t1419 | oneshots

homesickness is silent torture.

kio isn't used to being away from his hometown and his family for longer than a couple of days for holidays or school residential trips, so it's no surprise that at the tender age of sixteen he's suffering from a crippling case of homesickness.

when he first moved away from home to train at fourteen he'd been just fine, but on his first birthday in korea he'd never felt so alone. he wanted to be with his family, opening the three gifts he'd get from his parents and elder sister every year. he didn't want to be blowing out candles on a cake he didn't even like and eating seaweed soup. he longed for the regularity that belonged to his life in japan.

by the time kio turned sixteen, he could barely crawl out of bed in the morning; unmotivated to practice or go to school but forced himself to out of fear he'd disappoint his family back home.

home. the word was foreign on kio's lips nowadays, because although he considered the dormitory he slept in with the eight other members of his group his house, it didn't feel like a home. his home was back in osaka, in japan, where his family was, where his old friends were. he missed his home.

he missed the language he never really spoke anymore, not even to kairi or shota or leo; they were constantly practicing their korean in order to fit in with the rest of their group. he missed the beauty of the language, the curvature of the katakana and hiragana that he never really liked to write.

he missed his old school uniform that he used to hate wearing because of how uncomfortable it was. he missed customising it in order to make it look better, he missed getting told off for rolling his sleeves up or leaving a piece of the uniform out. he missed teasing his friends as they tried to mimick his customisations and laughing as they failed.

he missed annyoing his sister. he missed his sister annoying him. he missed his sister leaving her things on his side of their shared bathroom sink, he missed the strong scent of her perfume that would always linger long after she'd left the house.

he missed his parents' concered looks on their faces as he shovelled his breakfast and dinner down as fast as he could just so he could run outside to meet up with his friends or practice a new choreography he'd learnt. he missed them scolding him for waking up late or forgetting to do homework.

he missed it all, from the cat on the corner of his street to the cornershop near his school. he wanted to go home.

kio's homesickness worsened in december, just before christmas. his motivation had all but dissapated in these last few weeks- he thought that maybe if he disappointed their company and managers he'd be sent home without having to actually face the embarrassment of quitting himself.

the week around christmas were the worst days of his life, he'd thought. everyone around him was able to go to family, even kairi and shota and leo, who went to gunwoo's house to celebrate. kio wasn't able to go with them because they didn't have enough beds, so he was shoved towards sian with a smile and a merry christmas, because everyone just wanted to go home. he felt like he was a burden to sian and his family; he felt like a stray they'd grabbed from the cardboard box next door.

kio thought nobody noticed how he felt in the two years he'd been away from home, and if they did, they certainly didn't care enough to ask how he was doing.

he was wrong.

on his fifteenth birthday, his first birthday of many with his new team, the members had noticed the apprehension at which kio blew out the candles on his birthday cake. they noticed the face he pulled when took a bite out of his slice, and how he didn't touch the slice anymore after that.

when kio was sixteen, they noticed how he made progressively more mistakes during practice when he'd done everything perfectly before. they noticed how he regularly woke up late for school, forgot homework, and slept more.