Come Back Home

The approaching week-long Chuseok holidays had Ji Ah contemplating a visit to her hometown. But her stomach clenched at the very idea, seeing as how it had been five years since she had last been anywhere in the vicinity of her family. The videographer didn't know how wise such a trip would be; all she knew was Namjoon had made a fair point and Ah Ra needed her sister. It had been far too long and Ji Ah couldn't deny that she needed to see her younger sibling, too.

And so when Mi Na informed her that she could take a few days off, Ji Ah decided to snatch the opportunity and see where it took her. After all, the worst that could happen was an ugly confrontation teetering dangerously on the beginnings of a verbal tussle. But it wouldn't be the first time now, would it? Besides, Ji Ah liked to think that she was better equipped to handle such a situation now if it should ever arise. And she didn't doubt that there was a very real chance that it would.

Where the matter of Kim Namjoon was concerned, Ji Ah was relieved, happy even, that they seemed to have arrived at a mutual understanding which allowed them to spend more than three seconds in each other's presence without disintegrating. And the little matter of her transforming feelings...well, she would deal with them when she didn't have to constantly worry about blabbering the wrong thing in the rapper's face.

These were the conflicting thoughts that somersaulted haphazardly in the brunette's mind as she embraced So Min in the vestibule of the expansive Seoul metro station. Brushing away strands of stray hair, she smiled at her friend after disentangling their limbs. The sky was a bright blue canopy of hovering clouds which obscured the sunlight, moist air caressing their faces as it breezed over them languidly, signaling that winter would be upon them soon.

"I'm all for dramatic family reunions," So Min was saying carefully as Ji Ah began tugging at the strap of her luggage: a small overnight suitcase stuffed with more music cd's than clothes. "But are you sure about this?"

The videographer knew perfectly well why her friend had raised such a query, being aware of her disorderly family background. But she shot So Min a reassuring smile and patted her cheek affectionately. "I can do this. It's high time anyway. And besides," she chewed her lower lip, thoughtfulness permeating the crease of her eyebrows, "I don't want to run anymore, So Min."

Her friend seemed to understand this for she pulled Ji Ah in for a final hug, releasing her to let the videographer lug her suitcase along the symmetrically carved tiles of the metro station. Soon, Ji Ah was reduced to a bob weaving between the throngs of people clutching their own luggage and tickets to trains which would carry them to their destinations. She shoved her free hand deep into the cavern of her coat pocket, pulling it tighter around her lithe frame as she traversed the platform to board the train to Ilsan.

Ji Ah found her carriage easily enough, hauling her case through the sliding doors and entering after ascertaining that all her stuff was in place. Owing to the holiday season, the train was unbearably crowded with bodies swaying and tripping with every lurch. Ji Ah managed to stay upright somehow, despite being jostled one time too many.

And so when the train finally halted at Ilsan station, the woman lumbered out of it, luggage in tow, and hunkered for a few seconds to catch her breath. When her breathing had leveled out again, her chest rising and falling at a steady pace, she set out towards her house. Namjoon had provided her with Ah Ra's number and the videographer had called her little sister to inform her of her intentions. The elation in her sibling's voice had been obvious though Ji Ah wasn't sure if it would extend to her parents. Despite this, she had asked Ah Ra to let them in on her plan too, for she knew how much they hated surprises. She hated them herself.

Flagging a taxi by the stand erected just outside the station, Ji Ah settled into the backseat but her mind raced ahead of the vehicle. Anxiety seemed to be clogging every cell of her body and she tried to inhale and exhale slowly to calm herself. The booming city life of Ilsan gradually shifted to a view of low hills and rows of houses as the taxi rolled down the residential section. The afternoon was mild and clammy, dead leaves scattered by the wind rushing in the vehicle's wake.

Ji Ah was certain her heart was in her mouth and would tumble out anytime as the taxi slowed to a halt before a modest two-storey house with open windows. Through the slits, she could see silk curtains rustling in the slight breeze, but without even looking over the structure entirely, she knew that the windows to one room would be fastened shut.

Hers.

Engrossed in paying the fare and stepping out of the taxi, Ji Ah didn't notice the door fly open and a figure sprint down the uneven walkway leading up to the front porch.

"Ji Ah!"

She felt the impact of a shorter female wrapping her arms around her waist and chuckled lightly. To Ji Ah, it was clear how much Hong Ah Ra had grown in the past couple of years. Her brown hair, a shade similar to her own, was longer now with jagged tips and fringes which had been clipped to the side. Her sister had grown taller, but not enough to match her height though she knew that that could change soon. Ah Ra's eyes were glistening and she sniffled, trying to wipe away the unshed tears.

"Ah Ra," Ji Ah mumbled against her soft head, basking in the warmth of her embrace. "It's good to see you again."

"Then why the hell didn't you do it sooner?" Ji Ah flinched at the anger in her sister's voice who drew back to stare her down. The videographer wondered if this was how her rage had looked when she had been Ah Ra's age but she knew full well that her sibling was more levelheaded than she could ever hope to be.

"I'm sorry!" Ji Ah raised her palms, shooting her sister a grin. "I know I should have but I'm here now, right?"

"Because Kim Namjoon asked you to come visit us?"

The girls turned at the curtness of the voice and the smile on Ji Ah's face instantly faded. Hong Yeo Na's features were exactly as she remembered them: sharp, beautiful and bitingly fierce, a ferocity which she seemed to wear as her second skin. Ji Ah knew that her mother was good, a competent woman in every way, if only a tad bit detached. Yeo Na could be warm-hearted too, and kind, when the videographer had been able to catch her in one of her rare unguarded moments. But she was also stubborn and unrelenting and this was the context which fueled the conflict between her and Ji Ah: they were just too alike.

Now standing by the front gate, clad in loose pants and a flannel shirt, her feet fitted snugly into soft slippers and her black hair curled into a bun, Yeo Na looked every bit as intimidating as Ji Ah knew her to be. She shot her sister an accusing glare for having told their mother about Namjoon but Ah Ra simply shrugged. Ji Ah sighed, bowing to her mother respectfully, aware of the tension in the air, so tangible that she could taste it on her tongue.

"I came because I wanted to," she answered as politely as she could. "You know better than anyone that I can't be forced into doing things, or not doing them for that matter."

For a fraction of a second, something akin to amusement shone in her mother's hazel eyes, so like her own. But the glint was quickly replaced with a steely expression. "Took you long enough," she muttered, whirling around to walk back into the house. That was it. No hugs, no kisses, nothing remotely like motherly fondness. But Ji Ah hadn't counted on it anyway. The probability of her mother displaying any kind of affection was the same as the probability of Taehyung rapping in a Cypher: absolutely zero.

Following Yeo Na and a joyful Ah Ra into her old home, Ji Ah couldn't shake off the crushing sensation that it was going to take a lot more than her music cd's to survive the weekend. The interior looked the same as it had the night she had decided to walk out forever.

Picture frames adorned mahogany settees and desks, gilded ornaments curled around the banisters of the pathway to the kitchen. The living room branched out towards the left of the staircase which led upwards to the bedrooms and the small library where her father used to prop her up on his knees and read to her when she had been a little over six years old.

"I'm surprised you've kept my picture frames," Ji Ah observed as she followed her mother and sister to the living room where her father would undoubtedly be working on one of his latest creations due to his job as an architect.

Yeo Na didn't turn at the question, merely slowing her pace to answer. "Why would we throw out such perfectly fine frames? They're expensive." Ji Ah almost snorted and had to strain to hear her mother's voice which dropped to almost a whisper. "Besides, you're still our daughter."

The videographer blinked, wondering if her ears were finally failing her after having been subjected to years and hours of blaring rock music with rappers screeching out of her speakers. But before she could react, all thoughts deserted her mind when her eyes landed on her father.

Hong Chan Hyuk was a tall, sturdily built man with a muscled frame but soft features. It was unbelievable how different from his wife he was; calm where she was temperamental, reasonable where she was obstinate, indulging where she could be stern. Ji Ah tried to ignore thoughts of the other man she knew who was quite similar to her father in nature, unconsciously drawing parallels between their relationships.

Chan Hyuk had always been incredibly fond of his feisty daughter, which is why the discovery of her estrangement had hit him the hardest. Something in Ji Ah's chest swelled at exploring the crinkles around her father's eyes, the wrinkles at the corners of his lips as a result of constant smiles, smiles which had faded in the past five years till only a shadow served as their reminder.

"Dad?" she ventured slowly and Chan Hyuk looked up from where he was studying the schematics of his latest project. His eyes bored into hers until his lips curved into a tired smile devoid of mirth.

"Look who's decided to check on her family," he remarked and Ji Ah flinched at the iciness in his tone. "When Ah Ra told us, I thought she was pulling a fast one. I just couldn't believe it." Ji Ah tentatively plopped onto the couch opposite the worktable and was glad that her sister followed suit. She was going to need all the moral support she could get. "I was even more surprised to hear that that Kim boy could have something to do with it. I thought you guys had broken up?"

"Namjoon has nothing to do with my decision." It wasn't the complete truth but Ji Ah wasn't about to discuss that. "I wanted to...wanted to see if we could set things straight."

"After five long years?" her mother's voice cut in as she leaned against the door, eyeing her intensely but not unkindly. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? How concerned?" Ji Ah didn't look away from her father's face which was currently turned towards Yeo Na. "It's a harsh world, the one you're living in."

"Do we really need to rehash the past? It's all done now," Ah Ra piped up, glancing back and forth between her mother and Ji Ah. "It's hardly been five minutes-"

"It's been five years." Chan Hyuk had finally swiveled his head in his eldest child's direction. "Five years of knowing absolutely nothing until Ah Ra ran into your idol ex-boyfriend."

The words pierced through Ji Ah like they were intended to and she winced. Betrayal, betrayal was what she read in her father's eyes and her mother's. But not just that. Hurt, mingled with concern.

"I'm sorry." She had no doubt that her parents were trying to gauge how truthful her apology was. "I'm sorry for putting you through all of that. But it was my dream, a dream which meant, and still means, everything to me."

Chan Hyuk sighed but Yeo Na's face remained stoic, no sign of any emotion. "It doesn't matter. Like Ah Ra said, it's no use bringing up the past. And for what it's worth-"

"But I want to! It's been absolute hell, do you know that Ji Ah?"

Her father's explosion left her mother gawking and even Ah Ra balked at the sound of his voice. This was probably the first time Chan Hyuk had interrupted Yeo Na and he looked absolutely frazzled.

But something in Ji Ah snapped, too. "It hasn't been easy for me either, Dad! You have no idea how many nights I've spent crying myself to sleep in an unfamiliar city because my parents didn't want to support the only dream I've ever had! I had no one to rely on except myself, no one to pat my head when I met a hurdle, no one to praise me when I received my first paycheck as a videographer."

~No one to lean on when my heart began to shatter in a million pieces because I didn't know how to love myself.~

There. She had said it. Years of subduing such thoughts and they had finally erupted in the worst possible way.

"We didn't want to push you away, Ji Ah," her mother stated calmly. "You left of your own accord. Did you even stop to think how we would feel?"

"Years of knocking on your bedroom door and remembering you would probably never sleep there again, years of sitting at the dinner table and worrying if you had access to a warm meal, years of marking your birthdays and wondering if you had someone to celebrate with," her father said, his uncharacteristic anger beginning to fizzle out, replaced by a hollow ache.

Ji Ah could only stare, her seething fury mellowing down. Yeo Na's mask had finally cracked, a pained expression on the contours of her face and Ah Ra looked ready to burst into tears.

I'm an idiot for thinking I could do this, she thought dejectedly.

Ji Ah didn't stop to register her sister's surprised cries, her parents' bellowing queries, slamming the front door shut and bounding down the empty streets. Dusk was settling over the city and her legs groaned with the sudden exertion. But Ji Ah didn't care. She was stupid, stupid for thinking she could handle this maturely, stupid for thinking she could keep her overpowering emotions at bay.

She was stupid for thinking things could be different.

So she kept running, running until all she felt was the wind against her body, until all she saw was the flash of streetlights as she hurtled down the footpath.

Until she collided with a person and ran right into the arms of a startled Kim Namjoon.