Another dinner by himself, in his “apartment.” He thinks of the word in quotations because of his trouble with pronouncing the word. Mark would never let him live that down, even when he had given him his fiercest glare.

Jihoon stood by the stove, heating up some soup that his neighbor had brought over. She was an older half Korean woman that couldn’t speak the language but was more than happy to help him adapt to American cuisine by making kimchi jjigae every other week. That way he could get used to hamburgers, pasta and barbecue without becoming too homesick. Besides, the stew was a close second to his mother’s so Jihoon couldn’t resist it.

Aside from her bringing the stew over, Jihoon liked his neighbor because she didn’t complain about the occasional pop music that Jihoon would be playing, nor did she complain about the sounds of his piano or guitar.

She seemed to understand, which was something that Jihoon had trouble with his entire time in America. There would always be people in clothing stores, or in taxis who made things difficult for him. Especially the ones at the registers in shops who would ask him his order more than twice because he couldn’t quite pronounce the menu. They’d hand him to someone else who would be more patient, as the people in line scowled at his apparent “laziness” at learning their language. Well, that was utter bull, since Jihoon had spent countless nights studying english just so he could properly tell the people at starbucks that he wanted some damn coffee.

Jihoon hung his head over the kimchi jjigae, as it swirled, the scent filling his senses and dulling the ache of homesickness.

“Homesick.”

Jihoon wasn’t really homesick, America had become more of a home than Korea had. He could adapt to the place better than the country where he was born. He didn’t really have a home anymore so there was nothing to miss. He just...wanted to leave.

Once the stew was done Jihoon ate slowly and carefully, savoring the dish. He made a small list while he was eating of things he needed to bring to Korea. He wanted to bring everything, just in case he never came back. He had nothing important anyway...just a guitar that’s been played too many times.

After eating dinner, the only company being the sirens outside and the occasional car alarm, he went to his room to pack. He only had one suitcase. When he first came to America he had nothing special, just necessary clothing. Now his job required fancy clothes and polished shoes. Well, Jihoon looked around his room, he’d need shoes suitable for the sand...and jeans…lots and lots of jeans.

He folded his clothing meticulously. Staying true to his thoughts, he packed plenty of jeans and t-shirts, the occasional hat and a few jackets and sweaters. It would be freezing in Busan for sure, but he figured he could just go to the city and buy some more clothes when he got there. He had an exact destination that he wanted to stay at. There was a quaint town in Busan where his mother used to live. He could find someplace to stay there, and it was so close to the ocean that it could lull him to sleep if he wished...and it was indeed something that he dreamt of.

With those peaceful thoughts in his mind, he fell asleep with his work clothes still on, and his oxfords dangling off his feet, the bottoms filled with street gum that he tried so hard to avoid.

The busy streets continued to blare as late night ended and dawn came upon the busy city. Some hadn’t had any sleep but Jihoon was lucky enough to have slept at least a few hours, however his assistant had been calling him all morning, for whenever Jihoon opened his eyes, the “missed call” count had risen steadily.

He wished to get a bit more sleep but he was too nervous, and much too swamped with thoughts of what the morning would bring. It felt odd not being able to work on a new song but at the same time, oddly relieving for him. He liked to think of this process as “the beginning” yet he couldn’t really put a name to that feeling.

He sat up in his comfortable bed and looked down at his wrinkled clothing and his half done belt. He pulled the object from the belt loops and loosened his shirt. Lucky, because Mark had just called once more and he’d need to be as relaxed a possible before he started the feud with him.

He reached for his phone, “Yeah?” His voice was groggy and rough, a detail that Mark wouldn’t let pass by.

“Have you been sleeping?” Was the first thing he asked, at Jihoon’s silence he continued. “You were supposed to be at your office two hours ago! Where are you?” His shrill voice made Jihoon pull the phone away from his ear quickly.

“You didn’t get my note…” Jihoon realized, making Mark sputter.

“What note?!” He exclaimed, and after shuffling through a couple papers that he must have stuffed in a folder, he silenced himself. “Ah, shi-”

He stopped himself before he cursed. So, he’d been at the office for two hours without realizing that Jihoon didn’t need him after all. “Listen, Mark. I won’t be working for the next few weeks.”

“But-why?! Are you out of your mind!”

Jihoon rubbed his face, maybe he should have told Mark in person, so that he could shut him up with a single glare. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He meant to say it as a light-hearted joke but the words slipped out too heavy. Mark seemed to know what those words meant.

“What do you want me to do.”

“Call that group and cancel.” Jihoon stood up and began pacing, “Send out a notice and let everyone know of my absence. Have Doogi sit in for me at meetings and take notes. Don’t,” Jihoon stressed, “and I meant don’t let him near the lounge.”

“Got it.”

Jihoon strained to hear Mark writing notes in the little notepad that he always carried around. After he was done scribbling he sighed heavily.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Lee? Disappearing like this could cost you everything you’ve worked for.”

Jihoon had considered that factor. Anyone could come in, someone better could easily take his place. It was a chance that Jihoon had to take. He closed his eyes and nodded, though Mark couldn’t see the determination lingering just around the edges of his eyes, “I’m sure.”

“Just promise me that you’ll come back.” Mark said in korean, making Jihoon’s heart hurt just a little bit more. “We need you here.”

“I haven’t made a promise in a long time.” Jihoon said, his first language rolling off his tongue easily. “I don’t plan on making anymore, Mark.”

“Well...I hope to see you soon. Please, call me if you need anything.”

“Enjoy your Christmas.”

“You too, Mr. Lee.”

After he had hung up Jihoon checked the time, he should be leaving soon. With the conversation with Mark in mind, he began preparations to leave.