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“I get homesick in my hometown.”
Joshua was seventeen when he left home to chase after his dreams, now he’s twenty-six and barely recognizes the street that he walked down every day for seventeen years anymore. All of his friends moved away, to somewhere bigger, better, he can’t blame them, he did the same. Maybe they had no reason to stay either.
But he still remembers, his stomach going a little fuzzy at the thought, warm as the memories flood his mind, the weekends they’d be on his bedroom floor, hear the music they don't play no more. It’s fond thoughts, warm and cozy, filled with laughters and playful banter.
It reminds him of his members, of him and Jeonghan teasing Seungcheol without end. It reminds him of Seungkwan and Chan’s voices reverberating from the walls when they get into another argument, of Seungkwan threatening the lot of them for whatever silly reason he could think of. The thoughts make him smile. That, too, dissolves quickly.
He faintly wonders how his old friends are doing. Swallowing the smile, Joshua slowly realizes that he barely even remembers their names, there are hardly any faces, only silhouettes sitting cross legged on the ugly carpet he used to keep in his room. Back then it was his greatest treasure. It’s been a while, he thinks, a while that he has been gone, too long for this place to remember him as well.
Despite everything, it still feels like yesterday. Their laughter soaking up in the poorly glued wallpaper on his walls, cracks hidden under framed pictures, posters taped over the loosening edges. His mother would cook for them, whatever traditional dish she’d make them would fill the house with foreign smells.
Now when he thinks of it, he can’t help but see Mingyu and Jihoon snickering over a pot of ramen, them in the kitchen always takes him back to his mother, the scents far too similar. Mingyu would claim being the better cook and Jihoon would agree but still hold onto his point of making the best ramen. Joshua has to admit that he is not wrong.
He gets homesick in his hometown, ‘cause everything looks different now. And it all changed, and Joshua just doesn’t know why. He can’t wrap his head around the way nothing looks the same. But then again, so did he. He, too, changed, from head to toe, he doesn’t look like he belongs here.
The shoes wrapping delicately around his feet feel heavy, his throat is dry, feeling raw as he swallows down the lump, as if he’s been eating nothing but sandpaper. Joshua doesn’t know what else he can say. Perhaps that he feels entitled thinking that his street would always be the same. He knows it’s been a while but what’s with all these apartments now? And half the houses here have been torn down too.
Time won’t wait for him, he knows, has seen himself and his members grow up, slowly, surely. Chan isn’t a kid anymore and Mingyu has grown a lot taller than him. He’s not seventeen anymore, almost a decade has passed. Of course this place aged too. He chuckles to himself thinking, look what time did to this place .
So he gets homesick in his hometown, ‘cause everything looks different now. And it all changed, and Joshua just doesn’t know why. He can’t wrap his head around the way nothing looks the same. But then again, so did he. He, too, is looking a little lost standing in the width of the streets, staring blank ahead. Like a stranger in his own body.
The uneasy feeling in his stomach grows upon reaching his final destination. Joshua has grown taller, feeling too big standing in front of the door, cracks in the dark wood where his fingers are touching.
There are little dents and bumps in the door, he smiles. Trying to fit his fist into it, he notices that it won’t work anymore. He remembers, back then he had been hitting the same spot over and over, every day, he doesn’t even remember why.
God, his mother has been furious about it. All summer long she had told Joshua’s dad to fix the door, to fix the wood where their son had broken it. Delight fills him that his father has never taken care of his task. Knowing the pretty woman, he probably hasn't heard the end of it up to today.
Joshua still carries a key to this house, he’s unlocking the door making as little noise as possible, somewhat scared that he could be chased away like a bad spirit. The smell is the same, hitting him with so much force his eyes start to water. It’s the same smell of roasted coffee and fresh flowers that he’s been greeted with for seventeen years.
His mother’s arms are still warm around his body, nothing changed, but he’s taller, his shoulders broader. He is a man now, not a little boy anymore. His mother doesn’t treat him any different. And his father, he’s about to shake his hand but Joshua doesn’t want any of that, tugging the man closer to wrap his arms around the slumped back. They, too, have grown older. Old . His heart aches as he spins the thoughts further.
They’re still not that old though, he reassures himself, despite seeing the hint of grey hair, tousling on his dad’s scalp. He sees his mother squinting through her glasses, her sight must have been getting worse. A decade, he thought about it for a moment too long. Joshua was almost turning thirty, his parents almost twice his age. That wasn’t that old.
Their voices ring in his ears, still the same loving voice he knows from endless calls and hurriedly spoken voice messages. They switch languages effortlessly, they have always done this. Spoken to him in Korean, then talked about the weather in English, like they knew their neighbours did, one of the little things he had always appreciated about them. He has always struggled, his mind too slow to comprehend the change quick enough, even if it was just a second, he always stumbled and fell.
And yet, despite the familiarity, Joshua doesn’t quite recognize his parents’ house. They moved the furniture around, his room isn’t the room of a teenager anymore, more of a storage room, slash guest room, if you want to put it nicely. Joshua doesn’t. He doesn’t need to look away, he’s gone too, evidently.
He almost laughs, upon reaching the mirror hanging opposite the stairs leading up. It has always been there, staring at him, scaring him when he sneaked in and out on a few occasions. It’s funny how nothing looks more different when he looks in the mirror now. It shouldn’t be this way. He was a stranger here, he wasn’t home anymore and yet, the familiarity hits him and it hurts all over again, knowing that he won’t stay. Can never stay like that again, it won’t be like that anymore anyways. He doesn’t even know if he wants it to be.
He feels it again, he gets homesick in his hometown, ‘cause everything looks different now. And it all changed, and Joshua just doesn’t know why. He can’t wrap his head around the way nothing looks the same. But then again, so did he. He, too, changed in more ways than he can pinpoint. He is fulfilling his dreams, his members’ dreams, collecting new memories that make him feel so warm, memories he is fond of as well.
And there is the glimpse of a thought, far off, fragile and vague— but he has found a new place he calls home, familiar to his past in the present. Another family. Another him. After all he has grown too, aged too. He has changed too, like his hometown and his parents’ house and his friends. He, too, has moved on.