Chapter Text
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
In My Life – The Beatles
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America is... something else.
Of course, Seong Ah knew this, but there is a difference between knowing and actually experiencing it.
The first thing she noticed when she arrived in California was the crowd. How diverse and colorful they are! So many people from different ethnicity, race and, nationality. Every shade of skin tone and various kinds of clothing. While many were speaking in English, not few of them are also speaking Spanish. She also heard some Chinese and what she could have sworn sounded like Russian. It was like and unlike home, where the crowd is colorful; yet both are a different palette.
(Privately, she thought that even He wouldn’t look out of place and how nice it would be to have him here send a picture of her arriving to her parents and Professor Song, maybe also Professor Oh.
She scrolled past the other two contacts on her phone. One is already declared not in service and the other, well...)
Next, the scent. For her, home smells like the burning smoke from cars, the sour aroma of kimchi her mother has readily for her every time she visited (such preciousness), the sweet, floral tea shop where Professor Song dragged her to when they both have time (the smell would linger when she return to her dorm), and the gentle whiff of dust from books in counseling room the dusty yet warm room of her dorm back at Yonggang.
Here, as she settled herself onto the foreign land, it’s the savory smell of takeaway when she was too tired to cook (surprisingly often; she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she didn’t realize it would be this tiring), the slight strong fumes of new paint of her apartment (it’s cream and brown and red), the floral shampoo of her roommate, and the clean smell of sunshine when it hits her face as she walked to class. Only the scent of smoke is the same. The burning of petrol, she supposed, is not something that differs between both nations.
Finally, it’s the culture itself. While she herself doesn’t want to sound stereotypical, she had to admit that some of the description she heard about America are quite right, at least for the people she had met. Professor Skin is very warm and friendly, such a contrast from Him and honestly, she can see why Professor Chun had sent Him to well, him. Her roommate and friends here are also very...open with their opinions and it shocked her the first time when she heard they didn’t use a title when addressing other people (especially for those who are older!), it’s very different back home where everyone has a title and politeness can be stifling. It doesn’t surprise her much now, but it’s still quite weird to hear.
There are other things that Seong Ah can compare between America and Korea, but this three struck her the most. It’s like arriving onto another planet instead of country, it’s akin to walking on a street in a dream, where the road doesn’t exist in real world, it reminds her of a song she once heard, where we all lived in a yellow submarine. It doesn’t exist and even if it exists, it must be on another world. It’s so contrasting, she felt like a paper plane flying amongst clouds on the sky. Alone, floating to a goal that is somewhere in the distance.
Home is so far away. Across the sea and land, across languages and cultures, different soil and different wind. The only thing that remains are the sky and the sun and the moon. Even the clouds here are different.
It fills her with a sense of aching deep inside her that is not unlike the first time when she left her parents' home for Yonggang. It's the same and yet...it’s heavier. Professor Chun’s death still gnawed through her heart and the weight of her leaving under the order of her Professor still hang around her neck like a tight choker.
(Even now she still refers to Him as hers, if that doesn’t explain about her feelings for him then nothing will.)
The feeling of being so far from homeland is like an itch she can’t scratch. She missed them all; her father and mother who used to be just a train ride away, now is a plane away. Her friends whom he used to chat and laughed with, together, can only be visited through her phone screen. She wonders about Professor Song and Professor Oh, the chat they had, the laughter they shared and the lesson they imparted. And of course, Him.
She dwelled on Him and wonder about the fragility of human heart. His reluctance for her to go and yet still he ordered to, because what else is there? He resigned and at the same time so is Seong Ah. Off he went and off she goes. She remembers his red eye as he gazes at her with such despair and grief; it clenched her heart and tightened her throat. She had to held her arms at both her sides when he told her to go because if she let go, she would wrap her arms around him and begged him to not go and to not let her go and please, please, please, I don’t want to go, I'm not leaving you, no, not now, never, we are team, I cannot leave you, I lo-.
Instead she nodded slowly, quietly bowed and thanked him for his teachings and left.
And here in America, in Stanford, in her apartment, in her bedroom, on her bed, at midnight, when others sleep, she clenches her eye and tried her hardest to not let her tears flow. The tears however slide to her cheeks. She quickly hide her face into her pillow; a sound broke, and she quietly, painfully weeps. She weeps and weeps; her parting from her homeland, parents, friends, teachers, and Him. She weeps for Professor Chun’s death, how sudden it was, how it feels like a loss of limb; the phantom pain remained. She weeps for those she had left as she went ahead. How much she misses them and yet knowing she can’t return, not yet at least. She has duties to be done and dreams to build.
She weeps for him, for his loss and his dream. How scarring it must be to lose a father figure who not only love him but support him as he tried to understand his place in this universe, how lonely he must be, parted from the job which forms his identity and the place that is home, where all the people who love him live. She weeps at their separation, how both of them don’t want to be parted and knowing it had to happen.
When her tears doesn't flow anymore, she turned, and stared tiredly at the red ceiling. She shield her eyes with her left arm, and she quietly vowed, for a vow that was quietly said from and at the deepest part of heart are the truest of vow, as she started to slip to the realm of sleep, as her sadness weight her down, she determined herself to vow.
She will return.
Yes.
She will return, back to Korea. Back to her beloved. She will do her duty well and build her dream good. She knew there are a lot of stakes here, not only her future but also the dreams of those who dreamed for her. She cannot fail them. She will not, she refused to do so.
‘Yes, I shall return and make them proud. I shall not betray their trust. I will be a professor myself. I will make Yonggang proud to have me and trust in me and I shall take care the Psychology Department like they all trusted me to do. I will protect it until the day I die. I will help my clients to be better and I shall do it with my knowledge and empathy.'
'I shall return to you, Professor, I won’t leave you, ever. You will not be lonely anymore. I will always be with you. Even if you never care for me the way I care for you, I will never leave your side anymore.’
With this said, she clenched the arm that was over her eyes, removed it and revealed her red, determined, sore eyes. She closes them, and seconds later, she’s asleep.