Lifetime

Hometown Pt. 2

The flight to Incheon was the longest I'd ever traveled. While I thought the extensive time would wear on my body, hours of shifting between sleep, zoning out on films that struggled to hold my attention against the light changing sky, and silly childhood games Seokjin and I used to pass time left me restless.

Seokjin gathered our belongings, one carry-on strapped to his back and mine dangling from his arm once we were instructed to deplane. We barely made it through customs before we were met by two men in sleek suits.

I'd never heard him groan the way he did when he laid eyes on them, an exasperated sigh that had me raising my eyebrows in search of an explanation.

"My parents know I'm here." He answered my unspoken question while removing our bags to hand over. The men made quick greetings to Seokjin and since I could understand more Korean than I could speak eloquently, I picked up that we were to be escorted to his family estate.

I didn't pay much attention to road signs, observing only that the city was congested, traffic thinning as we moved into the outskirts of town. Most of my focus was on Seokjin, irritability sweeping through him so that he spoke in an almost curt manner, tension in every muscle I touched.

"Hey," my thumbs kneaded against the tightness of his bicep, "we can deal with your parents. I knew I'd be meeting them."

The reminder didn't soothe his broodish demeanor, but I listened to him exhale, deep and slow as if he were moving toward accepting our current change in plans.

"I know, I thought it'd be after we had a chance to enjoy ourselves here. After I showed you the good things." 

He suddenly appeared juvenile and reserved as we approached the gated estate. There was staff at each point of contact, to grant access to the land, to retrieve our luggage from the boot, and to greet us as soon as the imposing double doors opened in sync.

"Seokjin." The middle-aged man who stood where the doors met, their bows respectful but less pronounced.

When he was upright again they both turned to me, Seokjin giving a small introduction and leaving room for me to address the house manager, Mr. Hwang. We were led into the home, a place of pure opulence and obvious wealth. Items I was afraid to touch, let alone breathe on lined the wide entryway, opening into a spacious floor plan with a muted and modern kitchen and living area.

It was the same as Seokjin's house in the way that it appeared unused, couches still firm and countertops that were almost too shiny.

Mr. Hwang began a tour of the premises that Seokjin didn't interrupt for the time being, pointing out pieces of art and sculpture as if he'd been instructed on which to highlight. He opened the glass doors that gave view to the back of the house, a garden of buds in pale shades and rich greenery.

I was anticipating that his mother would pop around a corner at any moment, that we'd peek around a cracked office door to find his father huddled across a desktop.

There was no indication of anyone else's presence, no noise outside of our shoes moving against glossy tile.

Seokjin cleared his throat at the bottom of the stairs. "I can take it from here." He nodded to Mr. Hwang who hesitated to leave us to our own devices.

He kept a front of politeness amid the indignation he radiated, surely from the years he spent watching his family brag about their financial success as the most important part of their identity. Even when I paused to take in the detailed portrait of his family at the apex of the staircase, he felt the need to explain. 

"I stood for that portrait alone. The smile isn't even real."

Just as in the portrait, everything about him was hollow in this house. I only had a chance to glint at the interior of his bedroom before we were shuffling to another across the hallway where I'd sleep. It was just as empty despite it being the room he spent the majority of his life in. No sign that it ever belonged to a rambunctious, joyful little boy, shy, game-addicted teen, or serious, unsure adult.