Chapter Text
The cold air of Seoul crept down Jay’s nape, sharp enough to make him pull his scarf tighter around his neck.
The airport was filled with people picking up their loved ones just in time for the holiday. A familiar, mellow Christmas song played through the speakers, and Jay hummed along with it, “I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me…” as he moved through the crowd, dragging his suitcase behind him. Every December looked like this: crowded airport, heavy luggage, and a god-forsaken-jetlagged-induced headache. Despite all of this, Jay had long since grown used to it.
After sixteen hours of stale airplane air, the chill of the winter air felt somewhat refreshing. The flight from New York weighed heavily on his body, leaving him sluggish as he stepped out of the terminal and into the waiting area. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He was finally back in Seoul, where everything felt familiar yet somehow different every time he returned.
It wasn’t that long since he was last home. The other time he had returned home was for his mother’s birthday in the spring. She had insisted he come, mentioning over a video call that she had taken a month-long leave from work and that no one would be able to reach her by phone. All her free time only for Jay. He loved his mother for that; she was tenacious, equally devoted to her work as she was to the people she cared for. He had wanted to go home for his father’s birthday as well, but his father insisted he focus on his studies instead, as his birthday coincided with the end of the semester. So, Jay settled into a pattern for the last four years: he would be home during his mother’s birthday and at Christmas.
Jay scanned the area until he finally saw his parents’ black Audi by the parking lot. He stretched his hand straight up above his head and waved. The head light blinked twice at him in response, and he was on his feet, making a beeline toward the car.
His mother stepped out before he reached the front passenger door. She was as lovely as the last time he saw her– her beautiful smile and her dark hair falling over her shoulder, and her undeniably expensive vegan mink scarf wrapped around her neck. Even from several feet away, Jay could smell her familiar amber perfume, the same one she had worn since he was young, and for a brief moment Jay was five years old.
“My baby,” she cooed, stretching out her arms to invite Jay into a hug. Jay leaned into her without hesitation, bending slightly so she could cradle him right above her heart. The mink fur soft against his cheek and her heartbeat so familiar, that it can lull him into sleep. “You’re finally home. Merry Christmas!”
He knew that his mother’s warmth and scent were the reason why despite living away for almost five years now, he still would suffer from bouts of homesickness. Back then, moving out and studying abroad had felt like the pinnacle of adulthood. Like it was proof that he was becoming his own person. Now, standing in the cold with his mother’s arm wrapped around him, his resolve wavered. Maybe he would rather be in Seoul; inside his mother’s arms, away from the hustle of New York.
His mom brushed a hair strand away from his face. “Did you lose weight? I told you to stop being picky with your food.” She re-adjusted the scarf around his neck, pulling him close again for a quick peck on his cheek. “Sixteen hours on a plane… you must be exhausted.”
“I’m okay,” Jay said softly in the same tone he had always used with his mother when she worried herself for no reason.
The trunk opened with a soft click, a signal that they should start moving. His father followed outside, coat pressed and his expression composed. He tapped Jay’s shoulder, a gesture to welcome him home, and reached out for Jay’s luggage with quiet efficiency.
Jay passed it over without hesitation. “Thanks.”
His father nodded once before turning toward the trunk, shoving in his luggage.
With his father, everything is urgent and calculated. There was no embrace and no unnecessary words. His father’s care was expressed through providing the best life he could give his family. It was in long hours of building his company that he showed Jay that he loved him and meant to give him the best life.
Jay understood that. He always had. Still, a familiar weight settled in his chest as he observed his father stepping back into the car– the expectation that is bigger than anything Jay knew he could fully reach. There was a standard set before him when he made the decision to study in New York: that he would become someone equally respected and accomplished as his father.
He instinctively straightened his posture, slipping into the version of himself worthy of his father’s approval. He turned back to his mother with a smile, ushering her to get inside the car so they could get going.
-
Their house greeted Jay with the smell of cinnamon and peppermint the moment he swung open the front door. His mother loved Christmas, an understatement. No surprise she pulled off one of the best Christmas setups for their house, just like every year. A floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree was set up in the corner, adorned in red and gold baubles. The garland that wrapped around the railing of their staircase matched the Christmas tree and the wreaths that hung on each tall window.
“Wow.” Jay had paused in the doorway, taking in the sight. This was so different compared to his New York apartment where a five-inch tabletop Christmas tree was the closest he came to celebrating the holidays.
“What? Is it your first time seeing a Christmas tree?” His mother chuckled, taking his suitcase away from him. “Let me help you with this while you settle down, okay? You look really tired. Sit down for a moment. I’ll get you hot chocolate milk.”
Jay let himself be led into the living room. Last time he was home, the living room was entirely different. It was decorated with different flowers in glass vases: peonies, sweet peas, and his mother’s favorite: lily of the valley. Back then, the air smelled of fruit and sugar, with his mother’s favorite pastries laid out on her porcelain plates and bottles of rosé poured into crystal glasses. All around was different touches of pink, his mom’s favorite color. The house was unmistakably Hyejin Park. His mother had a way in making their house feel alive, an extension of her. And because Jay only came home twice a year, he always returned to a space that had gently transformed in his absence.
Today, the living room felt warmer. The glow of the Christmas tree lights spilled across the floor and the wall. The couch was layered with his mother’s knitted throws. The center table filled with gifts just waiting to be opened. The quiet crackle of the fireplace, along with the jazz rendition of I’ll Be Home For Christmas drifting through the house’s speakers, tugged at something deep in Jay’s chest.
Standing there, in the middle of the house he had grown up in, everything came rushing back. Running down the staircase into the living room where his mother and father were already waiting for him to start opening the gifts. He had always received too much: too much gifts, too much attention, too much love than he knew what to do with.
Jay swallowed, forcing down the tightness that had started to form in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much he had forgotten what coming home felt like. Especially at Christmas. It was festive, yes. His mother had always known how to throw parties. But more than that, it was familial. His parents had built Christmas around him.
And maybe that was why, no matter how many deep breaths he took, his eyes still felt hot and watery. Because no matter how long he had been gone, no matter how much he tried to grow into someone new, this house still knew how to turn him into the little boy he used to be.
-
Jay didn’t know how he had ended up asleep on the couch. The long flight and the barrage of emotions that came with coming home must have so affected him. He had slept curled on his side, and when he stirred, his left arm felt numb, like it was detached then reattached back to his body. Blinking away the fog of sleepiness, he sat upright as his memory jogged to what he was supposed to be doing instead of sleeping. The dinner. He was supposed to help.
Jay stood quickly, shaking life back into his left arm as he made his way to the kitchen.
His mother, his father, and their househelper were supposed to be the only people in the house. Yet as he walked down the hallway leading to the dining room, the quiet was broken by the clink of tableware, followed by the low murmur of overlapping voices. There was laughter, warm and unguarded, which made him slow down in his steps. The atmosphere felt celebratory.
And then he stepped into the doorway.
Sunoo was there by the dining table, adjusting the cutlery to perfection, as if he had not done the same thing for the past ten years. His hair was dyed a soft blond now, falling just below his eyes. Somehow his new haircut made his face appear smaller than it already was. Under the warm yellow light of the dining room, Sunoo seemed to glow. Almost unreal, as if he was not of this world.
Sunoo’s parents were there too, helping Jay’s parents with the final touches of the meal. The kitchen was brimming with people. Their house felt alive with the quiet conversation and shared familiarity.
It had been months since Jay had last seen Sunoo.
He had changed his hair. Had he grown taller too? Jay blinked, momentarily thrown by the thought. Do twenty two year olds even grow anymore? He dismissed it almost immediately, aware that he was grasping at small, inconsequential details. Anything to calm the sudden flutter in his chest.
He stayed where he was as he watched Sunoo move. Sunoo looked as though he had always belonged here just as much as Jay did. It was strange how seeing him again always did this. How months of distance could dissolve in an instant, leaving Jay with the same quiet confusion he never quite knew how to name.