Today was nothing better than yesterday, it wasn’t like yesterday was a good day either. Hell, was there even a good day in these recent years? Like a bird being imprisoned in a cage with its wings soon rendered useless, its chirping whistled a toneless melody of anger; life without choices but wobbling opportunities yet legs waddled too slow for one’s hand to reap such golds. Perhaps an exaggerated phrased comparison but living as a hotel receptionist drained the life and soul out of Jung Yunho, who dreaded a 9-5 yet a midnight shift was equally nightmarish.
For a man who had natural passion towards art and the likes, as a young teenager Yunho braved the path of leaving his childhood home despite being completely aware of its consequences. Being the eldest son in the family, his upbringing was mainly filled with his mother being a complete foe in expecting Yunho to bring home the best of grades and the peak of prodigious achievements; all in the excuse of motherly love. At first, Yunho was determined enough to perform his best in academics and social aspects alike, from being a straight A student to the ‘son’ who other parents compared their children to. Simply speaking, Yunho excelled in all expectations made of him; and it was simply because he wanted that love from his family, mother. In his idea, it would be a fair deal where he contributed his successes to the family and in return, they would reward him with the love he deserved, like every other child deserves.
However, Yunho couldn’t see a single sign of love, ever.
At the age of 5 he was set to become a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist, or whatever high-paying job there was. It was rather a typical childhood story for almost every other child across the world; but it’s still not an enjoyable tale. Despite being an academic prodigy, Yunho was gifted with the love of art, and he didn’t even like sciences. Long story short, him pursuing after his passion never granted him an ounce of love from his family, specifically from his mother. Daily bantering, loud cussing and physical anger were the common episodes in the household. Yunho eventually lost his eagerness in satisfying his mother and instead he rerouted to his mission; doing what he thought was right, to run away from home and begin anew.
Well, where that brought him today? An art degree, and a non-coherent job as a hotel receptionist, of course. Oh, and a little delicious flake of social and personal issues.
“Thank you,” his words of gratitude were rudely cut by the loud thud of the taxi door closing tight. A damp puddle of previous downpour greeted his first footstep as soon as he exited the vehicle. More droplets of water splashed upon his pants when the cab quickly drove away, leaving Yunho on the pedestrian path being illuminated by the dimmed streetlight.
It was late at night, probably 10pm, or 11, or 12. Yunho lost track of time. All he cared for was to return home safely and reward himself with the minimal hours of sleep he could get, before heading to the same dreaded hotel the next day. It was slightly hilarious and ridiculous at how a 5-star hotel could be regarded as a paradise or haven for the customers, but it was a synonym of hell for the workers. Sometimes, Yunho wished he could live in the world of customers, to be able to collapse on a bouncy bed and left the sheets in a mayhem for the poor workers to tidy later on. Sometimes he wished he had luxury. Complaints, and complaints. An art degree, was it really worth it to chase after his passion? Was this his karma? Should he really listen to his mother’s ‘warning’ back in those years? Yet contemplating on life had zero answers, as Yunho began walking the small quiet path back to the small apartment where he lived. He ought to look up for better accommodations, yet that would be an episode once his wallet filled up.
The tiny apartment was not as shabby, yet not as fantastic either. It was a bit run-down yet surprisingly the rooms were almost filled with different inhabitants. Yunho’s small room consisted of an even tinier living space equipped with the basic necessities a single young man would ever need. His furniture was wisely chosen from sets of affordable, sometimes second-handed, options such as an old sofa, a TV he purchased from a friend and a multi-purpose study desk. It was nothing much, but Yunho’s current accommodation deemed better than the one before where he was cramped in a s