon had found a flight that left tomorrow. He had enough money saved up to rent a small place in Busan, where the water was cool and refreshing. Jihoon’s heart fell as he remembered the reason why he left Korea to begin with...there was nothing left for him there. His parents were gone, and he was never around long enough to make any real friends.

He had nothing to return to but his heart longed desperately to escape from the routine of his life. Just for a little while. He wanted to be somewhere safe, where nobody wanted him. Where nobody asked for him by name, and where he could feel free.

Jihoon booked the flight quickly, shutting down his computer and standing up to put his jacket on. “Leaving in the middle of winter…” Jihoon mumbled to himself...what an idiot. It took him no more than a few seconds to lock up and he was out of there after writing a note to Mark. If he didn’t tell his assistant in person, there was no chance for him to convince him to stay. He’d probably talk about how Jihoon could bring in so much money with christmas songs, and other “jolly jingles” like they say in America, but he wanted no part of it. He didn’t care about earning extra money, he already had enough to last him a couple weeks in Korea. Besides, the States could survive without him, Jihoon was barely half a puzzle piece in the musical artwork that the country had become.

They could spend a Christmas without him.

He walked out of the office building in the evening light. Mark had probably already went home to his lover, a man in his late forties, while Mark was barely thirty. When Jihoon first heard about his personal life he couldn’t stop the small grimace that adorned his face. It was unheard of in his country for anything like that to be made known, but Mark had told him about their Christmas day plans like Jihoon had heard and seen it all. Except, Jihoon hadn’t so much as seen two men or women kiss each other.

Well, a year in America had changed it all for him, especially in the arts and music scene. Now Jihoon didn’t even grimace, nor did he smile when Mark told him that his lover had proposed. No, Jihoon didn’t care anymore. All he wondered was when he’d be able to experience love, when someone would get close enough to want to love him. When he’d stop pushing people away until they drifted off like the early morning tide.

He made it downstairs, skipping the elevator in the building in order to avoid hearing any of his music. It was all so boring, all so monotonous, and he’d have to put his name on it like it was his own. Like he was proud of it. He exited the tall, mostly-glass skyscraper and walked down the darkened streets, illuminated by cheap lights and fluorescent street signs. The scent of the city had already put a damper on his mood but he was ready to leave to Korea tomorrow morning. There was nothing to hold him back. Nothing.

Except himself of course.

Jihoon had pulled up the website on his phone and considered cancelling the plane ticket more than once. If he went, there was no guarantee that he would enjoy his time there. He might not be able to re-ignite his passion for music, then he’d have to leave in a few weeks and he’d be back in the office with all his money put to waste. Jihoon didn’t have to go. He didn’t have to leave but…

He had to.

Jihoon put his phone back in his pocket and continued walking. His oxfords scraped the ground as he moved to the left and right of the sidewalk to avoid gum and oil spots. There were still people out and about in the buzzing city, so he knew what kind of people to avoid (the stumbling older men who could potentially be racist) and what kind of people would pass him by without a glance (the busy businessmen who had places to be.)

Whether they were nice or rude, Jihoon still kept his head down in the cold wintery air as the sky begun to open and let out a few snowflakes here and there. The city was beautiful sometimes, but other times--Jihoon looked to his left to spot a man throwing up in the alleyway--it was a pain in the .