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𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉: 𝙈𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀
KOREATOWN EXISTS AS A LITTLE POCKET of home for many along Lawrence Ave and between the stretch of Kedzie Ave and Pulaski Rd. "Seoul Drive" it was dubbed, filled with the sprawling culture of around 60,000 residents of Chicago who found a community in people from similar walks of life as themselves. Parents who migrated to America for their children, first-generation, American-born, Korean children attempting to navigate a world of vague unfamiliarity, to balance between American culture and Korean culture, and please their overbearing parents who didn't want their sacrifices to be in vain.
Jungkook loves coming around when he can, visiting an old friend who never had the heart to leave though the already small district was dying out, being bought up by white store owners as those hardly adjusted first-generation children move away to the suburbs to start their families and create the next generation, even more further removed from their culture than the first.
Jungkook's favorite place by far was the small restaurant on the edge of Koreatown and that's where he stands with Andrea standing by his side with her hands shoved into the pockets of her Harvard hoodie, a college she didn't attend and would never attend. "This the place?"
Jungkook answered with a subtle nod of his head. "This is the place." Familiarity finds home in his eyes. Gold flakes floating in pools of dark whiskey swirl with the memories of his adolescence. "I used to come here all the time after all my fights." And then he got big, going to different states, different countries, continents, and he couldn't come in with a black eye or a busted lip and humbly enjoy a meal from home.
He ate with his father sitting right across from him, patting his back and congratulating him for another unanimous win or comfort him after a scathing loss. One day, for maybe the first time, Jungkook had come alone. He sat at his normal table, ordered his normal food, and ate without the comfort of his father there to keep him company. After that, Jungkook always arrived alone without rhyme or reason. His visitations were sporadic and without pattern until he finally stopped coming around altogether with only a few random visits throughout the years to keep up.
"Come on." Jungkook pried open the door still notoriously and inexplicably stuck unless you put some elbow grease into it. He held it open for Andrea, watching as she walks past him in broad, confident strides. He catches the lingering whiff of her scent which tickles his nose. Is she wearing new perfume? It smells mouthwatering. If he got too close he'd simply bury his face in the crook of her neck and moan. She smells like deep, velvety chocolate and fresh roses. She smells like romance walking on two legs.
But the smell of her was quickly overrun with the warmth of his childhood. Somehow it manages to smell exactly the same every time he comes through, like a mixture of all the most prominent smells of Korean cuisine. Not bad in the slightest, just conflicting. Sweet mingles with spicy in a way that only Korean food can and he missed it more than he could ever imagine.
