"I'm a recovered alcoholic."

Hana sighed, "I fell into alcoholism and I was almost unable to save my life from the tight grip of alcoholism and the darkest pits of alcoholism; death. Luckily, I was able to save myself. It might be hard; but remember that we have been saved and we shall remind ourselves that we cannot repeat the same mistake. That we have to prevent ourselves from falling into the same demise we have put ourselves in before."

It was another day, another Living Sober meeting for Hana. She had been attending their meeting for around a year, telling the same story over and over again; she had memorized her line now. It wasn't like she did not like attending Living Sober; she just found it pointless to keep on telling her story over and over again--if it weren't for her pushy brother, she wouldn't have attended the meeting.

The room was silent. There were around fifteen people sitting in a circle, looking at each other in silence. They weren't talking, and only nodded after Hana finished with her sentence. They were all recovered, or recovering alcoholics, trying to make amends with their past, or trying to let go of their terrible, terrible mistake. Hana had been attending their meetings for around a year now, and she couldn't have been more thankful, but it was boring nevertheless. A middle aged man nodded, and he sighed, "next... you, yes, you."

"I'm trying to recover." A man said, "It has been a few weeks since my last scotch. I don't know how to describe it, I don't know... who could live with such pain? Nobody. Maybe I am too weak, but maybe my problems were too big. I didn't know, I still don't. My solution was to run to alcoholism." He spoke with an accent. An accent Hana recognized by the first time he said his first words. "I came all the way here to find peace."

"But did you find peace?"

Hana did not realize what she was saying. She blurted out in Korean, just like that. She didn't even think of what she was saying. She didn't know what to do, and just sighed, "sorry," she said in German, faking a cough, and looked another way. But it seemed like her 'accident' had caught the man's attention. Her hands started trembling, but she folded her arms in front of her chest to hide it. Biting her lip, she nervously mouthed, sorry to the man sitting across her in the circle.

"A little." He replied, in Korean. "At least my world is clear now."

---

"Hey, you."

Hana was about to walk towards her bike when the man called her out in Korean. "May I help you?" she asked the man. A part of her was happy that she was able to speak the language she knew much more than the other. "I'm sorry about earlier, by the way." She said, smiling at the man. 

"It's okay. It's nice to know that... I'm not alone, after all," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I know that in Living Sober, we are supposed to hide our identities. It's... anonymous, right? Or at least that's what I understood. My German is not that great." He said with a chuckle. A warm smile, a joyful chuckle. Hana knew that the man was in a miserable place, but he was still able to give her his warm smile and a joyful chuckle. What a personality, she thought to herself.

The man was taller than her, much taller. Almost as tall as her older brother. His skin was flawless–wow, I wonder what his skincare consist of, Hana thought to herself–his hair was dark brown, dyed, a little messy. He smelled like chocolate and hazelnut, almost like breakfast spread (well, what a way to describe how someone smells like!). This man looked extremely nice, he could've passed as a model or an actor. 

"Yeah," she said, shaking herself out of her thoughts about him and how he looked like. "Refer to me as the nurse, that's how everyone calls me in the group." She smiled at the man. "How should I refer to you?" 

"Nobody refers to me as anything... I don't talk to anyone in the group. Not yet. This is my first time." He replied. "Well, I'm... I'm whatever you want me to be called, I guess." He said, putting his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry, I'm holding you from going somewhere. I'm really sorry," he bowed, "I'll let you go then, nurse." He bowed once again, before waving his hand. "Nice to know you." He said. 

"See you next week!"

Hana watched the man disappear as he got inside of a bus, and she smiled. It seemed like she had found a new friend.

To Hana, home is where she could smell her favorite kimchi fried rice.

The woman parked her bike and went to her dwelling, where she lived with her half-brother. He was four years older than her; his mother died during childbirth, and he was taken care of by Hana's mother; his stepmother. He loved making kimchi fried rice from yesterday's leftover rice–hence Hana's definition of 'home'. She grew up eating her brother's food, as their parents were often too busy to pay attention to them. He worked as a cook at a five-star-hotel downtown; just like what he dreamed of.

"Hey!" he chimed when he heard the front door opened. "Kimchi fried rice is ready..." he said. "How was work and LS meeting?" he asked, pouring orange juice into his sister's glass. "Oh, or do you want kinderpunsch?" he asked, referring to the stacks of kinderpunsch, which was mock wine for children, that they had stored in the basement of their home. "I have something to celebrate today..." He said, excitement in his voice. He was really the type to get excited, sometimes he'd exaggerate and get overexcited, but Hana still dealt with him despite that.

"Me too," Hana said with a chuckle, "there is another Korean at LS. Hey, it makes everything more fun. I am not stuck between people whose language make my head spin!" she said, "well, he seems to be in a hard place. I was just thinking that I should be able to help him."

She paused, thinking, but then she continued. "It's not my job, but I might be able to make him feel... less alone." She sipped her orange juice. She knew how it felt when she was alone and had nobody to help her, shortly before her brother came into her life to help her. "Because it felt nice, at least for me, to have you around." She said with a smile.

"You're dramatic." Chanyeol said, playfully hitting his sister's shoulder. "I just got a promotion!"

Hana smiled. "Yes? Oh yeah!" She said, standing up to hug her brother. "Congratulations!"

Hana couldn't have been more thankful for her brother's presence in her life; the one that helped her overcome her sadness and the misery in her life after she thought she had lost everything. She sat down and took a spoon, "thank you for the food!" she said to her brother. What a taste of home.

She was home.

She found peace.

---

"Come back."

Oh Sehun groaned. He had been taking days off from work because the voices in his head were so loud that he was unable to function normally. He kept on seeing things; his wife. His lovely wife.

Ex-wife.

It was his fault; he shouldn't have messed around. He shouldn't have gotten too carried away. He had the perfect marriage, the perfect wife, the perfect everything. Why did he throw it all away? You're damn stupid, he thought to himself. He had his perfect wife, they were going to start a family. She had planned for everything to happen, but he destroyed everything she had in store for him.

"Come back!" he screamed.

Some wives would stay with their partners despite being cheated on. How could not? His father was rich. He was not a chaebol, no, but his parents were well-off. He thought he would be able to fix it with money, but boy, was he wrong. His wife was a mess–she left to find her peace. He didn't even know where she was now. He kept on questioning her whereabouts, but nobody knew where she went. Not even her best friend, but then again, her best friend was the one who slept with him. Which broke her to pieces.

He'd known that she became an alcoholic. He thought he would be able to save her. But she disappeared–too fast.

"I'm sorry, Seunghee. I'm sorry..."

Sehun stood up, and realized that he'd make his house a mess. The house they lived in together. It used to have so much positive energy, so much life. It used to have so much positivity. The flowers used to be watered every day, the kitchen used to smell like good food, cooked with love. Now, the blinds blocked the sunlight from entering the room; half-eaten food on the floor, on the desks, everywhere. Broken glass, broken frame, broken chairs. Nothing was intact, the house was a mess. The only thing that stayed intact was the picture from... their wedding.

"I'm going to find you, Seunghee. You're the love of my life. I'm sorry."

The man crawled towards the desk, groaning. He'd been a drunk like her, too. He was a mess the way she was, too. Was it karma? He didn't know for sure. He had finished a bottle of scotch. The bottle was broken on the floor, and he almost hurt himself crawling towards the desk. ", , !" He said, hurting his toes. 

"That bastard Chanyeol..." he groaned, "let's see where the man is." Sehun said, his hand reaching for the mouse, and his fingers began making clicking noises as he typed Chanyeol's name on the keyboard.